A Little Late But Happy Bday Nikolai !!
a little late but happy bday nikolai !!
More Posts from Acornsgh and Others
The war here in Gaza has been going on for too long, the siege has intensified, the bombing has intensified, and with food running out, the price of flour has reached $500, which is unacceptable. The price of my injectable medication has reached $650. Please, the situation here is very difficult, and my pregnancy is very dangerous. I must continue taking the injections until the end of my pregnancy. Please, this is my first child. Help me. You are my hope. Don't leave me alone, please😭😭. Donate so I can buy food and injections. I have only raised $2,500 out of a $10,000 goal. Please continue donating.🥹
✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #425 )✅️🇵🇸🇵🇸👇
An Error (Part 2)
The sun was beginning to set, casting a soft orange hue through the windows of the Saiki household as Kusuo sat frozen in the middle of his room.
His mind raced, his body tense, his powers still in turmoil from the chaotic sneeze that had displaced his father to some unknown world. [Dad... Where did you go?] He clenched his fists, frustration boiling in his chest.
Saiki sat in silence, fighting the growing sense of panic. His mind couldn't focus -- his power felt like it was slipping from his control, and the more he thought about his father's disappearance, the more impossible it seemed to fix.
He had to fix his limiters. It was his only chance of getting control back. He had barely been able to notice that the clips were deflating, let alone make sure they were inflated to the correct level before the disaster struck.
[This is bad... This is really bad.]
In the back of his mind, he was very aware of the fact that his mother was downstairs, oblivious to the mess that had unfolded. The house was unusually quiet now, the hum of the evening settling in. Kusuo was in no mood to face her, not when he knew how much trouble he'd gotten himself into. His mother was sweet and caring, but even her patience had limits.
The sound of soft footsteps came from the hallway below, and Kusuo's heart skipped a beat. He was still panicking, and he didn't need his mother finding out. Not yet. Not when everything was so... Broken.
The door to his room creaked open.
"Sweetheart? Kusuo? I've been calling you for the past few minutes, are you feeling alright?" His mother's voice echoed through the door, gentle and kind, as always.
He couldn't face her. Not like this. He didn't even know how to explain what had happened, let alone the possibility that he might never see his father again. It was too much, even for him.
She stepped inside, peering over the threshold of the door. Her eyes softened when she saw him sitting on the floor, his expression clouded. "What happened?" She asked, worried as she walked over. Her tone was calm, but concern lingered beneath it. "Kusuo, you're acting strange. Is something wrong?"
Kusuo didn't look at her. He didn't want to lie, but he also didn't want to admit the truth. So instead, he just shook his head, giving her the most neutral response he could muster.
[I'm fine. Just... Tired.]
His mother's purple eyes narrowed slightly, not fully convinced. "You didn't answer me when I called. Have you seen your father? He's been gone for a while now, and he's not answering his phone."
Kusuo's heart stopped again. The room felt colder all of a sudden, his thoughts spinning. His mom was starting to notice... That was the last thing he needed. But he couldn't just tell her the truth. The very idea of explaining what happened -- how he might have sent his father to a completely different dimension -- was impossible. His powers were something his mom didn't fully understand, and if she found out...
If she found out, she'd never let him out of her sight again.
[I... I haven't seen him either.] He hoped his voice sounded calm enough, but even as he said the words, the nagging fear in his chest grew.
His mother pursed her lips, clearly unsure of whether to believe him. "Well, I’ve been trying to call him, and he’s not answering. I’m going to call the police."
Kusuo's eyes behind his green tinted glasses widened, and the last thing he needed was his mom calling the cops. That would just complicate everything. He couldn't let her do that. He had to stop her, but how? She was already on edge, and the thought of his dad being missing could easily drive her to panic.
[Mom, don't.] His tone of words came out sharper than he intended, but he didn't care. His mind was racing. He needed to keep her from escalating this. He couldn't afford to have anyone looking for his dad -- especially not the police. Who knew what they'd do? He didn't even know where his dad was, let alone how to find him.
His mother looked up at him, her eyes wide with concern. "What do you mean, 'don't'? Kusuo, your father is missing! This is serious."
[I know, but...] He hesitated for a moment, trying to hold onto some sort of composure. [It's not like that. He's probably just out, you know? He's always doing strange things, and sometimes he just forgets to tell us where he's going.]
The words felt hollow even as they left his mind. He couldn't even pretend to believe it himself. His father was gone.
His mother didn't seem entirely convinced, but the concern in her face was still there, and she was getting closer to breaking down. Kusuo's stomach churned with guilt as he sucked in a breath.
She sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Alright. I won't call the police just yet, but if he doesn't show up soon..." She trailed off, unsure, but then she nodded. "I'll give him another hour. Just... Please, let me know if you hear anything. I know you've been through a lot, but we need to work together on this."
Kusuo’s heart pounded in his chest. She was only trying to help, but all he could think about was how much worse everything would get if anyone else found out.
[Yeah, okay. I'll let you know,] he nodded, though his mind was far from the promise. He didn't exactly know how he could fix this. How could he tell her that he was the one who made his father disappear? He couldn't. She'll panic even more.
As his mother left the room, sending a final look over her shoulder, Kusuo was left alone again, his body still rigid as ice, his thoughts were all consumed by the disaster he had caused. He wasn't even sure where to begin. He wasn't familiar with this kind of situation. He'll have to solve this on his own.
He had to fix it, but the more he thought about it, the more hopeless it seemed.
[What if I can't fix it?]
My Journey to Escape the War in Gaza
My name is Abdelmajed. I never imagined I’d be sharing my story like this, but life in Gaza has become unbearable. I am a survivor of the war here, and in the blink of an eye, everything I once knew—my home, my safety, my community—was ripped away from me.
The war has transformed Gaza into a graveyard of broken dreams. The buildings that once stood as symbols of life and resilience are now piles of rubble. Every corner is filled with the echoes of explosions. Every moment is shrouded in uncertainty. There is no security. There is no stability. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.
Basic needs have become luxuries. Food is scarce. Clean water is even scarcer. Hospitals are overwhelmed and under-resourced, and there is almost no medical care to be found. Every night, families go to bed hungry, praying they’ll wake up to see another day. The cost of basic necessities has skyrocketed, and it’s become a daily battle just to survive.
I’ve seen things I never thought possible—standing in long lines for a piece of bread, rationing every drop of water, and watching my people suffer in silence. I have lost everything—my home, my safety, my dignity.
Escape from Gaza is my only hope, but it’s almost impossible without financial help. The cost of evacuation is far beyond my means, and without support, I’m trapped in a warzone with no way out.
I’m reaching out to you now, in the hopes that someone, anyone, can help. I am not asking for luxury. I am asking for a chance—just a chance—to live. A chance to escape this never-ending cycle of fear, destruction, and loss. A chance to rebuild my life somewhere safe, where I can begin again, where I can find hope once more.
Any amount you can give will help me get closer to safety. Even the smallest donation will make a difference—it could be the lifeline I need to survive. If you are unable to donate, please share my story. The more people who hear it, the better the chance that I can find the support I desperately need.
Your kindness and support mean the world to me. You’re not just helping me escape a war; you’re giving me a chance to live, to rebuild, to breathe again.
Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring.
Vetted by @gazavetters
Anyaaa ♡ (i forgot to put my signature😭 )
🕊️ Please Take a Moment to Read Nadin’s Story
My name is Nadin. I never imagined I would write something like this. I’ve always been someone who kept her worries quiet, someone who believed that even the hardest days could be endured with patience and faith. But right now, I am reaching out — not because I want to, but because I need to.
I am a wife, a mother, and one of many women in Gaza trying to survive days that feel like they have no end. There was a short time — a brief ceasefire — where we thought things might start to heal. Where the sound of war faded for just long enough to let us breathe. But that moment is gone now, and the fear has returned louder than before.
My days are filled with uncertainty, and my nights with prayer. We have lost so much. Our home was damaged, our sense of safety taken from us. But through all of this, I try to keep going. I try to hold on to what little peace I can create with my hands, my words, and my love.
I am not asking for much. Just a little help to keep our lives from falling further apart. To fix the small things — a cracked wall, a leaking roof, the pieces of daily life that help us hold on to dignity.
This campaign isn’t just about survival. It’s about holding on to what makes us human in a place that keeps trying to take that away. It’s about showing my daughter — even though I won’t mention her name here — that the world didn’t forget us.
If you’ve ever felt powerless in the face of suffering, please know that even the smallest gesture can carry great meaning. A kind word. A shared post. A quiet donation. These things remind us that we’re not alone.
I am still here. Still holding on. Still believing that people out there — people like you — still care.
Please, if you feel moved, consider supporting or sharing this campaign.
Threads of Dusk ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚
❝ The sky stitched with waning gold, A tale of day, now softly told. The sun will sink low, its fire dim, A lantern's light on sunset's brim.
The world exhales a gentle sigh As dark shadows stretch and kiss the sky. The trees stand stiff, their branches bare, Caught in twilight's tender care.
Each thread of dusk, a brief glow, Untangled fast, yet sweet and slow. It intertwines the night with quiet grace, A tapestry time can't replace.
So linger here, in soft repose, Where every hour comes, then goes. For in the dusk, the heart may see, A moment's glance of eternity. ❞
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i write, i draw, and i sleep ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ𝄞𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ 𓈈⭒🦢 ﾟ.𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚: ilovesyogurt_𝐖𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐝: @Eleanor_Is_Cool321
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