FOTD #076 : Smooth Cage Fungus! (ileodictyon Gracile)

I have begun to learn ASL.

For what specific purpose?

Am I deaf? No.

Do I know any actual deaf people? No.

Do I intend to teach the people in my life? Not really.

Do I just want a new life skill? I mean kinda, but not for the right reasons.

I- like the stinky, disgusting, deplorable wibble wobbler I am- have begun learning ASL purely so that I can envision myself talking with big, scary, selectively mute men while reading fanfiction.

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.

Chuffed

Help Abdelmajed Escape Gaza and Rebuild His Life

My name is Abdelmajed, and I am a survivor of the war in Gaza. Everything I once knew has been taken away—my home, my safety, and the people

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

me going through my favorite slasher x reader tag like I’m not delusional

my teddy bear uwu

he's forty years old. he's babygirl. he's unhinged. he's creating problems for himself and everyone else. he's god's favorite punching bag. he's a whore. he's pathetic. he's my poor little meow meow

I love your works on Rusty Nail and it makes me love him more!

If you're free, can you do a fic where you're on a road trip with your son (Any name). Your ex-husband left you with another woman and you packed a few stuff to head to your friend's house to stay.

Your son is quiet and mostly plays on his side with toy trucks since he has a big interest for them. You decided to try and get his attention by telling him about the CB radio and decided to pretend you're talking to a truck driver.

That's when you accidentally dialled Rusty. You apologized, but your son got interested and wanted to try the radio. You ask Rusty if he can play along with your kid for a moment and he agreed.

Your son then began asking a few questions about trucks and truck drivers to Rusty and he replied back. After a while, your son fell asleep and you thanked him, saying that the kid's never been this chattery and curious before. You and Rusty talk for a moment, with you telling why you're on a roadtrip with your kid and where's the dad.

Finally, you two said goodbye and you hung up, heading near to your friend's hometown.

Meanwhile, Rusty looks at his front view mirror and see the tied up dad in a crate, trying to call out to you by your name. Rusty smirked, "So that's her name huh? Cute~"

Sorry if it's too long!

Hello there, anon! First of all, thank you so much for your kind words. He is definitely an under-served and underappreciated character. Secondly, thank you for my first request! I'm so sorry it's taken a bit since it came when I was MIA from the site. Hopefully, you enjoy.

Breathe. In and out. A steady rhythm and something to focus on so that you wouldn't lose your composure. Breaking down in front of your son was not an option. Your own feelings about everything that had happened over the last near ten hours didn't matter. All that mattered was getting your boy bundled up and buckled up in his car seat so you could leave. Did you know exactly where you were heading? Not one hundred percent. An old college friend out to the northwest was willing to house you for a few days whIle you figured it out. An option you were beyond grateful to have. 

“All right, buddy.” You gave Michael a smile as he looked up at you, gripping at the toy truck and the stuffed dinosaur that occupied the car seat with him. Reaching out, you lightly brushed some of his hair back from his forehead. “Are you ready to have some fun and go on a trip?” He nodded, giving a small smile, feet kicking lightly from where he was settled in. The smile felt more genuine this time, and you couldn't help but feel another swell of love for him. Assuring him that it would be a long trip but that you were going to have a lot of fun where you were going, you made sure one last time that everything was buckled before getting into the driver seat. 

Bag of drinks and snacks for him in the passenger seat beside you. Check. Cell and cell charger. Check. Last of the bags of what little you could take stuffed into the trunk? Check. There was nothing left for you at the house. Your stomach churned with the thoughts of the custody battle that was likely to come, but that was a future problem. Your ex was too vindictive, clearly. Whether he actually wanted your son or not, he would likely bring you to court over it all. 

Starting off, you watched the last twelve years of your life slip away in the rear view mirror until it was completely gone from sight. You had been blindsided when your husband had announced that he wanted a divorce and that he was having an affair. Shell-shocked. It had rocked your entire world. Everything had seemed fine. There hadn't been any indicators that he had been that unhappy or that he had been with anyone else. Your skin had crawled, knowing he had touched you the night before. Fighting was not something that had a place in your relationship ever before, but the situation had devolved into just that, with him following you around screaming. It was a side of him that you had never seen and one that you certainly didn't like. It had been slapdash from there to get what you could and gather up everything that you needed to bring Michael with you. The one person that perhaps your husband should have been more concerned with but couldn't seem to care less about as you packed. Finding a place to go was a little harder. Your husband and his family were the only family that you had left. 

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you kept checking your rear view, alternating between checking on your son in the backseat and making sure you weren't followed. Perhaps it was a little paranoid, but after everything that had happened, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. As much as you would have liked to think that wasn't the case. 

Michael was incredibly well-behaved, as he often was, as you crossed state lines finally. You had stopped twice for a bathroom break and had provided snacks. There were still a lot of miles to cover and hours left in the car before you reached your destination. He wouldn't stay entertained the entire time. So, you had to come up with something. Songs only went so far, and when that failed, you decided to play around with the old CB radio. There wasn't any intent to call anyone or actually use it. Just make a show for your son. 

“Hey, Michael,” you started and quickly got the four year olds attention. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“We can talk to some truck drivers on this radio. What do you think about that? Is that something that you wanna do?” You could hear his feet hitting the seat, a sure sign of excitement. 

“Really?” 

“Yep, really. This is the sort of radio that is kinda like a phone. Every truck driver has one in their truck. It's how they can talk to one another.” You picked up the handle on the mic and made a show as if you were going to call out on the radio, but instead of pressing the button, you just spoke into the mic so it didn't go out over the radio. “Hello. Is there anyone out there who can talk?” Of course, no one would respond, but your son didn't know that. He was leaning as far forward as his car seat would allow him, eyes wide, and hands clutching tightly at his toy truck. 

“Can you….can you try again?” How were you supposed to say no to such a request? This time, you didn't realize that the button was depressed enough that your voice was actually heard over the radio. 

“Don't know the sound of your voice.” The voice that rumbled through the CB nearly made you jump, and you could hear your son gasp and clap in excitement. Well, shit. Clearing your throat, you realized that you would need to say something in return and be polite. The man was likely busy. 

“Well, uh, I'm not someone who uses the radio all that often….I’m sorry if I'm bothering you.”

“Nah, you ain't bothering me none. Nice to have someone to talk to on a long drive.” 

“Can we ask him about his truck?”

“If you really don't mind…” You paused for a second, glancing back at your son before giving in. “My son and I are on a road trip. And he loves trucks. He wants to be a truck driver when he gets older. Would you mind if he asked you some questions?” God, you hoped he wouldn't mind indulging your boy about a few things. Otherwise, this could turn out terribly. Things were already going to be a little rough by the time you got to your destination. 

There was a few seconds of silence before the voice finally sounded out again. He sounded a bit amused, thankfully. 

“Yeah, why not. Bet he's got some good questions.” For the first time all day, you felt some relief and just a hint of happiness. As much as you tried to shield Michael from everything, even at four, he could tell something was wrong. You pulled over to the side of the road for a moment so you could show your son how to use the mic for the CB. 

“Okay, Mike. The truck driver is gonna talk to you, okay? When you want to ask him a question, you press this button and speak into this. But you gotta make sure to let go of the button because you won't be able to hear him otherwise. Okay?” You handed over the mic and watched as he looked at it for a moment before pressing the button. 

“Hello, Mr. Truck Driver.” You had to suppress a small laugh. He was always polite, something that made you thankful. There was a pause, and you almost reminded him to let go of the button before the deep rumble of the man came back through. 

“Evening little man. What's your name?”

“Michael.”

“Well, Michael, you can call me Rusty. I hear you got some questions for me.” You couldn't have been more grateful for the man on the other end of the line. He didn't need to show such kindness to your son. A small light in an otherwise dark day. 

“What kinda truck do you drive? What color is it? Can you sleep in it?” The questions started going rapid fire. Before you could tell him to slow down, he stopped so that Rusty could answer. 

And that was how the next hour and a half went. Michael was far more engaged and eager than you had seen him almost ever. It certainly went on far longer than you anticipated. You thought that it would peter out after about fifteen minutes, but the naturally shy boy seemed to find his stride talking over the CB and getting all his questions answered. Rusty, for his part, answered back with not over enthusiasm but a genuine enjoyment of having to answer the questions. 

You found yourself glancing back when there seemed to be a lull. 

“Still there, little man?” Michael was passed out, head hanging against the car seat. Laughing softly, you reached back for the cord to the mic and gently pulled it forward so as to not wake him.

“He fell asleep,” you offered back. “I really can't thank you enough for what you just did. I know it's probably the last thing that you wanted to do. That's the most animated I think I've ever seen him, so he really enjoyed himself.”

“Nah, nothing you gotta thank me for. It's nice to have something to focus on other than the road after a couple of hours.” There was a little untwisting of the guilt that you had felt in your gut when he confirmed that he genuinely hadn't minded. “You need anything, you can find me on this channel. Gonna take a guess and say it's just the two of you on the road.” The comment should have sent off warning bells but he had just spoken to your son for an hour and half, with you being the only adult he had contact with, so it was a fairly well educated guess. 

“Yeah, it's just us. Thank you, really. Your kindness was a bright spot in the day. We thankfully only have about another hour to go before we are safe and sound.”

“Good. You get to where you are going safely. Roads can be dangerous this time of night.” 

“You're a good man, Rusty. Thank you. I'll find a way to repay your kindness.”

“Ain’ anything to worry about. You focus on your boy.” The radio went silent after that, but it felt like a good ending to the conversation. Smiling to yourself, you felt a bit lighter as you finished the drive to your friends house. As much pain as you were feeling, you were granted the opportunity to remember that there were good things in this life thanks to the man on the other side of the radio. 

Rusty chuckled to himself and glanced behind the seat to where the man was tied up on the floor.

“Boy, you must have really done a number on her. She didn't even bother mentioning you.” Amusement tinged the words. “I would say I'm doing her a favor by getting rid of you. Better for that boy not to know his father at all. He'll forget you soon enough.” He lit a cigarette and turned his attention back to the road, thinking of just how he could work out one of those chance run-ins with the woman and her son. The whimpers and pleas of the man just cemented those thoughts. It wouldn't be hard to get where she was heading from her husband in the back. The truck sped up through the darkness of the night, a new intent hanging heavy.

YOUR body is a temple. Mine is a Mojo Dojo Casa House

Hey, don't cry. Five thousand fanfic daydream scenarios inside your head about the super-obscure fictional character you've latched onto like an orphaned duckling, okay?

Crow Time - Statue 1

Crow Time - Statue 1