An Update On Bilal's Situation

Wednesday in Wyoming

—From July 10 2021

TW // cults , possession , murder , death of parent , confinement , sacrifice , mentions of blood , mentions of gore

Wednesday. It’s a day of the week that eliminates at least half of your primary school spelling bee competitions. It’s a day that marks the half-way point to freedom, and to Techno, it’s a hard day of the week to stay alive through.

Techno was a young boy. He was but six when he was first possessed. It was by a lesser demon, but to such a small vessel, such a tiny mortal, it didn’t seem that way. Maybe this was better, that the demon decided to possess a small boy, because if it had decided to possess a grown adult, who knew what damages it may have caused. His parents didn’t do much to help, and it wasn’t that they were clueless either. It was not even that they did not believe in the supernatural. No, they were the ones to call upon the demon, although their target wasn’t necessarily intended to be their own son.

Techno grew up in a cult. It operated in a ruined, vacant house in the middle of nowhere, in good old Wyoming. Wyoming’s a strange state. It’s very barren for how beautiful it is, and very little of it is talked about by anyone else, including it’s own inhabitants.

It’s Wednesday in Wyoming, and Techno had just been possessed in the basement of the cult’s meeting place.

It was somehow, someway, somewhat going to plan. Someone had been possessed (Though once again, the target was not meant to be the child) and the sacrifice had been planned. What was not prepared for however, was the demon’s own bloodshed. A man was killed that day, guts spilt all over the newspaper covered walls and remains burnt to dust upon the satanic circle that was only seconds ago used to call open the spirit. Claw marks that could not belong to anything of this realm littered the man, and black veins popped up across the skin, making the man look more demonic than dead. No one was called, and no one let the word get out. The body was dumped in a lake in the middle of a national park, and nothing else came of it.

It ended underwhelmingly, and Techno had just been possessed in the basement of the cult’s meeting place. No one said a thing, including any comforting words to the confused and dazed Techno. Demonic possession at a young age couldn’t go well though, the world just wouldn’t allow it, no matter how competent you were calling for the possession or no matter how well you could banish the thing. So, he was left with the Voices. He named them, not long after, Chat, as they were all but silent. He almost went insane once, and he wondered if secretly, that was what the higher people in the cult had wanted, so he, out of spite, and for his own sanity, learnt to control them. He fed them ideas and treats, gave them what they wanted so long as it was mostly harmless, and in turn, any other time that he demanded it of them, they would stay quiet and well-put, at the back of his mind, only making a small quip here and there.

So his childhood went. Demonic possessions and nothing good to come of it.

So their childhoods went, demonic possessions and nothing good to come of it.

Their name was Tubbo, years had passed and it was another Wednesday in Wyoming. He was born into the cult as was Techno, although his case was a little more unfortunate. His parents were traitors of the cult; they had demanded they be let go and live out their life in silence, but of course, such a community that killed it’s members in flocks and made such festivals out of them, strung their bodies across laundry lines to serve as party streamers and using roadkill as a table for all their festivities and feasts, of which none knew the ingredient, would never let anyone go willingly, not unless they were out of their minds- more out of their minds than usual.

So, they were killed. Not killed, not physically, but tortured until they couldn’t think of anything but pain, and could not move a muscle, left at their homes and set up as if props so it looked as if they had simply tried to commit a lover’s suicide, only to fail trying to overdose. The reason? Their son had disappeared and his room was covered in blood, which could only lead them to think of the worst. The cult had been more active recently to top it off, and his parents were old and ragged; already mad as were side effects of joining such an inhumane society, if you could call any group of anything inhumane societal at all, if being social meant being living, and sane.

Everything made sense for their neighbors, and they were carted off to mental asylums, as they screamed for mercy and the accompaniment of god.

Tubbo was left alive though. His adoptive parents were humans, but being a hybrid, adopted out of pity, he was more than valuable, especially since he had only, on his most recent birthday, grown horns, the horns of a goat- the second best thing that the cult could have.

‘Descendant of the relative’ was his title, (and of course the cult was not referring to his parents, traitors, ‘Relatives’ in any sense of the word; it was something else entirely) They never spoke a word of them anymore, and out of self-preservation, he had never asked. Being older, he didn’t bother anymore, having already tied the loose ends together. He was pale, being deemed missing then dead, but unlike how the world knew of him only until he was a boy, he knew enough of the world beyond his age of ‘boyhood’ through the newspaper clippings that were brought in every so often, helping him see what had happened without the cult knowing.

Small child, naïve child, Descendant of the Relative.

Descendant of the Relative, what words do you have for us today? Would you talk of the light, that shone through the cracks of the ceiling boards at exactly 5 am everyday, that woke you up from your place on the bed, or will you inquire of the spirit whom punished the traitor of yesterday? Will you ask for the water which keeps you alive, or will you beg for even a morsel of a crumb of a crumb, as you have starved in this ‘wretched place’ as you have christened it? Descendant of the Relative, be not foolish, for you cannot die with such holy blood in your veins.

Descendant of the Relative, the title drove him mad, and Techno watched him from his seat every meeting, the scrawny child growing and growing to only serve as another sacrifice which would fail to fulfill the prophecy that was but a fluke.

And Techno would watch, unable to offer the morsel of a crumb of a crumb, or offer the dew from the leaves from the flora that littered the paths outside, all which gathered in speckles from the rain yesterday. He would wonder if he was still sane at all if not for the glimmer of hope, of escape, of which that collected in his eyes with every news of the cult’s doings outside, recognized only by those who shared the sentiment.

Tubbo wanted to escape,

Techno did too.

Techno despised his Wednesdays, and Chat shared the same sentiment, although for wildly varying reasons. He wondered if they had a life of their own sometimes, when he was left to himself, as they talked of various jobs and resources and duties that he didn’t know a speck about. Then, he’d brush himself off, as those were the thoughts of a madman.

Madman that he was, he attended the Cult only less frequently as he did the Church. He knew the Cult knew, although he knew as sure as they that they thought it was only a cover. He stared at the empty isles of Friday, basking in the silence that came with self-employment. Flexible work hours, flexible free time. 6 am on a Friday, he’d listen to the bible readings voiced by his one and only friend.

Phil was a priest who had attended the same college as him. He initially approached him for a group project, and things had worked out from there. He decided to become a priest upon graduation, no hesitation in his voice as he spoke of his plans. It was unexpected, hearing such sureness from someone only freshly out of the education system, but with religious parents, he had support every step of the way.

Techno stared at the robed man, seeing the peek of green fabric under it. The same green collared shirt every day, which never seemed any more worn than last year. He wondered if he replaced it often, or if his clothes were simply well-maintained. The pristine priest in front of him seemed too distant from the friend he knew, although he didn’t enjoy it any less. Words upon words and verses upon verses, voice having never once cracked since he had chosen his profession. He wondered if it really was a holy calling, a gift, having experienced possession before and believing in the otherworldly. The Voices chimed in, adding their own theories and questions for the man.

They didn’t know much about him, having tuned out more often than not during his years at the boarding school. Day and night, nothing but studying, he understood why they might’ve been bored.

“Amen,”

“Amen.”

Tommy ran down the halls. It was Friday which meant that there would be no one present in prayer except Phil and Techie. He burst down the doors as they finished up their prayers, Phil looking up just in time to catch his eyes. “Ah Tommy, it’s good to see you.” “Good to see you too, old man!” He ran up to the cabinets on the sides, sneaking a few crayons into his pockets. Phil never minded. Techno grumbled, getting up from his seat in the pew, seeing his friend was back to off-duty mode.

“Want to go grab some lunch?”

“What time?”

Lunch was plain. Some tomato pasta at a family restaurant ran by one of Phil’s many friends- and a foster parent for a kid named Ranboo. He was serving them right now, parents busy finishing up orders in the kitchen. The walls were well worn and the marble tiled floor was slightly tinted, but it all came together to make a comforting atmosphere. Maybe it was only because he was used to messes bigger and nastier than this. The pasta was good, as usual. He looked at the awkward kid taking down orders, too tall for his age and fidgeting every other second. His tail was out of sight which meant that he had hid it for some of the more racist customers. It was effective, as he was a late bloomer and his horns had been completely covered by the fluffy mess that was his hair. You could only be able to tell if he told you or you tried touching it.

“A glass of lemonade, water, a kid’s meal and two breakfast specials…” He muttered as he passed by, voice quickly masked by the dull chitter chatter all about.

“He’s a good kid, helping out.”

He only bothered to nod, eyes fixed on the glint of gold in the kid’s hair.

Tubbo was a lonely kid. Fifteen and growing. His sixteenth birthday was coming up, and he had to devise a complete plan and a backup for his escape. He knew what happened to parentless cult-born kids such as himself, and he’s sure they said the word ‘sacrifice’ at least thrice the usual amount around him.

He thought he’d never see the full sun, never see the outside until a week ago when they had to move locations due to the possibility of a bust by authorities. The cult was in a panic, moving the most incriminating things first before the smaller artifacts and trinkets. Blood soaked newspapers were torn off and burnt, and the whole place was scrubbed down clean with at least fifty different chemical products. They were on the run in small groups, and him and a newer lad was paired together, disguised as brothers. They ended up taking a break at a restaurant, the other’s stomach growling like a wild beast. He was allowed a meal, a proper meal, and he met another kid his age. Today was an eventful day.

“It’s Ranboo actually,”

“Whatever Boo”

The kid had flushed, clearly not used to intimacy from strangers, and they quickly made good friends. He wasn’t able to ask about too many things, even under the gaze of the careless man on the phone. He may have some freedom now, but the man wouldn’t be too idiotic as to let him discuss ‘forbidden topics’ such as anything concerning the outside. The conversation was dull in that way, but they ended up with a friendship ring each, a small trinket made from one of those crafting wires that Ranboo had leftover from a science fair.

Ranboo’s was gold,

His was silver.

They were almost matching.

The ring was tucked away in the furthest corner of Bee’s pocket, the worn yellow jacket from childhood that no one bothered to wash except himself.

Ranboo thought a lot about that kid from a few days back, and the ring on his growing horns felt heavier each time.

Though this was only for the moment that he was thinking of him.

Only for the moment.

The Monkey’s Paw bookstore (Toronto) - not pictured is the book vending machine that pumps out antiquarian reads for $4 a pop

This is me Aya.. ‏🇵🇸

Imagine you wake up with nothing left.That's exactly what happened with us .we moved from having everything to having nothing.In a blink of an eye ,we lost everything, our house ,dreams, memories belongings and our works. We are starting from zero and need your help to climb the leader step by step from scratch.

All the positive words cannot express how generous you are, especially in sharing my posts to inform other donors about the people of Gaza who are still suffering from the terrible conditions caused by the unjust war on Gaza!

Please continue to support us by donating directly or by sharing the link to let others know. Don't hesitate to help people in difficult and miserable times until the dark days are over. 🙏🏻🍉

https://gofund.me/c4c2cf82

Wait, it's urgent you understand‼️

These people have only reached 9% of their goal. Please help them reach it!!

URGENT!

Help Me Care for My 2-Year-Old Daughter

Hello everyone, I’m Samah, a young Palestinian mother, and I want to start by thanking all of you who contributed to my fundraising campaign for my 6-month-old daughter. Thanks to your generous support, we were able to reach our goal of raising $5,000 to cover her essential needs. I am deeply grateful for your help.

But now, we are facing a new challenge with another goal. We need your support again to care for my 2-year-old daughter. We are living under extremely difficult conditions due to the ongoing Israeli blockade and the constant destruction, and we rely on your help to get through this crisis.

Our New Goal: Raising $5,000

We need this amount to cover the essential needs of my 2-year-old daughter during these hard times. Your support will help us with:

Covering the high cost of living and basic survival needs in Gaza.

Coordinating travel and ensuring safe evacuation.

Providing essential healthcare for the child.

Infant formula, diapers, and other necessities.

Warm clothes and supplies to protect her from the cold.

Why We Need Your Help

“Living in tents is exhausting and filled with daily challenges; we have no clean water, no electricity, and no proper medical care. Every day, we struggle to survive amid the ongoing bombings and dangers surrounding us. Your support gives us hope that we can provide a better life for our children.”

My campaign has been verified by @bilal-salah0 , so please don’t hesitate to lend a helping hand.

$5,653 USD raised $10,000 USD !!

gofundme.com

Donate to Emergency Evacuation Needed to Save My Family in Gaza, organized by Camille Testa

Hi, my name is Camille Testa from Saint Paul and I'm fundraising t… Camille Testa needs your support for Emergency Evacuation Needed to Save

Please share and donate any amount you can. We need to raise this amount as soon as possible so that my daughter can get the care she needs.

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@nieyao @finalgirlabigailhobbs @normal-thoughts-official @flower-tea-fairies @mephal @mothfishing @theaethernetconnection @bilal-salah0

Emergency: Help Evacuate My Family From GAZA WAR

Dear Humanity,

I'm Haya from Gaza , from a family of 8 people: my parents, two sons, and four daughters (two of them suffer from allergies).

gofundme.com

Donate to Emergency: Help Evacuate My Family From GAZA WAR, organized by Ahmed Alshawish

Dear Humanity, I'm Haya from Gaza , from a family of 8 people: my… Ahmed Alshawish needs your support for Emergency: Help Evacuate My Fa

I've witnessed the evidence of the tragedy that has struck our lives in Gaza, where my family and I have survived amidst numerous previous wars. But today, we face the most dangerous and fierce battle in the current war. The urgent need intensifies for us, as we have nothing left and are unable to secure our basic needs such as food, water, and safe shelter.

Here is our story - On October 7th, our lives changed forever, my family and I evacuated from northern Gaza to southern Gaza, hoping to return soon, but it wasn't meant to be. Our home was surrounded, burned, and then completely destroyed, Our home, once a fortress of hope, now lay in ruins, a stark reminder of our shattered dreams.

The night before we left from the north to the south was terrifying. Shelling sounds were everywhere, making a loud noise that felt like it went through our souls. Every explosions shook the ground like earthquakes, sending shockwaves of fear through our trembling bodies. filling us with fear. The air smelled of destruction and blood, making it hard to breathe. When dawn came, we saw the devastation around us, realizing our home was now a symbol of loss and despair.

We ran into the streets and with each step we took into the unknown streets, we felt as if we were plunging deeper into the abyss of our shattered existence, leaving behind everything we own in our home: Clothes, important official documents, the car, and literally it's almost everything - the enormity of our loss weighed heavily upon us.

Our home it was where we found hope, safety, and made precious memories. Losing it felt like losing years of our lives, leaving us adrift amidst the wreckage of our shattered existence.

A brief video depicting the devastation that struck our home and our entire neighborhood in Gaza.

Desperate Plea: Escaping Gaza's Allergy Nightmare

I, Haya, suffer from severe allergy to penicillin-derived medications, and my sister, Amal, also suffers from severe allergies to medications from my family such as Paracetamol and Ibuprofen.

These allergies create a deep sense of fear and anxiety for us, as we live in a constant state of tension and fear of anything that may require a visit to the hospital. We fear being given inappropriate medications due to the unavailability of suitable treatments in Gaza because of war or lack of awareness and not informing the doctor of our allergies, which could lead to serious consequences threatening our lives.

MY Father Income

Our dreams are heading towards oblivion in the labyrinth of an uncertain future

My story, along with my siblings, represents a united team of four individuals, three of whom are skilled programmers and one graphic designer. We work as freelancers in the world of freelancing.

As for my younger sister, she is a student studying at the College of Architecture. She has always carried a big dream in her heart, a dream of being part of changing Gaza, of making it more beautiful and better. She looked forward to the day when she would receive her degree and start building this dream. But the beginning of the war changed everything. The destruction of infrastructure and universities cast shadows of despair over her dreams.

When I think of my brother in Belgium, I can't help but feel deep sadness. He has been suffering from unbearable anxiety and insomnia since the outbreak of the war. Sleep eludes him at night, and his physical and mental health collapses under the weight of these heavy burdens, negatively affecting his performance at work. Problems and challenges pile up in front of him without the slightest opportunity for rest.

We all feel psychological pressure and extreme anxiety. The war hasn't been limited to external attacks but has deeply infiltrated our daily lives. We search among the rubble for a little safety and the basic resources for survival. Every day comes with a new challenge that we must overcome.

As we sway amidst the rubble of shattered dreams, our souls wrestle and our hearts beat strongly challenging the ravages of war.

Our parents earnestly seek a way to rescue us from this hell, feeling the heavy responsibility for every moment we spend under the shadows of fear and destruction. They dream of a safe place where they can build for us a better future, filled with security and hope, for we deserve life in all its meanings of comfort and peace.

Perhaps this fundraising campaign represents a light in the midst of darkness, it is indeed the only hope we cling to firmly.

I appeal to the world as a whole to hear my cry and the mournful cry of my family in Gaza. We need the helping hand that reaches out to wipe our tears and build a bridge to safety.

Your donation is not just a donation; it's an opportunity to rebuild life and brighten a better tomorrow. Be part of our hopeful story, for we need your hand to start anew.

The purpose of the fundraising campaign

The goal of this fundraising campaign is to rescue my family - my parents, my siblings, and me - through the Rafah Crossing to Egypt, which currently requires $5000 per person. This campaign is our only chance to stay alive, and I humbly request your assistance at this critical time. I will provide you with a comprehensive breakdown of the expenses, committing to transparency and clarity.

gofundme.com

Donate to Emergency: Help Evacuate My Family From GAZA WAR, organized by Ahmed Alshawish

Dear Humanity, I'm Haya from Gaza , from a family of 8 people: my… Ahmed Alshawish needs your support for Emergency: Help Evacuate My Fa

All of our important links are here https://linktr.ee/hayanahed

Verified by :

⭐️ operation olive branch, number 26 on their spreadsheet. (On Master list)

⭐️ Project watermelon,line 249 on their spreadsheet. Or you could see it as number 212 here is the photo for more clear proof

Thank you for your kindness and support.

.جزاكم الله خيراً

yours sincerely;

Haya Alshawish.

Deadline 8 December

Subject : Payment of tuition fees for the second semester

Current process :

USD 2085 / $4120

Hello my dear friends, thank you very much for saving my parents from staying on the street, now the university fees must be paid for the second semester after a month from now, the amount must be made during this month, which is $4240, the tuition fees for me and my sister, we must reach $6240, we are able to do it, my friends

Verified by @opencommunion @sar-soor @northgazaupdates2

gofundme.com

Donate to Help support a Palestinian family in Gaza and Egypt, organized by Zach K

Help Support Our Family in Gaza and Egypt Dear friends, My … Zach K needs your support for Help support a Palestinian family

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Stadiums of Hypixel

—From February 4 2020

The village whispered. Hypixel was particularly lively today. The marketplace screeched, streets rumbled, the stadiums roared. The stadiums: ancient walls and seats built atop soil and stones. Skies open and closed, gates existent and non. Their bodies varied but souls did not. All had blood spilt upon, and all were enjoyed and worshiped. Legends led here, and the walls echoed them.

"It’s the pink and white striped savior that stills right by the park, stark and blinding in the middle of a long-scorned, scorching summer sunup, shimmering, as the sun, savored."

Look at that innocence The simplest things make them happy. After more than three months, we were able to provide flour thanks to your support Don't they deserve to live like every beautiful child in the world? Please support them, they still need you Thank you to everyone who contributed to putting a smile on my children’s faces

I ask you to share the video so that it reaches the largest possible number of contributors

🫡🤗🍉

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #322 )✅️

@90-ghost

@nesmamomen

To donate here 👇

gofundme.com

Donate to Support Moomen family in Gaza, organized by Mohammed Almeshel

Hello everyone, my name is Moomen Almeshal. A Palestinian man who used to live in … Mohammed Almeshel needs your support for Support Moo

gofundme.com

Donate to Hot meals 4 Starved Palestinian Kids in north Gaza, organized by Hani Almadhoun

Do you know what it’s like to watch your family starve? I do. My… Hani Almadhoun needs your support for Hot meals 4 Starved Palestinian

gofundme.com

Donate to Hot meals 4 Starved Palestinian Kids in north Gaza, organized by Hani Almadhoun

Do you know what it’s like to watch your family starve? I do. My… Hani Almadhoun needs your support for Hot meals 4 Starved Palestinian

The US-backed terrorist state of Israel killed Palestinian chef and co-founder of the Gaza Soup Kitchen, Mahmoud al-Madhoun.

Mahmoud was able to feed over 3,000 Palestinian civilians a day through the genocide.

Let's keep giving it all we've got for the Gaza Soup Kitchen. Israel has repeatedly targeted and killed those who have given service to the Gaza community.

Donate as much as you can or if you're unable to, share this post so it reaches more people! Any amount, even a dollar, can help the heroes of the Gaza Soup Kitchen to feed the people of Gaza.

(source)