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🇵🇸🇵🇸Dear compassionate friends🇵🇸🇵🇸

My name is Lubna Alajrami, and I am a devoted mother from Gaza. At 30 years old, I cherish my three beautiful children: Eline, aged 7, Kinda, 2, and my precious son, Nasser, who is 4 years old.🤗

Amidst this dire situation,My heart aches for my son Nasser, who is 4 years old, and suffers from a thyroid problem that has caused him delayed growth and mental retardation. We lack the means to provide him with medical treatment and the most basic necessities, such as diapers and milk. Urgent medical care is imperative, but our current circumstances are beyond our reach. I cannot provide treatment nor buy Pampers, which are now priced at $70.💔💔

My family, including my husband, three kids, and I once led a content and joyous life in the North of Gaza. However, the onset of war-shattered our dreams, our home, and our means of sustenance. Today, we find ourselves with nothing but the fragments of what was once our life.😭😭💔💔💔

My husband, Rami, works as a home electrician. He moved away from us for 3 years so that he could raise the money necessary to build a beautiful house for our family and to open a shop that would be a source of livelihood for our family. But the war destroyed our house and our shop, it destroyed everything beautiful. We became without a home or a source of livelihood.💔💔😭😭

Allow me to share with you the stark reality we face. With the outbreak of conflict, we sought refuge in the south, settling in Deer Albalah, clinging to the hope of safety until the storm of war abated. Yet, our reality is now a tent in a refugee camp devoid of basic amenities. Our living space is confined, lacking toilets, kitchens, and even access to clean water and electricity. For full year, we've endured the harshness of our circumstances, battling not only the physical challenges but also the pervasive illnesses that haunt the refugee camp. All these conditions directly affected my son Nasser's health for the worst. It breaks my heart to see my child suffering and needing medical aid while I have nothing I can do.😭😭💔💔💔

Hence, I ask you for your kindness and generosity to support our cause. This fundraising campaign aims to provide the necessary medical treatment and health care for Nasser, to secure milk and Pampers for my child, and to secure the life requirements of my family, because we are now without work and without a source of livelihood.💔💔🙏🙏🙏🙏

Your assistance can make a tangible difference in our lives. Here's how you can help:

Donate whatever amount you can afford to support our cause.

Share our fundraiser with your network, spreading awareness of our plight.

Keep us in your thoughts and prayers as we navigate these trying times.

No matter how small, every contribution is a beacon of hope for us. Your kindness and compassion will serve as a lifeline, guiding us towards a brighter tomorrow.

With heartfelt gratitude,

Lubna Alajrami

Vetted by @90-ghost here

Vetted by @ibtisams here

Vetted by @bilal-salah0 here

Vetted by @dlxxv-vetted-donations here

Vetted by @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #191 )

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Guys PLEASE push Mohammed Ayesh’s fundraiser like I am actually imploring. He has done so much for so many Palestinian families, and yet the traction for his campaign dies so fast. He’s literally just a 20 something year old guy who’s going above and beyond to make sure all Palestinian families are being verified and helped. Please don’t abandon him so fast when he is suffering the same as everyone else. Please keep your eye on his campaign and take it upon yourself so share it again & again every time it seems like it needs a defibrillator

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رقم الحملة : 12

أسم الحملة : Help Us Safely Evacuate a family from Gaza

Hey guys. I'm very emotional receiving this ask because this is one of the first few fundraisers I verified, back when very few Ghazzawis were on tumblr, but my efforts to help get people the fundraising they need has brought so many Ghazzawis to tumblr through word of mouth. It's hard for me to believe this. We've sort of come full circle. It's also devastating to see that after all this time the campaign hasn't been completed and the members of this family still feel need to campaign for their livelihoods. As you can see Eman here is using tumblr to help fundraise for her family, and she has many other public social media accounts listed on her pinned post.

Please. Please help this campaign that has waited so long for the support it needs. If they had raised the funds they needed earlier, they could've evacuated before the border had closed. Who knows what painful future we could be avoiding by helping them now.

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Hi there! It's who you called Mozu's anon :)

How are you doing? It's good to see you back here. Take care! ♡

hello!!!! i'm glad to see you here again!! i honestly could be doing better but it do be like that these days ;w; how about you? i hope you're doing well too!

i've actually been online on tumblr a lot, just not this acc bc this is a side acc! sometimes i quick rb stuff and i accidentally rb it to this acc instead, which results in oopsies sometimes LMAO. i meant for this acc to be kept for only writing stuff, but honestly i feel like that was a mistake because i talk about writing so much more on my main djjdjdjf orz. its actually kind of funny

i'm putting a cute mozu here for you:

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netanyahu is a scumbag and will burn in hell forever, don't get me wrong, but the idea that hamas is the good guys and they would've handed over the civillians they kidnapped and tortured and raped if only israel asked nicely is naive as hell. hamas and the israeli government+military all need to be executed by the hague. hamas are no different to the taliban, and anyone thinking otherwise is proving they haven't been listening to palestinian women or gay palestinians or non-muslim palestinians, because these groups have been speaking for decades about how brutal hamas's reign has been and how they need to be removed for liberation to ever happen. terminally online people pretend to care about palestine for social media pats on the back, but they only care about liberating palestine from israel, not about truly liberating palestinians from the undemocratic violent theocracy they're stuck living under.

On top of there not being any evidence of maltreatment of Israeli hostages, we know Hamas would release the hostages because they have done it numerous times across the years, including in the past eight months, though diplomacy, in case you just joined the conversation on Palestine.

Hamas was democratically elected, whether you like it or not. Hamas are Palestinians, and who makes up Hamas? Victims of Israeli violence. Hamas have treated the hostages in their care with drastically greater humanity than Israel ever treated Palestinian captives, a fact made evident by merely looking at pictures of the smiling freed Israeli hostages vs. the horrific state of anyone coming out of Israeli captivity. Comparing them to the Taliban, the first thing that comes to your mind when you think of terrorists, shows how much understanding you have of Muslim societies. 

On top of this, you are sending this to a Palestinian woman whose husband’s family in Gaza has lived there as Christians for generations, and guess who destroyed their oldest church? Not Hamas, but Israel. Guess who bombed and killed a number of them? Not Hamas, but Israel. Guess who caused them everlasting suffering and trauma? Not Hamas, but Israel. And guess who has displaced all of them? Not Hamas, but Israel. I can tell you right now that that they would choose to be ruled by Hamas over the fucking terrorist state that is actively seeking their annihilation.

The infantilisation of Palestinians and painting them as if they need outside help to guide their liberation is disgusting. It's not the job of non Palestinians to determine what liberation looks like for us or to map out our way towards freedom for us.

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my scapegoat is eating your straw man

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extremely telling how everytime Israel gets mad at someone it's palestinians that are punished

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Hiiiii it's the Mozu anon :D I prefer gender neutral but that's mostly because I am non-binary~

I laughed really hard seeing your post right after waking up when I opened Tumblr haha

Have a beautiful day and take care ♡♡♡

oh yippee!! i'm glad you saw it! gotcha then, i'll just make it gender neutral.

JEHDDJJDJF i was surprised you got back to me too! i was worried that you may not have me followed so i half expected just talking to air TwT but i'm glad i got to hear from you again!!

you too, have a wonderful day, take care as well!

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throwing this out just in case that one mozu anon hears me:

if i were to write smth w your idea would you prefer x reader (using "you" and gender neutral maybe?) or do you prefer having it be mozuteu? :0

i kinda wanna write smth right now but nothing's sparking up insp for me, humhumhum

(i'll rb an alhaitham x reader fic i wrote after this so you can see what i mean by my question in writing style)

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I found your tumblr again. I read the Mozu zine and it was soooooo cooool and lovely! Thank you so much for telling me ♡♡♡ I'm just sad there isn't much content on Mozu especially fanfics so it kinda filled the void in my heart haha.

Take care ♡♡♡

awaaaaa, im glad you liked it!! we worked v v hard on it and it was fun coming up w the layout and org stuff behind the scenes >:D

TwT pats you... we do need more mozu fics in this world.... i wish i could write but all my ideas for him are long fics that i can't commit to bc lack of brainspace, i wish i could write for him more.

take care too!! happy mozu day to you, and we're getting bstf s2 teaser tomorrow so i hope we get to see more fukujun as well!!! wahahaha!!!

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OMGGGG A MOZU ZINE?!?!?!??!?!?! Thank you SO MUCH for talking about it, I would have never find out about it otherwise. Oh, about Mozu, I love how he is very neurodivergent coded. Like I don't know if he's on the spectrum or smthg else but as someone who is also neurodivergent it's so refreshing to have him in an otome ♡.

I loved the "Chop suey" extra of the game. If you have the time someday, maybe you'd like to write sthg about Mozu and his s/o cooking and being all fluff together ♡♡♡ Like he's good at cooking and they're good at baking? Love it hahaha ♡

Have a beautiful day and take care ♡♡♡

you're welcome! i am spreading news about the mozu zine like the word of god

and same here! i feel like he's on the spectrum too. i don't know enough to say definitively but i relate a lot to the things he does and his "beliefs"/thought processes that im like oh.... my babygirl. i love how in the fixers group he also plays the part of the person that scolds the others when they're being mean or confusing/wishy-washy. i love him sm!!!

oohhh, thats an idea! i don't really write self insert fics anymore so if i were to write that, it'd be mozu w teuta, and i cant think of a way to justify an explanation of her being good at baking when she already is bad at Normal cooking LMAO. but it sounds fun!! 👀

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Hiiya! How are you doing? I read Laissez-Faire and I must say thank you so much because the lack of content on Bustafellows and on Mozu particularly make me so sad. Mozu's my fav LI so thaaaaaaanks ♡

JUMPING UP AND DOWN AND HOLDING YOUR CHEEKS.... thank you for sending this in i love talking about mozu!!! im really happy you enjoyed that one!! i love writing mozu sm!!

honestly im down to write more stuff for mozu (i write for shu like once a year for my bestie's bday present LMAO), i just feel lazy cus i cant talk to anyone to pressure/encourage me, like a Fool. you're free to send prompts for me to write just so it can maybe pingpong enough in my head for me to actually write it out! i have tons of ideas but i never talk about them

also i hear you on the lack of mozu food TwT im actually part of a group that's hosting projects for more bustafe content in general, and our current project is a mozu lookbook!! so like in (checks calendar) 3 or so months there's gonna be a lotta mozu coming on twt! here's the link if you're curious, heheheh

again, thanks for sending this in, i appreciate it! i love talking about mozu and writing him, he is my babygirl and meow meow!!

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laissez-faire

fandom: bustafellows

characters: mozu nile shepherd, teuta bridges (featuring the rest of the gang)

words: 2081

i just think they r neat.... also this is for bustafezine on twt and its FREE go read it if u haven't yet. okay love u bye!!!!

***

The sun was beating down on New Sieg, and Teuta Bridges was in between a rock and a hard place. Or, more accurately, between Mozu and a very stubborn man in shorts and a floral-print shirt, looking as if he had just finished his side gig of being an on-screen dying extra of a Jaws movie. Clearly, someone bought the wrong plane tickets. 

“Like I said!” The man yelled, instead of ‘saying’, “I don’t know where Kingfisher Park is! All I’m asking is for some help!”

“You have a considerable volume for what you think constitutes asking. And as we’ve told you, we’re in a hurry. I’ve shown you directions and typed in the search on your phone’s map, so all you need to do is follow it.” Mozu then paused thoughtfully. “Unless you’re incapable?”

The glare of the sun further emphasized the sheen of sweat on the man’s face, and his expression looked like he was a raging bull about to charge. Teuta didn’t need to guess that Mozu was his giant, waving, red flag. Except he probably didn’t notice that the flag he was waving was red, and that his opponent was more bull than man. 

“Mozu!” She tugged on his arm, “I’m a little thirsty. Can we get a drink on the way to Joneses'?” She tried to become the pure, ultimate embodiment of charm and endearing, words Mozu once used when discussing the history of cat domestication and its impact on nomadic lifestyle. She couldn’t catch a rat if she tried—but she had green eyes, and Luka always told her they were pretty. That had to count, right?

“Sure, in a moment.” Mozu turned his attention back to the man.

Pretty like weed and just as easy to ignore, I guess.

Unexpectedly, he slipped his hand in hers, and his tone took on a finality that she had only heard when telling off Crow and Shu on wasting takeout food. A smile sneaked its way onto her face. Go get ‘im, Mozu!

“We’ve done all we can to help. If you really insist on having us guide you, you can follow us to our destination and we’ll stop by the police department. One of the officers can assist.”

“Ha! Forget it. You New Sieg folk are all the same. I’ll find my way to the police department myself, and when I do, I’ll complain about how unfriendly this place is to tourists.” He sneered condescendingly, and leaned to look Mozu in the eyes with a stare she didn’t appreciate. “Give me a name to pin this down to.”

“Crow Miller,” said Mozu with no hesitation.

Teuta wanted to laugh so hard she thought she was going to throw up. 

“Weak-ass name for a weak-ass guy. Figures. You’ll see what’s coming to you soon!”

Oh my GOD—

“Okay,” Mozu said easily as the man sauntered off, and if she could, she would make ice cubes with his breezy tone for a hot summer day. Or, right now. They were out of the house by 1 P.M., and it was 1:45 P.M.! And here they were still, ice cream-less. Mozu gave her hand a squeeze and turned her way. His voice gentled, taking a far more ‘considerable volume for what constitutes asking’. “Are you alright? I’m sorry we got stuck here for so long.”

“It’s fine, it was funny to watch. I was just hoping he wouldn’t punch you.”

“Punch me?” 

“Yeah. When you asked him if he couldn’t even follow directions, I was sure he was gonna start swinging.” She flashed him a toothy grin. “Don’t worry though! Shu started giving me tips on self defense. I know what to do if he tries something!” For good measure, she even made a show of some moves with her fists.

“What did he teach you?”

“Go for the eyes, then balls.”

“So why the fist?”

“Uh… finisher move, I guess?”

“But it’s self defense. Isn’t that what you said?”

“It’s just for bonus points. Like that game Crow always plays!”

“I see,” he nodded solemnly, and she wasn’t sure what he did see. But damn if that didn’t make him all the more lovable to her! “So that’s how he took it. I was just asking if he couldn’t follow directions because I get lost sometimes too. The lines on the map and colors make it hard to see if I’m cycling the right way.”

“Makes sense,” Teuta hummed, leading the way to Trader Joneses’. I hope there’s still some left. “But with the way you say it, Mozu, an innocent question sounds like a comeback. It’s kinda funny.”

He frowned slightly, deep in thought. “...I see.”

***

“By the way,” Limbo mumbled through a mouthful of ham sandwich, “Don’t think it needs to be said since you guys probably know better, but be careful going out. There’s been this ongoing schtick where some guys ask for directions and then mug you at the spot.” After swallowing, he said: “Not that this would affect Crow in any way. For people with jobs, it’s important.”

“Hey! I do have a job! Anima, tell ‘em!”

Schedule: Clear, rang Anima’s voice throughout the house, with much more clarity Crow probably wanted. Teuta couldn’t stifle a snort. 

Ignoring Crow, Helvetica chimed in: “I’ll be fine, but Mozu, didn’t you say you had overtime recently? Will you be alright?” Her arm shot up in the air quicker than her mouth had words to formulate for it. “It’s cool! I’ll be around.” Honestly, it was pretty hard getting alone time with Mozu recently. They could have a bite before going home and catch up, and the timing was opportune…! Well, not for the ones that got mugged, that is. Her condolences, and all that, but she wanted to talk to her boyfriend!

“Honestly, if one of you gets mugged, you’d deserve it.” Shu said after beating Crow in a game, patting his back with a there there. “You all live with criminals and you don’t know how to tell if something’s up? Embarrassing.” 

“I think we actually had someone pull that over us while we were on our way to get ice cream. Right, Mozu?”

“Mm, yeah.” Mozu took a pair of tongs and served the finished spaghetti into a large bowl. “He threatened to complain about us to the police if we didn’t comply.”

“What?!” The ever-easily-shocked-despite-being-legally-dead Crow turned from the TV with his eyes wide like saucers. “Isn’t that like, bad? Did anything else happen?”

“No. And it wasn’t a threat to us anyways. We used your name, Crow.” Mozu laid down the plates in one stack and put down forks on the counter. “Come eat, everyone. Before it gets cold.”

“Why’d you use my name, out of all things? This should go into the Respect Jar!” “Mozu never insulted you though, dude.” Shu slithered into a chair, and Teuta still cringed at his posture to this day. He’d be a great Hunchback of Notre Dame if they ever needed someone who was tall. “And ‘sides, what’s it called. The bad boy effect, or whatever? Having a record might get you a girlfriend.”

Helvetica sat at the opposite end of the counter, elegantly twisting his spaghetti onto his plate. “Not that it matters. He’d have to get out of the house for anyone to know he has a criminal record.”

“Rather than Crow, you shoulda seen Mozu talking! He pretty much dunked the guy like a biscuit.” Yeah, so what if she was bragging! Her boyfriend was as cool as a cucumber, and everyone deserved to know.

“Tsk tsk tsk, Mozu. I thought you were the civilized one. I’m the one supposed to be dunking people with words.” Despite finishing his sandwich, Limbo shamelessly found himself around the big plate of spaghetti. I guess it’s for his growth? But he’s twenty seven…

“...It was nothing. Just a misunderstanding.” Mozu nudged a plate of spaghetti her way, voice quieter than before. “Eat up.”

***

“This biodegradable straw is too effective,” Mozu frowned, looking at his now disintegrating straw that he used only seconds ago. “I don’t see the point.”

“Want me to get the ones they use for coffee? Those ones are plastic, but they’re a bit smaller.”

“It’s fine.” With a stare that could passably be called judgemental, he looked at the plate of cake in front of her. Two plates of cake, in fact. “Are you sure you’ll be able to finish that?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine! I was hungry.” She spooned a luxurious and sweet-salty bite of caramel cake into her mouth. “Plus, they’re two different flavors. They taste different, so if I ever get sick, I just need to switch plates.”

Even though Mozu did work overtime, he was sometimes too taxed to do anything but rest at home after work. Today happened to be a lucky day, and so Teuta proposed a bite at Harry and Keith’s for a recharge. Mozu for his energy, and her for her Mozu-battery. No matter how many cakes it would take, she would order as much cake as she needed to extend the date as long as she could. Her stomach would just have to suck it up.

Although silences with Mozu were often the comforting kind, Teuta felt like something was amiss. After swallowing another hearty spoonful of now cookies-and-cream cake, she spoke: “Mozu, do you have something on your mind?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know how to say it,” he said, and let out a rare, small sigh. “Teuta, do you ever feel like I’m putting you in danger?”

She bit back a No, never, from barely rolling off her tongue. Mozu looks… “Not at all. It’s the opposite. You’re the one that’s helped me out of danger so many times, Mozu.”

They would occasionally meet up with Ivy now and then and catch up—as friends, but also as adults. She’d been around the Fixers (and was one of them, now) for some time, and although she never got direct contact with anything close to a dead body, there were still memories of past events that crept up in nightmares when sleep was elusive. How worse would it have been for a teenager?

“I know I’m different from other people, but I’ve never considered that a bad thing. I don’t dislike who I am, and I’ve never done or said anything I didn’t want to. I think that’s important. But I realized that it could be dangerous for you if I continue doing things the way I’m used to.” As if he’d tasted something bitter, his expression tightened slightly. “Just like with that guy that tried to mug us, and… Troy. What if I say the wrong thing unintentionally and put you in harms’ way?”

“Mozu, you’re smart.” She didn’t even need to think before saying that. “You know when we’re in a dangerous situation and when we’re not. I trust you.” Pausing, she put her hands on her hips as a triumphant show of don’t worry! “And if I think otherwise, I’ll let you know—two heads are better than one, after all!” 

“Still, if I had been more careful with my words…”

Teuta clanged her dessert spoon on her plate, bringing his attention directly to her. “Savoir faire. Do you know what it means?”

“No.”

“It means, uhh…” She scrambled for her phone in her bag, opening her notes app for her column ideas. “Ahem. It means ‘the instinctive knowledge of the right course of action in any circumstance, knowing just what to do and how to do it’. Mozu, do you think that’s a good thing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he blinked, and she grinned. 

“Nope! I actually think the opposite. To know just what to do, how to do it, for any problem, doesn’t that mean you need to know everything and have expertise for every subject? Do you think it’s reasonable for one person to know everything and always be the one to make the correct decisions?”

Although she knew he didn’t like to make assumptions about where she was leading him, there was a hint of a smile showing on his face. 

“You don’t need to be good at everything, or make all the hard decisions yourself. I’ll be here. And, if we fight about something…” She laughed fondly, “Well, don’t we have Ana for that?”

The bud of a smile on his lips bloomed into a flower, and she felt her heart soar. “You’re right.”

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one's true aim

fandom: ikesen

characters: akechi mitsuhide, mai / female reader (though i don't use y/n or write in second pov)

words: 919

my take on what i wanted that one training scene with a gun to be like, its very self-indulgent LMAO. enjoy!

***

“I hate it,” she said, and then corrected herself. “I'm scared.”

“Why are you scared?”

“It's scary!”

“A rifle is only as useful as the hands that hold them. Do you find yourself scared of the armory, as well?”

“No. That's…. different.”

“In what way? You think that the rifle that you're holding is different from the other numerous ones we have? I sure hope not, I'd rather not have another problem to bring up to Nobunaga when council comes.”

“It's not that! This one… I'm the one that's holding this one. The rest of the guns—”

“Matchlock rifles.”

“—matchlock rifles, they're kept somewhere safe. Now that I have one in my hands, it's a lot heavier than I thought it would be. It's scary,” she repeated again, and when she looked at it in her arms, she said again. “It's scary.”

“What exactly is scary about them?”

“It's so easy to kill someone with this…”

“Little mouse, it's easy to kill anyone with anything. You could push someone down from a tall enough height and they're dead before their heart can stop beating. What's even more dangerous than a rifle are the inept hands that hold them. It takes practice, as with anything else. You wake up a soldier, and practice long enough that even that weight becomes not too dissimilar as a bucket of water, and your movements are as habitual as sweeping the corridors.”

“And what of the killing? Does that become easier, too?”

It has to be, he thought, but didn't voice out the words. He'd survived so many easy deaths—so many attempts at someone else pushing him down a cliff, whether that be from poison, or a bullet, or a night escapade. Eventually, he just learned how to fall.

“Not at all,” he said instead, and smiled his usual smile. That is to say, not a smile at all. “You recall saving Nobunaga when the temple lit aflame, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you think when you saved him?”

She frowned, with the annoyance of someone being asked a question she already had been subjected to before. That was no surprise. Nobunaga was a discerning man, after all.

“I don't know. I just knew that it was extremely hot, and that I knew that he would die if I left him alone. So I did it.”

“How did you know he was going to die? The fire was noticeable, even from a distance away. And given that he was there, wasn't there a possibility of other people in the area that would've tried to save him sooner or later?”

“That's true,” she paused, and the wrinkle between her eyebrows as she was deep in thought was rather endearing. “But I just couldn't leave it to chance. I only know that I didn't want someone to die because I hesitated.”

She has the makings of a soldier already.

“Now imagine that there's another person in the room, and the fire is spreading quickly. You don't know if help will come, and you're alone. Who do you choose?”

“I… I don't know.”

“What about if you knew that the other person was willing to die for Nobunaga?”

Her eyes sparked with indignant ire, before sizzling down like water poured over heated steel. There was exactly one person who came to mind, and they both knew without saying his name.

“He wouldn't… he would, um—”

“Who's to say what our loyal right hand man would do? You know just as well as I do how much his mothering tendencies go. And for a man who he devotes his entire life to?”

“But… Hideyoshi—”

“Now imagine that the battlefield is a constantly burning temple, and there are a thousands of soldiers that need to be saved. What will you do? Save one Hideyoshi at the expense of three foot soldiers?”

In the face of this turbulence, in what direction will her heart move towards?

When she looked back at him, her eyes were crystal clear. No fear nor doubt lived there, and it felt as though even her tears were as resolute. If she were to cry, he thought she might cry diamonds.

“Hideyoshi won't die. He won't allow himself to.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I know that if he were to die, it would be to a bigger fish, where he would be of most help to Nobunaga. He wouldn't die to a fire.”

“So you'd choose to save the foot soldiers, then?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I'll judge the heat of the flames, and then I'd check for their injuries for any burns. Then I'd check how many of them can walk on foot, and how many of them need a stretcher. And then, I'd try to move them towards the rear camp as fast as I can, so that I can go and save more people.”

“It might all be for naught. By the time you've gotten back, there might've been two or three more soldiers that are dead or dying.”

Her face fell at that, but she didn't relent.

“Then I'll just keep getting better, and faster, and more efficient. So that I can save as many people as I can. If I don't know how to makeshift a stretcher, I'll improvise. If I don't know how to administer bandages and tend to injuries, I'll learn.”

He smiled at that. It was a true smile this time.

“Very good, little mouse. Now,” he said, and lifted the rifle to her chest once more. “Again.”

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third time’s the charm

fandom: bustafellows

characters: teuta bridges, shu lyn o’keefe

words: 2356

a birthday present for my dearest scrunkly wunkly beloved bestie @muwi-translates!!! happy bday bowbi, mwah mwah mwah

***

“Wanna bet?”

Shu took the cigarette out of his mouth and sighed a thin trail of smoke, not to her face this time. “On what?”

“Which restaurant Carmen will get from this time.”

He shot Teuta a disgruntled look. “What's the point of betting on something that meaningless?”

“You're the one that said not to gamble on things that matter on coin tosses!” She huffed, and the way she got all worked up and red reminded him of a bull charging at a Muleta. Well, not that he was a Matador of any kind. Red wasn't a nice color.

“I'm saying, no risk, no return. How are you gonna bait anyone into betting when you don't even have a reward to lure people in?”

Teuta flashed him a five dollar bill, as if to answer his doubts. “This.”

“Make it a blank check and I'll consider it.”

“Th-that's too huge of a leap…”

“Guess you'll just have to take this as a loss, then.”

“I'm a reporter, not a businesswoman! I work with words, not money!”

“All words are money if you know how to talk.” He jerked his head to Limbo's direction, who was too drunk to prove his point. “He makes a living out of it.”

“Ugh, I can't disagree.” She sighed and deflated like a balloon onto the table. He wasn't a neat freak by psychological-diagnosis standards, but he just knew that the table was probably slick with grease and stains, and quietly kept his disgust. “Oh!” 

“Did you just experience the second coming of Christ? The hell's with that 'oh!'?”

“Nononono, hold on!” She broke into an excited smile, and then slammed a ten dollar bill onto the table. He was definitely not touching that. “New bet: whoever can come up with the longest insults for Crow wins, and the loser has to pay their fine!”

“Keeping the art of literature alive, aren't you? Poetic. I’ll take it, Shakespeare.” 

She said she wasn't a businesswoman, but the way her eyes lit up and her confidence made him think otherwise. Because then, what else spurred him on to say yes?

It was a close tie between wardrobe borrowed from a clown's retirement phase and shut-in rooster—in reference to his hair—that barely integrated into human society, but ultimately the winner was Limbo, drunk and happy, saying: 

“Boss of the underworld… means the underworld is the world down under… means he's Australia's prime minister's secret brother!”

Then, he fell face first into the grease-slicked table, where Shu was confident that he wouldn’t be able to lift his face off without something sticking onto it.

(Luckily, he wasn't sober enough to realize he'd unintentionally partaken in their bet, but both of them agreed that it was a pretty good way to lose.)

And so, the cigarette he'd left on the ashtray was left alone to burn—not from his own haste, but simply following time and fire. 

***

“Shu, wanna bet?”

Shu took the lollipop out of his mouth. “What is it this time?”

“This will taste amazing!” Teuta exclaimed with such false confidence he had to wonder which part of her short stature had the capacity to store her lies. No, that was wrong. She wasn't the type to lie, so the fact that she truly believed in her words with all her heart made him sweat.

He glanced at the stovetop. A good dish is made from harmonization of the ingredients and the utensils, but he was sure her… dish, that was becoming one in color with the black steel, was not such a case of great mastery. “Hard pass.”

“Oh, come on! I tried really hard!”

Trying hard and succeeding aren't the same thing. “It doesn't look like it'll fill me up.”

“I saw you eat mixed nuts for lunch yesterday!”

Shu sighed, and then relented his gaze to her. “I'm a passive eater.”

“What's that? That's a thing?” She blinked multiple times incredulously, and he wanted to kiss her and wipe that cute look off her face. 

“Ah, well, you know. You're a writer, right? You know how subject and predicate works. Rather than eating food, the food was eaten by me. Get it?”

A lapse of silence for her to think, and then: “...I totally don't.”

“I don't enjoy eating as an activity. It's just something I gotta do to get on.”

The lines of her shoulder slacked, like whatever hope she was clinging onto was cut clean by his words. He disliked these situations the most—he didn't want to lie to her, but he wasn't exactly a crooked lawyer himself, to know what truths to say and how to say it best. He dealt with facts as they are, and emotionally charged problems were far from his ideal battlefield. 

Sigh. He walked over, and took a spoonful of her burning pile of cr—inedible food. It scorched the roof of his mouth, and there was no telling if his tongue was still attached. 

Apparently, Teuta thought the same. “When you're eating something really yummy, you gotta say it right that second that it's yummy. I wanted to make you feel that, too...”

He didn't trust his tongue to betray him, so he just lowered his head and looped his arms around her body, making his home on the slope of her neck. 

Teuta let a small sound of surprise slip out, and then he felt her hands looping around his waist. “What kind of dance is this?”

“Dunno. Doesn't this setup remind you of that one snake that eats itself? What's the name. Ouroboros, or something?”

“I don't know enough about stuff like that,” she sighed, and resigned herself to his arms. “Shu?”

“Hm?”

“Helvetica said that there's also a nonverbal way to express that the food was yummy. Is that what you're doing?”

“...Something like that.”

He felt more than heard her laugh, thrumming from his abdomen all the way to his chest, like she was knocking on his heart and demanding to be let in. It was meaningless, since she already had the key.

“Shu?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

Right answer. He lifted his face and pressed a kiss behind her ear, where she was ticklish and red. 

And so, the lollipop was left at the saucer on the tabletop in place of an ashtray, and they held each other until he could feel his tongue again, and the kitchen's fire alarm blared like Crow yelling.

***

It’s not often, but sometimes Teuta was hard to read. Although he’s never seen the light in her eyes flush, she looked like….

“What are you thinking so hard about? It doesn’t suit you.”

She blinked, as if she had to take a moment to register his voice. “Oh, Shu. Sorry, what did you say? I was spacing out.”

“I was just saying that you might want to pay the fine. Crow finished your ice cream.”

She made a show of pouting exaggeratedly, and he wondered if he could kiss that look off her face, too. “That inconsiderate idiot!”

He scooted closer to her on the sofa, and wrung their hands together. “You can do better than that. What's up?”

He'd seen her try to fake a smile before, with Adam and Luka, or when she felt awkward about opening up. With him… With him, she dropped it easily, and he could not help thinking that she was so unbearably lovable. 

“I was just thinking about my brother,” she started, “I can't stop thinking about… What you told me. What I'd think or do if I ever found out who killed him, and if I even could. What if… they were justified? My brother changed. I don't know if I could say that I would still accept him even if he was alive, even though that's why I wanted to become a reporter, but like you said, there's things that can't be settled with lip service, so—”

“Woah, hold your horses. That's too many questions at once.” He raised their intertwined hands. “Follow this. When our hands go up, we breathe in. When it goes down, we breathe out. Can you do that?”

She managed a small nod, and he smiled at her. He slowly raised their hands into the air and back down, hearing the stutter in her breath slowly leveling into a predictable rhythm. When they'd finished three cycles of it, she sighed in relief. 

“Thanks, Shu.”

“Yeah.” He freed his hand from hers, reaching over to wrap it around her shoulders. “You remember Sunny Island, right?”

“Mhmm.”

“You remember what I taught you at the shooting range?”

A lapse of silence to signal her guilt, and then: “...Ahuh.”

He flicked her forehead with his other hand, and then leaned over to kiss the spot. “Don't just forget my fundamentals like that.”

He felt her laugh more than heard it, and no matter how many times he committed her to memory, each time she laughed, he felt love for her all over again. 

“Remember what I said about not holding your breath?”

“Yeah. You said that I should just focus on hitting the target.”

“Right. Holding your breath is for professionals. But Teach taught me something else, too. That before I hold my breath, I should breathe in and out as much as I can.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. That I should breathe in and out, as deeply as I can, and ground myself in the reality that I was about to steal a life.”

He felt her breathing pause, but he soldiered on, still. He wasn't Limbo with his silver tongue, not Mozu with his calmness, but he was a hitman. He was Shu Lyn O'Keefe, and this was something he knew he was able to help her out on, more than anyone else. 

“Do you think killing is a sin?”

She stretched her head to look up at him, confusion in her eyes. “Wait, aren't you an atheist?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Hmm… Yeah, I think it's a sin. Or like, it's a bad thing. Even though I like you, it's still something difficult for me.”

“How much?”

She blinked, and he wanted to kiss her. “What?”

“How much do you like me?”

“Just a little, I guess?”

“Just a little, huh?” 

“Just a little,” she repeated, and her smile made up for her words.

He held her closer to his chest, and she hesitated before bringing her arms around his body. They sat there quietly, and he let the sound of her heartbeat and the movement of her breathing ease him before he spoke. “I don't believe in God, but I do think killing is bad. No matter how terrible or heartless the person I'm killing, it's true that I'm stealing a life. I'm permanently ending their chance to make decisions for themselves.”

“The right to make decisions…”

“Yeah. Everyone has a right to make their own decisions. Even if they choose to regret it later, or they don't. But there's things only people like me can do to stop them. That's what I was taught.”

To kill what lacks both love and hatred. To look apathy with a full chest of air and to pull the trigger. The Yellow Rose of Texas. He would never allow himself to forget. 

When her silence was too much for him to treat as being an active listener, he pinched her nose. 

“Ow! What's that for?”

“Have more of a reaction, will you?”

“I was just thinking about what you said!”

So she was being an active listener. Lucky guess. “Did you find any answers to your questions?”

“Not really…”

“Good.”

“Why good?”

“Because these aren't questions with one right answers. Even when you think you've found the one that's clicks, your feelings can change, and it won't be satisfying later on.”

Although he doesn't doubt Tyra's words, the act of killing latches onto him and doesn't let go. Some days, it was like walking through mud. Another, it was like remembering his mother's lifeless body in his arms.

“So what should I do?” Her words came out quiet and hesitant, slipping past her mouth like a secret. 

“I dunno.”

“What?!” She jerked from his hold, and there was a heavy, painful sound of a thud when the top of her head hit his chin. She looked at him, her green eyes alight and angry. “Then why'd you tell me all that?”

He rubbed his chin and cringed—good news was that Teuta was right. She knew how to run, should the time come again. “It's not my expertise. Weren't you the one that said that you like what you like, and hate what you hate?”

“I did say that, but…”

“What's wrong with that? You're sad that your brother was killed. You're angry that whoever did it got away. The rest can be dealt with when it actually happens, there's no point to overthinking things right now. All you're doing is forcing yourself to feel bad about what you don't know.”

She rammed her head into his chest, which elicited an ow from him. “You're right, but that still doesn't make me feel better...”

“Then what about this?” He reached for his pocket and flashed her a silver coin. “Wanna make a bet? I'll do anything you ask if you win.”

“You're on!”

He laughed at that. She had the enthusiasm of someone who had never lost a bet before. 

He rubbed the outer rim of the coin, and then—clink!—tossed it into the air, catching it with one hand. “Your guess?”

“Heads!”

He opened his palm and smiled at her. “It's heads. What do you want to ask for this time?”

“I want you to kiss me,” she whispered, and her expectant stare was too much. 

“You're terrible at picking prizes as always.” What was the difference if he won all the same?

And so, he leaned in to kiss her, as there was no cigarette or lollipop to occupy his lonely mouth, and he committed her breathing to memory as she stayed in his arms. That is, until Helvetica came home and told them off so as to not blind Crow’s virgin eyes.

[snow--blanket]

Hugs

A warm embrace.

friendly hugs

hug around the waist

hugging while twirling around

comforting hugs

side hugs

hugging and gently holding the other’s head

pulling someone into a hug

hugging while walking

eye-to-eye hugs

hiding their face in the other’s neck

clinging to each other

hugging while lying down together

group hugs

hugging with head on shoulder

tender embrace

‘not wanting to let go’ hugs

hugging from behind

bear hugs

hugging with hands in each other’s pockets

cuddling

hugs and kisses

hugging and jumping up and down together

familiar hugs

hugging with height-difference

gentle hugs

hugging with patting on back

piggy back hugs

quick hugs

hugging while slow dancing

one-sided hugs

hugging while straddling the partner

long-lasting hugs

‘picking them up’ hugs

hugging while grabbing butt

cuddle pile

Hand-holding|Kisses|Touching

[snow--blanket]

an ordinary kindness

fandom: ikesen

characters: kennyo, vaguely self insert mc but i just refer to her using the third person

words: 1773

hi this was made born out of when i was ranting on my twt about Specific Feelings, if you are on twt and you follow my priv you will know exactly the extent of my rage. anyways here’s a kennyo fic i worked on in one whole sitting bc i was Focused. enjoy!

***

“I’m a demon,” Kennyo said, and there wasn’t really much to say about that. His name was Kennyo, he was a monk, and he gave her food when she was lost and wandering in the forest.

“Oh, um.” She hesitated to swallow the gruel. “Has this been poisoned?”

He blinked, then his eyebrows scrunched in that same manner her mom would when she asked a stupid question. “Of course not. I’m not so low as to stoop to trickery like the kitsune would, nor am I as callous as the demon king.”

She swallowed, finally. “I see. Thank you!”

“You’re thanking me…?”

“Yes!” She had manners, after all. She wasn’t her family’s favourite for nothing! “I was hungry, and you gave me food.” Even if it tasted like the most bland dish she’d ever had the displeasure of eating. But again, she had manners, and of course she wouldn’t say that part aloud.

It looked as though this man had never been thanked for anything in his life. “You’re welcome?”

After clicking her heels against the dirt and saying her farewell, she left the forest, and made note that there was a particularly strange man living in the forest, and that she probably went against her mother’s advice in talking to strangers.

When he met her again, it wasn’t by coincidence anymore. The basket on her back was full to the brim with radishes and mushrooms and heads of cabbages. It pained her to admit it, but she wasn’t as strong as her brother when it came to carrying heavy loads. She was better at core strength, and no one could lift boulders without her help!

“Hello there!” Her smile came easy and unbothered, but it came even easier seeing a small chipmunk nestle it’s adorable head into Kennyo’s sleeves. “Are you having a good day? I haven’t seen you in a while!”

“Ah… I suppose so.” His response was more lukewarm than the tea after a long chat, and she wondered if he was of the awkward, brooding sort. She was sure he would quickly become an eligible bachelor in her village—they loved breaking in the odd ones till they were forced to shut up!

“Oh, I—hold on…” She lifted the basket off her back and onto the dirt, and sighed in relief. “Pick anything you want from here!” How does one best express that they thought their cooking was horrible and tasteless in a non-explicit way? “These mushrooms are in season right now, and I have a knack for picking them! These radishes would go well with your, um… meals!”

Kennyo looked terribly bothered. “You don’t eat mushrooms? They taste good with some really salty soup…”

(Then again, he didn’t exactly spare seasonings with his food, if his meal to her was any indication. Maybe it was a bad choice?)

He shook his head. “I’m fine with them.”

“Are you bad at picking out the good ones? I’ll help, my little brother always picks out the rotten ones for some reason too, I don’t know if it’s good or bad luck that he always manages to fish them out from the pile…”

“Not that.” His eyes hardened when he looked at her, but the space between his eyebrows were still scrunched. “Are you not wary of me?”

That was certainly a loaded question. Was he picking a fight with her?

“Should I?”

“My appearance… Most people are scared by my scar.”

“Did they tell you?”

“No, but—”

“Then how’d you come up with that?”

He dipped his face from view, presumably from shame or embarrassment. “I’m a monster.”

She knew he was a little bit odd, but she didn’t know to what extent it was his own oddity or the answer to his circumstances. All she knew was this: “If my mom was here, she’d smack you for being so self-centered.”

He blinked. He probably didn’t expect the threat of an older woman’s care at his age.

“You keep putting words in my mouth. It’s like…” She hummed, and then snapped her fingers. “Like the other women in my village!”

Perhaps he didn’t expect that as well. “What?”

“You know, how like…” Was it this hard to talk about the gossip mongers in her village? Maybe she was afraid of getting cursed by them, too. “They’re really mean,” was all she could say. She wasn’t particularly gifted at putting thoughts into words.

“You think I’m… mean?”

“Yeah. Like.. Whenever I disagree with them on something, they’ll make it about them, or about how I don’t love them enough, or how I was raised wrong.” That last one stung to say. She was her family’s favourite for a reason! “You’re being like that.”

“I never once accused you of any of those—”

“But the… The…” What was the word again? Attitude? That didn’t sound right. Ugh, her core strength and the ability to hold up boulders three times her size was of no use here! “The way you say it, was really bad!”

“But I was simply describing myself.”

“But you tried to force that description onto me!” When she realised her voice rose louder than she intended it to, she took a breath and calmed herself down, ignoring his puzzled look. “You can think of yourself as a demon, but you tried to make it look like I was going to see you in that way, too. It’s, um… not nice. I wasn’t going to think that about you, and even if I was, you shouldn’t have tried to force it onto me. If I was going to think badly of you, it’ll be because I think you did bad things. But you haven’t done anything bad.”

“Not to you.”

“And what’s wrong with that!” She could feel her voice coming from deep within her stomach. Her mom always said that she was particularly good at yelling, and that she could be her family’s own rooster if needed. “What’s wrong with using what I know from talking with you? Besides, it’s not like I’ll never change my mind! I’m not a loyal dog!”

Kennyo remained still and seated the whole time, motionless to her booming voice. She wasn’t sure if any of what she said actually reached him, but she didn’t care. She said her piece, she stood up for herself, and that’s what mattered.

She took a particularly big radish and a handful of mushrooms and (with more force than intended) put them by his side. She wasn’t so petty that she would forfeit food because of an argument; she’d gotten into shouting matches much worse with her brothers, after all.

She clicked her heels against the dirt, wiped her hands clean, and returned home. Kennyo wasn’t just a strange man in the forest anymore—she was a strange man who hated himself, and she was sure every word of her mother’s advice was for this exact situation.

When they met again, it was not out of her own volition.

There stood Kennyo, talking with the village women, with bright fruits in hand. She had to wipe her eyes to make sure she wasn’t just seeing things, and after a painful pinch by her older brother, an annoying kick to the shin by her younger brother, and a push to the back by her mother, she realised that she really wasn’t seeing things.

“I wanted to apologise,” Kennyo said when they were both alone. Well, as alone as the villagers would allow. There was no sense in attempting to preserve secrecy when they all lived so close together. He showed her the palmful of berries in his hands. “They’re in season, and I thought that you might want to taste them.”

She popped one into her mouth with no hesitation, and savoured the sweetness of the berry on her tongue. It had been a while since she felt so luxurious. Was this what the great Oda Nobunaga ate every day? No wonder he’s in a hurry to unify the country! The thought that there would be more of these delicious sweets somewhere hidden made her curiosity ache.

“You’re not wondering at all if they’re poisoned?”

When she was about to send a harsh glare his way, she saw that his eyes had softened, and the space between his brows weren’t scrunched like untangled rope. “If you poisoned me, the whole village will be after you! So what should I be afraid of?”

A laugh sounded from Kennyo, and her own came easy enough to match him.

“You were right. They really do like to put words in your mouth, don’t they? I could barely get a word in before they started interrogating me like a guilty man.”

She felt pride swell up in her chest; she was right! She knew he’d be a victim to their overbearing, overwhelming, over-everything. She couldn’t wait to see what a bunch of elderly women would do to a man who was as awkward as Kennyo. “Doesn’t feel great, does it?”

His laugh this time felt bitter and acrid like smoke, but she was used to burnt things. She had to be, or else how would she cope when it was her older brother’s turn to cook? “Yes. I apologise for putting you through that.”

“Apology accepted!”

He smiled at that. He smiled like he had never been forgiven for anything his entire life. “I apologise, too, in advance.”

“What for?”

“I’m not used to treating myself with such… kindness. I cannot promise you that I will not overstep my boundaries again, and that my words will never find it’s edge pointed towards you. However, I… am grateful for having met you. I hope you will allow me that.”

She snorted. It was the first time she’d been called kind—her mother was probably gloating now! “It’s not really about being nice. It’s just, when you live with other people for so long, you’re bound to step on toes. So you just learn early on that when people don’t say sorry with their mouths, they say sorry by trying not to do that again. That way, no one wastes their time talking about things that don’t matter!” Oh, so that’s why she was so bad at talking… She wanted to crawl into a hole and cry now. 

She popped another berry into her mouth, happy when the sweetness coated her tongue once more. “Besides, if you know how to find these good ones from the bad ones, you’re not that bad.”

Kennyo bit part of the berry, and then smiled in delight when it hit him, too. As if he had just tasted sweetness for the very first time.