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Friday, August 7th: Hello, everyone. I’m Gem, a bi, mentally ill, and multiple disabled woman in desperate need of help, as I need help to pay my bills this month!!
I'm sorry that I have to e-beg again. However, as most of you know from my previous posts, I have been struggling to make ends meet while on welfare. And due to my outstanding bills and ever-increasing debt, it has been difficult for me to make ends meet. With the rising cost of living, I have been relying on my credit cards to pay bills and simply get by on a day-to-day basis.
This has placed a significant financial strain on me, and repaying them is more than I can afford. I have also been supporting my sister through her benefit sanctions, which ended earlier this month, leaving me deeply over my limit.
And after covering rent, utilities, and direct debits, I have nothing left for my credit card bill and I won't receive my welfare until the 31st.
Again, I know this is a lot to ask, but if anyone could spare any amount to help me, even if it’s just £1/$1/€1, it would mean a lot, and sharing helps just as much.
I trust Gemma because once she told me in messages to keep my money because she had met the target, explaining she had just woken up from illness and not been able to update her blog
Warnings: none? please ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it!
Summary: Written sometime in the past, a moment between an astartes and his bonded.
"Algeret? Where are you?" Hunter called out, surprised that the Space Wolf who had wandered into their life wasn't greeting them at the door, like he usually did.
Algeret wasn't off on a hunt - that wasn't until the weekend, and he was pretty good about communicating where he was, unless an emergency had popped up.
"I am in the bathroom, love." Algeret answered, his voice trembling ever so slightly.
Hunter immediately locks the door to their apartment and rushes over to the bathroom door. They knock on the closed door "Algeret, would you let me in, please?"
"... The door is unlocked, partner." Algeret answers, his voice still shaking just a little. "I will not try to stop you, if you wish to enter."
"Alright, thank you. I'm coming inside now." Hunter answers, slowly opening the door, stepping through and closing it again.
The rod that keeps the shower curtain up has been knocked askew and they can see that Algeret has tangled himself in the plastic-adjacent fabric, it's twisted in his legs and half-covering his chest and has pinned one of his arms.
Hunter bites the inside of one of their cheeks, to avoid bursting into laughter. Their beloved Space Wolf looks ridiculous and the sheepish expression on the other's face means that the other is well aware of the spectacle that he's made of himself. They take a couple of moments before asking "What happened, love? You look like you got into a fight with the shower curtain." and lost. But they know that riling him up won't help.
"I was planning on taking a show when I heard something very loud from the apartment above us. It startled me and I tried to fling myself out of the shower but I got tangled into the curtain and pulled it down and... I didn't want to damage our home more than I already had. I... I haven't been here for very long, and I knew that you would be home soon..." Algeret explained, his voice shaking just a little.
Hunter nods, and kneels down next to the tub, reaching out and gently cupping his face with one of their hands "I see. Want me to help you untangle yourself from the curtain so you can take a shower?"
The young space wolf nods, his face burning with humiliation, and so grateful that Hunter wasn't teasing him about this. HIs brothers would never let him hear the end of this if they saw him in this sorry state.
does anyone have $10 or anything for a family of 7, 4 who're disabled, 2 kids under 15, in a abusive house for food $43 for my sister, April, meds that she takes t stay sane (PTSD, BPD) & healthy (ibs, frequent migraines, jaw pain due t botched surgery)? She's been out of them FOUR DAYS freaking out kinda we have no one else to to turn to for help so im begging yall we need help to get through this anything helps be it dollar or less. also please help me give these kids food to eat
My name is Fatima, a 21-year-old woman🤰.Just one month before the war, I was engaged, dreaming of a warm home and a small family.But the war tore us apart—my fiancé and I were separated between northern and southern Gaza, with no way to communicate💔.
Despite the pain, we held on to hope. Months later, I left my family and joined him.We got married, believing it was the start of a new life.But the bombing returned, and we were displaced again… Now we live in a fragile tent in western Gaza, awaiting the birth of our first child amid conditions unfit for life🥹😭.
I’m pregnant🤰, and my due date is near🥹. I have none of the essentials I need as a mother or even as a human being🙏.We lack everything: medical care, food, clean water, and basic supplies for childbirth and the baby🥲.
I’m not asking for the impossible—just enough to protect my life and my baby’s
Your donation is our only hope🥹😢.
I am Fatima, a 21-year-old woman.I got engaged just one month before the war started. My dreams were simple: a warm home, a small family, an
✅️My campaign has been verified from my account, brother @jaafar-gaza04.✅️
Verified = Checked by a trusted source and deemed legitimate
Bilal Salah is a Palestinian blogger who tries to find and support legitimate campaigns. He has supported this campaign. (Also this is his direct family!)
Donate and Share to help reach more donors.
Can't Donate = Still Share it still helps this reach more donors.
Hello, I'm Ahmed, 23 years old. I was studying computer science at the Islamic University in Gaza before the war. I aspired to build a brigh
Hello friends, it's me, Ahmed again. I need your help. I almost lost my life last time while looking for work because the place was directly bombed. I'm a university student about to graduate. I lost everything in the war, and I support myself, my younger brother, and my family. I tried to find work, but to no avail. I'm looking for a scholarship to continue my studies. We've been deprived of all our rights. Please don't deprive me of my most basic rights: the right to education, to live, and to eat healthy, good food. I'm searching for a way to support myself. You may not be able to provide financial support, but you can share this. Let's not be a cause of destruction. Please try to support us in any way you can.
My tent is dilapidated and tattered, unfit for human habitation, and extremely hot. I need your help and support.
Art and other rewards being offered for those who have proof of donation (such as a screenshot of receipt, probably with personal information blacked out) to the well-known vetting lists and a few other. I have collected an up-to-date list here. There is also links to other lists: for such as flowerpawarts's spreadsheet, you should make sure they accept the vetting list or are not just funding for a specific family
she has long been working hard for her family despite her health. please help!
💬 4 🔁 115 ❤️ 42 · Archival link: Donation incentives for the big two lists and mentions of others · @/gazavetters vetted list
Vetted list
Author’s note: Day 9 of Writing The Layers! Master list here. Thank you @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow several of your OCs! I hope you enjoy the fic!
Warnings: mention of nightmares, mentioned astartes trafficking, mentioned memory alteration, please ask me to tag something if I've missed it.
Summary: A fireside chat among brothers and cousins.
“We’re going to need to tell at least a couple of the firstborn or Terran born apothecaries about some of the differences in our biology to theirs.” Cedric stated, staring into the crackling flames of the cooking fire that had been lit at sunset. There was very little smoke, so as to hopefully draw less attention.
Belus’ eyes narrow and the young Dark Angel hisses “Absolutely not. Secrets keep us safe. You know this, Cedric.”
The young Black Templar looks over at Belus and asks “And what happens when another trainer like Faroh appears? Who’s to say that another one of those miserable firstborn bastards who knows about certain… Deliberate changes hasn’t arrived already? We need to have a contingency plan in place for handling them. Beyond selling favors to our chaos cousins in exchange for ensuring that the fuckers are silenced.”
Hek’tar shifts a little, staring into the flickering flames “And what price do you think would need to be paid, for them to keep quiet about this? You’ve spoken about their interest and curiosity in the differences between Terran and firstborn and primaris. Well, true primaris, not Rubicon Primaris.”
Cedric heaves a sigh, shaking his head a little “I… I feel like it depends on who we decide to tell, and how well we think he would keep the secrets.”
Thressyl is pacing around the group, eyes narrowed and searching “We don’t tell any of the heretics or traitors if we absolutely can avoid it.”
“While I agree with you that they probably shouldn’t be told, I feel like it is prudent to point out that it was older loyalists who -“ Cedric started.
Belus growled, cutting him off “Yes. We know, from the slowly returning memories that the fuckers sought to steal from us. Thressyl, you’re the only one of us here currently getting psyker training with a medical lean to it. Has he taught you anything about repairing memories hidden forcefully?”
Thressyl shakes his head “No. And I don’t want to ask him to learn about that specifically because I’m pretty sure he’d press me for why I want to learn that specifically. He’s a perceptive fuck and mildly telepathic. At least I think he is.” He pauses, before admitting begrudgingly “… He is a good teacher, strict as hell, but… Very good at what he does.”
“We could go with a version of the truth. That you suspect that the memories of some of your fellow primaris may have been altered without their consent, and that they are getting nightmares and sense-memories the longer they are on ancient terra.” Cedric offers quietly. “We just… Won’t give him exact numbers, in part because we ourselves don’t know for certain how many of us are missing pieces of our memories. Or why, specifically, for that matter.”
“And when that nosy old witch asks who, specifically, who do you think should be singled out for admitting to such a weakness?” Belus hissed, his eyes narrowing into slits, curling in on himself defensively.
The silence was very heavy and pointed, save for the whispering of the trees, and the crackling of the dancing flames.
“If he pushes for a specific name, give him mine.” Cedric answers, his voice not shaking due to sheer force of will. “It’s true enough and should be a good test to see what he does, if he does anything and how he responds. Besides, if he tries anything… Untoward, between you and me Thressyl, we should be able to overcome him. Especially if we have some of the others on standby.”
Belus relaxes just a little “So it’s both a test and an ambush.”
“No, it’s only going not be an ambush if he responds… Incorrectly. If he truly is as forthright and honorable as he presents himself to be, then he has nothing to fear.” Cedric answers, his voice mild and calm. His fists are curled tightly in his lap, his fingertips cutting bloody crescents into the palms of his hands. he’ll clean and dress those wounds later.
“I’ll see if I can get him to talk about such things while we are on one of our walking exercises outside of the base.” Thressyl offers. “In one of the parks, where I am sure we won’t be overheard or watched by those who we don’t want to be seen and heard by.”
“Which park? I can gather some of the others and we will ensure your safety and privacy.” Belus asks, his eyes lighting up a little as he begins to mentally go through the list of everything and everyone he’d need to get in order to arrange such a thing.
"Birchwood Park, on sixteenth and Velix. We like going to the wooded area of the park, where the trees and the underbrush make it seem as though we are out in the wild, without having to drive or walk to the woods. It's a nice place for walking meditation, which I find easier than trying to sit still and meditate." Thressyl answers, rocking back on his feet "Are you sure that it's a good idea for you to be the one who comes forward, Cedric? A lot of the nosy old men are watching you closely."
"Of those of us who we know for certain have missing memories, I am the only one who does not have an overbearing direct supervisor, or high ranking older brother within a day of Gannet Point." Cedric points out "And of the astartes population in and around Gannet Point, the Black Templars are fewest in number."
"You're also a specialist, Cedric. I am also missing memories, and am just a battle brother." Olly offers "It would be less risky if-"
Cedric cuts him off, shaking his head a little "I have six words that will convince you that none of the affected Primaris Ultramarines should come forward to a firstborn witch-healer."
"And they are?" Atlas prompts.
"Commander Cato Sicarius and Lady Rose." Cedric answered, a slight smirk appearing on his face. "Of the Primaris Black Templars affected... I am the only one who can perform evasive maneuvers with any sort of speed and endurance if needed. Additionally, Brothers Roland and Arnault have yet to return from their vacations with their bonded and Apothecary Adric and I are generally kept on different schedules and he is unlikely to be available easily. My Oldest Brother is half-way across the country as he works on putting our chapter to rights."
"My older brothers wouldn't give a shit that some of my memories are missing." Belus growled, and Kerubiel nods, shifting a little.
"They would use it as a pretext to drag you both and any other primaris Dark Angels they can find to their bases for your own protection. The Blood Angels would do the same for the Primaris Sons of Sanguinius who came forward if this information spreads. Black Templars are too few and currently too fragmented in this area." Cedric points out, voice gentle, even as he is implacable in volunteering for this potentially deeply risky admission.
None of the others could come up with counter arguments to his logic, and with deep, irritated grumbles, they conceded him the point. The conversation shifted to the logistics of when and how they would secure the park without tipping off Amonhep that something was off.
They definitely need somebody they can tell. Too bad Khopesh is too loyal to Anrir. And he wouldn't fully understand the gravity of what the Primaris are telling him. (At least initially)
That doesn't mean he'd go blab to just Anybody. But well...Anrir isn't just Anybody.
Khopesh would try to keep that secret. But I think he'd crack if Anrir exerted enough pressure.
Author's note: More of Olly in Husbandry AU! I collaborated with @c-u-c-koo-4-40k on this next set of chunky chapters. Thanks for writing with me! This was a lot of fun. :)
Summary: Olly and Nanael execute a carefully coordinated ambush on Faroh, exploiting his overconfidence and surveillance system to neutralize and capture him with sedatives just before his failsafe can trigger catastrophic blackmail.
Warning: Coercion and blackmail, Threats of violence and harm to named characters, Implied past unethical experimentation on enhanced humans (bioengineering/fertility manipulation themes), Brief physical combat and restraint of an individual, Sedation/forced incapacitation of a character, Psychological manipulation and predatory behavior Implied surveillance and stalking, References to trauma and coercive institutional experimentation, High tension / near-violence scenario. LMK if I need to add anything else.
Skilled as a duelist. (Though not the most by far.)
Beautiful in a manner few could hope to match. (With looks so uncanny and ethereal they manage to mostly obscure the sardonic pleasantries that flit from his mouth like poisoned wine.)
He was, perhaps, a bit self serving. But that is how his ilk survived and thrived. (Absolutely, thoroughly Rotten to his malevolent core.)
Not like he would ever acknowledge that, he simply saw his…moving and taking through the world as a necessary, even Deserved reward for his service to mankind.
(As if any demons of excess or gluttony wouldn't look right at home wearing his face.)
But right now Faroh is another thing. Faroh is impatient. The elder Blood Angel had warned little Oleanderos that he had till the end of the current cycle to…convince dear Jophiel to finally stop flitting out of sight and face him.
He checked his chronometer, 11:45 pm. Cutting it close. He huffs, adjusting his immaculately groomed hair.
He debates sending a reminder. Something…teasing, almost casual sounding, to ensure he'd not incriminate himself.
[Tik tik young one, your time is nearly up. And I do so despise being Bored. Perhaps I'll start calling a few of my close brothers. I'm sure there's some interesting gossip I could share with them.]
Literally only a minute or so passes when a response comes in.
[Eta 5 min to your location.]
Faroh's elegant face splits into a delighted grin, but he double checks.
[Good boy, and the promised guest?]
…
[They are in transit with me. Eta 2 Min, hold position to receive.]
[Excellent. Wilco.]
Faroh checks over his…studio once more. Like many of his brethren, he often dipped his claws into artistic projects.
Yes, a delightful and completely normal live model set up for this completely normal artistic project. Featuring an elegant red fainting couch in the room's center. Its carvings and upholstery would be almost as gaudy as the Blood Angel's armor were it not covered with a certain type of tarp. Which is also deep red. Not to mention the bright red astarte strength binding ropes, and candles set to one side.
And every artist has their medium. Faroh himself would actually not mind painting a scene like this but such escapades would require docile subjects.
Or those made docile.
No, instead, Faroh has a camera. Much quicker and easier to use. He can paint from the references he takes here if he so chooses. He's also made sure to double check the tripod set up should he need to take photos while he's…indisposed.
He hums softly to himself, and just as he hits the first note of the chorus to the song, a rhythmic knock comes at the door.
Knock knock- kn-knock-knock!
He flashes a smile that is too wide and teeth too sharp. He turns to greet his guests, through the Hallway camera he had installed of course.
The view above the doorway looking down shows him the precious little lamb of an Ultramarine standing there, eyes like blue flint, even through the screen.
And behind him, a winged figure draped in a blood red cloak. He presses a button on his vox, dialing Oleanderos from behind the door. The Ultramarine answers immediately.
“Ahhh, well done young Oleanderos. And sweet blessed Jophiel, how I've so looked forward to our…reunion.” Faroh chuckles.
The cloaked figure turns its head away, as if in shame.
Delicious.
Faroh continues. “Ooooh, feeling shy are we? Well no worry. You'll soon be in capable hands, little angel.” He cooes with disgusting played sympathy.
“I have done what you requested. Let us get this Over with.” Oleanderos growls.
‘Such fire!’ Faroh chuckles again, fully believing such words are the mere squirming of angry and trapped prey.
“Temper temper dear. Wouldn't want me going back on my Generous agreement now, would you?” Faroh slides his tongue subtly over his fangs. “I'll let you both in and then we can…chat for a bit.”
The face of the poor little lamb tightens. It's adorable, enough to make Faroh consider altering their agreement Slightly. After all three Is company. (As if he planned to keep his original word at all). He undoes the locks on the door, and allows his guests to enter his studio. Oleanderos's expression doesn't change besides a slight twitch at the level of light changing.
One of Olly’s fingers twitches a little as he surveys the set up, and his scowl deepens as he walks into the studio- the silent winged figure silently following after him, face still bowed- glancing about- the studio- but not at Faroh directly.
The studio door seals with a soft hydraulic sigh behind them. Faroh does not immediately approach. He circles. Predators that enjoy theatre never rush the opening act. Oleanderos remains just inside the threshold. Shoulders squared. Hands loose at his sides — not clenched. Not reaching.
The cloaked “Jophiel” stands two paces behind him. Head bowed. Wings concealed. Still. Faroh inhales slowly.
“Mm. The tension in the room is intoxicating,” he murmurs, pacing past the red-draped couch. “You have always been the most rigid of your cohort, Oleanderos. So dutiful. So… predictable.”
Olly says nothing. He is counting. Camera in upper left corner. Secondary lens mounted low behind sculptural column. Motion sensor near the door. Tripod center rear. Four visible. He had done an initial sweep of the room with his eyes- making sure to avoid eye contact with Faroh by ducking his head and allow- shame to flash across his face.
Which means at least one hidden. Nanael feels it too — the faint electrical hum beneath the floor plating. Data relay node. Probably hardwired to an offsite buffer. Good. That means Faroh trusts automation. Automation can be disrupted.
But not yet. Faroh stops in front of the cloaked figure. He does not touch. Not yet. He studies.
“Jophiel,” he croons softly, “I truly had hoped you would outgrow this melodrama.”
The cloaked figure shifts minutely. A tremor. Perfectly acted. Nanael keeps his warp signature tight — compressed, masked beneath layered discipline. A different rhythm than Jophiel’s natural psychic respiration, yes… but distant enough that only prolonged proximity would expose it.
Faroh steps closer. Close enough to smell ozone. He pauses. Eyes narrow. There. The old man’s instinct. He tilts his head. “You seem… taller.” Faroh says slowly.
Olly answers instantly. “He wasn’t at his full size the last time you met him.”
Not a lie. Just incomplete. Faroh studies the silhouette longer. He smiles. “Ah. Of course. I forget how quickly your generation swells.”
He accepts the answer. Because entitlement dulls suspicion. As does hubris. Faroh moves toward a small console near the far wall. Casual. Too casual. He taps something. A faint chime echoes. Olly’s internal threat assessment spikes. Faroh glances back over his shoulder.
“Insurance,” he says lightly. “I despise misunderstandings. This little gathering is being mirrored to a private vault. Encrypted. Timed release.”
There it is.
Failsafe #1: Offsite encrypted storage.
Failsafe #2: Timed trigger if biometric signal flatlines.
Failsafe #3 (unspoken but likely): Conditional dispatch to select recipients.
Olly’s pulse does not change. “Deactivate it.” He requests, Olly’s voice is deliberately flat.
Faroh laughs. “Oh my sweet boy. Do you think I am that foolish?”
He gestures with one of his hands almost lazing as he shakes his head a little bit at that. He steps closer now. Too close. “Should anything unfortunate happen to me tonight… certain files are sent automatically to several interested parties.”
He leans in, and adds, threat and implication his voice as he looks at Olly closely- watching the Primaris Ultramarine’s reaction closely, “Some very interested parties.”
Old man in a young man’s war. He knew retaliation was possible. He just assumed he could outmaneuver it. They cannot strike yet. If Faroh’s biometrics drop suddenly, the release triggers. If the signal is disrupted abruptly, it may also trigger.
Nanael feels the machine rhythm beneath the room. It’s tied to Faroh’s armor telemetry. Of course it is. Arrogant. But not stupid. Faroh finally reaches for the cloak. Slowly.
He grips the fabric near the collar. Olly’s finger twitches again. Not yet. Not yet. Faroh pulls the hood back. Silver-white feathers spill free. Wings unfold halfway. Nanael keeps his gaze down.
Faroh studies his face.
Long.
Too long.
“…Look at me,” Faroh commands softly.
Nanael lifts his chin. Their eyes meet. For half a second, Faroh’s pupils dilate. There is something wrong. The wrong weight of gaze. The wrong stillness. No fear. No revulsion. Just cold. Very cold. Faroh steps back slightly. Not alarmed. Curious. He circles Nanael once. Then twice.
“And Oleanderos,” he says conversationally, “tell me… if I were to alter the terms slightly… Would you object?”
Olly doesn’t blink. “Define ‘alter.’”
Olly is not surprised that Faroh wants to alter the deal. After all- bastards like him never stuck to the first deal they struck. Why take one- when you can demand more? Greed and gluttony- are sins this first born reeks of to those that know what to look for.
Faroh smiles wider. “Three participants instead of two.”
There. That’s the distraction. His attention splits. His imagination engages. His guard lowers. Nanael feels the biometric tether fluctuate as Faroh’s adrenaline ticks upward — but not into combat range.
This is the window. Olly moves. Not toward Faroh. Toward the console. Fast — but not violently. Faroh turns instinctively. That’s when Nanael moves. Primaris reaction time versus Firstborn experience. Faroh is old. Very old.
His hand flashes to his blade instantly — centuries of dueling instinct. He is faster than most young Astartes. But not faster than two coordinated Primaris executing a pre-calculated strike. Nanael doesn’t go for the throat. He goes for the telemetry node at Faroh’s gorget.
Psychic force slams into it — precise, compressive, not explosive. Faroh roars — blade clearing scabbard. He moves beautifully. That’s the terrifying part. Perfect pivot. Edge angled for decapitation.
Olly intercepts. Ceramite screeches. The impact drives him back two steps — strength difference acknowledged. Old man strength. Technique over brute force. Faroh disengages instantly, blade flicking toward Nanael.
He does not panic. He adapts.“You dare—” Faroh snarls out, wrath in every inch of his form… among other emotions.
Nanael’s wings snap fully open. Psychic pressure floods the chamber. Candles gutter. Camera lenses crack from internal surge. Not destroyed. Overloaded. Faroh lunges. And that’s when Nanael does something unexpected.
He doesn’t strike to kill. He floods Faroh’s nervous system with controlled psychic interference — scrambling armor telemetry. Olly slams the console with a coded spike he prepared earlier — Mic’s contribution.
Failsafe handshake disrupted. Offsite mirror suspended in authentication loop. Biometric trigger desynced. They have seconds. Faroh realizes it.
His eyes flare with genuine fury now. “You children think yourselves apex predators?”
He moves again. And this time, Nanael lets proportional response slip. Just slightly. Psychic force collapses Faroh’s balance. Olly drives him to the ground. Blade skitters across the floor. Primaris mass wins. Experience cannot compensate when pinned by superior leverage and psychic interference simultaneously.
Faroh thrashes once.
Twice.
Then Cedric’s sedative injector — passed discreetly to Olly earlier — slams into the joint beneath his pauldron. Even enhanced physiology fights it. But Primaris dosage compensates.
Faroh’s movements are slow.
He locks eyes with Olly one last time. “You are making a catastrophic mistake.”
“No,” Olly leans closer to Faroh, despite how his skin crawls at being so close to Faroh. “You did.”
Faroh’s consciousness slips. Telemetry flatlines briefly— Then stabilizes at sedated baseline. Failsafe does not trigger. Nanael stands over him. Wings half-lit.
“Permission to exceed proportional response,” he murmurs again — softer this time.
FOR THE FOURTH DAY IN A ROW, I AM STILL SITTING IN A DEVASTATED HOSPITAL. PLEASE DON'T WAIT UNTIL I BECOME ANOTHER TRAGIC STORY THAT YOU WILL READ TOMORROW.
I keep imagining the moment my family will someone ask of them, "Is Fadel still alive?!" I don't know how they will answer that day. No mother, father, or sibling should have to live with this grief and fear that hangs over every soul.
Every day I fight two battles at once: one against the pain of the shrapnel lodged in my body from the b0mbing of our house, and another to find a way to afford medication for my anemia and painkillers to ease my surgical pain and prevent further fainting spells. I am so tired of this suffering; I feel like I am breaking down more and more each day.
PIease don't ign0re me Look ple@se h@lp me by d0nating so I can urgentIy bůy my medication and painkiIIers. pIease I don't deserve all this neglect. I'm not asking for miracles, just a chance to live my life without pain or disability. your h@lp or d0nate or share' my story today. Your kindness can h@lp protect my future and remind us that we are not alone.
PIease... I don't want to dìe, I just want to live without pain. I nèéd your sincere supp0rt to save my life and end this suffering as soon as possible. PIease, I would be extremely grateful to anyone who can d0nate pIease don't ignore me.
I honestly don’t know what we did to deserve living like this. I don’t even know how to write this anymore.
It feels like we are not living anymore, we are simply surviving from one disaster to the next. Every time we think we can finally breathe, something else happens.💔
My mother finally came home after being in the hospital. After all the fear, the pain, the sleepless nights… we thought maybe, just maybe, we could finally breathe.😔
But before we could even breathe… My sister broke her arm today .She is in pain and needs an urgent operation to put a plate and screws in her arm so the bone can heal properly. The operation, hospital expenses, and medications will cost approximately $1,500 .
I’m tired of asking people for help. I’m tired of writing these posts. I’m tired of watching the people I love suffer while I stand helplessly beside them.💔😔
But what am I supposed to do? Tell my sister to wait because we don’t have the money?
Tell her to endure the pain because we have already asked for help too many times? I can’t
We have been through so much already. We have lost the normal life we once had. Even the smallest moments of peace have become a luxury for us .😔
$1,500 may be a number to someone… but to us, it is the difference between my sister receiving the treatment she desperately needs or continuing to live with a broken arm and unbearable pain .😔💔
I’m begging you , don’t scroll past us. help us give my sister the operation she needs.
Please, don’t wait for someone else to help us. If 60 people donate $25, we can reach the goal.If 150 people donate just $10, we can get there. Even $5 matters. Even sharing this post matters. 🙏
We are not asking for a luxury. We are not asking for anything unnecessary. We are simply begging for a chance to treat someone we love. A chance to see my sister receive the operation she desperately needs, instead of watching her suffer because we cannot afford it .💔🙏😔
How much more can one family take?💔
I honestly don’t know what we did to deserve living like this. I don’t even know how to write this anymore.
It feels like we are not living anymore, we are simply surviving from one disaster to the next. Every time we think we can finally breathe, something else happens.💔
My mother finally came home after being in the hospital. After all the fear, the pain, the sleepless nights… we thought maybe, just maybe, we could finally breathe.😔
But before we could even breathe… My sister broke her arm today .She is in pain and needs an urgent operation to put a plate and screws in her arm so the bone can heal properly. The operation, hospital expenses, and medications will cost approximately $1,500 .
I’m tired of asking people for help. I’m tired of writing these posts. I’m tired of watching the people I love suffer while I stand helplessly beside them.💔😔
But what am I supposed to do? Tell my sister to wait because we don’t have the money?
Tell her to endure the pain because we have already asked for help too many times? I can’t
We have been through so much already. We have lost the normal life we once had. Even the smallest moments of peace have become a luxury for us .😔
$1,500 may be a number to someone… but to us, it is the difference between my sister receiving the treatment she desperately needs or continuing to live with a broken arm and unbearable pain .😔💔
I’m begging you , don’t scroll past us. help us give my sister the operation she needs.
Please, don’t wait for someone else to help us. If 60 people donate $25, we can reach the goal.If 150 people donate just $10, we can get there. Even $5 matters. Even sharing this post matters. 🙏
We are not asking for a luxury. We are not asking for anything unnecessary. We are simply begging for a chance to treat someone we love. A chance to see my sister receive the operation she desperately needs, instead of watching her suffer because we cannot afford it .💔🙏😔
Current process : USD 18,907 /$20,407
Vatted by: @90-ghost
Vatted by: @sar-soor
Vatted by: @fairuzfan
Please donate whatever you can and share the post 🙏
The doctors told me that if nothing changes in the next twelve hours, my father will die. His blood has become very thin, and every minute that passes is heavier than the last.
They explained that he was still on life support, and I was told they couldn't continue his treatment indefinitely because I could no longer afford the exorbitant medical costs. I stood there speechless, feeling as if the ground had vanished beneath me.
I'm begging you, I'm in Gaza, watching my father bleed before my eyes, unable to stop it. Donate now and help me save his life before it's too late. Donate now on GoFundMe
We could lose my father at any moment. Please don't stop sharing this post and donate. My father is suffering greatly in the ICU. Please, please, please donate now.
Donations have completely stopped, and the hospital administration warned us today that they may expel us because I can no longer afford my father's treatment. Please, I beg you through my tears, donate now before my father is left without care.
I will never forget those who donated and shared my father's story and tried to save him, but unfortunately, I still cannot afford enough medication or clean bandages. Donate now before his condition worsens.
I never imagined I'd be begging the world to help keep my father alive. If you want to save a life, let it be my father's. Donate now; every donation today can help ensure he continues to receive the care he so desperately needs while there's still time.
I'm still staring at the ICU door, afraid that the next doctor walking towards me will have the words every mother dreads: "If Dad has a chance to live, donate now. Please don't let poverty take that chance away."
My name is Maram, I am 25 years old from Gaza. I dreamed of a peaceful life, spending my life with my husband and my three children... but the war turned this dream into an impossible one 💔😭. We lived through this genocide with all its painful details and we are still suffering from it😭. We were so happy when the ceasefire was announced, and we returned to our homes in northern Gaza after being displaced for a year and a half in a tent in the south of the Gaza Strip. After repairing a small room in our destroyed house, we began to live there and start over. Unfortunately, the war came back, and it was even stronger than before 💔. Now, we have no shelter or source of income. We have used up all our savings during the war. I know I created my campaign very late, but that's because I have no other means to help my family 🙏. I am completely confident and hopeful that someone here will help us as much as they can and save my family in these tough circumstances 😔.
I know how painful and frustrating it is to start over from scratch, but I hope to get any amount for my family 🥺🙏.
My name is Maram, a Palestinian woman from Gaza. I am 26 years old and a mother of three children: Malik (8 years old), Ibrahim (6 years old
So, please, donate to my campaign, even if it's a small amount—it will have a big impact on us 🥺. May God bless you, my friend 🥰❤️.
Hello and thank you for visiting our page. My name is Kristina and I am helping raise funds for Alaa, a single mother in Gaza trying to surv
Hello friends, please, I need your support. My daughter Fatoum is my only provider. I will not forgive you if anything happens to me. Please take care of my child.Fatoum is two and a half years old. Imagine, she lost her father before she was even born because of the war.All I ask is to provide her with a decent life, food, and water, nothing more. I am unemployed. My child needs care and attention. She doesn't have her own shelter; we share a tent with other peoplePlease, I desperately need your support and donations.
Verified = Checked by a trusted source and deemed legitimate
Verified by association means another campaign was cleared by a trusted source and then vouched for this one.
Gaza Evacuation Funds is trusted because they are Palestinian run AND they call out spammers and scammers they find. The founders are Nabulsi, El Shab Hussein and Mo Ayesh
(Exact details above/in previous reblogs)
Donate and Share to help reach more donors.
Can't Donate = Still Share it still helps this reach more donors.
Aurora smiled watching the scenery pass her on by as she finally found out again where the Salamander that had helped her had gone to. He apparently travelled around and given that it was coming up to being a year of her being alive or rather having Apollo to think of it more positively she wanted to thank him. She looked at the unarmored and, to her surprise, unarmed Custodes sitting across from her. They had to have a private room to sit in due to Apollo...
"You made sure to check in right?" Aurora asks as she looks over her wallet making sure she has enough money to buy the gift.
Apollo looks at his phone looking at the unsent check in as he will send it soon enough, "Yes my Empress."
"And you're going to behave right?"
"I make no promises of that around such faulty tools."
Aurora sighs, "Don't be mean."
"Mean hardly covers the vitriol I have for the failed weapons and their fathers. " He spat as his voice remained steady but his face showed that hateful glare.
"Unlike you?"
"We were made to be perfect and independent of such needs that they have. We can work alone and were made to be perfect companions."
"Yeah yeah sure I get it you're dad's favorite special guys."
"Companions."
"When you say it like that."
"You're young and hormonal of course you're in the part of your life where sex dominates your entire thinking. You're at a time of your life where biologically you need to reproduce-"
"Apollo you're an ass."
"I know. Hence why I am a Dread Spear and not an Aquilian Shield. I don't need to feign any politeness around the mortals. I just need to kill."
"Oh so you're going to be mean to me?"
"Only if you ask it My Empress."
"You know you can just call me by name right?"
He takes her hand and leans in just ghosting a kiss over her knuckles. "To me being allowed to call you by name is an intimate affair."
"Come now Apollo you have free use of it. Just once."
He leans in more going to whisper it in her ear but much to her dismay the intercom came to life. Next Stop: Gannet Point.
They could feel the train slow down. And Aurora felt giddy as she had plenty of time off from college to be visiting this place and besides it was important for her to thank him. They walked off the platform as the town was built around the presence of the bases and the high concentration of astartes around meant that everything was relatively close by. Not terribly unlike the college town. She pulled Apollo forward.
The moment she stepped onto the pavement. They could feel it... those attuned to the warp felt it... it was as if a massive inferno ignited for a moment before eating all of the oxygen it had available. A bright blaze of gold that most if not all were aware of... that familiar brilliance of gold that they had experiences with in various stages before it vanished again.
"Oh Apollo look that shop is so cute." She says as Apollo watches the flowers in the crown he made bloom and refresh into healthy cherry blossoms once more.
