Hello, my name is Nadin. I’m from Gaza. I’m a graphic design graduate, a wife—and now, a mother.
I finished my design studies just before the war began. I had dreams of starting a small studio, of creating art that told stories. I used to think about colors and fonts and the future.
Then, the war came. And the future became something we tried to hold onto, moment by moment.
On October 22, 2023, I learned I was pregnant when a missile destroyed my husband’s family home, killing 25 members—his mother, siblings, nieces and nephews—entire branches of our family in seconds.
We were displaced twice. Everything was gone—home, safety, routine, rest.
A few weeks later, I gave birth to our daughter. There was no crib, no celebration—not even stillness. But she arrived, quietly and beautifully. In her eyes I saw something I hadn’t felt in weeks: life that still wanted to grow.
Now, our days are shaped by decisions that could dismantle the future we are trying to build together.
Today, Israel’s government is discussing plans for a full military occupation of the Gaza Strip, including Gaza City and southern regions. The stated aim: to eliminate Hamas and later hand governing control to allied Arab forces—not Israel—but with no clear path to peace or normalcy.
The humanitarian fallout is devastating. More than 61,000 Palestinians have died in this war; hunger and malnutrition are rising sharply. Hospitals in north Gaza have shut down, and 193 people have now died of starvation, nearly half of them children.
Aid remains blocked, water is scarce, and many risk dying of hunger or disease long before future promises arrive.
We Don’t Know What Comes Next
There’s no clear path forward—only uncertainty for our daughter’s life and our ability to survive another day.
My name is Nadin, and I’m a mother from Gaza.
How You Can Help
I’m asking for support—not for comfort, but for survival:
Help us meet basic needs so we can breathe, heal, and preserve a world for our daughter.
Support us as I try to stand again on my own feet—even a glimmer of stability matters.
If you’ve read this far, thank you. If you can give—thank you. If you can’t—just sharing this post is a lifeline I will never forget.
you know what’s been on my mind lately? There’s something no one knows about toge’s gallery, a video in his favorites. It’s taken as a selfie by him, you straddled over him in his gaming chair. The soft fabric of both your hoodies are tugged down showing the prettiest shades of matching marks. It’s a short clip, of him sticking his tongue out with a slight smirk looking into the screen. And you, your pretty tongue’s out as well, the tip slowing tracing the cursed speech mark on his. His breath hitching at every dips and turns of your hot mouth, a low note rumbling at the pressure on his birthmark. In the dim light spit runs down his blown lips and pale throat. The video stops right there with your soft teasing giggle mixed with his throaty moan, just barely catching his eyes rolling back-
This comment irked me in the worst way possible. I was already having a bad morning and saw this so I’m going to be an ass today.
I live in the country. Go to school in the country. I’ve lived here for 10 years straight. Do you think I don’t know that not all of Korea is like this? What do you gain from comparing the atrocities happening here to America? If you want to compare the two then compare the size of the country itself, the amount of people there, and everything else, too. Surprise, with the amount of offenders coming out of this deepfake case alone, it’s not a reach to suspect men that you pass on the street in Korea.
Do you realize how disgusting you sound by making this comment? “Oh, I’m sorry this happened at all, but America is worse.” - does that mean this shouldn’t be taken serious then? Fuck every other country compared to the great fucking US?
Not attack your country? I’m not attacking my country for fucks sake - I want to love it here, but it’s fucking impossible with the news that comes out everyday - I’m stating a fact, A FACT THAT 220,000 KOREAN MEN WERE IN A TELEGRAM CHAT THAT MADE DEEPFAKE PORNOGRAPHY OF PEOPLE CLOSE TO THEM.
Was it the part I said the country is too lenient on men? Is that the problem? Want me to bring up examples? Seungri, famous kpop idol. He got a year and a half after mediating prostitution, sharing nude photos of girls (without their permission) with other men, and gambling. Oh, he’s famous? Fine, wanna hear about the Cho Doo-Soon case? A 56 year old man raped an 8 year old girl to the point of her having a disability for the rest of her life and he got 12 years in prison because he claimed he was drunk. You want to know where he was set free to? His old home, 800m away from his victim’s house. That’s a 10 minute walk away.
Would statistics help you understand the gender inequality better? The Global Gender Gap Index, Korea ranked 94th out of 146 countries. That’s 51 ranks below America, for your information.
For a final kick, want to know what happened in Korea this week alone? Or is this nothing compared to America, too?
Also what are you mentioning prostitues for? What does that have to do with this situation?
In 2020 I made a post on here regarding the nth room case. Unfortunaly it's a case again and this time a million times worse.
As far as the Taeil situation he's a kpop idol who was kicked out of his group right away after serious accusations of sexual misconduct came to light.
🚨 UNDERAGE PORNOGRAPHY USING DEEPFAKE AND TELEGRAM IN KOREA🚨
Please take a second to read and reblog.
In Korea, middle, high school and college students are taking screenshots, even sneaking pictures of classmates, family members (sisters, cousins, even their own mothers) to make pornography videos and pictures in Telegram, using AI and Deepfake. Most of the victims right now are underage, and some are even using the generated pictures to threaten the victims.
It’s really a serious issue, and there are more than 220,000 memebers in said chat (it’s an estimated number, and it’s certain that there are more offenders not included in this) There are separated group chats for each middle school, high school, etc, the high school I’m attending right now included.
But as the Korean government did with the Nth room, their actions have been very timid, as well as the media. There isn’t any news coverage even though it’s basically a child pornography crime, especially since most of the offenders are underage. The schools are also taking limited actions.
People, especially the victims themselves are doing their own research, based on Twitter, sharing information about the schools of the victims to raise awareness, and also to share information about the perpetrators. Girls are taking down their profile pictures, instagram stories, making their profiles private, as they all have been used for the crime.
Last summers end just before you come to a closure about whatever childhood was, and from there it’s all a rush to somewhere else- and at last, in the car ride, you wonder if one thing had been different, would everything be different?
Fluff
Because Kuroo, that tall, lean, built, handsome man that he has grown up to, now you realize that you’ve loved him all these years along. Now you see the stupid dances, the new years countdowns, the dumb traditions you’ve laughed at your friends fussing over, he has been right next to you all along. Growing up is cruel, and funny. Because finally, like the late summer afternoon breeze, it sweeps you over that in his laughter, there always had been some glaze of hope. It always had been you, in the corner of his gaze.
And it pains you to look over at the window, at the passing of the neighborhood you knew by name. Each turn is an age, and if anyone asks you, you can almost act out all those memories, so dear and, God, so you. The walks home, where Kuroo had his arms around Kenma, nagging at his posture and you laughing. The scent of the frame is so clear, because even then his other hand was hovering across yours, only inches away. That space between, now looking back, you sheepishly almost dare to hope to fold and have those young, dumb hands meet.
It truly is a beautiful thing, you think that behind the word teenage, maybe people came up with the form of it, because nothing will truly capture that time other than muttering out wistfully, truly that was the age of something. Something. Something. You wish it was something. You wish you did something, said something. To whisper out an invitation to the movies you went with him and Kenma a little different. To have had the chance to truly look at his nervous eyes before the match and give that hug a second longer, just enough for Kuroo to even guess if both your heartbeats bass the same. To have held his hand, just yesterday even. You could’ve, and it’s bitter because even then you knew, that “stay” from you could have lighten his desire to take the step to believe in love, as doubtful and afraid he is of it secretly in the inside.
But you pass his house. The blur, soundly familiar with the unspoken you now have the wisdom to name love all along makes you look back for a moment longer. In the movies they’d turn the car around, and you’d come running into the house for a breathless kiss, a perfect ending to a coming of age movie. That cut would be perfect, the credits coming up before crowds wonder about the monstrosities of entering college with a long distance relationship back home. That ending, careless and too easy, that you honestly long for right now, would be perfect.
Lost in you thoughts, you almost miss the ringing of your phone. Almost shameful, although not knowing why you should be caring about now recognizing your feelings about your childhood best friend, you hurriedly answer without looking.
“Have you left yet?” Kuroo’s rushed voice spits out as soon as you tap the screen. Instinctively, although you don’t know why, you step on the brakes in the middle of the streets, pulling up the the nearest corner.
“I- no. I mean I am.” You hush out. You don’t recognize your voice, and it would have made you laugh if you weren’t busy trying to figure why the hell you were so desperately getting out of the car, unfamiliar tears fogging up your senses.
“Oh.”
“I’m right by your house though. I-“ you cut him off, just for him to interrupt almost helplessly.
“I have to tell you something- God no there’s something you’ve left here- shit just-“ he’s blabbering now, and you’re sprinting now. Each step, in the street you can name each shadow of the afternoon branch, of your childhood, of all you know, is a courage. Almost drunk of the moment, this age of somewhere in between and growing up, you come home just one more time.
“I can see you.” You come home to that familiar figure standing outside his house, that stupid familiar hair still jagged up. Maybe four steps closer, he starts sprinting closer as well. Kuroo runs up to you, arms opening to catch you slowing down to look at his face. His lips are all bitten red, and his hands are visibly shaking.
“You- I was scared-“ he starts again.
“Yeah.” You breathe out, shaking away the tears with messy laughter.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I-“
And you open your lips, not sure what to say through all these feelings, maybe to echo out what he was trying to say? But ease comes to you, just like growing up. Love is courage, and taking those steps you were too young to even recognize. Because with him it’s okay, no. You don’t even care if it’s okay. It’s just Tetsuro. And it’s just you. You’ve seen this from the beginning, like that Easter egg in the beginning of the film. Just like time passing, too easy and beautiful and regretfully-
He leans closer, the space rapidly closing with his cluttering hands on your shoulders, he looks at your eyes a millisecond before capturing that moment with a swift sigh.
Whenever the movie cuts, whatever the plot may be, you feel his hungry, careful kiss.
i’m not writing but i want you to know that i constantly imagine a tormented hajime. who breaks at the feel of love, who has thrived on being whole and structured and complete, and immediately loses his sense of self in the thought of someone else.
You watch him forget you like you’d watch him breathe, because that’s young love in the real world. Someone falls out.
Just angst
The thing about heartbreak, it’s not like in the movies, the songs, or the books. No crying out in the rain at 3am, no the-other-girl in his phone, no unsent letters, nothing really. Young love, and how it ends is surprisingly more simple than you’d expect. Or even want. That’s what kills you.
Good people fall out of love. No one writes about that.
No one writes about how instinctively, you just know that you’re the one who loves more in the relationship. The gaps between the texts that keeps you waiting- with that nervous faint smile friends would quietly notice it’s anxiety. The dates where the excited words you’re rushing out just seems to be heard, not listen to. And you catch yourself making excuses for it, because maybe he’s just tired right? You’re just so glad to finally see him, for him to finally make time for you, so you just smile through the empty void seeping through your significant other’s face.
You’re not sure what is more painful- having known how radiantly gentle he is when he is in love, so how can you not tell how he is falling out of it, or having to push even that aside, because God knows you can’t address that now. Your gut tells you to just ignore the upcoming unavoidable conversation, push even your feelings aside. You know you can’t walk away. As much as you would have laughed at being in a position like this, the heart wants what it wants.
The heart wants what used to be yours.
There’s nothing left to do. And you’d give anything to have that last fierce argument, because you know he wouldn’t fight for anything now. Your boy, as brutal it is but somehow still at this moment your man, is falling out of love with you. And you can’t do anything but watch. Watch him not ask to switch places walking down the street. Listen to his familiar voice ask to leave the restaurant early.
And fucking hell, love is what makes you glad for that chance. That chance of being near him for just one more day. For being able to go to sleep with that empty I-love-you text, all too well knowing how can someone love without aching to know about your day?
Yet you’ll watch him fall out of love. Because that’s how young love ends. It’s a lot more quiet. It’s a lot more empty.
hiii, take ur time bbg we'll wait for you, and i'm sure that ure doing great, you can do it, dont let the artists block get to you, i'm sure u can do it <33
Mutual pining. That’s what the books would name this, he knows. And yeah, he’d give anything to have that happy ending. But not just yet.
Fluff, mutual pining
He’s read about this.
There must be a reason why you asked to go over the material at his house, when he’s seen you take all the notes and nod back to the teacher oh so sweetly. There must be a reason why you were still here, at this hour, when usually he knows you’d be posting on your closed friends story a picture of you sprawled about in your matching pajamas, the room gently lit and looking like your subtle sweet scent. There must be a reason why you were sitting there in the softest shirt, the one he remembers complimenting with sweaty palms. Above all, there must be a reason why you’re asleep next to him, cheeks softly squished against your arm.
He’s read about this trope. He’s read about this trick. He knows what you’re doing.
He knows how you feel.
He knows how he feels.
So he quietly leans on his arm. He looks at the way your hands slightly clench in your sleep every so often. He memorizes the way your frame rise and fall, and syncs his breathing to it. May you always take his breath away, for even apart his be yours, after all. He looks at your face, studying the features.
In the books he would lean in. Your eyes would flutter open, and he would hear your gentle giggle and kiss you again. In the books he read, he would lean in. He has to lean in.
But the thing is, the books don’t tell about the little speech in his head that he has went through when you stagger awake. The books don’t tell about the way he would stutter over that speech, his hands sweating and eyes fixed anywhere else than your pretty face. The books won’t be about the way he would shut up midway, thinking he had messed the whole thing up. In the books he would just lean in.
But maybe in a future far away, probably not in a book but as a bedtime story, he would tell about how you held his anxious hands. He would tell about how you gladly nodded to him, flashing that darling smile he would give anything to keep on your pretty face. He wouldn’t need another book to take advice from, because you would then walk in and turn off the lights. You would kiss his forehead and lead him out.
You’re all he has read about. And you’re all that he would ever write about.
It’s so hot, you imagine if it’s what it is like to be buried. You wonder if people will be able to smell the love of his gaze on you at this moment. You pray that they will.
Fluff, little something based on my previous post cuz I am a sucker for summer
Hot summers. The ac is broken with a week until the AS comes, so it’s a lazy afternoon on your bed, wearing the skimpiest tank and shorts, laying down flat with the fan on the highest setting. You’ve got a glass of ice linked between your arms, switching every now and then to keep both sides cool. It’s a pretty desperate attempt to stay sane in this burning weather, especially when you’ve got this furnace of a boy laying flat next to you.
He looks loopy as well, sweaty hair sticking to his slightly red face. You guys are sharing a pillow, the biggest form of intimacy you’ll allow at the moment, and his breath fans around the humid room across to your face, smelling like soap and wooden gym floor. It’s comforting. He’s comforting. The white sound of the fan and the occasional airplane noise is almost to lure you to sleep- maybe you’re passing out. You wouldn’t mind, you’re in the safest hands- until you feel hot fingertips feather on your stomach. You open your eyes and glance at the handsome boy, who’s still looking up at the ceiling with heavy eyelids, but pretty face barely holding back the smile. You softly snap the hand away.
“It’s hot.” You whisper.
“You’re hot.” He whispers back. You roll your eyes affectionately. You can’t tell if it’s the heat or he is actually blushing. Ever so charming. You hate that it works every time. You’re blushing.
“I really am. So please stay on your side of the bed.”
“Like this?” He leans over to you, the body clearly not touching, but you can feel the warmth radiate from him. Despite his cheeky teasing, you feel content. Your eyes soften. You feel held, and it’s something about summer that you love. You already felt like he was touching you- everywhere, so warm and hot and drowsy but oh so passionate. Yeah summer. Young, stupid love. But he’s yours, and he looks at you, your entire face.
His love is observing you. And torturing you with terrible lines, but his gaze dips you into something people will only call youth. And love. You memorize his scent. You know it will be held part of your own musk, for longer than you’ll live. You think about being buried under a willow tree. You pray that other lovers- in a hot summer day just like this- will catch the scent of this moment and pass it on. It’s the kind of moments you’ll write poetry about, and pray that people will read on your grave. You hope to live, to be recognized just as this moment, all down to the molecules. Not because he owns you- but you’ll be named after his love, for only he truly knows the symbols you speak.
“Yeah. Like that.”
“Sleepy?”
“A little.”
“I’ll wake you up when it gets a little cooler.”
You know he won’t. His big built body is getting warmer just like how it gets when he gets sleepy. You know he isn’t going to set that alarm. But you wouldn’t mind jerking up at 11 pm all in sweat and fake complaining to him for letting you two to miss an entire day. You wouldn’t mind his sleepy, firm and gentle hands pull you back into the bed. It’s just a day. It’s just a very hot summer day.
And honestly? You wouldn’t even mind missing a sweet little eternity if it’s with your boy.
janainaart
theartofmadeline
blakekathryn
titsay
jbbartram-illu
izzy806
stormborns
