Stop For A While. Do Not Cross . My Name Is Amna From Gaza. We Lost Everything, Home, Dreams, And Everything

Stop for a while. do not cross . My name is Amna from Gaza. We lost everything, home, dreams, and everything that gives life. My children are living in bad conditions. I ask you to help me for the sake of my children, for the sake of humanity. Those who cannot donate can share the post and link

@occupationsurfer @northgazaupdates @nabulsi @elierlick @evelyn-art-05 @soon-palestine @fairuzfan @bibyebae @riding-with-the-wild-hunt

gofundme.com

Donate to Welive in Gaza My family is experiencing war, organized by Amna Merwan

I am Amna Marwan, 32 years old, I live in Gaza, married and a mother of… Amna Merwan needs your support for Welive in Gaza My family i

🚨Help save my DISABLED Grandmother and my family from Gaza

I am Hamsa Mohammad, a 24 years old Engineer, I just graduated when the war occurred ! My mother and I were very lucky and escaped 5 Months ago .. but we left our hearts in Gaza! We didn't mean to leave them behind .. we feel guilty every single day that we're safe while they're not ! We tried everything but couldn't collect the funds, my mother is a single mother and we are barely managing to cover our expenses and sending them as much as we can to help them survive in Gaza . Until a friend I met here in Cairo, told me that hopefully you will help us ! 🙏🙏🙏 Help Me Rescue my Family of 4 from Gaza : • MY 83 years old DISABLED GRANDMOTHER (ستي فوزية) right before this war she suffered from a broken pelvis and a broken left hand, and she cannot walk or even go to the bathroom. She also suffers from severe heart muscle weakness and needs many medications, diapers and a urinary catheter ,they can't even find or afford proper drugs and painkillers , everything is extremely expensive PLEASE WE NEED TO GET HER OUT ASAP !! • MY SISTER AND HER FAMILY - Lamis and her husband Malik (29 and 32 years old) They're both sick and suffer from Hepatitis type A.

•Karma 3 Months Old: She is 3 months old , she was born through this terrible war in a tent .. She is malnourished , gets sick ,intestinal catarrh and fevers all the time ! •Ghaith 3 years old: He suffers from severe allergic reactions and he vomits, get sick all the time from polluted water and bad food They're all cramped up in a tentwith other people .. Please I PLEAD to you help them escape

PLEASE SAVE HAMSA'S FAMILY FROM GAZA PLEASE HELP US !! Donate HERE SHARE AND DONATE AND MENTION IF POSSIBLE !!

gofundme.com

Donate to Help me and my little family to survive!, organised by Samah Alghoul

Hello, my name is Samah. I'm a single mother with two daughters, Hamsa and… Samah Alghoul needs your support for Help me and my little

Donate HERE

EVERY € COUNTS !!!

We need the money for :

Travel arrangements to Egypt ( $5000- per person) for 4 family members.

Urgent Medical Treatment and surgery for my Grandmother( $3000-$5000).

Housing expenses.

Living and transportation expenses during the initial period of travel.

Food and medical expenses.

VERIFIED FUNDRAISER BY @nabulsi

His little kitty ears 🥲🐈‍⬛

Omg y’all this writer right here??? The fics are so freaking done well !! The writing style is so nicely done! The way she writes is like—so addicting?? The plot pulls the reader in so nicely, and the detail is so freaking magnificent !!

Right now I’m reading the “Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw”

And Jesus it’s so good??? The cliffhangers leave you on the edge of your seat !! And the relationship between Bradley and the reader—and the kids! 🥹🥹🥹 ugh it’s so wholesome !!

Ive also been reading the beer boy series omg??? I can’t wait to sit down and read more honestly !!

1000/10 would recommend reading any of their fics really!

All Bradley Bradshaw, all the time. 18+ only.

Welcome to my masterlist! I’ve got a little bit of everything TG:M around here from short one-shots to long series. I mainly write for Rooster, but the other Daggers have found their way here as well. Take a look around below the cut!

Keep reading

A FEAST

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x Reader // has female parts !

A/N; okay so! This is a small Drabble so it’s like—cut short a bit? Along with this is a Drabble and uses female parts! Short word count! Also I’m still getting used to writing so I apologize if this is messy (┳◇┳) I will edit when I see fit for myself aha!

NSFW under the cut!

Gaz doesn’t know how he found himself in this position. His head full of lust, his tongue sucking up your lower lips. Your plush thighs on the side of his head, caging him in. And your soft mewls of pleasure make him twitch in his pants. He just came back from deployment—unlocking the doors of the shred house just to find you dressed in beautiful lingerie. And he couldn’t help himself. You were wrapped up like a present, from him to unwrap over and over again. And he loved it. His mind is fuzzy as he finds himself kneeled, while you’re laid on your back on the edge of the bed.

He eats you out like a starved man. Your plush thighs over his shoulder, while his hands rest under your upper thighs. His hands knead your flesh while his mouth slobbers against your wet slicked folds. He hums in delight as your taste fills his mouth. Your whimpered moans make him hard, but your lower lips make him harder. He’s still clothed in his shorts, yet he has no shirt. Your body lays naked on the bed. Sweat trickling down your forehead.

“Fuck love..” he whispers as his licks over your clit. The sounds of wet slurping noises follow after, sending waves of pleasure up and down your spine. He doesn’t speak to you—he speaks to your pussy. “So wet for me. So so fucking delicious.” He mutters, downright pussydrunk as his lips smack, covered in your juices.

His tongue is buried in your hole but peaks out to lick and feast more. Every time you try and squirm away his hold on you locks down. Forcing your body to push back up against his mouth, his nose, his face. His nose brushes up on your clit, officially making the majority of the bottom of his face wet with your slick.

His eyes close for a split second as he groans in pleasure. Inhaling your sex scent like it’s a new perfume. Slurping down your juices like a forbidden drink that’s supposed to be out of reach.

“Gaz!—Kyle.! Oh!” Your voice is hoarse as it calls out his Call Sign then his real name in pathetic mewls of pleasure.

One of your hands finds his head of hair, gripping it and making him grunt out. Your other hand trying to muffle your moans, yet proving unsuccessful as Gaz purposely trails up and down your wet folds and nips at your clit teasingly. Your body twitches in delight, his movements are so overwhelming. You can feel the knot in your lower belly. The way his tongue moves and explores your lower wet cavern. The way he doesn’t stop as he can feel you clench down on his tongue, only making him continue on more. He can taste you. He can feel you as you get more wetter under only his tongue and soft peppered kisses on your wetness.

Dripping, he thinks. You’re absolutely dripping. Soppy and wet and you coat his face so nice. His eyes peek open to look up. Your eyes are shut in pleasure and your mouth open as it produces those beautiful noises. His mouth leaves your soppy and quivering cunt for a moment, peppering wet kisses up your thighs. He can smell your scented body wash—inhaling it so nicely. But he cut himself short as his wet lips found your clit, his tongue teasing so nicely.

Oh this eats 🧎

bad dreams

PART ONE: some people are ghosts before they are dead.  pairing: jake "hangman" seresin x f!reader next part a/n: it's been two years! the words don't come as easily anymore but i'm still trying! i hope yall enjoy!!!

Sometimes a drink isn’t just a drink. 

Sometimes quiet isn’t quiet enough. 

Sometimes an ache of something — too raw, too familiar — echoes in your gut and leaves you with no choice. 

They’ll never believe you, you remind yourself, sometimes over and over and over again. They’ll never believe you when you say you had no choice. 

But sometimes you just don’t. 

Sometimes the pangs of sadness reverberate so violently through your chest that you shake into a shape that can’t even be termed human. Sometimes the claws of darkness climb up through your throat and speak for you in a voice you don’t recognize. Sometimes your feet move, step after step, carried by a will you don’t know as your own. 

Sometimes you end up at a bar, ordering a drink you hate, and feel your mouth salivating for it as your stomach churns. 

Penny slid the amber-colored liquid across the length of the counter, sloshing the drink up the sides of the tumbler but never past the rim. Her eyes carefully scan up and down your form, and even as you drop your head away from it, you can feel the weight of her concern settling on your shoulders. 

“Haven’t seen you out and about in a minute…” She said as she accepts your card across the counter, as much a statement as it was a question. 

But you didn’t have any answers for her. 

With a brief shrug, you finally looked up to meet her eyes. “I had some leave.”

“Do anything fun?” Bless her heart for asking. 

“No… just caught up on some sleep, that’s all.” 

You could see in the gentle lines creasing on her forehead that you weren’t getting that one by without suspicion, but if she had any plans of stopping you before your first sip, she didn’t show them. She grabbed a bowl of peanuts, set them on the counter in front of you, and gave you one last smile. “Always glad to see you.”

For the first time in a long time, you looked around a cloud of unfamiliar faces and believed her. Maybe you recognized a few buzz cuts here and there, but the majority of the excitement rattling around the old beach shack bar came from groups of sailors you had never seen. There must have been a recall on pilots, surely something you had received a memo about at some point in the last few weeks, but checking your email hadn’t exactly been top priority. 

Turning back to Penny, you pulled your cigarettes from your pocket and offered her what you could manage of a half smile before pulling your drink from the bar and wandering toward the back porch. 

The sun had only just set as you settle into one of the deck chairs out back, thankful that the few pairs wandering around you pay you no more kind than you pay them. It isn’t silent, certainly not as the waves continue to pound the shore line, but it is quieter and that would do for now. 

You manage to take your first sip when a rowdy group of pilot-types begin ascending the back stairs, tripping over themselves to make it out of the sand. You manage another as they quiet themselves down and make it to the back door and another when the tall blonde at the back of the group met your eye with an appraising look. He doesn’t seem to mind when you return the look, in fact, if it were possible with an ego as large as his already seemed to be, he continued into the bar with his head held a little bit higher. 

You should’ve known that was a mistake then, but your mind was elsewhere as you worked your way to the bottom of your glass. 

You knew for sure that it was a mistake when he walked back out with a two drinks in hand. 

“Hey.” It was a smooth offer, even you’d admit that, passing you the drink in his hand and giving you a similar, yet far more in depth, look up and down. 

There were still a few sips left in the glass in your hand but you accepted the drink and set it carefully down on the table next to you. As his eyes scanned you, you downed what was left in your glass and reached for your new drink. “Hey yourself…”

“Do we know each other?” There’s a quirk in his eye as he asks. Something almost playful, something almost fun.

It takes you about a second to complete your read on him, and another half a second to accept that this is what your next few minutes looked like. 

“Yeah, I’m the woman of your dreams or something I’m sure.”

The laugh that bellows from his chest seems to catch him off guard. Any drop of composure, anything he put on just for the approach, washed away in an instant as the true laughter breaks through.

“I was being serious,” he sighs at the end of his laugh. “You actually look familiar.”

“You don’t.”

“Well, I just got back.”

You should’ve ended it. You should’ve known right there and then that it wasn’t worth your time. Other pilots were never worth your time.

Then he smiles again and you just couldn’t help yourself. “Trust me, we don’t know each other.”

“You’re sure?” His smirk curved up at the edge, a challenge. 

One pointed stare and a mirrored raise of your brow was all it took and his hands shot up in a playful dance of surrender. His bright smile accompanied it and you swore you felt something far too light bubbling the darkness sitting heavy on your chest. 

This was a mistake. 

“Hangman.” He extended his hand your way, offering a shake as he laid his call sign on the table, confirming what you already knew his day job to be. 

You didn’t take it, sipping at your drink instead, watching as he bit back laughter and pulled his hand back. He had pulled back just enough to offer you a way out, you could tell that was his intention at least. He was giving you space to tell him off entirely, and everything about him, from the perfectly manicured hair to the broad shoulders to the boots on his feet, told you to back out now. 

But his smile was telling you something else entirely. And you met him there.

“Is it a good story?”

He tried to hide his satisfaction with the question, doing his best to hold something else in as well as he turned his head to the side and shrugged in a play at indifference that just didn’t suit his ego. “Depends who you ask.”

The porch had emptied out as the sun set completely, leaving just the two of you. So when you leaned your head from left to right and shrugged, he nearly lost it laughing again. “I guess I’m asking you.”

“I’m very quick.”

“Aren’t all of you very quick?”

“They’re quick, I’m very quick.” He gets one laugh out and swallows the rest. “Quite a few have been left behind when they can’t keep up… or so the story goes.”

That almost makes you laugh. Almost. “Not a very good story.” 

“Well, no one asked you.”

How long had it been since a smile bubbled to your lips so naturally? It was barely there, and you certainly did your best to hide it with your drink, but it was a real smile. A natural smile. 

He must have seen it too, offering you yet another chance to meet him halfway. “I didn’t get your name…” 

Your smile isn’t fading. “I don’t have a name.”

“No?” He laughs.

“Nope.” Another sip of your drink brings you painfully close to the bottom. 

“You work on base?” He tries a new line of questioning, anything to get more than a few words in a row out of you. 

Your head feels a bit heavier than it should as you weigh it back and forth before offering a non-committal hum. He repeats it back to you in question and you sigh, offering him an answer. “Yeah, sometimes.”

“Sometimes? You don’t look like a civilian?”

Part of you can’t help but wonder what that means you do look like, but you don’t bother. Shaking your head, you answer, “not a civilian, just complicated.”

“I can do complicated.” 

That seemed to be whatever you needed to push you the rest of the way over the edge. A reminder from the echoing voice in your head, from the clawing darkness in your gut. 

This was a mistake. 

He didn’t know who you were, he didn’t know what he walked himself into. This wasn’t fair to him. 

And it certainly wasn’t fair to you. 

Pretending was fun. In some of these darkest moment, distraction was the only thing keeping you sane, but it would never last. You knew it could never last. 

You came for a drink, something to wash the bad taste in your mouth away long enough to sleep through the night. You didn’t come to ruin someone else’s night. It just wasn’t fair to either of you. 

“I’m sure you excel at it, Lieutenant.” You mock with a heat you hadn’t been able to muster when he first gave you the chance. “Look… this has been a fun few minutes but if you’re looking to have another fun few minutes tonight, you’re wasting your time with me.”

“I disagree.” The offer on the table wasn’t there anymore. He gave you a chance but you were in it now, you could see it on his face. That smile. He was feeding off the back and forth. He liked this. 

Fuck. This was a mistake. 

“Well, I’m glad I can be a source of entertainment but I’m serious.” Additional heat but his smile never melted. He didn’t just like this, he liked you. 

“Serious is a strange name for a woman as pretty as you are but if that’s what you go by…”

You couldn’t help the small turn of a smile this time, you beat it down with heavy fist but he could still pull it out of you like it was nothing. 

“Should I try guessing your name?” He’d give anything to keep your smile going. Anything he could. “Normal name? ’parents tried to be unique’ name? you kinda look like you could go either way.”

And as much as you knew you should back out, something light, something you barely even recognized in your chest, kept beating and you kept going. “Well your parents named you Hangman, so I don’t know if you’re really allowed to talk.”

He’s halfway through a sip of beer and sputters at your words. As he catches himself and wipes his lips, he smiles again, “it’s Jake, actually.”

“Jacob or just 'Jake'?”

“I don’t think parents name their kids just Jake-“

“Yeah, Jake is a pretty stupid name.”

“I meant just 'Jake'-“

“I honestly can’t tell anymore if your name is Jake or Jacob now-“

The rumble of laughter is cut short, like wind to a flame. 

A group of sailors roll out the door, drunkenly hanging off each other and locked into the chorus of whatever song had been playing through the walls just a minute ago. The three of them barely notice the stairs they’re falling down, so for a few seconds, your heart stays where it is in your chest. But the seconds fall quickly through the hourglass when the taller of the group stands to full height and a roughly 15 degree angle and turns back to where you and Hangman are sitting. 

A mustache and a face you know right away. 

“Holy shit, Ghost?”

Now silence and the crashing waves is all you can hear. 

Jake’s head turns in realization, matching your face, ever so slightly older, to the pictures of previous top gun classes they had been scanning through just days ago. Few are lucky enough to hold the title of best of the best, and you were one of them. Or you had been. 

All Jake knew now was that you didn’t fly fighter jets anymore. “Shit.” He says almost silently.

It was a mistake. At least you could leave knowing you were right about that now.

“Bradley Bradshaw…” you hum, taking the last swig of your drink and finding your feet. “Now that’s a pretty unfortunate name.”

Jake wants to laugh with you as you pass by, but you aren’t laughing and when he notices how quickly you’ve abandoned your smile, he can’t find it in him to laugh again. 

Rooster musters up a half-hearted and mostly drunken apology that you wave your hand at, figuring he’ll forget he ever saw you by the time the sun re-emerges. He tries again as you step past him but again, you dismiss him. “Don’t worry about it.”

It isn’t until you find the stairs that you turn back to find Jake’s waiting stare. “Thanks for the drink.”

He nods, unable to find any other semblance of words. 

And you carry on, hoping the bottle of liquor in your nightstand can calm the nerves boiling under your skin at the mere mention of your call sign.