#†|| BEAR NECESSITIES OF WAR

[grimoirefate]

TAG DROP 001

[ ooc. ] i'm a nice person so long as you are nice to me. my muses are not the only ones with teeth.

[ ic. ] i once feared mythal would consume me were i to carry her. but twas not so. i remain free willed and mortal.

[ mythal & solas ] ...are not for you alone to bear my friend. the many wrongs we did. we did together. I release you from my service.

[ mythal introspection ] I pulled you from the fade you loved and sent you into war. I used your wisdom as a weapon and it broke you.

[ introspection ] when she intended me to become the next host of an ancient gods soul I feared naught would be left of my own.

[ veilguard ] I have been advisor to orlais. witch of the wilds. daughter of flemeth. and once long ago an old friend.

[ inquisition. ] I knew the empress was intrigued by the arcane and I could answer questions no chantry mage could.

[ origins. ] well. well. what have we here? are you a vulture I wonder? a scavenger? poking amidst a corpse? or intruder?

[ answered: ooc. ] its me. the equivalent of a spicy kitten in a corner.

[ answered: ic. ] yet she survived and returned ages later to aide the inquisition in its hour of need. how?

[ psa. ] hear ye! hear ye! use those things on the side of your head or be doomed.

[ saved. ] im like a dragon when it comes to things i like.

[ prompts / memes. ] twas both a pleasure and necessity to help them as it is now.

[ crack. ] ooooo! you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you!

[ salt. ] i'm bitter and now i'm making it everyone's problem.

[ birthday. ] its my hatch day!!!!

[ self promotion. ] would that I could become them I would for now this will do.

[ promotion ] look! its the people I like! I think you will like them too!

[ameinasworld]

Desperate plea: A Call For Relief !!💔🙏💔

Hello, I am Amina, I am writing to you from the most miserable place in the world and I feel deeply grateful to all of you. Your support means a lot to me and my family.

I strongly appeal to you to continue sharing our campaign with your friends, family and acquaintances.

It has been 15 months that feel like 15 years and our suffering is increasing day by day.

My children's health is deteriorating day by day, especially my daughter Jude, who needs treatment for an endocrine disease and because we do not have healthy food.

Finding a quiet, healthy and clean place is impossible!

I am in dire need of serious financial support so that I can take the necessary measures and save my family!

Our faces speak volumes about the misery we are going through. My children cannot bear the cruelty of this world.

Imagine how vast this universe is, we can't escape to a safe place away from war .

We depend on your donations to provide shelter, basic daily necessities and provide good treatment. We need your contributions and support. No matter how small it is to you, it makes a difference to my family.

Please support us with $5 or $10 or any donation you can make will be greatly appreciated Our campaign has been

vetted by Ghost 90

Donation Link

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[fedao]

🍉 Help my family 🍉

Hello, I am Fidaa and I am reaching out to you with a heavy heart on behalf of my family, a family of five people trapped in the devastating situation in Gaza. We are urgently seeking evacuation to Egypt after enduring more than 282 days of displacement and hardship. I am seeking to help us urgently and provide us with the minimum requirements. I never imagined that my loved ones would be caught in the crossfire of a conflict they were not part of. My husband had only one dream – to teach and take care of our children . The idea that their innocence has been marred by the horrors of war is too heavy a burden to bear. We face the harsh reality of conflict. The trauma inflicted on my children tears at my heart, and I am haunted by fear for their safety and well-being. To give you a glimpse into their daily struggle, they wake up to a relentless battle for survival after surviving deadly nights. For more than 200 days, we have been cooking on firewood due to the scarcity of cooking gas. The entire region lacks fuel for cars, making transportation almost impossible. Basic necessities, including medicines, are scarce, even for those with the means to purchase them. Humanitarian aid has barely reached areas in Khan Yunis that have not yet reached us. But I find myself in a very embarrassing situation. I have to go back and ask for help and rescue. You are my only hope. My family is struggling with genocide. I promised myself that I would do my best to convey their suffering and save them, even if it cost me death. My beloved family is the most precious thing in my existence, and I am very sad that we are still in the Gaza Strip, where we see all kinds of death I'm ashamed to ask you to help me save our lives. It was my wise way to save my children If someone donates $5 it will make a difference for us and help us because we need more. I don't want to lose my family, you are my only hope I love you because you were the source of my trust. I love you because you are truly wonderful. You are our hope always and forever. You also helped me save my family, the most precious thing in existence. I feel so embarrassed but I have rubbed salt in my wound and I have no one to save it but you

Your generosity will directly help save my family from death and rebuild our lives. Every donation, no matter the size, makes a big difference. Lend your hand and make a meaningful impact for us because we need you Donate on GoFundMe Every contribution, whether big or small, will directly help save my family's life ✓ Share this post and spread the word ⩥ Please share this campaign with your friends, family and colleagues to help us achieve our goal and evacuate my family safely . Your support means everything to me, and I am so grateful for any help you can provide during this difficult time. Your help means everything to us. For more details or questions, please contact me freely. Your kindness is a beacon of hope for our family. We thank you for your support and hope that better days will come.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: noncon, gangbang, pillory, elf-reader, orc assailants, war between orcs and elves, racism between orcs and elves, captive reader, poor confinement conditions, starvation, piss drinking, cumflation, mindbreak, Stockholm syndrome

♡ FEM reader

The orc camp smells of blood and sweat and other obscenities you and your snooty elven nose fear naming. 

They’ve stripped you and your fellow troops of all weaponry and armor—ugly bastards even took your boots! Leaving you in only silken undergarments, standing barefoot in the cold, wet mud. 

It’s to make it harder to run away if you were to escape, you suspect. You can’t decide if it’s a clever tactic or simply a cruel one. Either way, it’s the least of your worries... You haven't been fed or given water since yesterday when you were all captured—paired with having been made to march for half the day barefoot, all tied up by your wrists, one behind the other, toed along like animals with mean tugs that had more than one of you falling face first in the mud—who knows how many of you will be able to continue walking when they decide it’s time to start moving again—much less run away if and when the opportunity presents itself—leaving you hopeless if someone doesn’t do something soon.

And it turns out that someone is you.

“Hey!” you yell. Bruised hands gripping the splintered wooden bars of your crudely built prison, glaring at the two brutes standing watch.

They acknowledge your shout, but neither of them gives any reason for you to believe they understood you were talking to them. Looking at you, then at each other.

“Yes, you two, guards!” you make clear.

They continue to look at you, yet don’t make a move.

You sigh exasperatingly—yet with how tired you are, it’s more a full-chested groan unbecoming of a fine elven knight, but under the circumstances, you couldn’t much care. 

“I know ungodly monstrosities such as yourselves don’t require much to sustain your foul existence, but elves need food—at the very least water!” 

A fellow elf grabs your shoulder gently, saying something under his breath, perhaps in an effort to make you quiet, but you nudge it off and continue your rant in spite of it. 

“If you plan to keep us alive—as I would think, given your decision to cage us—I would advise you to meet us with the bare necessities!”

Both guards look away toward another orc—one sitting on a thick log at the mouth of one of the nicer, warmer-looking tents they’d pitched—perhaps the biggest one—sharpening his blade with a rock.

He doesn’t look up from his handiwork but speaks, “The elf is hungry?”

You scowl at the question. “Yes, you oaf—the elf is, in fact, hungry.”

He lifts his blade and looks it over—one side, then the other—before sinking it deep down into the mud. Tossing the rock away, he stands and whistles sharply, prompting the two guards to wander off as if to get something. Meanwhile, what seems to be the commander starts walking towards the prison.

Regret starts to fester as he approaches, and you’re reminded once again why the inferior race best you in battle time and time again despite your obvious intellectual difference. Three cabbage heads taller than you, his weight must be about four or five, maybe even six, times yours—built like a grizzly bear—plus his armor, which easily adds another.

He unlocks the prison, and you step back on instinct.

“Come. You will be fed,” he says, opening the gate wide.

You look behind you—all the other elves have scurried back into the far end of the cage, leaving you alone in your endeavor, which only feels foolish now that you’re sure he’s going to use those blood-dirty hands of his to squish your head clean off your shoulders as soon as you step out.

Even still, maybe by the adrenaline of imminent death or the lightheadedness of starvation, you dare ask, though a little cautiously now, “What’s on the menu?”

The orc snorts—perhaps at your pickiness—finding your resolve to uphold your standards funny, given you weren't in much of a situation to make demands. You could scoff, too—of course, you can't expect an orc to understand anything about standards.

He smirks, answering, “Something to keep warm."

Or perhaps he was laughing for an entirely different matter...

The guards return carrying something. You spot them behind him, trudging loudly in the slop before halting—mounting something close to the firepit.

By the time you understand what it is, it’s already too late. Your hair’s grabbed—as well as your entire skull—taken in one meaty hand, pulled out of the safety of the cage, and shoved harshly down into the wet dirt.

He locks up the gate again as you lie there. And you take your chance to try and run, crawling forward—fighting through the clay, dragging you down. Scrambling for balance, you’ve barely even made it up on your feet once he grabs you again—this time leading you towards the other two standing in wait along the torture device they’ve set up just for you.

You’re lifted to stand atop a crate, making you the right height, then bent over—with your wrist led into each their position as well as your throat, shoved down as the lunette comes down and successfully locks you in place—perfectly trapped in the pillory with no means of escape.

You pull and struggle, toiling against the wooden plates—too late for any such silly thing as regret you can only whimper in short, panicked screams and cries—but it’s no use. The hand comes back and grabs your hair, yanking it tightly, making your neck crane as he forces you to look up despite the fixed position.

He smiles down at the look on your face—watching your tears make clear streaks through the mud, lips wobbly as you begin to beg, “Please—I’m sorry, I’ll—”

“Oh, don’t worry, little elf,” he cuts you off with a coo, grabbing your jaw in his other hand. “You’ll be fed, just like promised.”

Something behind you rips your silk cloth away, baring you. You stiffen all over, breath hitching as useless fists whiten in their restraints. You want to kick, to thrash—but poor balance only results in you choking yourself—and so you’re left to stand there, helpless—bowed and nude before three orcs you’ve angered with your reckless entitlement.

“Mh, pretty elf holes…” one of the guards behind murmurs, cupping your asscheeks and spreading them to take a look, filtering grubby fingers through the crack and lips, rubbing over both holes.

You shake, trying to thwart their efforts. But a gritty pad roughs over your clit and finds purchase below it.

“Stop, stop! Don’t!” you wail, but it pries you apart anyway—wriggling inside your cunt in a brutish shove, it sheathes itself deeply in curiosity to see how much you could fit, eagerly pumping it inside knuckle-deep before pulling back out—then repeating the motion—promptly finger-fucking the tight opening with a digit the size of an average elf’s manhood.

You sob, heaving for breath. Shaking your head in shame as you start to slicken—if just to make it a little more bearable, but the wet noise of it only serves to make you wish they’d killed you instead.

“Shh, elf. Don't cry.” The commander orc in front of you keeps his hold on your hair, talking down to you as he admires your despair. “We’ll give you what you beg for…” He strokes your cheek harshly with the other hand, smearing your tears before moving on to his armored belt. 

You whimper as it drops, revealing what must be your newest and truest worst nightmare. 

“A warm meal in all your hungry holes.”

The two guards take turns behind you. You can’t see them, but they’ve made themselves more than known—having stretched out both your openings to accommodate their overgrown size. 

They seem to like it when you cum—keeping their fat fingers on your clit and always fondling your tits, rubbing your nipples as they fuck your womb deeply until you wet them with your fluids. Your knees gave in a little while ago—their groping now the only thing keeping you upright, and the steady pounding the only thing keeping you awake.

Meanwhile, the commander has his fun with your face. Making you cuddle his heavy ballsack, dousing your face in the rank. With a dagger threatening your pretty eye, he'd coaxed your tongue out to play sooner than you’re proud of—now pliantly hanging from your mouth, licking every foul-tasting patch of his toad-like skin—feeling worse than a beggar eating scraps.

But you ought to thank him. Earlier, he’d tried forcing his length down your throat—making your jaw all but unlock to make room. His cockhead is the size of your fist—in the end, you could only suck on it, only able to satisfy him and his harsh scalp-ripping grip on your hair by prodding his dickhole with your tongue. He started petting you when you did that, making you feel all the more defeated.

His mercy tastes worse than the rancid white you’d been made to swallow. You’d wanted to bite, but the dagger he’d earlier stabbed into the wooden plate for safe-keeping keeps you sweet as you lick and suck the prominent veins running up his fat size—face glazed in sweat and spit, both his and yours.

“Poor elf-bitch…” he jeers while twirling a lock of your fine hair around his crooked finger. “Fed twig all your pretty life—of course, you’re hungry.”

He chuckles, voice hoarse and muted—almost soft, were it not for its gritty timbre. Keeping his cock resting heavy against your face, covering your eye while rubbing the base against your pouty lips.

“A mouthy whore like you needs real cock. Only happy when you’re pounded like meat.” He hums, “In your natural state, pleasing those bigger and stronger than you as a good pet should.”

He laughs louder, rumbles with it enough to shake the ground, then breaks away from you.

“Leave her cunt to me,” he says, folding his arms upon his chest, leaving his heavy cock to swing between muscle-ripped thighs as he leers at the scene. “Prissy elf pussy’s mine to breed.”

One of the guards soon takes up the vacant spot in front of you, putting his leaky tip to your lips in a sloppy kiss before pressing through to fight your throat for space—putting you in an air-tight spitroast—with your ass already being forced to play host for the other intruder, getting your drenched and swollen pussy slapped by a pair of weighty balls on each of his breath-robbing thrusts into your guts.

“A'right, boys,” the commander announces, “Let's stuff her ‘til she’s big and round. 'See if she's still hungry then.”

They both groan and dig in as far as your body allows, bordering on its limits, making you stretch to take them deeper before planting their seed—coming in fast ropes at first, then thicker waves, and finally smaller spurts aided by the shunting of their hips as they rut against you—feeding it to you without rush, one dose after the other, until their balls were all good and empty.

Then they sigh, breathing heavily, waiting for their seed to be settled and swallowed in your bowels before slowly sliding their spent cocks out—letting the overdose spill from your holes as you take a weakened breath and quake in the aftershocks, left hanging in the stand with a body full of orc cum and something else, something that's made your mind feel all funny and flirty. 

Then, stomach heavy and warm, hanging with more weight than your breasts—tender and oddly tingly all over—you croon, like a cow, when the commander lifts your hips and eases inside your cunt only a short moment after—starting to pound you softly but deep enough to make your head hang and tongue drip with drool, moaning like an animal in its heat, all silly, like a mating-call, waiting for your womb to be fed with the same warmth.

He cups your buttcheeks with both his thumbs hooked within your ass, and still, he feels you tremble and cum without your clitty being touched—milking him for his spend, begging him with your tongue out in sweet mews. "Bleath, bleath, mathder~"

And although he can't see it from his position, it still makes him smile. “That’s right, dumb little elf-pet. Beg, and you will be fed.”

You clench up and throttle when he finally blows, and the warmth swarms your gushy insides in heavenly goo—leaving you feeling cozy from the inside out—cross-eyed and panting in utter ecstasy.

He also waits—waits until his cum takes root and his cock unswells for a good minute or two before pulling out with a throaty sigh. Then he rounds the pillory, a heavy step at a time, until his lousy and still steaming cock is met face to face with your sweaty flush-cheeked expression.

“Still hungry, elf-girl?” he asks, jostling the sloppy member against your equally drowsy face. “Or was it thirsty?”

He picks your chin up with a hand, holding it steady while watching your half-mast and glazed heart-eyes lazily blink up at him—grinning and humming at the sight.

“Tell me, elf-pet, which of it was it you were whining about?”

Drool spills from your mouth as you answer, speech slurred like a drunken degenerate, “Both~”

He clicks his tongue, “Spoiled.” But he doesn’t seem angry—no, rather pleased. “You’ve been well-fed for now—time to wash it down.”

He lifts his heavy slug and puts the numb tip to your lips, which eagerly parts wide for him to press inside softly, filling the drizzly cavern, cockhead resting neatly on the wet bed of your tongue. 

You obediently await it with your eyes locked onto his—both moaning once it comes. Hot and salty-sweet, it pours onto your tongue and sloshes down your throat, spilling from your mouth and somehow splashing all over your face—making you shudder in warm bliss as you gulp it down as if it’s in another class from the aged wine back home.

“Drink, elf-slave. Drink and be grateful,” he instructs, and you obey, allowing the piss-stream to hit the back of your throat where you could glug it all down with minimal spill.

When it stopped, you sucked his tip and tongued the slit like before, cleaning it dry of the last drop, saying, “Thank you—thank you, master.”

Elves never cease to surprise him. Always so prissy—high and mighty creatures—and yet they fall the farthest from grace when pushed. 

He had many different ideas on how to make an example of you to the others—cease any ideas they might have of uproar and rebellion. Leave you here for the ogres and trolls to come and have their sloppy seconds. Tie you up by your ankles and drag you behind the horses through all the muck. Let the rest of his troops have at you until you met with your unfortunate end.

But no. He thinks not.

“Let’s move—” he announces to the camp. “Time to take our bounty home.”

After all, for all your whining, you did have a point earlier—you elves are only good to them alive and well. Best get you to the nearest market and sell you.

The guards unfix you from the pillory and start hauling your collapsed form back to the cage.

“No, not her,” he corrects them, thinking of your pretty eyes and soft tongue and that pretty elf cunt that milked him dry like none other. “She rides with me.”

On bearback, he ties your hands around his neck and lets you sleep with your head on his chest, riding backward with your legs draped over his—still naked with your cum-belly leaking out over his saddle—making a mess he’ll have you lick clean later.

“Tell me if you get hungry again, little elf,” he sneers, though a little fondly. “I’ll feed you again.”

And you, despite groggy, with eyes closed, mumble back dumbly, “Thank you, master.”

♡ PART TWO

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Enji, AFO ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku ♡ HxH – Uvogin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[mide404]

This is how my family has come to live a life resembling hell in the displacement camps. They live a life filled with misery and suffering after the war destroyed their simple home, which was filled with beautiful memories. Yes, now they live in a tent that you can barely see as a small enclosed spot, a torn life that bears nothing of its name, with continuous sorrow and pain hitting them constantly. The pieces of fabric surrounding the tent speak to narrate a new chapter from a book titled "Tragedy in the Land of Pain and Sorrows..."

Just by looking into my mother's eyes, you can see that all the world's calamities have been placed upon her head. It's as if life's circumstances conspired against my family to take away my father, the beacon of strength and support for them, and cruelly snatched my brother's daughter and my sister's daughter for no reason. Despite all that, these circumstances did not stop there and showed no mercy to what remained of my family but went on to demolish their home, which used to bring us together and held our simple memories.

Until they became homeless in the displacement camps that offer no mercy and do not provide the basic necessities of life, lacking in privacy, their world turned black when they found themselves displaced from their homes, sometimes wrapping themselves in hardship and at other times sipping on misery. They endure the harshness of life, living under the sun's heat, with nothing to protect them but a pile of junk. This has become their daily routine: waking up in the morning to stand in water lines to get the bare minimum of water, then striving to find a morsel of food until night falls, which was supposed to be a time of rest, but it seems life has written suffering upon them. As soon as they close their eyes, they wish they could keep one eye open, fearing the treachery of rodents that might attack them... This is part of the suffering my family endures in the displacement camps under oppressive conditions and an unparalleled tragic situation.

I, Mahmoud Saleh, appeal to you to look upon my torn and displaced family with mercy and grant them the opportunity to continue their lives in peace. I stand now before these compassionate hearts, full of hope to help what remains of my family and provide a better living condition for them, so they can enjoy safety and peace.

[ahmedsal-1qa]

The Rising Cost of Living in Gaza: A Struggle for Basic Necessities Amid War and Blockade

The ongoing conflict in Gaza, coupled with the harsh realities of an enduring blockade, has resulted in a humanitarian crisis marked by an unprecedented rise in the cost of living. This has made it nearly impossible for families to afford even the most basic necessities. The image provided vividly illustrates the plight of ordinary people, where the prices of everyday essentials have soared to alarming levels, further exacerbating the hardships of survival.

For instance, a single bottle of sunflower oil now costs an outrageous $14.72. A single kilogram of sugar is priced at $9.37, while a kilogram of bulgur wheat stands at $8.83. Shockingly, the price of one potato or one onion is $8.03 each, reflecting how even the most basic vegetables are becoming unaffordable. Other necessities such as tahini are marked at $13.38, a small bar of soap costs $5.89, and butter is priced at $4.01. These prices not only highlight the severity of inflation but also reveal the harsh impact of scarcity and restricted imports due to the blockade.

The economic devastation caused by years of war and isolation has crippled Gaza’s local industries, leading to widespread unemployment and poverty. Families are left struggling to meet their daily needs, while children, the elderly, and the sick bear the brunt of this humanitarian disaster. Healthcare, clothing, and adequate shelter are becoming distant dreams for many, particularly as winter approaches.

This situation demands urgent action from the global community. Efforts to lift the blockade, ensure the supply of essential goods, and provide financial aid must be prioritized to alleviate the suffering of those in Gaza.

I urge you to take a stand in solidarity with the people of Gaza. My family, like countless others, is struggling to survive these harsh conditions. You can help by donating to our campaign or simply sharing it with others to raise awareness. Together, we can bring hope and support to those in need.

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is (#280)✅️

[mnsooraljizawi]

Hello everyone, I hope you are well 👋👋

I am Mansour Subhi Al-Jizawi, a citizen of Gaza. I come to you with a broken heart and ask for help for me and my family...

I am writing to you and asking for help in any way to restore what the occupation has destroyed since October 7, 2023.So that I and my family can survive the war and save the rest of our lives because Gaza has become uninhabitable. There is no longer a suitable place to live. There is no solution other than evacuation to survive... but unfortunately the price of evacuation from Gaza is very expensive... and we cannot bear these costs. There is no solution but to help you by donating, sharing our story, or praying for us....

I am talking to you, and after thinking for a long time before taking this step, but I realized that there is nothing left for us in Gaza after the occupation destroyed all its property, our property, our dreams and our future...so I came to you and I am full of hope from you that your donations will cover the cost of survival. Evacuation to a better life....

The occupation destroyed our home, our dreams, and the buildings of my family and I to live in tents after it ordered and forced us to evacuate from northern Gaza. Currently, we live in a camp in the Zawaida area, and this is the ninth displacement since the seventh of October of the past year, 2023. Struggling daily to obtain clean water and food. And the rest of the necessities of life, despite the high prices that make us struggle more to obtain them...

We are 4 people, the number of people in my family. My father, Subhi Mustafa Al-Gizawi, is 60 years old and currently without any income and does not work for any institution. He has a heart disease and a stroke as well, and needs daily treatment, but due to the difficulty of the situation, he is sometimes not available in the country, and this makes him even more weak. More because of the lack of treatment

and my mother Mervat Bassam Al-Jizawi, 54 years old, also suffers from high blood pressure and colon, which caused her to undergo operations because of the pain that comes from the colon. She also needs medicine, and this medicine is not available and is expensive...

I am Mansour Subhi Al-Jizawi, 20 years old. I did not receive a university education because of the war. The occupation destroyed my future and left me without a future. I was injured in the 2014 war, and the effects of the injury are still present, and the shrapnel is still stuck in my body 💔

My brother, Tamer Sobhi Al-Gizawi, has been missing since the beginning of the war, and we do not know anything about him..

The remnants of this war are that our house was destroyed and uninhabitable, and our car was completely destroyed.

In conclusion: I hope that receiving my message is very important to you, and that it will make a difference for the Palestinians in need 💔🙏

God bless you all...

[bilal-salah0]

Here’s Haya’s story

I am Haya. The war has completely destroyed our lives, forcing us to leave our homes and live in places that are not ours. Today, I bear the heavy burdens of life alone—rent, food, and water—to support my mother and sister here in Egypt, while the fate of the rest of my family in Gaza remains unknown. There, they live under the threat of annihilation, deprived of the basic necessities of a dignified life. The occupation forced us from our homes, pushing us into refugee camps that lack even the simplest needs. Winter is approaching, and the tents cannot protect us from the bitter cold. We suffer from severe food shortages, and the water they drink is polluted and unsafe. We are in desperate need of financial support to save the lives of our family and loved ones.

Vetted by me @bilal-salah0

@familyrantise2003

[jaberfamily]

The Rising Cost of Living in Gaza: A Struggle for Basic Necessities Amid War and Blockade

The ongoing conflict in Gaza, coupled with the harsh realities of an enduring blockade, has resulted in a humanitarian crisis marked by an unprecedented rise in the cost of living. This has made it nearly impossible for families to afford even the most basic necessities. The image provided vividly illustrates the plight of ordinary people, where the prices of everyday essentials have soared to alarming levels, further exacerbating the hardships of survival.

For instance, a single bottle of sunflower oil now costs an outrageous $14.72. A single kilogram of sugar is priced at $9.37, while a kilogram of bulgur wheat stands at $8.83. Shockingly, the price of one potato or one onion is $8.03 each, reflecting how even the most basic vegetables are becoming unaffordable. Other necessities such as tahini are marked at $13.38, a small bar of soap costs $5.89, and butter is priced at $4.01. These prices not only highlight the severity of inflation but also reveal the harsh impact of scarcity and restricted imports due to the blockade.

The economic devastation caused by years of war and isolation has crippled Gaza’s local industries, leading to widespread unemployment and poverty. Families are left struggling to meet their daily needs, while children, the elderly, and the sick bear the brunt of this humanitarian disaster. Healthcare, clothing, and adequate shelter are becoming distant dreams for many, particularly as winter approaches.

This situation demands urgent action from the global community. Efforts to lift the blockade, ensure the supply of essential goods, and provide financial aid must be prioritized to alleviate the suffering of those in Gaza.

I urge you to take a stand in solidarity with the people of Gaza. My family, like countless others, is struggling to survive these harsh conditions. You can help by donating to our campaign or simply sharing it with others to raise awareness. Together, we can bring hope and support to those in need.

✅ My Campaign ✅ 🔍Vetted by @90-ghost here 🔍Vetted by association in this post

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[maacbrem]

Absolutely insane about the Thelyss brothers in Vasselheim cause like

Essek the Bright Queen is RIGHT THERE SIR PLEASE - but then, so is his brother, his little brother he probably still thinks of as a child because they were allowed to be children so briefly before anamnesis failed to come and they had to make something of themselves as new souls in an ancient Den, and Verin is the youngest Taskhand of Bazzoxan and a highly accomplished Echo Knight but he’s going to war??? Against aliens and would-be god killers and Ludinus Da’leth???? And Essek is a heretic fugitive and selfish to his bones, but he loved his brother even when he didn’t think he was capable of love at all, even if he wasn’t very good at it. So he stays in Vasselheim and he makes sure that these strange, awe-inspiring legendary heroes know his brother’s face, his voice, his armour, so that maybe if he falls one of them will deign to pick him up. He thinks about his friends, far from him now (Caleb, out of his reach and likely preparing to do something reckless but too brilliant to be called foolish), and looks at his brother, who will also go, who might never come back.

And Verin??? The youngest son of his Den, the second new soul prodigy by necessity who never really understood his brother but loved him anyway, who mourned their father so hard that he tried to become him by throwing himself against the endless hordes of the Hells, who now answers the call of all the gods and Exandria itself to fight a war with impossible odds, offering himself and his soldiers as potential cannon fodder so that the legendary heroes of the age might emerge victorious? I need to know how long he’s known what Essek did (because I know that Essek confessed and part of him hoped that Verin would condemn him, his righteous, devoted brother), and I need to know if Essek faked his death or just vanished, and I need to know if Verin wept for him. Verin who loves his people and his country and his god, who believes in things like faith and loyalty because he’s never really had cause not to, who has to find a way to believe in his brother, too. He learns to recognize this Archivist disguise and a few others that Essek favours, and he stops referring to his brother by name ever just so he doesn’t forget at the wrong moment, and he carries the beat-up booklet of Ashari poetry that he first learned to read Common from that still has child-Essek’s penmanship in the margins and he thinks about how seasons change and how winter doesn’t really kill, it just rests, and the process of a butterfly’s metamorphosis isn’t really that far off from the Luxon’s decree to become your ever-bettering self.

Essek doesn’t say “come back” but he does say “fight smart” and Verin knows what he means. Verin wraps him in a spine-cracking bear hug, uncomfortable in his armour but Essek has gotten better about physical affection in the past few years and one day Verin intends to thank the Mighty Nein personally for that. Verin says “stay sharp” and then quieter he says “i’ll see you again” and Essek hears ‘in this life or the next’ and he very calmly and sanely doesn’t start screaming, but he does press a pearl to Verin’s forehead (Caleb’s variation of the somatics, a useless bit of sentimentality made powerful that Essek adores). And then they have to part ways before Verin rejoins the Kryn contingent and Essek disappears back into the crowd, two brothers finally on the same side but unable to stand together.

Anyway, I think they’re neat.

[brucespringsteensborntorun]

Please Read

I am speaking on behalf of @eslamfa1, who has her own campaign for her and her family so they may survive under the harsh conditions in Gaza. She is very thankful for all the support she's had, but she needs more help.

She has asked me to host a fundraiser for more of her family, namely for her parents and siblings who desperately need funds for food, water, and medical treatment. They have been displaced multiple times and have only been able to contact Eslam through an unreliable internet connection.

Here is their story as written by her sister, Aya:

"Hello friends, we will tell you our sad story

I am Aya, an outstanding high school student. I was very happy to be on the verge of achieving my dream of finishing my school studies and achieving what I aspired to, which is to become a doctor.

My family of 8 and a beautiful cat named Katie were living a beautiful and peaceful life, each of us striving to achieve our dreams.

We had our beautiful house in Khan Yunis. Recently, we were celebrating my sister Heba’s fourth place in the Gaza Strip in the Arabic language recruitment exam. Our life was like material and emotional perfection. We did not feel deprived or lacking anything.

My sister Lina is a university student. Her dream was to become a psychologist to help mentally ill people in the Strip.

My brother Ahmed was the most beautiful gift from God. He came after 20 years of being deprived of male siblings. After completing his studies, he became a water carrier and took on a great responsibility beyond his capacity.

We also had two little butterflies, the apple of the house, and Jana, the favorites of their teachers and friends at school.

Then the war broke out and everything was turned upside down. We were forced to leave the house after quadcopters surrounded us, tanks surrounded us, and we saw death right in front of our eyes, but we miraculously escaped.

We were displaced several times on foot. Feet, then our end was in a tent that did not protect us from the cold of winter or the heat of summer, and there were poisonous insects and scorpions around us, there was no clean water or healthy food, so my family and I got hepatitis and a lot of intestinal infections.

We were shocked that our house was bombed and destroyed and the features of the house disappeared from the face of the earth, so we felt very sad and despair took over us.

Life here in Gaza is expensive, we cannot buy the minimum necessities of life, imagine that the price of a kilo of tomatoes is $50, and the price of a bag of flour is $200, life here is like a famine! My father is a nervous patient and my mother suffers from chronic pressure and they need continuous treatment and medications. We suffer from bringing water from long distances, and from the high prices of food and cleaning materials and water pollution. What we have suffered most in this war is the loss of members of our family, and this is the hardest thing we have been through. We have lost 20 members of our family. Please help us bear the very high cost of living until we evacuate from Gaza and save our lives. The cost per person is $5,000. Help us, you are the only hope left."

These are some of the photos she's managed to receive of some of her family (Aya, Ahmed, Hala, Jana, and their cat) and of the conditions of the areas they've been displaced from and to:

Note: Due to mentioned lack of internet connection, Eslam has not been able to receive more photos yet. There will be more updates to come when, hopefully, more communications are made.

PLEASE DONATE !!!!! Aya, Lina, Ahmed, Hala, jana, and their parents' well beings are at stake! Starting goal is $10,000

@90-ghost @gaza-evacuation-funds @gazavetters

[thewulf]

Beneath the Healer's Touch || Azriel

Summary: Request - I was wondering if you could write an ACOTAR fic with Azriel as the reader’s mate where the reader is Madja’s apprentice, but she rarely ever asks her to personally treat their patients, like she’s just there to assist with the equipment and materials and stuff and the IC never really questioned it... Read Rest Here

A/N: Wasn't planning on putting two Az fics out in a row but I just had to write this. Love it so much, thank you for the requests :)

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Night Court Healer Reader)

Word Count: 5.6k +

TW: Use of Magic (fluffy), yelling

You huddle against the rough fabric of the medical tent situated perilously close to the front lines. As Madja’s apprentice your role in the Night Court has always been subdued. Your presence nearly as invisible as the shadows where you often stand. A shy but observant female fae, you’ve adapted to watching and learning. You assisted with the preparation of healing instruments and materials rather than engaging in the direct act of healing itself. Madja, the seasoned healer you serve under has never asked you to step beyond these boundaries . That was until today.

Outside of the tent the clash and clamor of war reverberate through the air. A constant reminder of the stakes at play. Inside the tent the atmosphere is thick with the scent of blood and herbs being punctuated by the groans of soldiers bearing the fresh scars of battle. Each day the flow of injured warriors increases, overwhelming even Madja’s formidable skills.

Her usual calm efficiency begins to wane under the strain. Her movements growing more frantic as she tries to attend to multiple critical cases simultaneously. The limited space of the tent is filled with the wounded and the air is heavy with desperation and the iron tang of blood.

Seeing the desperation in Madja's eyes as she struggles to keep up you begin to feel the weight of every unattended soldier pressing down upon you. Your hands which were so accustomed to organizing and managing the background needs itch to do more — to heal and to help directly.

In a moment of sheer necessity Madja turns to you with a look of grave urgency. "I need you now, more than ever," she says over the din of suffering. Her voice thick with exhaustion. "You must help me heal them. We are losing too many. I have called for more help, but I need you today."

As the urgent call pierces through the chaotic sounds of the medical tent you look into Madja’s eyes feeling the weight of her plea. Your heart races but your response is calm and resolute. “I’ll do it,” you say quickly. The words almost catching in your throat.

Madja reaches out, her hand briefly squeezing yours. A gesture laden with both gratitude and apology. “I’m sorry to ask this of you,” she murmurs as her voice laced with regret as she glances at the wounded waiting for attention.

You shake your head dismissing her concerns with a small, reassuring smile that you hope masks your nervousness. “It’s alright, Madja. I’ll be okay,” you assure her while stepping closer to the first of many soldiers who need your help. Your voice is stronger than you feel, imbued with a determination that you muster from the depths of your commitment to heal. Despite the personal cost.

With a deep, steadying breath you prepare yourself for the task ahead knowing each healing touch will draw the pain into your own body. But in this moment of desperate need your resolve is unwavering. You are ready to face whatever comes for the sake of those who depend on you.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you step forward. Your usual place behind the scenes abandoned for the harsh reality of frontline medical work. You approach the first soldier laid out before you. His injuries severe and daunting. As you extend your hands to begin the healing a part of you recoils knowing the personal cost you will soon pay. With a deep breath you brace yourself against the incoming tide of pain that will transfer to you as you heal him accepting the burden as the price of your newfound duty.

In the stifling heat of the medical tent, you move from one soldier to the next. Your hands becoming conduits of both healing and suffering. The first soldier’s injury—a deep gash across his arm—closes under the gentle press of your palms but the sharp sting of the wound sears through you as if the blade had cut into your own flesh. You stifle a gasp, biting down on your lip to keep composed as the pain lingers. It was a cruel echo of the soldier's relief.

With each healing the burden grows heavier. A fractured leg brings an ache that settles deep into your bones making you falter for a moment as you steady yourself against a tent pole. A burn from a fire spell sends waves of searing heat coursing through your skin. You struggle to maintain the calm exterior expected of a healer. Despite the agony each touch brings you press on being driven by the urgent need around you.

The soldiers were unaware of the cost you pay with each healing thank you with weak smiles and hoarse words of gratitude. You return their thanks with nods and a faint smile making sure to hide the toll their pain exacts upon you.

Throughout all of this the Inner Circle is embroiled in their own battles too consumed by strategic planning and counterattacks to notice the quiet suffering of Madja’s apprentice. They see you sometimes as a fleeting figure moving among the cots, but the depth of your sacrifice remains unseen being masked by the chaos of war and the stoic mask you wear.

The pain accumulates as a collection of injuries that are not your own yet reside within you. As the day wears on you feel yourself weakening. The physical costs of your hidden ability dragging at your limbs making each step heavier. Each breath shallower. Still, you continue, the need to help, to heal, pushing you beyond your limits. The cries of pain are a call you cannot ignore even as each healing tears a little piece from your own reserves of strength.

In the privacy of brief moments alone when you can lean against the cool canvas of the tent and close your eyes, the reality of your situation presses close, intimate, and overwhelming. How long can you sustain this? The question haunts the back of your mind, but you push it away instead focusing on the faces of those you’ve saved on the necessity of your pain for their relief. This is the path you’ve chosen. Hidden in shadows yet illuminated by the faint glow of altruism, bearing silently the scars that no one else can see.

As dusk begins to settle over the camp casting long shadows between the rows of tents Azriel returns from a skirmish. His usually composed expression tightened with discomfort. The shadows that constantly swirl around him seem agitated reflecting his unease. He carries a minor wound. A laceration on his arm that under normal circumstances would be a trivial matter for a healer of his caliber. However, this wound is tainted with faebane, a substance notorious for its ability to thwart fae healing magic.

You watch from a distance initially noticing the way he grimaces as he presses his fingers against the jagged edge of the cut attempting to coax his own magic to seal it. But the faebane embedded in the wound repels each attempt. And with each failed healing his frustration grows. An exceptionally rare crack in his usually impenetrable demeanor.

Recognizing his struggle, you approach him tentatively. The weight of the day’s healings presses heavily on you. Each step toward him a battle against the fatigue that threatens to buckle your knees. “Azriel,” you call softly not wanting to startle him.

He looks up and for a brief moment you’re caught in the intensity of his gaze. His eyes that were usually so guarded and unreadable were now openly display his vexation and pain. "It's this damned faebane," he mutters almost to himself as his hand falls away from the wound.

Stepping closer you offer a small, reassuring smile though your body screams in protest. “Let me try,” you whisper while extending your trembling hands towards his arm.

As your fingers brush against his skin a shock of connection jolts through you. Stronger and more profound than anything you've felt with the other soldiers. It’s as if his very soul resonates with yours. A hum of compatibility that whispers of a deeper bond. Your heart stutters in your chest but you focus on the task at hand pushing away the implications of what this connection might mean.

You press your palms to the laceration and immediately a sharp pain slices through your own arm, mirroring Azriel’s wound. You stifle a cry by biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste blood. The sensation is intense, more so because it’s Azriel’s pain you’re sharing now. Despite the agony you pour your energy into the healing being driven by a newfound desperation.

Azriel watches you. His expression shifting from one of pain to concern. "You don’t have to do this," he starts. His voice rough with his own discomfort and the growing worry for yours.

But you shake your head pushing through the pain with a determination that frightens even you. "I can handle it," you lie. The words barely a whisper over the throbbing in your arm. As the faebane slowly loses its grip and the wound begins to close a wave of dizziness hits you. So strong that you sway on your feet.

As Azriel steadies you with his shadows curling anxiously around his form he is acutely aware of the pain coursing through his arm, mirroring the wound he just healed. As a shadowsinger he has always been attuned to the deeper often hidden emotions of those around him. He was capable of sensing the unspoken pains and secret fears that others carry silently. However, this experience is startlingly intense. A raw echo of agony that pulses through him with unusual clarity.

The pain he feels as you heal him doesn't feel like his own. It’s as if he’s tapped into a direct stream of your suffering. This connection, though new and unexplored, unnerves him. It is more profound than anything he has experienced through his shadows before. Almost as if the pain itself has a voice, whispering of shared suffering and mutual burden. He struggles with the realization that he is feeling your agony so vividly. The lines of empathy blurring into something deeper. Something he can't quite understand yet.

In this moment as the faebane's resistance fades and the laceration begins to heal, Azriel finds himself grappling with a mix of concern and a peculiar sense of protectiveness. The intensity of the connection doesn’t fit into the usual confines of his abilities or past experiences. While he doesn't comprehend the full extent of what this means—far from realizing the potential of a mate bond—he recognizes that something significant lies beneath the surface of this shared pain. This unexpected insight into your sacrifice doesn't just alarm him. It shifts something fundamental in how he perceives you. Compelling him to reassess the nature of your relationship and his instincts towards you.

His hands were gripping your shoulders with surprising gentleness. "What is this costing you?" he asks. His voice laced with a rare note of vulnerability having felt a trace of your suffering through the nascent bond neither of you yet understands.

You want to reassure him. To tell him it’s nothing but the shadows in his eyes seem to see through you, recognizing the depth of your sacrifice. In this shared moment of pain and healing the unspoken truth of your connection lingers heavily between you. A secret laid bare by the battle scars you both carry.

You meet Azriel's intense gaze seeing the concern etched in his features threatening to unravel the composure you've fought so hard to maintain. His hands on your shoulders feel both grounding and alarming. As if they're the only things keeping you from collapsing under the weight of your own sacrifices. "I need to keep going," you manage to say. Your voice a strained whisper that barely conceals the weariness lacing each syllable. "There are others who need me."

Trying to inject a note of reassurance into your tone you add quickly, "It's part of healing, Azriel. I'll be okay." Even as you speak the words you feel the hollowness behind them. A contrast to the truth of your pain. But you're determined not to let him see just how much it's affecting you not wanting to add to his burdens.

With a gentle but firm push against his hands you step back pulling away from his comforting grasp. "I have to go," you insist, turning towards the next cot where another soldier lies moaning in pain. You don't look back almost afraid that if you do your resolve will crumble under the weight of his worry and the unspoken connection that you both feel but don't yet understand. You move forward, each step fueled by a mix of duty and the urgent need to escape the intensity of his scrutiny and the complicated emotions it stirs within you.

Azriel was still visibly troubled by the earlier interaction. With your evident strain he insists on accompanying you as you move from one wounded soldier to another. His presence is a silent, watchful shadow that lingers just at the edge of your vision. While the others of the Inner Circle are engaged in the throes of battle, Azriel has chosen to remain by your side. A decision that speaks more of his concern than any words could.

As you press on each healing session takes more from you. Draining your energy, drawing more of your strength. Azriel observes closely noting the increasing pallor of your skin and the subtle tremors in your hands each time you withdraw them from a wound. Despite your attempts to mask your pain, each expression, each falter does not escape his vigilant gaze.

As you lean over a severely wounded soldier focusing intently on sealing a deep, life-threatening laceration the accumulated pain from your healings surges like a tide, overwhelming and relentless. The sharp and unyielding agony lashes through you, blurring your vision and weakening your knees. You feel the darkness creeping in at the edges of your consciousness threatening to pull you under.

In a desperate bid to maintain control you reach out not for Azriel but for the tent’s support pole—a futile attempt to steady yourself. Yet, your hands grasp only air as your strength finally fails. Before you can process the fall Azriel’s arms are around you. His reaction swift and sure. He pulls you gently against him cushioning your collapse as he lowers both of you smoothly to the floor of the tent.

In this moment your pride battles with the undeniable relief of his support. You hadn't called for him. You hadn't wanted to admit that he might have been right about the danger of your condition, yet here he is, the one catching you as you fall. His presence is both a comfort and a confrontation. A not-so-subtle reminder of your own vulnerability.

Azriel cradles you against his chest. His expression a mask of concern etched deep with the lines of fear for your well-being. He doesn’t speak immediately instead opting to brush a gentle hand across your forehead, pushing away strands of hair matted with sweat. His touch is soft, almost reverent, as if he’s both trying to comfort you and reassure himself of your presence.

Around you the battle's distant roars continue but within the tent a quiet bubble of stillness envelops you both punctuated only by your labored breaths. Azriel’s gaze is locked on your face searching for any sign of recovery. Looking for any indication that you might overcome this bout of weakness.

In his eyes there is a flicker of something more—something beyond mere concern. It's a profound realization of your sacrifice. Of the silent suffering you've endured to heal others. And with this realization comes a fierce protectiveness. A vow forming in the depths of his being. He holds you closer, a silent promise cradled in the curve of his arms, that from this moment forward he will do whatever it takes to protect you. To ensure that this burden of pain is no longer yours to bear alone. The bond between you seemingly mysterious and undefined becomes his anchor. The thing he clings to as he silently pledges to be the safeguard you might not admit you need but he knows you deserve.

The pain you've been shouldering now echoes clearly through the bond that neither of you fully understands yet. But its intensity is unmistakable. Azriel feels each pang as if it were his own. A shared torment that binds you together with an ironclad tether. His face was mere inches from yours and is etched with deep concern and something akin to fear. "Hold on," he urges. His voice a low, desperate command. "Stay with me."

As Azriel holds you in his arms feeling the distressing ebb of your consciousness his protective instincts surge into high alert. The warmth from your body seems to be fading and your breathing becomes worryingly shallow. Typical signs that your physical limits have been catastrophically breached. Panic tightens its grip on him. A vivid contrast to the usual calm demeanor of the shadowsinger.

"Madja!" he calls out desperately. His voice piercing the relative quiet of the tent with an urgency that rattles the air. The shadows around him stir reflecting his growing desperation. He needs her expertise, her understanding of your mysterious condition that now seems perilously close to claiming you.

Madja rushes through the flaps of the tent with her healer's bag clutched tightly, the sight that greets her—a formidable Azriel cradling you, pale and barely conscious—draws a sharp intake of breath from her. She kneels beside you both. Her experienced eyes quickly assessing your condition.

"What happened?" she demands. Her voice thick with worry and confusion. As she lays her hands on you seeking to gauge the extent of your depletion Azriel's gaze hardens.

"She's been healing the soldiers, taking their pain onto herself," Azriel explains. His words rushed. His tone laced with both accusation and fear. "She collapsed just now. How could you not know the toll it was taking on her?"

Madja's expression crumbles into one of profound guilt and regret. She meets Azriel's intense gaze with a resigned sorrow. "I knew," she admits. Her voice a whisper of remorse. "I knew, but I thought we could manage it—keep it under control. I feared the implications of her gift being fully exposed. I thought I was protecting her."

Azriel’s anger wanes slightly instead replaced by a sharp pang of understanding. He knows all too well the complexities of hiding one's true capabilities in a world that might not understand or might exploit them. However, his concern for your well-being remains paramount.

"She needs help now, Madja. What can we do?" he asks with his voice softening but still tinged with urgency.

Madja nods. Her focus turning entirely to you. "I can stabilize her for now, but we need to rethink how she uses her gift," she says as she begins to channel her own healing magic into you. A gentle flow designed not to heal but to sustain.

As Madja works Azriel holds you closer. His thoughts racing with concern and resolve. He watches the slight return of warmth to your cheeks under Madja’s skilled care, feeling a blend of relief and determination surge through him. A promise forms in his heart. Not merely to protect you but to truly understand and support your unique gift, no matter the cost.

However, the demands of the ongoing battle pull at him. Madja noticed the conflict in his expression speaks with a calm authority. "She must rest now, Azriel," she advises with her voice steady. "And they need you. The battle isn't over yet."

Reluctantly Azriel nods. The weight of his responsibilities clear on his face. He leans down with his lips brushing your forehead in a gentle kiss. His assurance of returning to you. "I'll be back soon," he promises. His voice a whisper meant only for you. With one last lingering look that conveys all his worry and care he stands and leaves the tent. His figure soon disappearing into the fray.

The war rages on demanding every ounce of Azriel's focus and skill. Yet his thoughts frequently stray back to the medical tent, to you, lying there in recovery. Each moment he can spare he finds himself glancing towards the tent. His mind racing with scenarios of returning to you.

As the last echoes of battle fade and a weary peace begins to settle, Azriel's duties finally allow him a moment to breathe. He wastes no time. The moment he is able he rushes back to the medical tent with his steps quick with urgency and anticipation. Pushing through the tent flaps, Azriel’s eyes immediately seek you out. He finds you awake but visibly exhausted propped up against some pillows. The sight of you, alive and recovering, though still weak floods him with relief.

“I’m here,” Azriel breathes out as he quickly crosses the space to your side before kneeling beside your cot. His hand reaches out brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with a tenderness that belies his warrior's exterior. “How are you feeling?” he asks. His voice low and filled with concern. His eyes scanning your face for any sign of pain or discomfort.

Azriel’s presence instantly eases some of the weight pressing down on you and relief softens your features. "I'm exhausted," you admit but manage a weak smile. "But I'll be alright, just need some rest." Your eyes meet his and even in your weariness there's an undeniable relief that reflects back from his gaze. An unspoken understanding of the solace you both find in each other’s presence after the chaos of battle.

"You had us worried for a while there," Azriel says. His voice a mix of relief and mild reprimand. His eyes scan your face still searching for signs of pain or lingering fatigue. His concern palpable but not overwhelming. "Madja told me you'd recover but seeing it for myself makes all the difference."

Your smile deepens slightly at his words. You were grateful for his concern and the straightforward honesty that always marked your interactions. "I'll be fine, Azriel. Really," you assure him with your tone aiming to put him at ease. "It's good to have you back though."

In the days following the battle, as the camp slowly transitions from a place of urgent healing back to routine operations, your strength begins to return. With each passing day the pain and exhaustion that had once clouded your vision start to fade instead replaced by a growing vigor that Madja assures you is a good sign of recovery. Azriel, true to his word, visits often. His presence a constant reassurance as the camp breaks down around you. The war finally declared over.

Once you're deemed well enough to travel Azriel accompanies you back to Velaris. The journey was facilitated by the magic of winnowing is quick but disorienting. A dramatic shift from the dusty tents and the sharp smells of medicine to the lush, serene beauty of the Night Court. Back in Velaris the city seems to embrace you both with open arms. The familiar sights and sounds of the vibrant city life, the cobblestone streets lit by lanterns and the murmur of the Sidra River, provide a comforting backdrop to your continued recovery.

A few nights after your return, once you feel stronger and more like yourself, Azriel invites you to join him on a balcony overlooking Velaris. The balcony was part of a high vantage point in the House of Wind and offers a breathtaking view of the city spread out beneath a canopy of stars. The transition from the harsh realities of war to this peaceful setting marks a significant shift in your healing process—both physical and emotional.

Seated together on the balcony the atmosphere between you is one of tentative peace. A reprieve from the chaos of the battlefield. The evening air is cool and carrying the gentle scent of night-blooming flowers. There’s a quiet that allows for softer, more intimate conversation. Here with the distance from the front lines you both find the space to reflect on the recent events and the impact they’ve had on each of you discussing thoughts and feelings that the war left little room to explore.

This tranquil setting in Velaris which was far removed from the demands of war allows you both to see each other in a new light. Appreciating the resilience and strength each has shown, and perhaps, beginning to understand the deeper bond that seems to have formed in the crucible of conflict.

Azriel breaks the silence between you with a gentle voice reflecting the calm of the night. "I've been thinking about your healing abilities. About your gift," he says before pausing as if searching for the right way to broach the subject without overstepping. "It's a heavy burden you've carried… taking on others' pain."

You nod appreciating his careful approach. "It can be overwhelming," you admit. Your voice low. Sharing this truth with him feels both vulnerable and relieving. "Especially knowing that each time I heal, I take a little bit of that pain into myself."

The softness of his gaze as he looks at you speaks volumes, and he shifts slightly closer. "Perhaps we can find a way to ease that burden," he suggests. "Explore methods to shield you or at least to share the load." The idea of sharing this part of your life with Azriel, having him understand and perhaps help carry the weight, brings a warmth to your heart. It’s a tentative step towards deeper connection and you find yourself hoping for more.

"And how about us?" Azriel adds after a moment, the question hanging between you like a delicate thread. "These past weeks, feeling everything that you have felt... it’s made me realize how deeply connected I am to you. More than I anticipated." The admission hangs in the air and is charged with an unspoken depth of emotion. You felt it too. The inexplicable pull towards him. Something beyond mere friendship.

You smile a soft, genuine expression that lights up your eyes. "I feel it too," you confess. "It's like there’s something between us, something... more."

The conversation flows more freely now, the initial hesitance giving way to a hopeful exploration of what might be. Neither of you mentions the word 'mates,' still dancing around the full depth of your bond, but there’s an unspoken acknowledgment of the significance of your connection.

As the night deepens between you, you and Azriel make promises. Not grand declarations but quiet vows to support each other. To explore the depth of your bond and understand the extent of your powers together. It's a mutual commitment filled with the promise of discovering not just the mysteries of your abilities but also the potential of what you could be to each other.

With the city of Velaris sparkling below and the tranquil night wrapping around you there’s a sense of beginning. Of possibilities waiting to be explored. Together you watch the stars comforted by the presence of each other and hopeful for the future.

In the quiet of the pre-dawn, you and Azriel linger on the balcony ensconced in the gentle embrace of Velaris' early morning serenity. The sky is a tapestry of deep blues and purples and begins to lighten at the horizon, heralding the dawn. The air around you is charged with the quiet anticipation of the world waking up. A fitting backdrop for the profound moment unfolding between you.

Azriel's gaze remains fixed on the horizon, but his mind is clearly elsewhere—on the revelations of the night, on the words that now hover on the edge of being spoken. Finally, he turns to you with his expression open. He was vulnerable in a way that you've seldom seen from the reserved shadowsinger. "There's something undeniable about the connection between us," he begins. His voice soft, reverent almost. "It goes beyond what we’ve had. Beyond friendship.” You meet his gaze feeling the truth of his words resonate within you. It's a truth you've sensed but haven't dared to define until this moment.

Finally finding the courage to speak what he’s discovered he steps closer making sure to bridge the gap between you. His presence enveloping you in warmth. "I've felt every echo of your pain, every ripple of your joy as if they were my own. It's more than just empathy… it's a bond, a deep, unbreakable bond." His hands find yours. His touch gentle but firm. "I believe we're mates," he says. The words charged with emotion and an unspoken plea for you to feel the same.

Your heart leaps. The simplicity and sincerity of his admission cutting through any lingering doubts. You smile, not just with your lips but with your entire being, accepting the truth of his words and the bond they confirm. "Azriel, I've sensed it as well," you reply with your voice soft yet filled with wonder. "It’s as if there’s been a song woven into the fabric of our days, subtle yet persistent, waiting for us to finally hear it and understand its tune."

Azriel's smile in response is a thing of quiet joy. A uniquely rare and tender sight that stirs something deep within you. He pulls you gently closer and you find yourself wrapped in his embrace. The city around you awakening as the first light of dawn spills over the edges of the world.

In the tranquil embrace of dawn Azriel holds you close. His heart beating a tentative rhythm against yours. His voice carries a rare vulnerability that makes the air around you thrum with the weight of his words. “Do you want that?" he asks softly. His breath warm against your hair. "To always be there for each other. To face whatever this world throws at us, together, as one?"

He pulls back slightly as his hands were still gently cradling your face. His eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. This question isn't merely rhetorical. It's a genuine, open-ended inquiry into your desires. A request for your heart's agreement with his. Azriel's usual certainty is replaced by an endearing, hopeful uncertainty. Highlighting how deeply he values your consent and participation in this burgeoning bond.

You look into his eyes. Into those deep pools of night that have seen so much sorrow and solitude, now laced with tender hope. The dawn casts its first gentle rays illuminating the sincerity and slight apprehension on his face. This moment, this question, isn't just about confirming a bond. It's about choosing to build a future together.

"Yes, Azriel," you respond. Your voice steady and sure, a soft yet resolute affirmation that echoes the depth of your own feelings. "I want that more than anything."

Azriel's response is immediate. His eyes reflecting a profound relief and joy that seem to brighten the very air around him. A broad, genuine smile spreads across his face transforming his usually stoic expression into one of pure elation.

"You've just made me the happiest male in all of Prythian," he breathes out as his voice is rich with emotion. The sincerity in his words resonates deeply echoing the significance of your acceptance.

His arms pull you closer. The warmth of his embrace enveloping you as he whispers, "We'll face everything together, side by side. No matter what comes we won't face it alone."

"Always," you echo back, your voice a soft yet resolute affirmation. The certainty in your agreement strengthens the bond between you weaving your fates together with threads of shared strength and mutual understanding setting a path forward together in the intertwining dance of your shared lives.

Azriel’s smile deepens at your words. His relief and joy palpable. The certainty of your mutual promise solidifies the bond between you weaving your fates together with threads of shared strength and understanding. His hands that still cradling your face shift slightly and his fingers brush tenderly across your lips. A touch so gentle it sends a shiver down your spine.

The intimate gesture holds a world of meaning. As he gazes into your eyes the warmth and intensity of his emotions are clear. He leans in, his breath mingling with yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. Then with a tenderness that quickly deepens into something more he pulls you in for a kiss.

What starts as a gentle meeting of lips soon transforms into a kiss filled with passion and longing. As if all the emotions and realizations of the past days and weeks are being poured into this single, breathtaking moment. Azriel’s kiss is both a promise and a declaration, sealing the bond between you with a fervor that leaves you breathless.

Your arms wrap around him pulling him closer responding to the depth of his kiss with equal intensity. The world around you fades away leaving only the two of you entwined in a moment that transcends everything else. As the kiss lingers it becomes clear that this is not just a bond forged in the fires of battle but a connection that will shape your future, side by side, whatever may come.

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[that-gay-jedi]

The thing is that everyone everyone EVERYONE posting about Hector of Troy understands the two poles of his conflict (the household and the battlefield) but so so sooo many posts file off the nuances of where he actually falls between them.

It's not entirely inaccurate to say Hector is a family-oriented character who fights because everyone he loves and everything he knows will be destroyed if he doesn't. But it IS a simplification.

When Andromache confronts him on the way to the gates, she doesn't ask him not to go out to fight; they both acknowledge the absolute necessity of doing so. But she asks him to fight defensively, to stick close to the walls and to focus on not allowing the invading army to breach vulnerable areas therein.

And he denies her request.

He has to fight aggressively and with the intent to win glory, he tells her, because he cannot bear to show his face in Troy if he does anything else. Even knowing that at this point his death would almost certainly cost Troy the war, destroying everything he holds dear including Andromache herself, he can't bring himself to preserve his life if it means falling short of the standards of Bronze Age masculine virtue.

This would have been totally consistent with the way the internet reads him IF she had asked him to stay home and hide under the bed or something. There's a reason he's as much if not more a foil to Paris as to Achilles. But that's not what Andromache asked him to do.

Given the choice between fighting ONLY to defend Troy or fighting to achieve honour and victory in the defense of Troy, he chose the latter.

The tragedy of Hector isn't solely that he's a father and husband who is forced to be a warrior. It's that he's juuust enough of a family man to want to be one, but... not enough to risk being branded a coward for it.

At least, not until it was too late.

He wanted his wife to have a husband and his child to have a living father, he really did. He outran fleet-footed Achilles three times around the walls of Troy in what I can only imagine must have been as much a feat of desperation as of athleticism. To keep ahead of someone on foot, over that distance, wearing armor, sounds frankly painful- I say this as someone who used to love running.

If the gods hadn't decieved him into thinking he had help against Achilles, would he have run until he collapsed? Until some archer on the walls managed to either take down Achilles or at least force enough distance between them that Hector could escape? Would anyone have shamed him for it? Having faced the shame of cowardice and survived, would he have fought differently in the next battle, more defensively?

He died before we could find out.

[saramurad1]

‎‏Hello, my name is sara, and we are living in an extremely difficult reality. My husband recently lost his job due to the dire circumstances in Gaza, and we are now facing even greater challenges in securing our daily bread. In these tough times, the weight of responsibility falls entirely on me. I care for my 85-year-old mother-in-law, who requires continuous care due to her declining health and old age. In addition, I take care of my dear brother-in-law, who is disabled. Despite his condition, he is an integral part of our family, and we do everything we can to ensure his comfort and happiness.

‎‏We are currently living in Gaza, where the situation is dire and the war continues to escalate, making our suffering worse and making it harder to obtain even the most basic necessities. After the events of October 7th, we were forced to flee from northern Gaza to the south, walking on foot despite my mother-in-law’s inability to walk long distances. I had to support her by holding her arm throughout the journey, while my brother-in-law, who is in a wheelchair, also needed assistance.

‎‏We witnessed death all around us—walking over bodies, hearing gunfire above our heads, and living in constant fear of what might happen next. We are now living in a nylon tent under the scorching sun in the summer and the freezing cold in the winter. My mother-in-law cannot stay in the tent because of sores on her body; she needs a moderate environment, but we cannot afford to rent a house due to the high prices.

‎‏Every day, I face the enormous challenge of providing for my family, whether it’s caring for my mother-in-law, ensuring my brother-in-law’s well-being, or managing our daily survival. The financial strain has become overwhelming. The economic challenges we face grow more severe with each passing day, making it increasingly difficult to provide even the most basic needs, such as food, healthcare, and medical treatment for my mother-in-law and brother-in-law.

‎‏Every morning, my struggle with laundry begins. Not because I can’t bear it, but because the essentials have become an unbearable burden. The prices of detergents have risen to an unreasonable level, and even the simplest of them has become a distant dream. I search for alternative solutions, for natural materials that might ease the weight of buying, but even these options require more time and effort.

‎‏As for cooking, every time I open the oven, I feel something uncomfortable creeping into my chest. I can’t ignore the smell of pollution that seeps into our food, taking more from our health than it gives in meals. It’s not just an old oven—it’s a daily battle with appliances that ruin everything good, including the health of those around me.

‎‏The worst part is my mother-in-law. I’ve tried many times to explain to her, but the pain grows when I see exhaustion in her eyes, as if I’m causing her harm. But I have no choice. We are all in this kitchen, in a daily struggle, and amidst this battle, I try to be a bridge between poverty and hope, between difficult circumstances and the will to live.

[ayagazaa1]

Please don't skip 🍉🍉🖤

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #340 )✅️

This is my story 🫶🍉

Iam Aya, an outstanding high school student. I was very happy to be on the verge of achieving my dream of finishing my school studies and achieving what I aspired to, which is to become a doctor.

My family of 8 and a beautiful cat named Katie were living a beautiful and peaceful life, each of us striving to achieve our dreams.

We had our beautiful house in Khan Yunis. Recently, we were celebrating my sister Heba’s fourth place in the Gaza Strip in the Arabic language recruitment exam. Our life was like material and emotional perfection. We did not feel deprived or lacking anything.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

My sister Lina is a university student. Her dream was to become a psychologist to help mentally ill people in the Strip.

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

My brother Ahmed was the most beautiful gift from God. He came after 20 years of being deprived of male siblings. After completing his studies, he became a water carrier and took on a great responsibility beyond his capacity.

We also had two little butterflies, the apple of the house, and Jana, the favorites of their teachers and friends at school.

Then the war broke out and everything was turned upside down. We were forced to leave the house after quadcopters surrounded us, tanks surrounded us, and we saw death right in front of our eyes, but we miraculously escaped.

We were displaced several times on foot. Feet, then our end was in a tent that did not protect us from the cold of winter or the heat of summer, and there were poisonous insects and scorpions around us, there was no clean water or healthy food, so my family and I got hepatitis and a lot of intestinal infections.

We were shocked that our house was bombed and destroyed and the features of the house disappeared from the face of the earth, so we felt very sad and despair took over us.

Life here in Gaza is expensive, we cannot buy the minimum necessities of life, imagine that the price of a kilo of tomatoes is $50, and the price of a bag of flour is $200, life here is like a famine!

My father is a nervous patient and my mother suffers from chronic pressure and they need continuous treatment and medications 🥹😓

We suffer from bringing water from long distances, and from the high prices of food and cleaning materials and water pollution.

What we have suffered most in this war is the loss of members of our family, and this is the hardest thing we have been through. We have lost 20 members of our family.

Please help us bear the very high cost of living until we evacuate from Gaza and save our lives. The cost per person is $5,000. Help us, you are the only hope left."🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

@nabulsi

@gazavetters

[mide404]

Greetings,

I write this appeal with a heavy heart, burdened by the weight of the tragedy that has befallen my family in the war-torn land of Gaza. I am Mahmoud Jihad Saleh, a captive soul in the cruel clutches of despair. Holding on to a glimmer of hope.

Today, I implore you to bear witness to the shattered remains of my once-happy family. My father, a beacon of strength, was cruelly snuffed out, and the innocent lives of my niece and nephew were taken by the merciless grip of conflict.

In the desperate shadows of despair, I beg for your compassion to save my family from the misery sweeping Gaza. They are stranded in Gaza, deprived of the most basic necessities, and enduring the cynicism of life

It is with a heavy heart that I implore you to be the lifeline my family so desperately needs

I am on my knees, not as a supplicant, but as a broken soul longing to avoid further loss. Save my family from the clutches of despair, so they can rebuild their shattered lives. The specter of losing them, as I lost my parents and relatives, haunts me every waking moment. I implore you, kind souls, to heed this cry for help and save my family from the abyss of suffering.

Please donate if you can and share our story widely as you're able to🙏.