#donation for kids

[chikupikufoundation]

The Chikupiku Foundation: Empowering Children Through Education and Culture

The Chikupiku Foundation is dedicated to enriching the lives of children by promoting education and preserving Marathi culture. Through engaging storytelling sessions, cultural activities, and reading programs, we inspire young minds and foster a love for learning. Our initiatives focus on empowering children, particularly in rural and underserved areas, to build confidence and stay connected to their heritage.

Support Child Education: Help us continue making a difference in children's lives through education and cultural enrichment. Donate Now

[moonlit-typewriter]

Whoever cast Echidna as a PTA mom was so right for that

Mother of all monsters? Yeah, I’ll bet her kid is the absolute worst

and she knows it

It’s giving “how dare you accuse my child of such a thing. We do so much for this school and this is what we get?”

[stil-lindigo]

5 FUNDS CLOSE TO THEIR GOALS!!

Support Muhammad Saeed Ayesh to escape Gaza - €8,851 / 10,000

2. Help Nesma's and her family evacuate - $53,040/ 60,000

3. Help Leena and her Family to evacuate from Gaza - €10,597 / 15,000

4. SUPPORT RASHAD TO BEAT CANCER - $$31,500 / $35,000

5. Help Ruaa And Her Siblings Evacuate Gaza - $23,830 / 30,000

[aya2mohammed]

Stop.🖐️.and watch...and listen to a short story about my children ♥️🧑‍🤝‍🧑🧑‍🤝‍🧑

@libraryjones @alhabil @libraryjones @handsomecleverandrich @pedestrianwolves @willhelp-exe @getoheaven @yourmoonmomma @personofsinterest @hametsukaishi @homoerotic

[alhabil]

Sad and not happy birthday 🚨🚨

Today is my child Ahmed’s birthday. He is 8 years old 👇👇

He lived this eighth year of his life in all its details with fear, terror and hunger 🤚

He was deprived of an entire year of his life without education, and he was deprived of all the human rights that all children in the world experience. ☹☹☹💔💔

Please, guys, help me and my family collect donations so that we can start a new life free of fear and sadness💔💔🍉🍉

@sar-soor @akamanto0 @appsa @aya2mohammed @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @prettyhboy @patchyourbrokenwings @ibtisam-d @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vakarians-babe @7amaspayrollmanager @fairuzfan @fallahifag @sayruq @humanscalecities @kaapstadgirly @sar-soor @dimonds456-art @plomegranate @commissions4aid-international @nabulsi @soon-palestine @communitythings @palestinegenocide @vakarian-shepard @ghost-and-a-half @7amaspayrollmanager @kaapstadgirly @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka @marnota @toughknit @flower-tea-fairies @the-stray-liger @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vivisection-gf @communistchameleon @troythecatfish @the-bastard-king @4ft10tvlandfangirl @el-shab-hussein

[n0-n1c]

listen. this man canonically wrote a sad song about the first kinslaying. which he took part in

[independent-fics]

Thinking a lot today about how in “The Nigerian Job” Hardison made them all $32 MILLION from one job and they all go “yeah let’s stick with this unhinged alcoholic” instead of retiring.

[j-liz]

HEADCANON: Becky 100% gets her first Tonitrus Bolt when she snaps and publicly cusses out a teacher for being a jerk.

You think so, huh?

[astraystayyh]

chan x reader. hurt and lots of comfort. description of an anxiety attack and its aftermath (based on my own experiences).

please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you

If you remain still long enough, breathe as quietly as you can muster, would the world forget you exist and pass your anxiety along to somebody else?

A selfish question, perhaps, but one that you can’t help but ask as you sit on your freezing bathroom floor, knees tightly hugged to your chest.

You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve sat in this position. Time suddenly seemed elusive to you, as if a concept too hard for your frantic heart to grasp. All you knew was the ache of your limbs and the feeling that doom was just around the corner.

It was one of those days where you woke up feeling anxious. As if your brain had made up its mind about you in your sleep, deciding to hold you hostage to your anxiety. The bed was cold, your boyfriend Chan long gone to his studio, his lingering cologne the only indication he was ever there. So, you tried to distract yourself throughout the day— going on a walk, listening to music, cleaning your house, but it didn't help. Nothing seemed to help you.

So here you were, hours later, sat on your bathroom floor, trying to calm yourself down, all alone. But you could tell that it wasn't working, that you were on a losing race against your own body. Soon, you wouldn't be able to control your anxiety, soon it would turn into a full blown attack.

You wanted to call Chan, you truly did, but he was busy, and you refused to be a burden. Especially since he told you through texts that he'd be home late, so that definitely meant that he was making a new track in his studio.

So, you settled on rocking yourself back and forth, your hands slowly moving up to your shoulders, patting yourself down. This is what you used to do before knowing Chan. When you didn't have anyone around you who understood. You’d trick your bruised mind into believing you were hugged, the warmth of your own touch easing your anxiety a little.

But tonight it had the opposite effect. Tonight, you broke down in sobs, your breathing more irregular than ever. You curled into a ball on the floor, your hand moving to your chest in a futile attempt to slow down your heart. You could no longer breathe, the air in your lungs morphing into unkind fingers, choking you from within. White dots started dancing in front of your eyes, as your entire being shook like a lone leaf, left to fend for itself before the unyielding winds.

It suddenly got too much— the sobs, the pain, the ache. You couldn't bare it anymore. So with trembling hands, you unlocked your phone, calling the only person who would be able to calm you down. Chan. You put the phone on speaker, before tossing it on the ground next to you. You couldn't even muster the energy to hold it to your ear.

“Hi my love, I'm a bit busy right now can I call you later?” Chan's rushed words ring through the bathroom, your anxiety intensifying before the possible antidote. “Honey?” he asks again when he doesn’t hear your reply.

“Chan—“ you sob, the only word your weighted tongue allows you to speak of.

“I’m here, I'm here baby. I'm coming right now,” his panicked voice rings through your ears, following the frantic rush of your boiling blood. The sound of shuffling indicates that he’s getting up and leaving the studio, the confused ‘what’s going on?’ Han shouts confirms it.

The only reply you give him is your sobs, and his heart constricts, twists and turns at the sound of your cries. “Hey, hey, sweetheart. It’s okay, you’re okay. Breathe for me, okay? Take a deep breath with me, please—” his voice breaks, “please baby.”

You try, with all your will, to force a steady breath to rise from your stomach to the tip of your tongue. It escapes faintly, but Chan catches it. “You’re doing well, baby. Fuck—” he turns on his car’s engine. “Um… Minho bit my ass today.”

His words catch you off guard, the gears in your mind stopping for a split second. You remember a faint conversation under your covers, months ago, when you told him that distractions help you when you’re anxious. Force you to redirect your thinking somewhere else.

He remembered.

“Was it tasty?” you breathe out, and he chuckles, a sweet sound intermingled with a sigh of relief. “I don’t know, I need to ask him baby.”

You nod though he can’t see you, willing yourself to breathe again. In, out, in, out, Chan’s own breathing guiding you. “Should I bite him in return?” he asks. Tears pool in your eyes once again. “I’m close, so close,” he reassures.

“Okay.”

“To the biting?”

“Mm,” you manage to hum, as you hear the door of your apartment open, Chan's hurried steps echoing in your home. You knew he was looking for you but you couldn't call out to him. After painfully long seconds, stretching out as if to torture you even more, he finally opens the bathroom floor.

He finally finds you.

“It's okay, I'm here. I'm here,” he wastes no time before scooping you into his arms and hugging you. He knows that the pressure eases your anxiety so he tightens his hold without you having to say so, pulling you as close as two pages of the same book.

With you on his lap, he starts rocking back and forth, his words coming out a jumble mess. He can’t settle on what to say to you, switching between stupid jokes his friends told him, and words of reassurance he repeats like a promise.

His words break, his tongue faltering each time your sob gets louder, but he speaks. He speaks and speaks for twenty minutes, all to distract you, all to keep you grounded, and safe.

After a long while, the storm finally passes, leaving behind an excruciating exhaustion. You turn into a puddle in his hold, softening like malleable clay. He holds you as gently as a porcelain vase.

His warm palms settle atop your cheeks, his eyes gazing into yours for the first time since he got here. A sheen glaze taints them, one you know is mirrored in your own. His thumbs gently swipe away your remaining tears, grazing your face with a tenderness that makes your being ache. Your lips press a faint kiss onto his palm, his find their way to your forehead, and you feel it all, through his kiss. His fear, his relief, his love, soft and gentle, for you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse as you kiss his forehead back.

“I’ve got you my love. Always,” he smiles at you softly, his dimples appearing like the sun after a cold day.

“Did Minho really bite you?” you giggle faintly, and he scratches his ear sheepishly. “No, but I don’t put it past him to do it.”

“Is that something you’re into?” You cock a teasing eyebrow at him, and he shakes his head, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. “Only if it’s you,” he says as he wraps his arm around your waist, picking you up swiftly.

“I’ll consider,” you yawn, wrapping your arms around his neck, your face finding a refuge in the crook of his neck.

“Why thank you,” he smiles as he leads you to your bedroom, settling you gently atop the bed. He quickly climbs in with you, bringing you so close to him, his warmth ends up spreading through your entire being, filling up every nook and cranny of your soul.

“I think as long as you’re near, I’ll always be okay,” you say, as your eyes close slowly, you miss the tender smile that blooms in his face at your words.

“Good thing I exist to be near you, then.”

please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you

[chikupikufoundation]

Reading Materials for Kids | Chikupiku Foundation

Chikupiku Foundation provides engaging reading materials for kids, featuring Marathi storybooks and educational resources that celebrate local culture. Our materials aim to foster a love for reading while developing essential literacy skills in a fun and interactive way.

Help us provide more reading resources to children. Donate Now

[thecruellestmonth]

We love Bruce's tragic ignorance of Sheila's role in Jason's death.

We love Jason never telling another soul what Sheila did, because he loves her, because he's grateful she showed him compassion as soon as it didn't cost her anything, because nobody needs to know.

We need to go further.

Jason's last act as Robin got an innocent woman killed. His own mother, a doctor who should've lived many more years making the world a better place.

Poor Doctor Haywood might've survived being forced to work for the Joker, but Jason dragged her into a dangerous confrontation instead.

It's obvious what happened: Jason was trying to show off. He wanted to impress his mother by revealing himself as Robin and taking down the Joker. Treating everything like a game, never considering the consequences.

And despite losing everything to his recklessness, Sheila still used her dying breath to praise him. It's a tragedy that such a sweet woman dedicated her life to caring for others, but her own son doomed her with his carelessness.

[yangjeongin]

VOCALRACHA | "VENOM" MV for @outofconcheol

learn more about getting a gifset for gaza here!

[linoyes]

✨please consider commissioning a gifset from me to support a palestinian family✨

[hyunpic]

HYUNJIN | JJAM 🩸

[my-midlife-crisis]

never forget

[utterdrip]

i have so many feelings about this conversation. the grief and guilt for the lives he took. how he’s able to sympathize with the gur and acknowledge what he’s done to them as well as what they did to him.