Every year, multiple times a year, they convince ppl to fork out thousands of dollars and….literally nothing changes. There’s no doubt in my mind they’re pocketing most of this money lol
You know if any of you actually bothered to click the link it’ll take you to their budget update and break down exactly what the spend the money on, over 70% of which is spent on server expenses, monitoring tools and system licences.
They also spent a good amount of the rest of the 30% budget on significant server overhaul costs.
AO3 is literally a service you get for free and the audacity you’d have to not bother reading the very open budget plan they have, but to then bitch and whine about people donating to keep the site running is wild.
Take your zero dollars elsewhere, that’ll really show AO3 what they’re doing wrong. If you read the budget (and I did) the Organization for Transformative Works actually has a pretty sizable rainy day budget fund, and brings in more than they spend, so yes, they are “pocketing” the money. Some people call the act of spending less than you make “good fiscal governance.” It means the organization is stable, can weather emergencies and unexpected changes. And the fact that they have legal access and money makes us all safer, because people are a lot less likely to try to push them around claiming copyright infringement for transformative works. But whatever, who needs history or stability when you have zero dollars and a thirst to forget.
Before you donate, please take a moment to read our story we really need u. 💔😔
This link is where you can help support our family, and reading our journey will show you exactly how your contribution can make a real difference.👇🙏
Hello, my name is Anas, and I am from Gaza.Some of you may already know me from my previous fundraiser on GoFundMe. I want to explain honest
Hello, my name is Anas, and I am from Gaza and this is Our Story from Gaza: Before and After 💔
Before the war, my family and I lived in the Shuja'iyya neighborhood of Gaza City. Our life was simple but full of meaning. I lived with my parents, my brother, and my sister in a home filled with love and laughter.
Every morning, my father and mother would wake up early to go to work, while my sister prepared for school. We had our normal daily routines, shared meals together, celebrated birthdays, and dreamed of the future.
It wasn’t a rich life, but it was ours. We had our house, a small piece of farmland, good neighbors, and beautiful land around us that gave us a sense of peace and belonging. My mother, father, and sister were always part of this daily rhythm, making our life feel ordinary yet full of warmth and stability.
Every Thursday, our whole family would gather at my grandmother’s house laughter, stories, and meals together. That special time brought us closer and filled our hearts with joy. Now, all of that is gone.
Our home between before and after 🥺💔
The Day Everything Changed
During the first week of the war, the bombing forced us to leave our home. We thought it would be temporary, but then came the news that broke us: our home was completely destroyed. Flattened to the ground. Everything we worked for and saved, every memory, gone in a moment.Since then, we have been displaced multiple times from Shuja'iyya to Rimal, then Al-Zawada, and finally Rafah. Each time we carried less with us. We’ve slept on floors, in schools, and even tents. Nights are freezing, days are unbearably hot. There is no clean water, no electricity, no toilets. We wait hours just for bread. We lost not only our home but also our jobs, our stability, and our sense of safety. Right now, our only dream is to survive tomorrow.
Why I Am Asking for Your Help
I am starting this campaign to support my family because the war destroyed everything we had our home, our land, our routines, and our sense of safety. Your help will allow us to rebuild our lives step by step.
and we are raising $20,000 to help my family survive and rebuild after the war. This amount will allow us to:
1-Rebuilding our home and farmland: Our house was completely destroyed, along with our small piece of farmland. These were not just buildings or land they were the heart of our daily life, where we felt safe and connected to our surroundings. We need help to repair and rebuild a stable home and restore the land that provided us with peace and sustenance.
2-Restoring our daily life and happiness: Before the war, we had routines and small joys working in the fields, sharing meals, celebrating birthdays, and seeing our neighbors regularly. Every Thursday, our family gathered at my grandmother’s house. Those ordinary days brought us happiness and a sense of belonging. We want to bring back some of that normal life.
3-Support for work and livelihoods: The war took away our jobs and sources of income. My parents, who used to work hard to provide for the family, can no longer earn a living safely. Donations will help us cover essential expenses and start rebuilding work opportunities so we can support ourselves again.
4-Food, clean water, and urgent health needs: Life now is a struggle for basic necessities. Your donation helps us access proper food, clean water, and medicine for urgent health needs.
Your support, no matter the amount, is not just money it’s hope, dignity, and a chance for a family who lost everything to start over. Every contribution helps us recover a little of the life we loved and the memories that made it special.
As of today, April 15, 2025, the latest satellite images of our home show that it has been completely destroyed
From My Heart ❤️
To everyone who supported us before, and to anyone reading this now thank you 🙏. I know the world is full of struggles, and I don’t take your kindness for granted.
Please, if you can, donate again through this new link or share it with others. Every bit of help means so much to me and my family. 💔🙏
Hello, my name is Anas, and I am from Gaza.Some of you may already know me from my previous fundraiser on GoFundMe. I want to explain honest
Even $20 will make a big difference and save us!
IMPORTANT: This campaign is real and verified. You can see all updates and amounts raised directly on the link.
You can check here so you can donate with confidence👉verified ✅
If you came from the tags , I want to reassure you, don’t worry, because @gaza-evacuation-funds helps me to make the post reach the largest number of people
!!!
Some of you may already know me from my previous fundraiser on GoFundMe. I want to explain honestly what happened: I closed that campaign myself because receiving the money there was very difficult. Their strict policies only allowed transfers in one currency (USD), which made it hard for many people who wanted to support us in other currencies. Some donations could not even reach us, and part of the money had to be returned to the donors.
That’s why I decided to move my campaign here to chuffed.org. This platform is much better for our situation because it allows people to donate in different currencies (USD, EUR, and more). This way, support can truly reach us without these problems.
Thanks to your support, we have collected $22,236! 🙌
We have returned $2,300, and the remaining funds from our previous campaign are approximately $20,000.
With your help, we are now focusing on achieving our next goals:
Not that anybody asked, but I think it's important to understand how shame and guilt actually work before you try to use it for good.
It's a necessary emotion. There are reasons we have it. It makes everything so. much. worse. when you use it wrong.
Shame and guilt are DE-motivators. They are meant to stop behavior, not promote it. You cannot, ever, in any meaningful way, guilt someone into doing good. You can only shame them into not doing bad.
Let's say you're a parent and your kid is having issues.
Swearing in class? Shame could work. You want them to stop it. Keep it in proportion*, and it might help. *(KEEP IT IN PROPORTION!!!)
Not doing their homework? NO! STOP! NO NOT DO THAT! EVER! EVER! EVER! You want them to start to do their homework. Shaming them will have to opposite effect! You have demotivated them! They will double down on NOT doing it. Not because they are being oppositional, but because that's what shame does!
You can't guilt people into building better habits, being more successful, or getting more involved. That requires encouragement. You need to motivate for that stuff!
If you want it in a simple phrase:
You can shame someone out of being a bad person, but you can't shame them into being a good person.
Fanfiction is supposed to be cringy. You're allowed to write bad. You're allowed to be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be self indulgent. You're allowed to be cringe. Let yourself be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be fun. Stop putting arbitrary rules on yourself and be free.
on tumblr staffs own post on the subject, they cant see the criticism because its all going to tammamolandias reblog (and everyone before her im sure)
they would have to. go to HER blog. and THEN look at the activity. to see what people are saying. theyve created a machine where the consequences of their actions are automatically hidden from them. thats so fucking on the nose that its almost funny. if it werent so upsetting
Cw: child abuse-verbal/emotional and physical, depression, disassociation, self-esteem issues
notes: caleb x non mc!reader; unrequited love
Author’s note: Hi! I didn’t expect anyone was going to read this tbh! This chapter is heavy and deals with a lot of the content warnings above. I do not go into significant detail but they are there and prevalent. This first part especially is a bit rough. Please take care of yourself and if you click out, then no worries! Thank you for reading with me so far 🙂
Part 1
Here you go: @athyend, @calebsnumberoneapple, @reni502, @justpassingdontworry, @mcdepressed290, @gojosbedwarmer, @cassiesversion Thank you for reading :)
Your mother told you not to fall in love. The few times she was home and the even fewer times she deemed it necessary to grace you with her presence, she’d sit you down in front of your home’s overly ornate fireplace, and tell you that singular line. She was only ever gentle then, her hands carefully rising from her lap to cup your cheeks. She was silent in those moments-her eyes glazed over as though she was staring into a reflection of herself from years ago.
“Do not fall in love, no matter what you do,” she said and would say for years to come.
(She’d say it long after her hair would turn gray, still shining due to the copious amounts of products she imported for that very purpose. Her hands, gnarled and unable to stand the test of time, would come to rest against your cheeks, just as tender as before. You were older now, a grown adult, but still that mistake of a child to her. She would repeat this every year, and every year you were made to listen.)
This you, the you forced to sit on that leather couch and dab at the tears collecting in the corner of your mother’s eyes (the ones she refused to even acknowledge but would throw a fit if they made a mess of her makeup), was 18. Graduation was around the corner and you could feel the anticipation coiling in the air. It swirled around everyone, made a living underneath their skin and manifested in jitters they either didn’t want to stop or couldn’t. You, on the other hand, it avoided with the sort of single minded determination that would be funny if it didn’t leave you feeling numb.
It was a year of reminiscing, of looking back and looking forward. It was a year of goodbyes, shouted with glee or forced out through a throat thick with tears. It was a year of endings and beginnings.
Caleb was going to fly, his evol practically his love letter to that profession. MC, when she graduated, was going to be a Hunter, her eyes shining with fierce determination whenever she’d brought it up. And you?
Well.
Linkon U was the school you chose because your mother, for all that she rarely ever saw you, threw a fit when you mentioned moving to Chansia or Goldwood City. She nearly vomited in her tirade when you said you wanted to pursue art. And she threw damn near every single bit of glass on the floor when you whispered the possibility of never coming back. None of them hit you, but they fell and shattered against the ground with such violence you wondered if that distinction even mattered.
The silence she left when she hurried out of the house was suffocating. She practically ran out of the place, her face pinched and eyes squinted shut as if she couldn’t force herself to see the damage she had created. She left you to deal with the consequences of her actions. You didn’t move for a long while, merely stared at the glass surrounding you, a reminder of the cage she had built all while she could experience all the world had to offer. Your reflection blinked back at you, just as expressionless, and something twisted inside of you as you stared at the nothing she had forced you to become.
A ghost, a spectator to everything and everyone else’s life. A shade, forced to hide in the shadows while everyone else got to bask in the sun. Nothing but a wisp of a person. That was you. That would always be you.
Chest feeling tight, you moved, your body careening to the side and almost toppling over your dining chair. The shards of glass splintered further underneath and all around you, responding to the turmoil underneath your skin. You could feel them heat and turn molten underneath your raging emotions. They would’ve burnt a hole into your mother’s cherished hardwood floors had something in the back of your mind not hissed and you levitated them slightly up. It was as though that was the invitation they needed as they whizzed around, fizzing and popping in equal measure. Bits and pieces would splash across your skin and you stared, detached, as the heat of it barely reacted against your skin.
‘Ah,’ you thought, a hysterical laugh built upon years of silent acceptance bubbled up to the surface, ‘I will die here and not even this house will mourn me.’
You didn’t notice your phone buzzing-didn’t notice the way it rang against your skin as glass melted and reformed around you over and over and over again. You were floating, breaths coming out in sharp pants and body swaying from the left and to the right, guided only by the spinning bits of molten glass. It left you in a precarious bubble, one you wouldn’t (couldn’t) break. Not right now. Maybe not ever.
You didn’t notice the door opening, didn’t notice the slightly hurried footprints or the sharp inhale. You didn’t hear the quiet whisper of your name, sharp and then soft as they took in the scene, the way you were curled in on yourself, tight and shivering. You didn’t feel their presence as they got closer, crouched as close to your body as they possibly could, mindful of the burning glass twisting around you.
But you felt the weight-a shift in the pressure around you as you suddenly felt heavier. It wasn’t overwhelming, merely a minute shift in your gravitational center, but it was enough. You weren’t back in your body, not fully, but you could feel it in a way that wasn’t real to you before. It felt heavy, awkward, and part of you wanted to go back to floating above it all but you knew better. You didn’t rise from your curled up position, didn’t do anything but shift your head slightly and squint at the lights.
He was sitting there, bathed in the unforgiving glow of your kitchen light. Brow furrowed, his eyes tracked the glass swishing around you. His hand twitched and you noticed slightly more pressure around you. Your body, alight with tingles only the freshly awakened dead could feel, didn’t register this added pressure. No, it was the glass around you, slowly hardening, that registered this change. They lowered slightly, just enough for him to notice you watching.
The smile formed on his face slowly, first on the outer edges and then fully. As though he was unsure which smile to give you: the concerned one, filled with sympathy and warmth, or the encouraging one, filled with strength and purpose. The smile he gave was a mixture of the two, unsure of its own purpose and real for that alone. He looked at you and then opened his arms, an invitation freely given.
You did not make a sound when the glass around you dropped to the floor. You did not cry when you crashed into his arms and wrapped yourself around him like a snake. You did not say a word when you buried your face in his neck and breathed deeply.
You didn’t say a word, but something within you, a peony against concrete, bloomed further.
‘I’m not going to love you,’ you thought, wrapped in his arms as you were, ‘please do not let me fall in love with you.’ Caleb, unaware of your thoughts and so incredibly warm and present in these moments, merely hugged you tighter to him.
(It only until later when you’d removed yourself from his embrace and got to work cleaning up and fixing the glass that you recognized the futility of that plea. He was standing next to you, his reflection bouncing off each piece of glass you slowly fused together. His presence filled you with the sort of stability you were infusing into the glass. It held you together with a tender sort of gentleness-like he’d seen the cracked pieces and accepted them all the same.
It was humbling. Terrifying. Freeing.
Warm.
And you, so tired of feeling the chill of a life half-lived, fell into it. You did not care if it was meant to be yours; in this moment, in this singular moment, you allowed yourself to feel selfish. You fell into that warmth, an imitation of the sun created just for you.)
The day before graduation was sunny, the temperature well above what you found acceptable to do anything, much less walk around the city’s town square. MC had insisted the two of you hunt for Caleb’s graduation gift, wrapping a hand around your arm and pulling you out of the house the moment she sensed even a hint of hesitation on your part.
(It’s not as though it really took much to get you out of the silence your home had become ever since that night. Your mother’s presence, generally oppressive when forced to be in your proximity, had dwindled to nothing. She rarely came home, her visits fewer than ever. The silence should’ve been nice, the mutual decision to stay away from each other should’ve felt freeing.
It didn’t. It wasn’t. A part of you wondered if you could ever please her. The answer to that, you knew, but still you tried. Fruitlessly, hopelessly, you tried.
And you were worse off for it.)
And so here the two of you were, blistering hot underneath the heat of the sun, unhindered by any clouds, searching for a present worthy of Caleb.
MC was the one to spot the store, practically skipping in with you trailing behind her. The jewelry store was tucked in slightly, squished between a trendy cafe and an inviting bookstore. There weren’t too many customers, merely an elderly couple who, in the midst of their quiet giggling, bought a ring to commemorate 50 years together.
MC sighed quietly, dropping slightly into your arms to grin up at you.
“Let’s get one when we’re 50,” she said, her voice soft with affection. She didn’t give you a second to respond, already moving past the moment like she hadn’t caused a ripple in your stomach, hadn’t caused you to actually think of a life past the here and now. It was amazing, how she spoke of the future without a hint of uncertainty, how she’d already decided that her future would include you in it, steady and unchanging.
‘No,’ you thought, watching MC flit from section to section, testing out different types of jewelry, ‘that isn’t it.’
She didn’t see you as unchanging-she just thought that you would grow together. And something about that made your stomach clench and your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. You wanted in that moment. You didn’t know what it was, but you wanted so very badly.
When MC pulled forth a silver dog tag, beaming over at you and proudly proclaiming that “this is the one!” When she hurried over to the jeweler, mouth already moving to ask for it to be engraved, when she looked over to you to ask if you wanted to add to this, all you could do was smile.
You reached into your pocket, hand already manipulating the glass into the shape you wanted it to be, your mind flitting through memories of Caleb and his smiles, the food he still brought over despite it being years, the hugs that lingered, the smile that fit any and all occasions.
You thought of apples-how you followed him along on one of his trips to the grocery store and watched him test each one for any abnormalities. You thought of how he would carefully cut them, sometimes into thick wedges, other times into random shapes-sometimes easily identifiable, other times unrecognizable.
You thought of the sun-of the way he lit up around MC and she in turn with him. How MC smiled with reckless abandon, unaware of the daze she put everyone in. You thought of how warm she was, how she came by day after day after day, chasing away any chill in your home. You thought of how much she shined and worried about whether it would ever be too much for her.
You thought of Caleb. You thought of MC. And the glass charm that you pulled out: a bright red apple with a miniature sun around it, represented the two of them. It was Caleb and it was MC, made by your hands. It was something tying the 3 of you together.
You reinforced the glass, mentally pushing as much durability as you possibly could. It wouldn’t break, not unless you willed it.
It was beautiful. The finished piece caught the light in just the right way that the apple shined. MC blinked and grinned back at you, nodding her head as if to commend you for your choice.
You weren’t there when MC handed Caleb the necklace, weren’t there when she explained that it was a present from you and her. You weren’t there to see the flicker in Caleb’s eyes when she pointed to the apple and said you made it. The way he caressed the glass while he brought it closer to inspect it. His voice shook slightly when he commented on the craftsmanship, on the care you’d employed to make it. You weren’t there to see him notice the words etched onto the metal, weren’t there to see his eyes widen and a smile, syrupy sweet, settle on his lips. You weren’t there to see him insist MC put it on him, weren’t there to see him gently caress the words long after she left.
You were home, quietly tucking your mother into bed. She had cried some more after getting you to promise yet again that you would never fall in love. Her face had crumpled, collapsing in on itself with the weight of her cries, and you could do nothing but hold her. You lied and told her you weren’t in love, lied and told her that there was no one that made your heart race and your palms turn clammy. You lied and told her there was no one occupying your heart or your lungs or had dominion over the butterflies in your stomach. You lied because you knew her cries would only get uglier if she knew the truth.
That you were already far gone.
Instead of a phone call that night, he came to you. You were sitting at your customary spot against your window when you noticed his form glide up from the ground to hover in front of you. He tapped the window twice, teasingly asking you to let him in and chuckling softly when you blinked back at him, nonplussed. Shaking your head-and pretending as though you weren’t flustered by his sudden appearance-you opened the latch to your window. He floated through, winking at you before he settled into the floor of your home-your room.
He’d never been in your room-neither of them have now that you thought about it. You had always met them downstairs, in the easily showcased portions of your home. Sure, Caleb had seen the ugliness of broken glass and an empty fridge, but watching him stand there in the middle of your room felt too revealing. It felt as though, with one quick glance across your room, he’d see more than you were ready to show-the parts of you tucked away, only to be pulled out under the cover of darkness, alone.
The most revealing thing about your room could be that there wasn’t much in there at all. No posters were on your wall. No bookshelf took up space along the wall either. There was no desk. There was just a bed, resting against a metal bed frame. The dresser was pushed to the side, and on it were the only decorations you managed to acquire: several photos of you, MC, and Caleb, of just you and MC, and of just you and Caleb. There was a singular photo of your mother, worn down on the edges and slightly stained like you had grabbed it from the trash. There were some random bits of glass, misshapen bits that seemed to resemble apples and stars and suns. There was a singular notebook resting on that dresser, black and unobtrusive, it held all your ideas.
Beyond that, though, your room was empty. It was large, but that did nothing but make the space feel emptier. You sat there, back straight against your window, staring with baited breath as Caleb’s eyes slowly swept across the room before settling back onto you.
He didn’t comment on the room because of course he wouldn’t. He just looked at you, taking in your expression, before walking towards you. Crouching in front of you, his hand rested against your knee, the action smooth and easy despite it wreaking havoc on your insides. He said nothing, waiting, with the sort of patience you thought was reserved for MC, for you to look at him. When you did, your heart jack hammering in your chest, he offered you a smile, slow and beautiful like the setting sun behind you.
“There you are,” he whispered, his voice pitched low. His hand moved from your knee with deliberate slowness, settling against your calf and carefully massaging the muscle there, “I thought you were hiding from me for a second there.”
You hummed softly, pitching forward to catch the way the fading light rested against his eyes, bringing out bursts of color you hadn’t seen before. The purple, predominant as always, blazed underneath the light of the sun.
‘Beautiful,’ you thought, heart aching with so many emotions you couldn’t even possibly start cataloging them, ‘so very beautiful.’
He moved closer to you in the silence, the hand caressing your calf moving back up to your knee and squeezing. You opened your legs, letting him settle in between and pitch forward into your already open arms. He nuzzled into your neck, breathing deeply before wrapping his own arms around you. It was grounding, safe. It was Caleb.
‘I love you,’ you almost said, the words sticking to the roof of your mouth before dying, ‘I am so incredibly in love with you, I can barely breathe.’
“Come back safe,” you said instead, inhaling the words you really wanted to say and breathing this out instead, “and when you come back, you have to tell me all about how cool Skyhaven is.” He huffed out a laugh against you, squeezing once before pulling back slightly to tap your nose.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” his voice was low, but no less teasing. He didn’t remove himself from your embrace, didn’t reestablish any sort of space between the two of you. It was just you and Caleb, wrapped up in each other in the dying light of your room.
You held him close, and for that moment, that singular moment that you wished you could extend for a lifetime, you pretended he was yours.
I'm not going to stay silent, and Love and Deepspace players - don't stay silent either!!! What the hell is up with shipping Sylus with Ada from Resident Evil?? Who even came up with this nonsense? Sylus would NEVER look in her direction because he loves the PLAYER, WHICH IS US! Those who support this pathetic ship are just nobodies who don't give a damn about the feelings of players for whom Love and Deepspace is home, emotional support - and you're forcing some random woman onto our man, spitting on the feelings of the girl who's literally living a story with him, who loves him, who he means everything to. Your place is in the gutter. If you post this kind of trash, then MAKE YOUR ACCOUNTS PRIVATE! Sylus and the player are the only canon! And as for Love and Deepspace players who support this ship - I'm even more disappointed in you; it just proves your low emotional intelligence, that all you care about is just banging characters together and crossing them over - you're disgusting.
The behavior OP is displaying here (and apparently the rest of her profile too) has a scientific name within the psychology field and it is called low tolerance to frustration.
We can also see two of the three major "musts" of Albert Ellis' Rational Emotive Behaviour Therapy model (basically, one of the predecessors to today's third generation Behavioral Cognitive Therapy - BCT): 1. My life must be easy and without discomfort or inconveniences, and 2. Other people must do "the right thing" or else they are no good and deserve to be punished.
OP is also clearly not used to western fandom spaces (I'm inferring she's from the CN community, which has a history of being very closed off and hostile to anything but the official "player of (national) otome games is the heroine and nothing else should be allowed" And in fact, consider it's better for the heroine's default design to never be seen). Western (and, as a plus, also Hispanic) fandom spaces don't have the same zoning for genres and shipping that the CN and to some degree JP fanbases have. We have canon x canon, oc x canon, self insert x canon ship and character tags in social media, but we don't have the same hard limits or rules since the internet is thought of as no ones's land and it is everyone's own responsibility to curate their own algorithm and timelines.
I do not know OP or what her life is like, but going by what is usually found within psychological research, the easier an individual's life is, the lower their tolerance to frustration is. OP, you either have way too much free time and a very privileged life or too little of it and are getting too aggressive in defending what might as well be an emotional crutch in your difficult times. I do not blame you if it's the latter, and if lads and sylus are what keeps you going for now do continue using them to support yourself. Something must've happened to make you like this and it's on you to choose to make it better or let it fester and become more dysfunctional than it already appears to be.
This is more for anyone who might be reading this and feel like OP, jealous of fictional characters and abstract ideas and ideals, or who might be thinking they have the same irrational beliefs, please look for help. It's fine to cling to things we love to keep ourselves going through difficult times (specially nowadays), but the moment those things we love start making us feel miserable (like, say, constantly feeling on guard that the favorite character with which you daydream and imagine a relationship wouldn't love you or feeling that your own imagination is threatened by someone else's) and makes us lash out at real people who have never hurt us or anyone else, that's the moment where we have to take a step back and reevaluate if it really is healthy for us in the long run.
Seek help from professionals and from your friends. This way of thinking will eventually make you miserable. Everything can become unhealthy and dysfunctional if we're not careful. When you reach the point where you feel the need to attack others over something as harmless as a ship between fictional characters, you've already reached the dysfunctional level of investment into fandom spaces and yes, it can and it will eventually leak to other areas of your life and make it harder and more painful than it should be.
thanksgiving is a holiday based on a falsified narrative full of white guilt and the erasure of history so what are some good native organizations to donate to this coming thursday
please also consider looking into funding native/tribal food sovereignty projects if you have food to donate or money to spare. friends, please add more if you know of them and have links to provide:
native american food sovereignty alliance
meskwaki food sovereignty initiative
friends of pine ridge reservation
first nations development institute
you can also buy food/gifts from indigenous sellers or donate to gofundme fundraisers made by indigenous people who need help getting groceries, paying medical bills, or paying rent. do something to help us and our communities.
try water projects too, like the navajo water project: https://www.navajowaterproject.org/
Help DigDeep bring clean, running water to hundreds of American families. Nearly 40% of Navajo don't have a tap or toilet at home. We can fi
a lot of reservations are fucked over on water by illegal oil drilling, pipelines, or other breaches, like in the navajo rez’s case: contaminated by illegal uranium mining.
I would like to put my endorsement to the Sovereign Bodies Institute, home of the database of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women. The database is trans-inclusive, the data protocols follow the desires of the families of MMIW, and this holiday season, they are collecting donations to buy gifts for the families, especially the children, of missing and murdered women.
I’d like to add Feeding Nunavut, the cost of living in the isolated north for Inuit is up to and sometimes over 5x the prices the rest of Canada is used to.
✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #329 )✅️
‼️Please don’t skip taking a look 🍉🇵🇸I am
ahmad from Gaza. I am 26 years old. I stand before you as a person trying to preserve his family. 🇵🇸💔💔
We try to live under miserable conditions in tents in Mawasi Khan Yunis, south of Gaza. It is difficult for me to find the words to describe what we face every day in Gaza. No food, no medicine, no clean drinking water, oppression, helplessness, psychological pressures, doubts, and daily trauma due to the loss of loved ones. In Gaza, it's not just hunger, disease and fear; Rather, it means actual death.
With a heart weighed down by sorrow, I reach out to you, hoping that kindness and humanity still shine in this world. My family and I have lost everything—the home that once sheltered us, the walls that echoed with laughter, the warmth and security that every human deserves. The relentless attacks on Gaza have turned our lives into a daily fight for survival. What was once a place of comfort and love is now nothing but rubble, and we are left with nothing but the clothes on our backs and a fragile tent that barely stands against the bitter cold.
Now, our days and nights are consumed by hardship. The icy wind pierces through the thin fabric of our tent, leaving us shivering, with no escape from the freezing temperatures. Food is scarce, clean water is hard to find, and the most basic necessities have become luxuries beyond our reach. Every day, we struggle—not just to live, but to preserve the dignity that war tries to strip away.
Amid this suffering, a new life was brought into the world—my brother’s daughter, an innocent soul who took her first breath in a tent instead of a warm home, her tiny body wrapped in whatever scraps of fabric we could find. She was born not into joy, but into loss, into hunger, into the unforgiving reality of war. And as we watch her, so fragile and pure, our hearts break knowing that we cannot give her the comfort and security she deserves and we cannot provide enough milk, diapers, medicines, and vitamins for her😭😭😭😭💔💔💔
I do not ask for much—just a little help to keep us going through these unimaginable times. A warm blanket to protect us from the cold, food to fill our empty stomachs, or even simply sharing our story so that others may hear our cries for help. Every small act of kindness can make a difference. 💔🍉🇵🇸😭
Your generosity has the power to bring warmth to our freezing nights, hope to our despair, and life to those struggling to survive. May the kindness you extend be returned to you a hundredfold.
Mohamad has endured immense loss and is now burdened with debt while trying to protect his sister and her five children. He desperately needs our help to secure their safety and give them a fresh start.
We’ve reached 18% of our goal (€3,509/€20,000), but there’s still a long way to go. Every euro makes a difference. Every share spreads hope.
This isn’t about names, backgrounds, or beliefs. It’s about humanity.
✅ Verified by Association:
@bilal-salah0 Here
🔗 Donate & share: Donation Link (gofundme.com)
I am reaching out on behalf of my dear friend, Mohamad S., who is faci… Adam Bin Ali needs your support for Help Mohamad reunite his family
While the ceasefire has been agreed to, it's a known pattern that Israel always lashes out with violence before it goes into effect. Ceasefires have been called before, but the war ultimately still continues, and Palestine is still occupied. The fight doesn't end until every Palestinian is allowed to return, and the land is restored under its rightful stewards. Do not let the ceasefire agreement allow you to relax or step back. Your support is still needed. My friend Sahar's children were very close to a bombing just yesterday, and it terrified her daughter Walaa as you can see in this video they sent:
This is what is happening in Palestine even after a ceasefire agreement. The IOF does not care that these are innocent children, or that the violence is supposed to end. These children constantly live with an implied threat, and their situation gets worse everyday. Don't wait until it's too late.
Sahar's children are trying to raise funds to stay safe and fed and to evacuate Gaza, so they can safely reunite with their parents in Egypt. Sahar's campaign has seen little support and often goes without attention for days at a time. Her children are in constant danger and she is scared for them. Please help these children stay safe and help this family come back together.
Hello, I am raising funds to help my friend Sahar's family. Here are her wor… I PB needs your support for Help Sahar's family reunite and es
$615 / $40k
The last donation on Sahar's campaign was four days ago, but you can change this by clicking the link above or sharing it so people who can donate will see it. Please don't pass by this post without doing something for Sahar's family.
Hello, I am raising funds to help my friend Sahar's family. Here are her wor… I PB needs your support for Help Sahar's family reunite and es
Here is the link for my children...who live alone in Gaza...and now I need your support and urgent donations for them and for my daughter Walaa who needs treatment abroad...I want to get them out of Gaza...It has been more than a year and a half without my children. Donate to reunite with my daughters and be the one who brings joy to my heart...a broken mother's heart...Thank you for this support...
My name is MOHAMMED ABDULKARIM from Gaza Strip, Palestine, 35 years old, I lost my house and my supermarket shop, both were destroyed by Israel aircraft missiles during this war
before 7oct I have good life and I worked in my shop and everything was good
Now I lost everything especially all the goods inside my supermarket which value more than 50k usd. Now
I owe people money and more importantly there is no food for me and my family. Now we live in a tent with my wife, parents and my siblings, in addition the weather is very cold now in the tent ⛺.
Please help my family 👪 to be survive, safety and to get some food and clothes for us.
My friends, I am sick. I cannot have children. I need to have an operation outside Gaza in Egypt. My friends, my only hope in this life is to see my children. I hope everyone will respect my feelings and support me so that I can have an operation in Egypt so that I can have children and see my children. My friends. Donate to us so that we can raise money to perform this operation This report proves that. I hope you can help me as much as possible, please
Everything has been destroyed. We now live in the middle of a tent. Winter is killing us and hunger is running out of our blood
We need to settle in a place that is safe from the winter and the harsh cold. We need to provide the necessities for living here so that we can live in safety here💔💔
Donate anything, support us, stand with me, we need any help from you. May God bless you 🙏🍉
I will not forgive you if you are able to donate even a little and you do not donate. Be sure that our lives are in your hands, my friend. I hope everyone will donate to save us and provide the necessities of life here in Gaza to provide the simplest things. I hope to donate to provide food and drink for my family.
Donate $25 to save us from this war
Thank you all 🍉
@gazavetters
Urgent
Attention for all human and humanity in the world
M… mohammed almashni needs your support for Help me and my family escape to safe
My name is MOHAMMED ABDULKARIM from Gaza Strip, Palestine, 35 years old, I lost my house and my supermarket shop, both were destroyed by Israel aircraft missiles during this war
before 7oct I have good life and I worked in my shop and everything was good
Now I lost everything especially all the goods inside my supermarket which value more than 50k usd. Now
I owe people money and more importantly there is no food for me and my family. Now we live in a tent with my wife, parents and my siblings, in addition the weather is very cold now in the tent ⛺.
Please help my family 👪 to be survive, safety and to get some food and clothes for us.
My friends, I am sick. I cannot have children. I need to have an operation outside Gaza in Egypt. My friends, my only hope in this life is to see my children. I hope everyone will respect my feelings and support me so that I can have an operation in Egypt so that I can have children and see my children. My friends. Donate to us so that we can raise money to perform this operation This report proves that. I hope you can help me as much as possible, please
Everything has been destroyed. We now live in the middle of a tent. Winter is killing us and hunger is running out of our blood
We need to settle in a place that is safe from the winter and the harsh cold. We need to provide the necessities for living here so that we can live in safety here💔💔
Donate anything, support us, stand with me, we need any help from you. May God bless you 🙏🍉
I will not forgive you if you are able to donate even a little and you do not donate. Be sure that our lives are in your hands, my friend. I hope everyone will donate to save us and provide the necessities of life here in Gaza to provide the simplest things. I hope to donate to provide food and drink for my family.
Donate $25 to save us from this war
Thank you all 🍉
@gazavetters
Urgent
Attention for all human and humanity in the world
M… mohammed almashni needs your support for Help me and my family escape to safe
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