@that-one-raccoon Awwww Thank You So Muchhhh You're So Sweet😆💗💗💗

a writing competition i was going to participate in again this year has announced that they now allow AI generated content to be submitted

their reasoning being that "we couldn't ban it even if we wanted to, every writer already uses it anyway"

"Every writer"?

come on

LISTEN UP AGAIN KIDS STOP REBLOGGING THIS FUCKING GARBAGE POST. IT IS 100% FUCKING BULLSHIT AND CAN AND MOST DEFINITELY WILL LITERALLY KILL. DO YOU NOT SEE WARNING LABELS THAT SAY “DO NOT INDUCE VOMITING”? THEY AREN’T FUCKING AROUND. YOU CAN FUCKING BURN THEIR ESOPHAGUS BY CAUSING VOMITING, CAUSE CHOKING, DROWNING, OR MAKE IT WORSE! AGAIN DO NOT FORCE ANYTHING DOWN ANYONE’S THROAT. THEY. CAN. DROWN. IF SOMEONE IS LOSING CONCIOUSNESS ALL THE CHIT CHAT IN THE WORLD WILL NOT PREVENT IT AT THAT POINT THEY ARE IN SERIOUS DANGER. “Buuut i don’t wanna take them to the hospital!!!” WELL SUNSHINE GLAD YOU’D RATHER HAVE A DEAD FRIEND THAN A LIVING ONE BUT YOU’RE IN LUCK CALL FUCKING POISON CONTROL. THEY ARE NOT THE COPS. THEY WILL HELP YOU. AND IF THEY SAY GO TO THE FUCKING HOSPITAL YOU GO TO THE FUCKING HOSPITAL. NO EXCUSES. 0. NONE. I have seen this shit cross my dash SO MANY TIMES so PLEASE fucking reblog this and prevent some well meaning idiot from accidentally killing someone they love!

Hello everyone, I have an update to make.

gofundme.com

Donate to HELP AMIR GET BACK TO WALKING ! DONATE TODAY!, organized by mohammed shamallakh

Hi, I am Sarah. 1. Who is Sarah? Sarah is the mother of the chi… mohammed shamallakh needs your support for HELP AMIR GET BACK TO WALKI

Sarah's son Amir was born with a condition which makes it difficult for him to move. In order to treat this, he used to receive regular physical therapy, a special diet of ground food, and special medicine; however, since last October, he has been unable to access these necessities of his life.

This has caused his condition to deteriorate. Along with these horrors, he and his family suffers like every other Palestinian in Ghazza; in a dirty tent without basic human resources.

In order for Amir and his family to evacuate and for him to continue his treatment, they need to raise €35,000. Since my last post about this campaign, they've only managed to raise €1,961; an obvious improvement from their previous number of 0, but still not nearly enough.

Amir needs this treatment to live. Please donate if you can and share this campaign so he and his family can survive.

VETTED HERE

previous post x

This elderly woman was one of the leaders of demonstrations against the Vietnam War in 1968, when she was a student at Columbia University. Today, 56 years later, she returns to the same place and says, "Palestine must be free."

🇵🇸🕊

links:

decolonizepalestine

demand a ceasefire

pious project - feminine hygiene products

counting the kids

eSims for gaza

careforgaza (gofundme), careforgaza (twitter)

arab.org

palestine academic reading list

palestine children's relief fund

please do whatever you can and DO NOT stop sharing and talking about palestine!

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

Help me so I can help my brother and his family.❤️

I am Omar Mazen Rabah Hammad, I am 18 years old, and my brother Muhammad Amr is 41 years old, married and has 4 children. I live alone. We have lost many members of our family and our sisters, and Muhammad suffers from MS.💔

This disease has affected my eyesight. I can't walk on my feet because of the nerves. I hope everyone stands with me to get treatment outside Gaza. 💔💔

This is my picture before the war on the Gaza Strip. I was living in peace. I was a person who loved life. I was able to provide my children with a happy life. But now, unfortunately, I will not be able to do anything because of the illness and the loss of walking. Most of the time, I lose my sight. I hope that everyone who saw my story will participate and donate even $10 to save our lives.❤️🙏

I lost my mom and dad, I lost 4 of my sisters, and my older brother and I are left. I am the youngest, Omar. I hope everyone stands with us. This war has destroyed us. I lost my sisters.💔💔

My children Aseel, Ahmed, Aya and Omar. I wish everyone could share our lives.

But unfortunately, our house was destroyed in this war and we are now living in tents,

Now we live in tents, each person in my family is in a different area Life is hard now Life is not easy

we are no longer able to provide the bare necessities of life

We suffer a lot in our life here, no water, no healthy food, everything here needs money, and we do not have enough money to provide medicine and life requirements during the Gaza war, we need your help, support and donations so that we can overcome these difficulties and live as much as I can, me and my family, in peace

My family's future has been completely destroyed and I can no longer live in Gaza. I want to leave it with my children, so I need $5,000 per person.

I hope that everyone who watches my story will help me get out of Gaza and find treatment and a better life for my children.

I'm asking for help and,I hope you help me and donate to me to save my life from death

Donate, even for $10

I wish you could donate even $10, it would save my life ❤️🙏

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Omar evacuate Gaza and help his family, organized by Samy Hammad

I am Omar Mazen Rabah Hammad, I am 18 years old and I live in Gaza. Before the… Samy Hammad needs your support for Help Omar evacuate Gaza a

Verified by @90-ghost

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louwee…. mon cher i have une question of utmost importance pour toi…. but you must answer me avec sincérité….. mon cœur…. would you still love me if i was one of those… slimy little creatures?…. comment dire….. a wörm? would you still love me if i was a worm, louieis? mais non! don’t turn away from me! c’est important! je refuse to sleep until you answer me!! or would you rather i have nightmares??? louies??? LOUIUIES!!!!!!

Hello

my name is Aya, I am 26 years old, currently living in the northern part of Gaza City, and I am a mother of two children. My oldest is my daughter, Sana'a, who is 5 years old, and my youngest is my son, Wasfi, who is 3.

Since the morning of October 7th, 2023, our lives have been turned upside down. We have lived through the hardest days of our lives, facing displacement and homelessness. We have been forced to leave our home more than ten times since the war began. We would leave without knowing where to go.

We sought refuge in schools and relatives' homes, hoping we could return home and that this nightmare would end. But our house was bombed, and our dreams were destroyed. We became homeless and displaced.

Every day, we wake up to the sound of bombs and rockets. I lived in constant fear and terror with my children, especially when my family's house was bombed while we were taking shelter there.

We are experiencing a real famine in Gaza. I’ve gone to bed with my children many nights without dinner because there is no food available. We have had to eat animal and bird feed due to the high cost of flour just to fill the hunger of my young children. Even after eating it, we all suffered from diarrhea and severe stomach pain. My children developed rashes on their bodies due to the spread of viruses and the accumulation of garbage. There is also a severe shortage of water, and even when we find it, it's not safe to drink.

My children cry, asking for vegetables, fruits, and eggs, but we can’t afford them because we have no income. The gas shortage has forced us to use fire for everything—cooking and baking—using plastic and pipes because firewood is so hard to find.

My children also developed jaundice, and I struggled a lot to get them better because there was no access to vegetables, fruits, or medicine. I even feared that my son might have developed polio because he already had leg problems before the war, and they worsened due to malnutrition.

Winter is coming, and we have nothing for it. I need clothes and shoes for my children to keep them warm, but I can’t buy them because they are so expensive.

For this reason, I beg of you and hope that you can support me, even with the smallest contribution, so I can provide my children with the most basic necessities of life.

I was displaced with my children to my family's house, tears in my eyes. On the way, Salah Al-Din Street was bombed, and the Israeli occupation committed horrific massacres. By the grace of God, we survived for the first time. We lived in terror and fear. A few days later, my family's house was bombed, and we were pulled out from under the rubble, miraculously surviving for the second time.

When my husband heard the news that we had died, he came to bid us farewell, only to find us alive by God's grace. We returned with him, but as the situation worsened and the fire belts in our area increased, we started to flee again and again, not knowing where to go next.

I beg of you to share my story and help me continue to live.

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #230 )✅️