#closure campaign

[azvibes]

Friends

A small child who was not a gnome was sitting on the dirt.

She was three years old, or maybe four. The gnomes who had found her didn’t have any idea how the ages of other species worked. It would be a few more years before anyone would come along who recognized the child as an earth genasi, anyway. Her adoptive warren just knew that she was larger than them, and grew a bit quicker, and that her skin was green and tough–and they knew that they loved her and that she was very special. That was all that mattered.

There was a dandelion in the child’s mouth, and she was chewing on the yellow petals with a thoughtful expression on her round face. One of her caretakers, a warren elder named Begonia, was gathering mushrooms from the side of a nurse log and placing them in a basket.

“Auntie?” said the child through a mouthful of flower.

“Yes, precious?”

“Is a mushroom like a flower?”

Begonia glanced over at the child. “Not really. They grow out of the ground sometimes, and we can eat some of them, like plants. But a plant only eats sunlight.” She walked over and handed the child, who was nearly as tall as she was by now, one of the mushrooms from the basket. “Mushrooms eat dead and rotting things. When something in the forest dies, the mushrooms help return it to the earth.”

The child’s eyes went very wide, and the dandelion fell out of her agape mouth.

Begonia laughed. “Isn’t that wonderful, precious?”

“I want to be a mushroom,” the child said earnestly.

“Do you, now?” Begonia patted the child’s cheek. “That’s a very lofty goal, you know. Mushrooms are some of the most important citizens in the forest.”

“I can do it.” She hmphed determinedly and brought the mushroom she was holding up to her face to sniff it. “They smell like the dirt. So do I.”

“Do you want to learn more about mushrooms, precious? Uncle Morrie could teach you more than I could,” Begonia said when the child began nodding very enthusiastically. “I mostly just know which ones that grow in Embrook Woods are edible. Not all of them are–that’s very important to remember, alright? Don’t go looking for mushrooms to eat without a grown-up helping you.”

“Why not?”

“Because some can make you very, very sick.”

The child burst into giggles.

“What’s so funny?” asked Begonia, bemused.

“Well, they don’t want to be eaten!”

Begonia had to chuckle. “I guess they don’t! I wouldn’t, either.”

The child stopped laughing. Very seriously, she said, “But the mushrooms will eat us. When we die.”

A sudden shiver ran down Begonia’s spine, all the way to the tip of her tail. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, that’s right. They help return us to the earth, like I said. But that won’t happen to any of our warren for a long time yet.”

“Unless we eat the wrong kind of mushroom. Then they’ll get us sooner,” said the child. She grinned. “I like that! They get hungry, and come find their food, just like we’re doing now.”

“That’s true,” said Begonia. She’d never thought about it quite like that before. She had a feeling most people would be off-put by the child’s reasoning and excitement about the topic, but Begonia wasn’t one to shy away from death. The only thing that she felt uneasy about was how natural the whole idea seemed to come to the child. It was like instinct more than curiosity. There was a kinship between the child and the mushroom she held. “Do you want to help me pick a few more for dinner? And then we can go back home, precious.”

The child nodded and shuffled over across the soil and moss. Her chubby, clumsy hands were careful and gentle as she plucked more of the small, light brown mushrooms from the nurse log. “You’re our dinner tonight,” she informed the mushrooms. “And then someday, we’ll be yours. That means we’re friends, I think. Yes, we’re friends.”

[lilbittymonster]

Day 11 - Duality / Dual Wield

A Tale of Two Kitalis

When I first designed Kitali, she was a tiefling ranger for a 5e Tal'Dorei campaign. She was a dual wielder of two elven scimitars, taught by one of her companions, and their mission was to aid one of the druidic circles in repairing the damage of rifts made between the prime material and other elemental planes.

When that campaign collapsed after only 8 sessions, I was devastated. I had put in probably around 5 or so months worth of work into her backstory, and weaving it alongside my 6 other fellow players' backstories, as well as an in-depth session 0 with our DM that fleshed out her family and her prior relationships further.

Fast forward to around a year into lockdown. I was convinced by a friend and a couple other Twitch streamers to give the free trial a go, and decided to try remaking Kitali for the world of FFXIV. I was able to salvage a lot of her original backstory, actually, which made me SO happy that I wouldn't have to re-imagine her from the ground up. The only things missing were her two short swords (and her big ram's horns, but that was negligible.)

I wound up falling completely in love with being a dragoon, and it is still her main job, but Kitali Moonblade is not complete without her dual wielding abilities. And having the lore of the shinobi wind up being so close to home once I settled on her full backstory, I couldn't separate the job from her. So now she has a hybrid main job of both her dragoon and ninja abilities.

As much as I am glad that the campaign ended, I still mourn for the potential my little purple tiefling had, and some small piece of that can still live on in XIV Kitali.

Prompt List

[theyhitthepentagon]

rainworld artificer is making me like insane to think about

[heedra]

one of my long running exalted campaigns came to an end today so I really have it on the brain...god I love this game

[kikidewynter]

thinking. pierce & shaundi having loyalty questlines but not being part of the main quest

[acebabecd]

My wish has always been for Dorian to come back asking for help in the Silken Squall, and the solstice provides a perfect opportunity for that

[aceofwonders]

rhydian finally getting to have a proper vigil for his father 🥺😭

[shalalalalaw]

ardbert hylfyst final fantasy fourteen, my milk toast basic ass warrior man, i miss you so much

[hopefulqueer]

decided to start a whole new blog for Amanita Zircon and her aesthetic and my solo campaign she's in, so if u like the forest/mushroom pictures and art i reblog, go follow @azvibes to keep seeing it!

[azvibes]

Poisonous

Friends (story introducing Amanita Zircon)

There was a tiny gnomish child napping in Amanita Zircon's left arm, and a slightly less tiny gnomish child attempting to climb up her right leg.

“Would you quit that, Hilla?!” hissed Amanita, trying to keep her voice down. “Pepper's sleeping.”

“I'm bored,” whined Hilla. “Play with me!”

“I'm too old to play. I'm supposed to be watching you.”

“You're the same age as me!” said Hilla.

That was true. At least within a year or so. Amanita was something close to thirteen now, and Hilla was twelve and a half. But gnomes, Amanita had realized several years ago, grew up much, much more slowly than people like her.

Hilla grabbed at the hem of Amanita's shirt and yanked.

“Stop it!”

Baby Pepper's face scrunched up and he began to cry loudly.

“Oh, look what you did!” Amanita hastily began to bounce and shush Pepper in both arms. “Go inside!” she told Hilla. “I'm telling your mama you wouldn't let him sleep.”

Hilla's face crumpled in a perfect replica of her little brother's, and she ran into the nearby mud and thatch house with the domed roof.

Amanita felt a bit like crying herself. She didn't like being put in charge of the little ones. At least Vicky and Violet, the twins who made Amanita want to pull her hair out, had been deemed better off going with the rest of this branch of the warren to the city. Everyone was predicting an incredibly harsh winter, and the warren hadn't preserved enough food to last through it because of the drought. And even though the whole rest of the warren except the riverbank family was still at home, somehow Amanita was the one stuck with watching these two.

Pepper wasn't so bad. He mostly slept and ate and put rocks in his mouth and babbled. Keeping him entertained was easy. But Hilla never stopped. She and Amanita had been friends once. Inseparable. But Amanita was basically a grown-up now, and Hilla still wanted to play make-believe.

After a few minutes of rocking and off-key singing, Pepper settled down again. Amanita could hear sniffling coming from inside the house. Feeling guilty, she sighed and went inside. She was starting to have to duck her head in these houses. She hoped that she wasn't going to get much taller.

Hilla was sitting on her bed in the corner, her knees pulled up to her chest. She looked at Amanita through reproachful tears.

“I'm sorry,” Amanita said. “Shush while I put Pepper down.” And she tucked him into his cot, making sure the blanket covered his whole body. He sleep-babbled a bit in protest, but didn't wake up.

“You won't really tell on me, will you?” Hilla pleaded.

Amanita rolled her eyes. “Are you really worried about that, you big baby? It's not a big deal. But no, I guess not. Come on, if you wake him again, I will tell. Let's go back outside.”

Hilla perked up immediately. “Will you play with me?” she demanded.

“Better. I'm gonna show you magic.”

With a shriek of delight, covering her mouth with both arms to muffle the noise, Hilla leapt to her feet and practically flew out the door.

The kids had been begging Amanita to show them the bits of magic she was picking up from Uncle Morrie. But she was expressly forbidden from doing anything of the kind. “It's too dangerous,” Jasmine, the mother of Hilla and Pepper and the twins, had said, and the parents of the young children in the rest of the warren had agreed.

Amanita pouted about it to Morrie, of course, but he had just shrugged and told her it was best to do as everyone else wanted. “Besides, this can just be special for the two of us, Aizie-daisy,” he had added, using the nickname he had given her when she had first disclosed the new name she wanted to go by. She didn't let anyone else nickname her–she had chosen Amanita Zircon, tying herself inextricably both to her chosen kinship with fungi and the forest and with Morrie (whose full name, Morel, was also a type of mushroom), as well as the earth genasi heritage that her warren assured her she had every right to claim and to connect to. But Uncle Morrie was special, and if he wanted to call her A-to-Z, which morphed into Aizie, which eventually became Aizie-daisy, she wasn't going to stop him.

Hilla was dancing excitedly in place as Amanita joined her outside. “What are you going to show me? Will you teach me how to do it? Will you make things grow?”

“It takes a long time to learn how to do,” Amanita said. She ushered Hilla further from the house, staying close enough that she would hear Pepper cry if he woke up again. “But yeah, I'll show you how I ask the earth to grow things for me. Come sit down on the ground.”

There was a thick layer of dead, decaying brown leaves on the forest floor. Autumn was nearing its end. There were hardly any leaves on the trees anymore, and the ones that were left weren't vibrant shades of red and orange anymore, but the same rich brown as the ground. It smelled good, like rot and moisture. Not everyone's favorite scent during the cycle of life in the forest, but Amanita loved it. She knelt down in the wet leaves across from Hilla, whose eyes were shining bright with anticipation. Amanita couldn't help but smile back at her.

“Breathe in deeply,” Amanita said. “You smell that?”

“It's yucky,” Hilla observed.

Amanita shook her head. “That's life. Or it's going to be, very soon. It's what we all are, eventually, and it's what becomes us, too.” As she spoke, she reached down beneath the leaves, into the soil. Not with her hands, though her fingertips dug into the dirt a bit. She reached with something in her soul, something that resonated with the mycorrhizal network clinging to the threaded roots of plants and the mycelium that stretched up, up towards the surface to form the fruiting bodies that shaped into their characteristic stalk and cap, up until…

“Oh!” Hilla gasped.

Over half of the leaves that had been on the ground in a circle around them were completely decomposed now. The nutrients within them had fed the fungi, and now dozens of mushrooms were sticking up out of the soil. There were puffballs and buttons, but mostly there were amanitas. Red and yellow and white amanitas.

Hilla reached for a red one, fascinated.

“Don't touch!” Amanita snapped. “Just look with your eyes, Hilla.”

“They're poison?” asked Hilla.

“Yeah. See how bright they are? They're warning you, don't mess with them.” She added quickly, “Lots of mushrooms are poison, and not all of them are nice enough to warn you, so don't eat any that a grown-up hasn't told you is safe.”

“Why are these ones nice?” asked Hilla.

“I don't know if nice is right, actually. I think they're mostly lucky,” Amanita said. “They were born so bright that nothing will try to eat them. Nothing clever, anyway.” She brushed a finger over the cap of one of the biggest amanitas.

“How come you can touch it?” complained Hilla. “That's not fair.”

“I can touch it ‘cause we understand each other. It knows I'm not gonna eat it. And I know it won't hurt me unless I stick my hand in my mouth before I wash it, which I won't. Besides, we share a name. This is Amanita, too.”

“Why are you named the same as something poison?” Hilla said curiously.

“‘Cause I want to be. I like things that are poisonous. They can defend themselves. And I've promised myself to the mushrooms when I die, so I can't let anything else eat me first,” Amanita said.

Hilla giggled. “You're so weird.”

Amanita was about to agree when a call came from a short ways downstream.

“We're hooooome!” It was Aunt Jasmine's voice.

Amanita jumped. She hadn't thought that they would be home until tomorrow or the next day.

Hilla lit up. “Mama!”

In the next few moments, the riverbank was swarming with the dozen or so warren members who had been traveling. Amanita didn't move, hoping that nobody would notice the very obviously magically grown patch of mushrooms around her.

Jasmine scooped Hilla up into her arms and kissed her cheeks. “How are you, my darling?” She glanced at Amanita. “Where's your brother?”

“Napping inside. Amanita was showing me magic!” Hilla exclaimed.

Amanita almost groaned.

Jasmine had been about to give Amanita a warm smile, but her face froze. “Has she? That's nice.” She placed Hilla on the ground. “Go wait inside, alright, Hilla?”

Hilla, seemingly not noticing her mother's irritation, nodded and ran off.

“Aunt Jas–”

“Amanita Zircon, I'm very disappointed with you,” Jasmine said. “You know you're not supposed to use what Morrie's taught you around the little ones!”

“It was just once!”

“Once is one time too many, young lady. You're supposed to be responsible! You promised me you could be responsible enough to look after them!”

Amanita crossed her arms. “They're alive and well, aren't they?” she retorted.

Some of the other warren members were standing nearby and watching. The twins were laughing behind their hands.

“Luckily, yes! But you can't always rely on luck, Amanita. You're such a bright girl, why can't you think?” Jasmine berated.

“Oh, come on, I grew a few mushrooms! It's not like they're going to explode,” said Amanita. “It's not dangerous.”

“It's always dangerous,” Jasmine said grimly. “And those mushrooms are poisonous.”

“I wasn't going to let her eat any,” muttered Amanita. Bitter indignation gnawed at her chest.

“You can keep your eyes on her every second, can you? You can guarantee she wasn't going to touch any of them?” Jasmine asked.

“I…”

“If Pepper had started crying and you'd gone in to get him up from his nap, you don't think Hilla wouldn't have tasted one when your back was turned?” added Jasmine.

Amanita slammed her palm onto the ground. A few more mushrooms grew out of spite. “Well, I told her not to and that they were poisonous, so maybe I have more faith in your kid than you have in me!”

“Oh, don't take that tone with me!”

Scrambling to her feet, Amanita cried, “Don't assume I'm gonna let your daughter do something so stupid, then! I'm glad you're back, Aunt Jasmine, so I don't have to play their mama anymore.” She grabbed at the hidden nature of the mycelium under her feet and fled, disappearing swiftly into the woods. The branches and soil bent and smoothed behind her to cover her path.

The cave at the foot of the rocky hill where Morrie had been bringing her to teach her about fungi and magic for years was a welcome sight. She crouched so she didn't hit her head on the entrance. The ceiling rose again quickly, though stalactites dripped down like icicles and she had to take care to avoid them.

Slick, blue, faintly glowing algae grew in the dim corners of the cavern. Where some sunlight reached near the mouth, green ferns and mosses and shrubs grew. Cave fungi sprouted underneath them and up the crumbling walls.

Amanita touched a patch of the moss, and urged it to spread along the floor until there was enough space for her to sprawl out on her stomach with her face pressed in the moss, and she let out a loud, weary sigh.

It wasn't fair. She wanted her warren to see her as responsible, to trust her with things as an adult. She was responsible! She was! Hilla and Pepper were safe and fed and mostly happy, and the house was clean. And she hadn't even done any magic until today. 

The moss was soft and damp against her lips and eyelids. She was tired. She'd go home to Begonia's at some point later today, but right now, she was content to stay far, far away from anyone else.

Her heart seemed to beat in time with the water dripping from the stalactites, which carried minerals down from the base to the tip and let it grow, slowly, drop by drop. The earth grew and shrank like people did, but much, much slower. Amanita wondered why, if she was so closely related to the earth, she grew so much more quickly than it did.

She slowed her breathing, which slowed her heart. The dripping slowed to match. Listening to that sound and feeling the connection to the cave, Amanita began to fall asleep, or at least slip into a state less like full consciousness.

She felt the soft footsteps, one, two, tap, as reverberations in the stone beneath the moss, rather than actually hearing them. It was an unmistakable rhythm, and she didn't even raise her head before mumbling, “Hi, Uncle Morrie.”

“Thought I'd find you here,” her mentor said amiably. There was a shuffle and a grunt as he sat beside her and then the clack of the handle of his cane resting against the cave wall. “Jasmine asked me to let you know that she's sorry she yelled at you.”

“That doesn't make me feel better,” Amanita said, though it kind of did. “Maybe she should let me know herself.”

Morrie chuckled. “Well, as she tells it, she went after you a few minutes after you stormed off but couldn't find a trace of where you'd gone.”

“Hmph,” said Amanita, a bit proudly.

“So she came and found me, instead. And she told me what happened.”

“...hmph,” Amanita said again, less proudly.

“And she shouldn't have yelled, but Aizie, you have been told not to use magic around the little ones.”

“I know that! I wasn't doing anything dangerous!”

Very seriously, Morrie said, “That's not how most people see it, Amanita. Magic is powerful, even the small things. Magic is power, and power frightens people. As well it should.”

She rolled onto her side to glare at him. “It was literally just some mushrooms I made grow a bit quicker,” she informed him.

“So I've been told. And that's most of what I've taught you so far–making things grow like that, asking the forest for little favors and tricks. The whole disappearing act you pull sometimes wasn't something you learned from me,” added Morrie with a laugh.

“No, I just…know how to do it,” Amanita said. “It's easy.”

Morrie nodded thoughtfully, his silver curls bouncing around his long ears. “It comes naturally to you. All of this does. It's why I've been slow to teach you more, and it's why my granddaughter and so many other folks in our warren are a little scared of what you can do.”

“You're not scared of me,” Amanita said. Pleaded.

“I'm not,” Morrie replied. He reached out and took her hand. “Neither are they, not really. They're scared of the magic, yes, but not of you. Scared for you, I think.”

Feeling his soft, wrinkled skin against her own firm, smooth palm, Amanita said, “But I know what I'm doing. I'm safe with it. I'd never hurt anyone with it!”

“Not on purpose. We know. But…” Morrie sighed. “Maybe I should have taught you more sooner. Here, sit up, Aizie-daisy.”

She sat up, the soft leather soles of her shoes touching and her knees flat out to the sides. “Are you going to show me something new?”

“I am. I won't ask you to promise to use it wisely, because I know you will,” Morrie said. He was still holding her hand. “You know how it feels when you reach into the ground to sense the connections in the roots and mycorrhizae? Or into a tree, or a flower, and you can feel all the nutrients and the water and the fibers flowing between place to place?”

“Yes,” Amanita said. “Yes, of course.”

“Do that now. But don't reach into the earth.” He squeezed her hand. “Reach with your magic until you can feel all of those same things inside me.”

Amanita's eyes widened, and she felt a bright thrill. She had never really thought about that possibility. So she closed her eyes and reached with her intuition and the indescribable sense somewhere in the center of herself.

She felt a thrumming first. An electric buzz, more active than what she felt in plants and fungi. Then a rushing, pounding sound like a rhythmic waterfall, which she figured out was the blood flowing through Morrie's veins, pumped by the beating of his heart. The initial buzz clarified and amplified, and Amanita was suddenly aware of nerves sending signals. Her consciousness stretched, and she felt every fiber, every bone, every bit of connective tissue.

She gasped and released his hand. With the connection broken so abruptly, the world seemed rather quiet and still.

“Well done,” Morrie said.

“That was…amazing,” she breathed. “What do you do with that?”

“Lots of things. Here.” He took a small pocket knife out and cut a tiny nick in the side of one of his fingers. A very small drop of blood welled up. “Now I want you to reach out again, but focus all of your attention very, very hard on my finger here.”

She laid her own finger over the little scratch and began concentrating again.

“You should be able to feel the interruption,” Morrie said, “between the intact skin and the cut. The edges match up, at least mostly. Not every wound leaves so clean a mark, but you can worry about that later. For now, I want you to just pay attention and memorize how the cut feels and how the healthy skin feels on either side.”

Even the small injury made Amanita feel a sense of general wrongness as she explored the gap, the cessation of messages and function. She felt different nerves than had been active before. They lit up now brightly with a localized but obvious pain signal. The fibers of the skin had split, the narrow capillary blood vessels burst open.

“Can you feel it?” Morrie asked.

“I can feel all of it,” Amanita said in a hushed voice. “I can feel that it's broken.”

“Good. Fix it.”

She was about to protest that she didn't know how, that she had never even attempted healing magic before, and what if she messed it up and made everything even worse? What if she couldn't do it?

But it was…so easy to match the edges of the cut up and get the skin to grow back together. The cells multiplied pretty much just the same as a mushroom or a plant, except a little less rigid in their structure. It followed the same pattern as the skin around it for the most part, so it was simple. The slight differences, like the ridges of the fingerprint, came naturally to the healing tissue. Amanita only had to prompt it to grow and it did.

“That was just perfect,” Morrie praised. “And very quickly, too.”

Amanita couldn't think of anything to say. She lifted Morrie's hand up into a bit of light coming into the cave and stared at the little smear of blood where the nick had been. If she squinted, she could tell that it was paler and pinker than the surrounding skin, like a fresh scar, but only barely.

“When you know how a person's body is supposed to feel in its natural state, you can fix it when something goes wrong,” Morrie said after a moment. 

“Can you really just fix anything?” Amanita wondered. “Why doesn't everyone do it all the time whenever anyone gets hurt?”

“A few reasons. For one thing, it's a very difficult skill to learn. You've been practicing on plants and fungi for years, learning to make tissue grow. And even so, if you tried to heal something much more substantial than this scratch without a lot more practice and instruction, you might accidentally make it worse. Or just exhaust yourself magically.”

That made sense. Amanita nodded. “What are the other reasons?”

“Well, the learning of healing magic is very restricted in most places. Because there's not any difference between closing a wound and opening a wound, except you do one of them backwards. With practice, you can kill someone just as easily as you can make mushrooms sprout from the ground.”

Amanita dropped Morrie’s hand like it was a fistful of stinging nettle. “I don’t want to know that!”

“I know.”

“Why would you tell me I can do that?!”

Morrie held his hand out to her again, keeping it outstretched even though she shook her head and refused to take it. “It’s better than stumbling upon it accidentally, hm? Ignorance protects nobody, my dearest girl.”

She didn’t want to acknowledge that he had a point. “So they’re right, then,” she said. “Magic is too dangerous for anyone to use, especially around kids. I should never, ever use it again.”

“Amanita Zircon,” Morrie said, very gently. “Someday, you are going to be faced with somebody who has been hurt much worse than that nick in my finger, and you will want to save their life. And you will be grateful that you practiced.”

She crossed her arms and buried her face in them.

“And someday,” continued Morrie, “some creature will pose a real danger to you or somebody you love. And that, too--what you will have to do in defense--you will be grateful that you practiced.” He was almost laughing as he added, “For someone who’s been insisting that she wants to be poisonous so nobody can eat her since she was old enough to know what poison means, you don’t seem to like the idea of being capable of hurting anyone.”

“I want to be poisonous,” she said, her voice muffled. “I only hurt them if they hurt me first. I don’t want to be venomous.”

“And that, Aizie-daisy, is why I am perfectly comfortable with you knowing the magic of life and death.” Morrie nudged her. “Do you need time to mope, or should we practice some more?”

Amanita heaved a weary sigh. “Give me a minute,” she stated. “And then we can practice.” She raised her head after a few seconds, apprehension melting away to a ravenous curiosity much more quickly than she had expected. “What do I try next?”

[dancesword]

hi um. its been a hot minute huh ✌️ what if i not only picked zora back up but turned this into a small multi and added a couple more dnd pcs

[dent-de-leon]

I need a oneshot where King goes to visit his Magician in Rexxentrum and ends up meeting Aldreda—

[owlsarereallyfuckinggreat]

The excitement of writing the finale of a multi-year campaign vs not wanting it to end because that's your emotional support story

[makerofmadness]

Another day, another Me Discovering That A Mutual Has Blocked Me (except this time I'm not entirely sure, I don't know if they blocked me or changed their url and I can't find them anymore). And I'm finding this on the frickin' day before my birthday too. Dammit.

[amalashuor]

In the beginning 💢💢 I apologize to all of you for not responding to the messages you sent to check on my family, but my family and I are evacuating from east of Deir al-Balah to the seashore because all places have now become dangerous. Please pray for us. I may never be online again

Dear friends 🤍 Tears of joy mixed with feelings of gratitude to everyone who stood by me, who gave their time and effort in order to reach the campaign’s financial goal of 30k euros, but due to the circumstances that Gaza is going through and the closure of all land crossings, I was not able to achieve the main goal of the campaign, which is to leave Gaza to Safe country Thanks and gratitude are due to: 1. The friends who pinned my story at the top of their page are amazing people.🌺🤍 2. The Ansar, each by name and title, are people of goodness and giving.🌺🤍 3.For those who put forward new ideas, the idea of ​​artistic paintings, marches, and bread sales are the unknown soldiers🌺🤍 4. These amazing activists who share daily updates are like a dynamo who never stops serving those in need.🌺🤍 5. Friends who sent the campaign link to their friends and families outside this application, those who carry humanity in their hearts.🌺🤍 @littlegermanboy @appsa @floofysmallbob @feluka @90-ghost @queerstudiesnatural @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @irhabiya @intersectionalpraxis @obscenity @sayruq @decolonize-solidarity @fancysmudges @heba-20 @jezior0 @commissions4aid-international @vivisection-gf I inform you that thanks to you, I was able to support my family from your donations and campaign revenues. Before we left Rafah, I didn't have enough money to leave Thanks to your donations, I was able to leave Rafah to Khan Yunis. What it cost me is as follows: Transportation: $400/600 Buy a tent for $500/$800 Land rent: $500/600 Building a very modest bathroom costs $200/300 Some incidental expenses are $300/500 Which means that I spent approximately $3,000 of the money of the group whose goal is to get out of Gaza to a safe country on transportation from Rafah to Khan Yunis. Then, on 27may2024 💔, the occupation army threw a bomb near our tent in Khan Yunis, which led to the burning of the tent, the mattress, and everything else. We fled without taking anything with us. I told my friend @littlegermanboy 🤍about this incident and we fled to Deir al-Balah because there was no empty place. We sat in the east of Deir al-Balah.

This escape cost us more than before because of the outrageous prices we are experiencing here. This is just an example to tell you that a liter of diesel costs 100 dollars. Which means that the cost of transportation to Deir al-Balah cost me as follows: 500$ transportation 500/700$ to buy a tent to replace the one that burned in Khanios 200/300$ to buy mattresses, blankets, pillows, and clothes for me and my daughter, Maryam But in Deir al-Balah, we did not rent land. We sat on government land for free 300/200$ to build a bathroom All these expenses detract from the funds of the campaign, whose goal is to escape from Gaza to a safe country Of course, there are basic expenses, which are buying food, drinks, milk, and Cerelac for my daughter Maryam. Certainly, these are from the campaign’s money because we do not have any other income other than this campaign.

Now the Israeli occupation army has told us to leave Deir al-Balah to the west, towards the sea The place I am in now is very dangerous, and if I decide to leave, it will cost me more than before, and this is not satisfactory. I spent the campaign’s money just to escape from one place to another.If the Rafah land crossing returns to work again, this means that the money we have is not enough to exit Gaza. For this reason, we will raise the campaign goal to 50k euros

I ask you, my friends, for increased financial and psychological support, because because of you, I am able to continue despite everything that is happening to me I thank you and everyone who contributed and helped to continue my life. If it were not for you, I would not have been able to save my family from health, psychological and nutritional deterioration. I thank everyone who gave me anything because everything here helps My friends who stood by my side, I shower you with hugs and love you so much.❤️😭 Moving towards the second goal to sustain my life and the life of my little family: 50k euros

These are my friends' articles. I thank you 🤍🤍

[workersolidarity]

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STARVATION EATS AT GAZA'S CHILDREN AS ISRAELI OCCUPATION CONTINUES IT'S GENOCIDE

📹 The 9-year-old child, Muhammad Kloub, dies in Al-Aqsa Martyr's Hospital in Deir al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip, as result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing starvation campaign by its closure of the Rafah and Karm Abu Salem border crossings.

The Zionist army has physically burned down the Palestinian side of the Rafah border crossing, rendering the structure and facilities useless to prevent food from entering the Gaza Strip.

#source

#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews