My Ass Really Can't Stop Posting Abt This Shit

My ass really can't stop posting abt this shit

Vincent wip ^_^ so coquette

This isn’t something I’ve been very vocal about on this platform because I know it is an escape of sorts for so many and I want this blog to remain a safe place. Most importantly, I want you to know that I am not anti anyone and I do not believe that anyone on this earth should be suffering like this.

Update: we’re welcoming a new family as we have helped Rana & Salam almost half way to their goal! 💕

gofundme.com

Donate to Helping the Taroush family, organized by Amer Amer Taroush

I am your brother Amer Taroush, the organizer of this page for my family 1- I am Amer … Amer Amer Taroush needs your support for Helping

I know the new Hunger Games book announcement is exciting. But in what world are we hearing more about a book announcement than we are about the bombing of 40 children in a UN school-turned-refugee shelter? These two events occurred on the same day. Only one is being widely spoken about in the media.

Let’s not forget why Suzanne Collins wrote the series in the first place. One night, she was watching TV, flipping back and forth between coverage of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and a reality-TV show. That's when she had the idea that would ultimately turn into The Hunger Games.

Please don’t let pop culture distract you from a genocide.

palestine masterpost-masterpost

i've been trying my best to collect a bunch of links to other, more structured resources about the genocide in gaza, and what you, reading this, can do about it, that i'm going to compile here.

DON'T SCROLL PAST. LOOK THROUGH THE LINKS. REBLOG.

less and less people are talking about gaza every day, but it is still a very real crisis.

education, donations, speaking out, global links (masterpost)

links to contextual articles

for americans - state/congressional contacts

how you can help palestine - donations, petitions, campaigns, upcoming protests (masterpost)

non-politically motivated charity links

canary mission

petitions and congressional contact (masterpost)

education, current news, taking action, direct action and donations, current protests (masterpost)

small monetary actions

2700 ebooks on israel and palestine, available for free

thorough article by storiesfromgaza, dated 10/30/23

targeted boycott + bds

how to find state/congressional contacts, bds, email template, donation links

sudan and congo

egypt, us/uk/canada/europe congressional contacts

direct links to help palestine

educate yourself (twitter links)

translating gaza (instagram link)

bds/targeted boycott information

compilation of palestine info and how to support it (masterpost), dated 10/28/23

latest info as of 11/3/23 and large amounts of immediate action to take (masterpost)

history of palestine and israel - articles, books, films, social media (masterpost)

socials to follow

journalists in north gaza

btselem

Wip Billy Dunne art yatta★

No walls

(Tw sa)

I feel this shiver running through my body, as if the weight of the world is slowly crushing me. The cold air surrounds me, a constant reminder of the emptiness within me. And yet, there is a lingering heat that embraces me, the type of warmth that suffocates rather than comforts. It touches me everywhere, leaving no part of me untouched.My hair, once meticulously styled, now sits in disarray. It mirrors the chaos within me, a reflection of the shattered pieces of my soul. That coldness that once haunted me now feels like a distant memory, a distant pain that I have learned to numb.But it is the heat that burns me, the flames that dry up my tears, leaving only a desolate wasteland where emotions used to reside. The constant production of tears seems futile, as if my body is trying to cleanse itself from the sliminess and disgust that has seeped into my existence.In his arms, I find no solace, only a reminder of the trust I foolishly placed in someone who saw me as nothing more than a joke. I was an easy target, a naive little girl who believed the manipulative lies woven by his sinister tongue. How did it happen? How did I, a person once considered intelligent and cunning, find myself reduced to such vulnerability?My anger consumes me, fueled by the regret of having allowed myself to be deceived. The hatred that fills me threatens to overflow, like a dam ready to burst. It is the straw that broke the camel's back, the final blow that shattered my illusion of strength.As I dig my nails into his back, I feel a strange mix of pain and pleasure. The red spots left behind serve as a testament to my suffering, a physical manifestation of the anguish within me. They are red, just like the cold blood that courses through my veins, and just like the blood that I will shed.But why? This question gnaws at the corners of my mind, a relentless torment that refuses to offer an answer. How could my body betray me, not reacting to this violation with the defense it should? Could it be that, deep down, I find some sick satisfaction in this brutality? The thought disgusts me, and yet it persists.In the end, I realize that I am not as smart or as intelligent as I once believed. I am simply a piece of meat, stripped of my humanity and reduced to a vessel for someone else's pleasure. No longer am I Elisa or Lunix, cherished individuals with dreams and aspirations. I am merely a lewd body, meant to be used and discarded.The pain cuts deep, as I understand that I will never be seen as a person in bed, but rather as an incubator for children. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, a reminder of the injustice and objectification that women endure daily. We become victims of a society that normalizes and perpetuates rape culture, a label that they slap onto us without remorse.And so, as they leave me alone in the darkness, I am left to melt away like a used candle, forgotten and discarded. Because in this world, we are all just objects, subject to the whims and desires of those in power. We become invisible, our voices silenced, reduced to nothing more than the derogatory names they call us.I am not just L.Meat, I am the collective pain of countless individuals who have suffered and continue to suffer in a world that ignores their cries. Sluts, they say. Chained like prisoners in this loop called everyday life.

lmao