The Story of Mohamed Hussein Ismail and His Family: A Journey of Struggle and Hope ๐๏ธ๐๐๏ธ
I am Mohammad Hussein Ismail, a 23-year-old Palestinian from Gaza, reaching out to you during these unimaginably difficult times. My life and that of my family have been profoundly changed by the war, and today I write to you, hoping for your support and assistance.
My family consists of five members: my mother Raja (51 years old), my father Hussein (58 years old), my sister Iman (18 years old), and my younger sister Noor (13 years old). We used to live a simple life filled with hope and ambition before the war turned our lives upside down.
On a grim night at the onset of the war, our neighborhood was relentlessly bombed. The blasts shook our home, compelling us to flee into the darkness, navigating through sporadic explosions, desperately seeking safety. By morning, we reached southern Gaza, seeking refuge in Rafah, our hearts heavy with sorrow for what we had lost. ๐๏ธ๐๐๏ธ
In this brutal war, my father was injured, severing tendons in his finger due to relentless bombardment. Due to malnutrition and rampant diseases, my sister Iman contracted hepatitis, exacerbating our suffering. We endured the cold winter within the confines of a tent, and the scorching summer heat as well, trapped inside due to harsh weather conditions. Unable to stay together as a family, we were forced to scatter and flee once again from Rafah due to intense shelling, seeking refuge in Deir al-Balah within the Gaza Strip, where our struggles continued in search of safety and hope for survival.๐๏ธ๐๐๏ธ
Now displaced, we endure an immensely challenging life, filled with hardships. We struggle tirelessly to prepare food over open fires, to fetch water, and even find a place to sleep. We've lost the basic comforts of life. Due to inadequate shelter, severe infections have ravaged my body, and I've grown exhausted in the quest for treatment amidst the scarcity of medicine.๐๏ธ๐๐๏ธ
Our plight is desperate, and we implore your support to rebuild our shattered lives and secure a future for our family. Your kindness and generosity can bring about a profound change. Your contributions will provide us with the means to find safe shelter, access essential medical care, and obtain the basic necessities of life we so desperately need.๐๏ธ๐๐๏ธ
I had an old account that was deleted, and I am pleading for your help in sharing the new one. Our only hope is that you can help my family survive this brutal war. ๐๐๐น
Please, we plead for your help during this critical time. Every donation, regardless of its size, brings us closer to safety, stability, and the opportunity to rebuild our shattered lives.๐๐น
My component vetted by @90-ghost
And Vetted by @ibtisams .
Link vetted
Old account on Tumblr deleted by Tumblr team's .
Hello there, ๐
From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for your support of our cause.๐ต๐ธโค๏ธ
You are one of the few remaining free souls now. ๐ซถ
I hope you can take a look at my campaign on the pinned post on my profile ,and help us by donating or sharing our campaign to reach the largest number of supporters.๐น๐น
Thanks a lot in advance โค๏ธโค๏ธโค๏ธ
i will try to send you money next week when i get paid
in the meantime, my boleved followers, please reblog this post a ton
Genocide before our eyes, and we can do nothing but depend on leaders who are proven to be useless and heartless ๐
it was something about that cowboy hat that made you want to pounce on him and ride him like a bull, making suguru put on the hat every time he fucked you because it had you soaking up the sheets, and the waterfall between your thighs activate.
suguru's part-time volunteer gig required him to wear this hat, and you couldn't thank them enough because of how fine he looked whenever he slipped it on his head, especially with his long hair that hung below his waist.
he knew that he looked good, and he took advantage of that whenever he laid eyes on you, knowing that your mouth got wet and that you drooled every time you looked at him in his fit, using the outfit and hat even when he didn't have to volunteer to have your mouth wet to put right on his dick.
suguru loved to make you weak in the knees; he knew that without the outfit he still had you wrapped around his finger ready to get on your knees whenever he asked, but with this attire specifically and the way he looked with the hat on, he knew that you couldn't even think properly.
whispering in your ear while he was deep inside of you, rubbing his finger over your sensitive nipples, talking you through whatever he was doing to you, just for none of it to be received because of how good he felt inside of you and how the tingling that surged through your nipples made you forget your name.
making sure that his hat stayed on through every round he was folding you through, putting your legs every which way and pushing your thighs up so he could hit that sweet spot that he craved and sought for, one tap and it had your eyes sliding to the top of your head and your fingernails digging into his skin.
"you like that? can you hear me, baby?" whispering in your ear, and he groaned the deeper he got, your walls tightening around him, his dick wet with your wetness, making sure to go faster so that he could hear how good he made you feel, with the sounds your body made and the sweet sounds that fell from your lips.
even when you were the one to pounce on him and initiate things with the way you were dripping out your shorts, he still found a way to take control, to make sure you felt so good that you couldn't even move; just feel the pleasurable tingles all over your body and throughout your wet hole that he carved out to his shape.
he was a generous man though, letting you get on top of him and ride him through the mattress until you were tired and out of breath, laid over him; that didn't stop him; he always needed you twenty times more than you needed him, and the fact that you took initiative when it came to fucking him turned him on, lifting his hips and fucking you until his body gave out.
your moans and his groans bouncing off of each other and his cum dripping out of you, a loud sticky mess that he never got tired of, which is why the hat never came off; he wanted to see that eagerness in your eye light up; he loved every minute of it.
https://xtwitter.com/jam_etc_art/status/1780038184828608975
There is no possible reality where this is in any way capable of being passed off as self-defense. It was never self-defense. It is, and always has been, a genocide.
Crying babies. Crying babies. This is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, meant to draw out and kill civilians while also making it far more difficult to locate and aid children who are trapped or alone.
If you have money to spare, please consider donating to some of the fundraisers on Operation Olive Branch to help people escape this genocide.
409 bodies have been recovered last I heard and the search is not over yet. You can read the horrific accounts of what Israel did to Al Shifa Hospital in this Mondoweiss article
This is the last birthday photo taken of Shireen before she was assassinated by the IOF nearly a month later:
Happy Birthday to an incredible woman who should still be here. You will always be remembered and forever missed.
Sometimes the media says โthere are no wordsโ to describe or justify horrific attacks on hospitals. Other times, the media has countless words to describe and justify horrific attacks on hospitals.
An elderly Palestinian woman tries in vain to protect her olive trees as Israeli settlers, protected by the Israeli army, cut down 800 Palestinian-owned olive trees near the town of Shuyukh, east of Hebron.
family: โwhy are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?โ
me whoโs been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours: