#teenaged war siblings

[sarnai4]

At the Olympus cafeteria

Ares (sitting by Athena): Want to have a food fight or something?

Athena: I want to eat before we have to return to class.

Ares (grumpily): You always say that.

Athena: And yet, you always ask. Why don't you sit with someone else for once?

Ares: I tried. I think they were scared.

Athena: What happened?

Ares: They ran away.

Athena: Then I'd say you were probably right to think that.

Ares (makes a sad noise)

Athena (sighing): Maybe it would help if you smiled. That hat makes you look like you're always scowling.

Ares (sees someone coming and tries this.)

Other immortal (runs)

Ares (arms crossed): That was awful advice.

Athena: I wasn't expecting you to smile like an ax murderer who just found his next target.

Ares: And to think you claim to know me. (Flicks grape onto her head) Guess you better get used to us being lunchmates, Sis.

Athena (mentally counting down the days to graduation)

[other-fan-fiction]

Leo has found a new species PT 2

[namisweatheria]

I need to finish my one piece reread and percolate first but I find it very interesting the thread between different characters reclaiming monstrosity alongside their humanity and specifically how it intersects with chopper's characterization. I think about how he gets more and more baby-ish in the way he acts and looks as the series goes on, and that one sbs where the "bad ending" version of him looked significantly older than the "good ending" version.

He didn't get to be a child when he was a child, having to learn to take care of and soothe himself when there was absolutely nothing but coldness and rejection in the world for him for his first.. 12 years? of being alive. So the meaning of being able to be childlike with his chosen family is apparent.

However, my friend was talking about an allegorically disabled character in a different show this morning, and about how disabled children often experience both infantilization and parentification. Having to care for your parent's feelings about your disability before your own. Being stripped down to nothing but what you can't do.

There's probably nothing there, but the long thread of intertextual connection between disability and monstrosity in culture and fiction is generally on the forefront of my mind. It makes "monstrous" characters feel like my characters. With transexuality too! The cultural and intertextual thread between it and monstrosity is strong! The way trans men in particular are infantilized and also seen as dangerous and aggressive at the same time seems relevant, especially for a character that technically didn't have to claim a gender for himself, being born a genderless animal, but chose to anyways.

I don't know I feel like Chopper's a much more interesting character than we often give him credit for. He's much more than the lonely baby who finally found a home that he's often boiled down to.

[sagesilentfire]

Why not. Pick a WIP I've summarized badly.

[butchnavi]

paige evans 🤝🏻 mike wheeler 🫱🏻‍🫲🏼 me as of last year 🤝🏼 extremely intense but very different confusing gayass relationships with two people they care about more than anything who also unfortunately happen to be twins unnecessarily overcomplicating both of them by making them impossible to isolate

[ranvwoop]

i need to expel the silly guys in my brain . but i forgot how to draw and writing is hard... much to think about

[the-cinnamon-snail]

To the people who see this post, I have created my own bracket lineup for a competition. Who is the better Blorbo of mine in your opinion.

These are the line ups, characters from media I enjoy and media I've created that take up a lot of space in my mind, or at least used to.

LEVEL ONE

Round One

Round Two

Round Three

Round Four

[thecatundertheladder]

Z

Another Ghost Dragon Prompt? Indeed.

The Ward had made a mistake. Had stolen something that had caused the very Skies to lash out, entire worlds at risk from their actions.

Time Itself shrieked in rage at the loss of Its child, or at least that's how every magic user- and the speedsters, pale and shaken and looking sick- had described it.

Someone had taken the young prince of the Infinite, and it was not the Tyrant King, long since sealed away, that lead the charge, but the Queen Regent that many had long since forgotten.

Many forgot that it was not the Dark who courted Time, but Time who courted the Dark. That It was just, if not more so, merciless as Its partner, and would Devour worlds should Its child- still with newdeath soft scales- was not returned.

Which meant that for the heroes, there was now a Clock ticking down ever so quietly. They had to take care of what was a government branch, had to deal with consequences of going over the law, or their World would End in dragon fire.

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

But what was most baffling to all that met the Pevensies after they came back was that they were kind.

Really. Not pretending, not because they were insecure. True, empathic. Far too understanding for children their age. They all have music in them.

Peter’s hands feel too small for him, but he shakes hands all the same. Gentle pressure. There is nobility behind those eyes. Eyes that always border on the supernatural sort of blue, especially in the dark.

He plays the guitar, gently coaxing otherworldly sounds out of an instrument that did not know it could be played like that. He helps his siblings with their homework, is taller much faster than his peers. Seems to take up more space, even though no one understands how a teenage boy manages that.

He doesn’t like doing nothing, ever. He instructs his classmates in grammar, gives away figures he cuts from wood with a knife that seems too sharp for a boy that small. He never hurts himself, though.

As the years pass, Peter grows strong. But he is gentle. He does not seem to be brash, even when many of his friends are. Peter keeps his emotions in check. Noble. Not undangerous, but not belligerent. Peter only ends fights, and only with people that deserve it.

He offers advice, a pat on the back. Teachers wanna dislike him, some do not like the look behind those eyes. Most find they cannot. Peter is popular with both adults and children, speaks sense and laughs often.

Peter is kind. Pious, devout. His faith is unmovable like rock. Did the kids meet God on the estate of their uncle?

Edmund plays the violin. A sad Edmund is a rare sight, but when he plays sad he can keep his whole floor awake. Somehow, Peter always finds h him quickly, effortlessly attuned to his brother’s moods. They play chess, then. Their chess master must have been a champion, Ed beats people with ease. He’s usually not smug about it.

Ed speaks politics and war in earnest, accepts critique graciously, is elegant in a way Peter never manages. Peter speaks frankly, but Edmund can wrap words up real nice. He doesn’t mince words, but his classmates grow into liking the sound of his voice. They appreciate that Edmund does not lie, even when speaking tactfully. Edmund can dial the temperature in a room, change it to suit himself.

He, too, laughs often, but Edmund is known to smirk. He likes being right and he often is. He’ll entertain anyone with a good story, always seems to have the right information to help you out. Remedies to illness, connections, job openings, how to sneak out of PE.

He’s a spider in a web. A bit reserved for a 11 year old, and oddly well-connected. A real ghost when he wants to be, but he never scares people with it.

Aslan would not approve of that. He believes in God as well, but much more intellectually. He’s got the intelligence to back it up and wit to match. A scholarly belief, but not lacking conviction.

Teachers like his enthousiasm, remember a moody nagging child when he left and see a secure young man come back.

Edmund will stand up for what is right. He gets into some trouble like that, but his verbal agility saves him always. Edmund has strong principles and will not bend them for anyone. No matter the trouble he gets in.

The bond with his brother is unbreakable. They even walk the same, chest out, left hand on their belt. They seem most at ease when fencing.

Susan was always warm and tenderhearted, but when she comes back there is a difference.

She seems to have gained authority. It’s real strange watching a 13-year old use her beauty like a grown woman, but Susan has learned to wield it, to stun people so she can creep under their skin. People LISTEN to her now.

Her wit is like a knife, but she avoids cutting deep. Susan is reasonable, and strong, and principled. The little drama others get involved in does not bother her, and she seems immune to petty insults. She has killed before, with her hands.

She will do it with kindness now. She is not very approachable ( that would be Lucy ), but she is kind. She used to mother over her brothers and sisters, but now that they have raised each other in a court full of magic she has gotten more relaxed. They listen to her on important issues, trust in her judgement. Her brothers does not deem himself more important, she is both well-spoken and well-respected by her siblings. Equal. It baffles the old men that teach her. Irritates them, too.

There is an air of mystery around her. Half a look is enough to get what she wants, Susan’s friends laud her security in herself, her Mona Lisa smile. She seems to temper moods easily, makes people feel at ease.

She most of everyone exudes royalty. It’s the grace. Susan plays the harp, her long fingers dancing across the strings like she’s had a lifetime of practice. She’s elegant, never caught off guard. Jamais faux pas.

She does not get angry. She knows who she will be. She is anxious to become an adult, yes, but she only wishes to look how she feels. Not to look differently. Yet the wish to be taken seriously, to have someone see you as an adult, it makes her surprisingly similar to her peers.

Her friends have not been old yet, is all. But Susan is calm and collected. People see her as someone you can tell a secret to. She never hurts someone, is usually a neutral party, speaks sense to adult and kids alike. She is not ignorant, however, will use every trick in the book to keep the peace. She knows when to go nuclear. Vis pacem para bellum.

Lucy is a sun in human form. She has a joie de vivre that is unmatched, is gay and golden-haired and never in a bad mood.

Lucy is kind by default, does not turn it off, does not turn it down. She’s witty and funny and quick on her feet. She has been grown before, yes, but enjoys being young for a few years more. She dances, sings old tunes. Her voice is her favorite instrument, you can usually hear Lucy coming.

Whistling a tune in the halls is known to improve the moods of everyone who hears it immensely. Young girls need to figure out who they are, but Lucy knows, knows what she’ll be and who she likes and what kind of people she wants to be around. She is not pretending, never moody. She can get sad, of course, but her older brothers and sisters are always nearby when that happens.

Lucy is genuine and fierce and convinced, immovable at times. Admired for her drive, but respected for her empathy. She speaks to everyone, often distributes flowers. There’s no naivite in her at all, she simply wishes to be like this so that the world may imitate her. She likes to see people prosper, is the first with praise.

She will go far, is the consensus. There’s steel beneath the soft exterior, Lucy has fire below the flowers. She’s well-liked and well-loved. She has love in spades, it seems, animals and stragglers and misfits and outcasts. She’s popular, her room is a good place to get a cup of tea and someone who will listen to you for some time. After a while she no longer bothers with the door.

That a heart that size fits in a girl that small is a mystery to many. Lucy does not think it is a mystery at all. It is the heart of a lion.

Her faith is as vocal as the rest of her, she sees it confirmed in all that is beautiful, all that is kind. She never tries to convert anyone but there are several people who have told her that version of God is someone they would like to know.

The Pevensies often see each other at parties, where they like to stand together. Edmund knows about everyone, everyone knows Peter, everyone likes Susan, but it is Lucy who knows everyone.

They are kind, but not weak. Peter gets his knuckles bloody sometimes, Edmund does not abide by the rules of unjust teachers. Susan and Lucy solve their problems differently but no less effective. Kindness is their usual way of operating, but they are still kings and queens. They will not allow cruelty, will not let bullies go unpunished.

They are sure of what they are and sure of what comes after death and this makes them kind. Kind , not harmless. Kind, not spineless. Kind, not ignorant. Kind, not naive.

Kind despite. Maybe kind because. The kings and queens of Narnia are proud of what they are, honour the teachings of their lion friend. Kind.

When the crash happens and three siblings die, everyone they know mourns deeply. Without them, the world is less kind.

[surielstea]

A Warriors Heart

Based on a request.

Pairing: Virgin!Azriel x Virgin!Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader have been mated for a long time but have yet to act on it. What happens when alone in a house together?

Warnings: Smut | Minors DNI | tender | loss of virginity | fingering | praise kink | creampie

A.Note: Sooo the original request asked for an Experienced!Reader but I was struggling writing a dynamic like that so here’s this, hopefully it’s okay. Also, Rhys and Reader are half-siblings!

6.2k word count.

The house was silent. A rare occurrence. Even when the three Illyrians weren't crowding it with their banter and heavy footsteps, Rhysand's mother's soft humming usually drifted from the kitchen, accompanied by the clatter of pots and pans. That noise, that life, filled every corner of our home, like a heartbeat.

But tonight, the silence felt heavier. My brother and Cassian were away on an overnight expedition to another war camp, and Rhysand's mother had been summoned to the Night Court by my father. It was just Azriel and me. Alone.

I had known Azriel was my mate since I was eight years old, the bond threading between us as easily as a ribbon slipping through fingers. I had accidentally accepted it when I was fifteen, too young to understand the weight of what I'd done. We'd made a pact soon after, two awkward teenagers fumbling to make sense of the unshakable connection between us. Friends could be soulmates, we told ourselves. We swore to keep the bond platonic, to navigate it without letting it define us.

But no matter how much I tried to ignore it, the bond shimmered between us like sunlight on a blade, sharp and undeniable. Azriel's protective nature—his tendency to linger closer than necessary, to bristle when someone dared flirt with me—had always been my undoing. And while he could command a room with a single glance, I had no doubt he saw me as nothing more than the sister of his closest friend.

It was why I'd spent the last seven years pulling away, trying to temper the ache that came from unrequited feelings. Even now, with all the years and distance between us, I didn't know how to act when it was just the two of us.

I didn't hear his footsteps. I never did. But his voice, soft and steady, broke the silence as I stirred the stew on the stove.

"Smells good."

I jumped, whirling to find Azriel leaning casually against the doorway, his hazel eyes glinting with quiet amusement.

"Gods," I exhaled, clutching the wooden spoon to my chest like a lifeline. "You have to stop sneaking up on me."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, a rare, fleeting thing that made my heart skip. "Can't help it," he replied, shrugging one broad shoulder. "Your reaction is worth it every time."

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the stove, determined to ignore the warmth creeping up my neck.

Azriel moved closer, his steps silent, until I could feel the faint heat of him behind me. He leaned in, just enough for his breath to brush the back of my neck as he peered over my shoulder.

"Stop looming," I muttered, swatting at him half-heartedly with the spoon.

He pulled back with a low chuckle, the sound curling in my chest and settling there, stubborn and unrelenting.

As he retreated to the sitting room, I focused on the stew, determined not to let my racing heart betray me. But even with his back turned, I could feel him—his gaze like a tether, steady and unyielding.

I hummed a tune under my breath, one my mother always sang while cooking. The melody was soft and familiar, a distraction from the weight of the quiet house and the man watching me from across the room.

By the time I ladled the stew into bowls, the tension in my chest had coiled tight. I turned, the bowls in hand, and froze.

Azriel was leaning back on the couch, his legs stretched out before him, wings draped lazily over the sides of the cushions. But his eyes were locked on me, dark and burning, as though he could see straight through me.

"Ready," I murmured, more to break the silence than anything, nudging a drawer closed with my hip as I grabbed two sets of silverware.

I set the bowls on the table and slid into my chair, pretending not to notice the way Azriel settled into the seat beside me instead of the one across. The scent of him—night-chilled mist and cedar—washed over me, and I busied myself arranging the utensils just to keep my hands from shaking.

He started eating without a word, and I followed suit, though each bite felt like a struggle under the weight of his presence.

It was almost odd watching him eat food I made, so reminiscent of how mates accept the bond. Even if the tether between us was always at the back of my mind, nights like these brought them front and center as if laid out on the table in front of me.

"Thank you," he said after a few minutes, his voice low. Almost shy.

I glanced at him, startled. "It's no bother," I replied quickly, brushing off the gratitude. "I know you've been training all day. You needed it."

Azriel tilted his head, studying me with a look that made my stomach flip. For a moment, I thought he might argue, but he only nodded and returned to his meal.

"I'll make you breakfast in the morning," he said finally, the promise simple but weighted.

I blinked at him, a small smile tugging at my lips despite myself. "Deal."

We ate in silence after that, though it wasn't uncomfortable. The sound of silverware against bowls filled the space, grounding us. But I couldn't ignore the way his gaze kept flicking toward me like he was holding back something he didn't know how to say.

Finally, I set my spoon down and looked at him directly. "What?"

His lips curved into a faint smirk, the kind that always made my pulse stutter. "Nothing."

"Az," I warned, dragging his name out like a thread.

His smirk deepened, but his eyes softened, the light in them catching like a spark in the dim kitchen. "I missed this. Just the two of us."

Heat crawled up my neck. "Is it so different than when Rhys and Cass are here?"

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "You tell me." He smirks. "You don't usually stare at me so much when they're around."

The words struck something deep, a soft ache I hadn't realized was there. I looked away, focusing on my bowl. "Maybe you just haven't been paying attention."

His wings shifted slightly, a rustle of leather against wood. "I always pay attention." The quiet conviction in his voice made me pause, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. "You seem so busy avoiding me that you don't realize how often I'm watching you."

I dared a glance at him, and the way he was looking at me—like I was something worth watching, worth knowing—stole the breath from my lungs. "Now you just sound obsessed with me," I replied, attempting to keep my tone light.

"And if I am?"

I quickly dropped my gaze, grabbing my spoon like it could anchor me. But the tension in the air didn't ease, and I knew—no matter how many years we'd spent pretending otherwise—that the bond was still there, pulling us closer with every passing moment. "Then I'd tell you to find someone else," I say, my pulse fluttering.

"No," he added casually, "you'd miss me if I wasn't here to keep you company."

I snorted, rolling my eyes to mask the sudden skipping in my chest. "You mean to annoy me, right?"

"Same thing." He grinned, his rare smile brightening his usually stoic face, dimples softening his features and making my stomach knot.

I shook my head, trying not to laugh as I resumed eating. "You're unbelievable."

"C'mon, admit it. You'd be so lonely in this house without me as entertainment." His voice was softer now, and when I glanced at him, his expression had shifted. The teasing was still there, but beneath it was something warm, something real.

I swallowed hard, the knot in my chest tightening again. "I hate to ruin your fantasy but you're not exactly a great source of entertainment."

"Do you want me to be?" he said, and the way his voice dipped sent a shiver down my spine.

We fell back into silence after that, but it wasn't the same quiet as before. This time, the air between us felt charged, every glance and shift of movement loaded with something unspoken.

As we finished our meal, Azriel leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studied me. "So, what's for dessert?"

I scoffed at him. "Dessert?"

"Yes, dessert," he said, as though it were obvious. "You cooked dinner, so dessert is next. That's how it works, isn't it?"

I gave him a flat look. "You're awfully demanding for someone who just promised to make me breakfast."

"I like to think of it as balancing the scales," he replied smoothly. "Besides, I'm in the mood for something sweet."

The way he said it made my stomach flip, though I tried to keep my expression neutral. "Well, unless you're planning to bake something yourself, you're out of luck."

He sighed dramatically, resting his chin in his hand. "What a shame. Guess I'll have to settle for your company instead."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," I said, standing to clear the dishes, though I couldn't keep the grin off my face.

"Who said I was flattering you?" he called after me, his voice laced with amusement.

"You can clean up dinner then, I'm going to go read," I say with a taunting smile.

"So I can't have dessert or your company?" He argued as I began retreating down the hall.

"I'll be in my room if you need me, shadow singer."

"Yes, ma'am." But his tone was anything but obedient. I reached my door, and when I glanced back at him, his smirk was firmly in place, his gaze following me like one of his shadows. I entered my room and closed my door with a finalizing shut.

I leaned against the door, letting out a shaky breath. My chest felt tight, the warmth of Azriel's gaze still lingering on my skin. It was always like this with him—subtle, unspoken, charged. And yet, neither of us ever dared to cross that invisible line.

Until tonight, maybe.

The sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen echoed faintly through the house, proof that he had actually listened to me. I smirked to myself, shaking my head as I moved toward my bed.

I plucked my book from my nightstand, letting his gaze and words fizzle away, forcing myself to focus on the story in my hands.

It was hard not to think of him, he was technically a part of me after all. The tether between us was dusty and untouched, but somehow pulsing with life. I hadn't meant to, but I tugged on that bond, and the noise in the kitchen halted entirely.

Before I could weigh the fallout of my actions there was a knock on my door, soft and hesitant.

I slipped from the bed, still clutching my book just for something for my hands to do. I opened the door before I could second guess myself, revealing Azriel leaning against the frame of it. "You finished with the dishes already?" I say with a tilt of my head.

"No, I—you called me in here," He said with a crease in his brow.

"I didn't say anything?" I mutter.

"But you did, the bond," He attempts to explain and I cringe, hating to watch him fumble around this.

"I didn't mean to," I confess with a slight smile.

I stepped back instinctively, letting him into my room before the vulnerability of the moment could choke me. Azriel hesitated at the threshold, his broad frame nearly filling the doorway. His shadows coiled restlessly around his shoulders, mirroring the tension in his jaw. Finally, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

"You didn't mean to," he echoed, his voice low, almost disbelieving.

I shook my head, gripping the book tighter. "I've been doing well, haven't I? Not tugging on it? Not pulling you into something you didn't ask for?"

Azriel's gaze snapped to mine, sharp and unyielding. "Something I didn't ask for?" His wings shifted slightly, the leather whispering in the quiet. "You think I don't feel it, too? That I haven't felt it every day since I was sixteen?"

I blinked, his words striking me like a lightning bolt. He took a step closer, and the air between us charged, crackling with everything we'd been avoiding for years. "You think you're the only one pretending this doesn't exist? That it doesn't rip me apart every time I'm near you?"

The rawness in his tone stole the breath from my lungs. "Az... I didn't know. You—" I swallowed hard. "You've always seemed so controlled, indifferent to it."

He let out a low, humorless laugh, the sound cutting through the room. "Because I had to be. Because if I wasn't, I'd—" He stopped himself, dragging a hand through his dark hair. His wings flared slightly as if he was fighting the urge to pace. "You have no idea what you've done to me. And when you pulled on the bond just now, well it's a shock I can even find words despite the aching in my heart."

My heart thundered in my chest, the bond between us humming, alive and insistent. "Azriel," I murmured, barely able to meet his gaze. "I didn't mean to—"

"Stop apologizing," he interrupted, stepping closer again, his hazel eyes burning into mine. "Don't you understand? I want you to pull on it. I want to feel you. To be near you."

My lips parted, but no words came out. He was so close now, his heat wrapping around me like a second skin. The scent of him—cedar and night-chilled mist—was intoxicating, pulling me under, but I was far from drowning.

"I thought you wanted me to ignore it, and I tried my best," he continued, his voice quieter now, trembling with restraint. "But then you went out of your way to keep your distance. And it drove me insane. Do you know how hard it is to love who doesn't feel the same?"

My breath hitched, his confession settling over me like a second bond. "You—what?"

He smiled faintly, but there was no humor in it. "Don't make me say it again."

My knees felt weak, my grip on the book tightening to keep from falling. "I thought..." I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. "I thought you only tolerated me because of my brother."

Azriel's wings flared again, a sudden, restless movement. "Rhys has nothing to do with this. He never has."

I stared at him, my heart racing, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and hope. "Azriel," I whispered his name a prayer, a plea.

He reached for me then, his hand hesitating before brushing my cheek. His touch was warm, grounding, and the bond between us thrummed in response, a living thing that refused to be ignored.

"I'm done pretending," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "If you don't want this that's fine, I'll distance myself. But if you do—"

I didn't let him finish. I dropped the book, my hands finding the soft material of his shirt as I yanked him closer, crashing my lips to his.

Azriel let out a surprised noise, a deep, guttural sound that sent heat pooling in my stomach. His wings flared wide, his shadows scattering as he kissed me back with a ferocity that stole my breath. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I melted into his warmth, into the strength of him.

I gasped when his lips left mine, trailing down my jaw to the sensitive spot just below my ear. "Just us," he whispered the words sacred, a vow.

"Us," I breathed, threading my fingers into his hair, tugging gently. "Always."

He lifted me then, his hands firm on my thighs as he carried me to the bed. He laid me down gently, his body pressing against mine as he kissed me again, slower this time, reverent.

My hands roamed over him, tracing the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of his muscles. He shuddered under my touch, his wings trembling as they curled protectively around us.

"I've never—" he murmured against my lips, his voice ragged as I cut him off.

"Neither have I," I whispered, arching into him. "I trust you, Az."

Something in his eyes softened at that, the love and need in them so intense it made my chest ache. Then he kissed me again, and there was no more room for words.

Just us. Just this.

We were a fumbling mess, equally awkward as we were clueless. But I wouldn't have changed anything about it. Because I finally had him, his lips were on mine and his hands held me.

I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck, pulling at the back of his shirt, yanking it up, needing my hands on his bare skin. He pulled away from the kiss to get it over his head, discarding it on my bedroom floor.

His body hovered over mine, his wings curling inward like a shelter, cocooning us in a space where only we existed. My hands roamed the expanse of his bare chest, marveling at the strength there, the warmth that radiated from him. His muscles tensed and relaxed under my touch, a shiver rippling through him as my fingers explored.

He dipped his head, brushing his lips over mine again, this kiss softer, slower. "Are you sure?" he murmured, his voice a low rasp against my mouth. The vulnerability in his hazel eyes made my chest ache.

I cupped his face, smoothing my thumbs over his sharp cheekbones. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life." My voice trembled, but it carried the weight of truth. "It's always been you, Az."

Something in him broke at my words. His forehead dropped to mine, his breath shuddering as he let out a soft laugh, tinged with disbelief. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

"I think I've got some idea," I whispered, my hands slipping to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair.

His lips found mine again, but this time, there was no hesitation, no restraint. His kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against mine as his hands began to explore, sliding down my sides, tentative but firm. Each touch sent a jolt of heat through me, my body arching into him instinctively.

When his hand skimmed under the hem of my nightgown, his fingers tracing the bare skin of my waist, I gasped against his lips. He stilled, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. "Tell me if I—if you need me to stop," he said, his voice a strained whisper.

I shook my head, a soft smile tugging at my lips. "Don't stop. Please, Az."

He exhaled shakily, his hands more confident now as he lifted my nightgown. I helped him pull it off, and he paused to take me in, his gaze sweeping over me like a caress. "You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with awe, as though he couldn't believe this moment was real. His fingers brushed over my collarbone, down to my ribs, and I trembled under his touch.

"You're allowed to touch me," I said softly, my cheeks warming under his intense gaze. "I want you to."

His shadows curled around my wrists, feather-light, as though they couldn't resist the temptation of me either. "You're, soft," he murmured, an uneasiness in his eyes that made me realize why he was so hesitant. I took his hand in mine, running my thumb over a scar.

"Touch me, Az." My voice was a breathless plea as I guided his scarred hand to my covered breast, craving the feel of him everywhere. His breath hitched, but the hesitation in his eyes melted away as his hands explored my sides, fingertips trailing heat over my waist. His thumbs brushed against the underside of my bra, and my breath faltered. He froze, his gaze meeting mine, searching for any sign of doubt.

When he found none, his lips tilted in a barely-there smile, reverence written across his features. He reached behind me, his fingers fumbling with the clasp, his brow furrowing in concentration. When the garment finally slipped free, I flushed, exposed under his gaze.

His wings trembled, his eyes darkening with barely restrained desire. "You're perfect," he whispered, the words soft, as though they were meant for no one but himself.

I swallowed, my heart thundering as I reached for him, pulling him down until our bodies met. The heat of his skin burned against mine, a delicious contrast that sent sparks through every nerve. His lips found my neck, pressing kisses along my skin that grew wetter and hotter as he made his way down. My head fell back as he trailed lower, his mouth closing over my breast.

A soft cry escaped me, my fingers tangling in his hair, tugging lightly. He froze, pulling back just enough to look at me, concern flickering across his features. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," I whispered, my voice shaky but insistent. "It—it feels good, Az."

Relief flooded his expression, and his lips curved into a small, teasing smirk. "Good," he murmured before returning to his task, his tongue flicking experimentally, his teeth grazing gently as he learned what made me gasp and arch into him.

My hands explored the expanse of his back, the muscles beneath his skin flexing and rippling under my touch. I dragged my fingers lower, to the base of his wings, earning a low groan from him that vibrated through my chest.

"You're sensitive there," I noted, a teasing lilt to my voice.

He let out a shaky laugh, his breath fanning across my skin. "You have no idea."

I grinned but left the spot alone for now, my hands sliding to his shoulders to pull him back up. Our lips met again, his tongue brushing against mine, tasting me, exploring me. His kiss was consuming, and I let myself sink into it, reveling in the way he took control, how he kissed as though he'd waited lifetimes for this.

I trailed my hands down his chest, my fingers mapping every ridge and dip of muscle until I reached the waistband of his pants. My hand slipped beneath the fabric, but his scarred fingers covered mine, halting my movements.

"Are you sure?" His voice was hoarse, his forehead pressed against mine, his breathing uneven.

"Yes," I murmured, one hand tugging gently on his hair to pull him closer. "I want all of you, Azriel. I've always wanted you."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, the vulnerability in his eyes stealing my breath. "It'll hurt," he warned softly, his voice laced with worry.

"I know," I said, cupping his cheek with one hand, my thumb brushing over the sharp line of his jaw. "But every time after this will be perfect," I added, a quiet promise in my voice.

His eyes softened, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us. He exhaled deeply, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Every time after this," he echoed, his tone laced with awe.

Still, his hand didn't release mine. "We have to get you ready first," he said, his voice gentler now, the determination in his gaze sending a thrill through me.

My face burned, but I nodded, moving my hand to his shoulder and digging my nails into his back as he slid my panties down my thighs. The cool air kissed my heated skin, but it was nothing compared to the intensity of his touch.

He started slow, his fingers sliding through my folds, teasing, testing. My hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more, but he gripped my thigh with his free hand, holding me in place.

"Azriel," I breathed, his name leaving my lips like a prayer.

"Here?" His voice was dark, teasing, as his thumb circled my clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through me.

"Yes—there," I gasped, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

I slapped a hand over my mouth, desperate to stifle the noises spilling from me, but his shadows coiled around my wrist, pulling my hand away and pinning it above my head.

"No, love," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "I'm done imagining what you sound like screaming my name." His breath ghosted over my skin as he pressed a kiss to my neck, finding the sensitive spot that made my body tremble. "Let me hear you," he uttered, his voice rough with desire.

A shaky exhale escaped me, and when he slipped a finger inside me, crossing a line that sent a burst of pleasure through my body, I did exactly as he'd imagined.

"Azriel," I moaned, my head tilting back into the pillows.

"That's my girl," he praised, the words making me clench around him.

His scarred fingers moved in a slow rhythm, in and out, each stroke deliberate, teasing. I could feel myself unraveling, the tension building in my core threatening to snap.

"I—I'm close," I whimpered, my voice barely audible.

"I know," he whispered against my neck, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin.

His shadows tightened their hold, pinning me further into the mattress as he placed his thumb on my clit, circling it hard. His mouth returned to my breast, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers.

Pleasure surged through me, and I cried out his name again, my legs trembling as he pushed me closer to the edge.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice like velvet, thick with want. "Let go for me, love."

And I did.

The tension snapped, and I shattered beneath him, pleasure crashing over me in waves. My body arched into his touch, and his name spilled from my lips in a breathless chant. He slowed his movements, coaxing me through it, his lips pressing gentle kisses to my skin.

When I finally came down, my chest heaving, I opened my eyes to find him watching me, his expression raw, reverent.

"My girl," he murmured again, his voice thick with emotion.

I reached for him, pulling him down until his forehead pressed against mine. "Azriel," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I'm ready."

His jaw tightened, eyes flicking over me once more but he nodded. His eyes didn't leave mine as he removed his pants and everything beneath it.

He hovered above me, his chest rising and falling with measured breaths as he shed the last of his clothing. My gaze followed the lines of his body, drinking in the powerful, carved planes of him. Shadows danced across his golden skin, softening the hard edges, but nothing could diminish the raw, unyielding strength that he carried.

"I've waited for this," he said finally, his voice hoarse. "For you."

Emotion swelled in my chest, tangling with the heat that still coursed through me. I placed my hand over his, pressing his palm more firmly against my face. "Then take me, Azriel. I'm yours."

Something broke in him then, the raw vulnerability in his gaze giving way to a feral hunger. He lowered himself onto his elbows, caging me beneath him. His wings flared slightly, a protective shroud as his forehead pressed to mine.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured, his voice softening as his lips brushed mine. "I'll stop if you ask me to."

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. He kissed me then, slow and tender, as though sealing a promise.

When he positioned himself at my entrance, his gaze found mine again. His wings quivered as he asked one last, silent question. I answered by wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

The first press of him was exquisite—a stretch that burned but didn't break. My breath hitched, and Azriel froze, his hand gripping my hip as though anchoring himself.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Yes," I said, my hands finding the base of his wings, the sensitive area so soft beneath my touch. I stroked gently, hoping to soothe the tension coiling in his body. "Keep going."

He nodded, his jaw clenched as he eased into me, inch by torturous inch. My body adjusted to him, the burn fading into a fullness that made my breath catch. Azriel buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin.

"Gods," he groaned, his voice breaking. "So fuckin' good."

I tightened my hold on him, my fingers slipping into his hair as I whispered, "Please, more."

He sunk in further, and once I was certain I couldn't take anymore he pushed in another inch. I moaned into his shoulder, relishing the burn of it, the pleasurable pain that sent me spiraling. Deeper, so deep. I lost words as he finally bottomed out, his hips meeting mine.

Tears shone in my eyes but I didn't tell him to stop, didn't want him to. It took me a moment to adjust, to so much as catch my breath. He lifted one of my legs up, shadows tethering it there, allowing the foreign stretch to lessen.

"Okay," I say shakily. "Mm, you can move." I nod, placing my hands on his shoulders.

He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, telling me he was here if I wanted him to stop. Then, he began to move, slow and steady, his hips rolling in a rhythm that built a delicious friction between us. Each thrust was deliberate, controlled, as though he was determined to make me feel every moment of my very insides molding to him, fitting around him and only him.

The pain faded entirely, replaced by waves of pleasure that built with every movement. I moaned his name, my nails digging into his back as he drove deeper, his wings trembling on either side of us.

"Look at me," he rasped, lifting his head. His eyes burned, molten with desire and something deeper, something that made my heart ache. "I want to see you."

I met his gaze, unable to look away as he moved inside me, his name spilling from my lips like a prayer. The connection between us deepened, an unspoken bond that seemed to tighten with every thrust, every shared breath.

Azriel's hips maintained their slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust sending a delicious ripple of heat through my body. His wings trembled above us, shadows curling and twisting around my raised leg, holding me in place. The stretch still burned faintly, but it was a sweet ache, one that was quickly drowned out by the mounting pleasure.

“You're so tight," Azriel groaned, his voice hoarse, breaking on the words. His hand came up to cradle my cheek, his thumb brushing over my lips. "So perfect for me."

I whimpered, my chest heaving as I struggled to keep my eyes locked on his. It was hard—gods, it was so hard when he was staring at me like that, his hazel gaze molten, filled with a hunger that set me ablaze.

"Az," I breathed, his name a plea I didn't fully understand myself.

"What do you need, love?" he rasped, lowering his forehead to mine. His breath mingled with mine, his lips brushing against my mouth but never pressing fully. "Tell me. I'll give you anything."

I couldn't find the words, so I arched into him, my nails dragging down his back, the feeling of his muscles tensing beneath my hands enough to make me shiver. He groaned low in his throat, his hips stuttering before he caught himself, slowing once again.

"Careful," he murmured, his lips ghosting over my jaw. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not," I managed, my voice trembling as his next thrust hit something deeper, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through me. I gasped, my fingers tightening in his hair.

Azriel's smirk was dark, dangerous. "There?"

I nodded, unable to do much more than whimper as he shifted his angle slightly, rolling his hips in a way that made my entire body arch off the mattress. The pleasure was overwhelming, a slow, torturous build that had me teetering on the edge without ever quite falling over. "Faster," I begged, needing him to abuse the spot.

He did as told, quickening his pace, learning what made me gasp, what made my nails bite into his skin. His shadows curled around me, their cool touch a stark contrast to the heat of our bodies. They skimmed my sides, my thighs, whispering over my skin like a lover's caress.

"So beautiful," Azriel murmured, his voice filled with reverence. He dipped his head, his lips brushing over my collarbone, then lower, until his mouth closed over my breast yet again.

I cried out, my back arching as his tongue flicked over my sensitive peak. He lavished attention on me, his hand coming up to knead the other breast, his thumb teasing the hardened peak.

"Azriel," I moaned, my hands roaming over his back, his shoulders, desperate to anchor myself as he continued his slow, torturous rhythm.

"Say it again," he demanded, his voice rough as he nipped at the delicate skin of my chest.

"Azriel," I whimpered, my voice breaking on his name.

He groaned, his hips snapping harder against mine. The sudden force sent a shockwave through me, pleasure and pain twining together until I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

"Good girl," he murmured, his lips trailing back up to my neck, finding that sensitive spot beneath my ear that made me shiver. "You take me so well."

I couldn't respond, couldn't think past the way he filled me, the way his body moved against mine. My free leg tightened around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer.

Azriel's pace quickened further, just slightly, enough to make my breath catch. His wings flared, the powerful appendages framing us, blocking out the world until there was nothing but him.

"Gods," he groaned, his voice breaking as he buried himself deeper, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I was sure there would be bruises. "You're going to ruin me, love."

I cupped his face, bringing his lips to mine in a searing kiss. He kissed me harder, his movements growing more desperate.

His pace grew more erratic, his hips snapping into mine with an urgency that sent waves of pleasure crashing through me. His ministrations worked me mercilessly, every thrust pushing me higher until I felt like I might break apart entirely.

"Azriel," I gasped, my voice trembling as my nails raked down his back, desperate to ground myself against the storm building inside me.

His lips brushed my ear, his breath hot and uneven. "Let go, love," he rasped. "I've got you."

His words were my undoing. The coil inside me snapped, and I shattered, my body arching off the bed as the pleasure tore through me. I cried out his name, gripping his shoulders as the waves rippled over me, again and again.

"Fuck," Azriel groaned, his thrusts faltering as my body clenched tightly around him. I felt him tremble above me, his restraint slipping with every broken sound that left his lips.

Through the haze of pleasure, I reached for his wings, running my fingers along the sensitive ridges where they flared above us. His reaction was immediate—a sharp intake of breath, his entire body shuddering.

"Gods," he ground out, his head dropping to my shoulder as I stroked the base of his wings, teasing the place I knew would unravel him completely. His hips snapped forward, deeper this time, and the broken groan that spilled from him sent another thrill through me.

"Az," I whispered, pulling him closer, my lips brushing his ear. "Inside.."

His head shot up, his molten gaze locking with mine as he searched my face. His jaw clenched, his restraint hanging by a thread as he rasped, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I breathed, my fingers threading through his hair, pulling him down to me. "I want all of you, Azriel."

The last thread of his control snapped. With a low growl, he buried himself inside me to the hilt, his wings flaring wide as his release took him. His body tensed, a shuddering groan spilling from his lips as he gave me everything. I held him tightly, my hands stroking the base of his wings as he rode out his climax, his hips jerking with the aftershocks.

"Gods," he whispered hoarsely, his forehead pressing against mine as he struggled to catch his breath. "You're everything, love."

I smiled softly, brushing a strand of dark hair from his damp forehead. "And you're mine," I whispered, my voice steady despite the emotion swelling in my chest.

Azriel's lips found mine in a kiss so tender, so reverent, that it stole the breath from my lungs. He stayed inside me, his body pressed tightly to mine, as though he couldn't bear to let go just yet. And I didn't want him to.

Not now. Not ever.

Comment or reblog with a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @hufflepuff-pa55 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @cumuluscranium @adharanotfound @azrielsmate3 @aelincaddel @hiddlestonspassionsackx @dee-writes-smut @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @pit-and-the-pen @mybestfriendmademe @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @circe143 @bubybubsters @joshysloshy @username199945 @ivy-34 @notsarareallynot @vixenshiftsvrs @aurorab99 @pey2618 @loving-and-dreaming @mmg777 @andreperez11 @thatacotargirl @123345566 @one-big-fangirl @moonslitluna @imyherondale @salvawhxres @bookishbabyyyy @anuttellaa @breadsticks2004 @azriels-human @mamita-vera @demetercabingreen-thumb @lorosette @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tothestarsandwhateverend @ahaha0246 @mellowmusings @mythicalcookie

[neonbutchery]

FUNDRAISERS FOR PALESTINIANS THAT ARE LOW ON FUNDS

Here are some fundraisers of Palestinians in/from Gaza who've reached out to me and that are very low on funds. If you're able to donate, I encourage you to (even if it's a small quantity, it can make a huge difference); and if not, share this post as much as you can.

DISCLAIMER: These fundraisers mostly aren’t vetted by any reliable bloggers or organizations, or I haven’t been able to find proof of vetting for them. That being said, I feel confident including them in this list since everything about them points to them being legit (for example, there’s wide picture and video documentation, and the GFM’s receiver is located in one of the countries where you’re able to receive money through the platform). Whether you decide to donate or not, it’s up to you. If one of these fundraisers is indeed a scam, please reach out to me with evidence of it so I can remove it from this list.

Rebuilding Hope: A Gaza Family in Need of Your Help (@majedgaza1) - $1243/$70000 - Majed and his family were able to escape to safety in Egypt. However, they're in need of funds to get safe housing and to pay for the education of his children so they can keep studying.

Help Whadi get cancer treatment and evacuate his family - £1739/£100000 - Whadi is a 17-year-old teenager with stomach cancer who needs urgent funds to continue his treatment and afford his medication. This campaign was vetted by the volunteer collective beesandwatermelons on Instagram, and can be found in their spreadsheet at #11.

Help me get my family out of Gaza (@karim-rasha) - 1530€/50000€ - Rasha needs help evacuating his family, which includes his elderly parents and young siblings (10 and 12 years old), from Gaza. The Tumblr account is managed by Karim, the eldest sibling.

Help us to survive from this war (@moneerraed) - 100€/35000€ - Monir, his parents, and four siblings need funds in order to evacuate Gaza after losing their shop and home.

Help Ahmed and his family get out of Gaza (@save-ahmed-family1) - 1203€/20000€ - Ahmed lost his mother when she was unable to access medical treatment after the ongoing Israeli aggression started. He now needs help to evacuate to safety alongside his wife and young daughter.

Save my family in Gaza Strip.. Help my family's children (@sara-97a) - 672€/50000€ - Ahmed and his family need urgent help evacuating Gaza, as well as affording food and medicine for his elderly mother who's a stroke survivor with diabetes and can't currently access treatment. He's got three young children as well.

Regardless of how small it is, any donation is incredibly helpful. Your five or ten bucks can be the difference and help any of the people here afford food, medicine, evacuation, and be able to survive the ongoing genocide. If not, please reblog so these fundraisers can get more eyes on them and be able to reach their goal.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: yandere, classism, degradation, possessiveness, obsessiveness, blackmail

gn reader - feminine clothing (jewelry: earrings, necklace)

Thinking about your rich boyfriend…

Rich boyfriend – who buys you clothes and jewelry every time you have a date, even when you tell him you feel bad receiving them all – that you have nowhere to wear such nice things – that a simple date is really more than enough. 

Rich boyfriend – who ignores you with a smile and shake of his head, asking you how you expect him to stop when you’re just the absolute cutest? Looking at him with those moon-big eyes, humble crinkle between your brows, and your lip tucked nervously between your teeth to keep from gawking. 

Rich boyfriend – who orders for you at all the restaurants he takes you to because he knows you’ve never been anywhere like it. Looking so adorably lost in your seat, flushed when staring at the menu written in a language you can’t read – knowing even if you could, you still wouldn't know what any of it meant. You’re so, so, so precious – eyes peeled like you’re a pet who’s just been allowed at the table for the first time.

Rich boyfriend – who plays four instruments, speaks five languages, went to an Ivy League institution, and will inherit his entire family’s business being the spoiled only child that he is.

Rich boyfriend – who just loves the messy household you grew up in – loves how you and your siblings interact with each other, looking like a bundle of pups all crammed in the same cage at a pet store – how your childhood bedroom is the size of his closet – filled with all sorts of trinkets you’ve kept growing up – stuff that would usually wind up in the trash at his house – polaroids of you as a teenager, past boyfriends in kissing booths, prom pictures, concert tickets, and old rusty friendship lockets. 

It’s all so… He scoffs. The word for it escapes him.

Suppose he doesn’t quite recognize the pricelessness of sentimental value as opposed to something actually sellable – but he finds it cute that you do. 

Though, it bothers him to some degree as well… that you would value an old pair of earrings gifted you by your grandmother instead of the actual antique diamond pair he’d procured for you. After all, one was a real historic piece worth a fortune a Russian duchess had snuck into England during the war, and the other was old junk made by a noname jeweler.

Rich boyfriend – who chokes on his spit when you sit him down and tell him you want to break up – who thinks he’s misheard – that you’re joking, playing some uncultured game he’s never been exposed to, some ill-taste past-time only poor people do to escape their bitter reality. 

But you’re not joking… 

You’re breaking up with him…You.. You… broke trash of worker-class scum… you’re breaking up with him?

You give him back all his gifts in a cardboard box – telling him you’re grateful but that you truly don’t have any use for such things – that you think your worlds are too different to coincide. 

Of course, you refrain from telling him you think he’s a classist snob. You have a feeling it would have gone completely over his head if you’d tried anyway, so there really was no point to it.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who’s never been told no in his entire life…

Rich ex-boyfriend – who buys your street and plans on scrapping it to make brand new mansions in a project he dubs “cleaning up the slums” – evicting and putting you and your entire family out of the home you’d spent your entire life growing up in.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who thinks you’re crawling back to him when you schedule an appointment at his office – who thinks you’re going to come in with bleary wet eyes and grovel like the lowly peasant you are – let him save you from poverty and homelessness, make you his charity case – his pretty diamond in the rough who’s never quite able to wash all the coal off.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who trashes that same office when you leave after having given him the address to the pawnshop you sold the one pearl necklace you’d kept as a token of your relationship – telling him he should feel free to go down there and get it back – that you’re using the money to buy a better house and you just wanted to come and thank him for that. 

Of course, you wanted to slap him too – spit on his tie or maybe just take a piss on his desk – but you left it at that.

Rich ex-boyfriend – whose next move is to buy your family business, who hires a private eye to dig up dirt on you and all your family, burying you in fines from age-old petty crimes, gets you kicked from your scholarship.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who goes to that pawnshop and reports the pearl necklace as a stolen item and has the police arrest you. Spinning a story about how he thought you were this humble sweet thing, only for you to rob him behind his back.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who comes to visit you in the custody suite where you sit cooped up with all the other wretched mutts on the cold concrete floors – scolding you for making him come down to a dirty police precinct, for having him breathe the same air as all the lowlives held up there.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who tells you he’ll make it all go away.

He’ll drop the charges, let your family keep their house – or buy them an even better one, whichever you prefer – he’ll even promote your family business and pay for all your siblings' education – he’ll give you everything. 

Anything you want, it’s yours.

But he owns you.

BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Naoya

HQ – Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins

BLLK – Reo, Rin

HxH – Illumi

[mirensiart]

some more wind and wars memes

about the first drawing: wind is going through the teenager phase were everything is embarrassing and were u think ur older siblings are cringe af, meanwhile wars is enjoying the older bro privilege of being annoying and cringe af because it embarrasses his lil bro lmao

about the second drawing: it’s still Tuesday where I am and damn, this week needs to end now

[thatdiabolicalfeminist]

How much do you think should be expected of a 17yo when his dad has major surgery?

Personally, I think it's reasonable to expect a teenager to take on more of the housework or babysitting, or things like that. I think it's good to have some way you can help when you're worried about someone you love.

But when a teenager has the weight on his shoulders of trying to make sure his family survives, that's a hard thing. I wish no teenager had to carry that burden.

Nader has been carrying that burden for awhile. He's a friendly, earnest kid and he's extremely determined to help take care of his family. Today he's stressing about his dad's surgery on November 11th and how they'll cover costs for that while still taking care of his little siblings in winter in a war zone.

Will you join me in taking care of this family?

My income is below minimum wage, so today I could only help with €5, but I know every little bit adds up!!

Be honest with yourself. Can you share €5 too? Maybe skip some treat in order to be the kind of person you want to be? Reblog with a receipt to show you helped!! (I put mine under the readmore)

You can rest assured that this campaign is legit!

It was verified by GazaVetters (#4), and I've also been seeing multiple videos circulating of Nader showing us what it's like on the ground in Gaza, with Tumblr blogs he's been in contact with held up on his phone. He looks exactly as he does in the fundraiser photos.

Please join me in sending tangible solidarity to this family, or at least share their gfm and consider setting a phone alarm for next time you get paid so you remember to contribute then.

Let's work together to live our values and take care of the vulnerable! 🤍🤍🤍

[suksatoru]

010. CARNATIONS

It was all a blur.

Desperate arms wrapped around his frame the moment he stepped into sight. Touya shed more tears than he had in years today, the faces in the back of his mind that were beginning to fade away became crystal clear in an instant. Twin diamonds shine and leave a salty trail down his cheeks when his mother finally hugs him.

She cradled Touya's face in her palms as her fingers rubbed gently against his skin—telling Touya she was so proud of him, telling Touya he looked so healthy—telling Touya she was so happy to see him. Touya smiles when he's sad, and it was truly a sight to behold. His eyes had shards of gold glittering in them as they caught the afternoon sun's rays, and his smile was so handsome and authentic, it looked like the Gods themselves had carved it into his face.

Natsuo wasn't as 'tough' as Touya remembered him. Because the moment Touya cursed his brother out for getting taller than him while he was gone, Natsuo weeped like a newborn. Maybe he was mourning all those years growing up without having his older brother by his side—the years he spent as a teenager thinking he was getting older than his Touya-nii ever got to be.

Fuyumi was strong—she was able to hold Touya up all on her own when he crumped against her, pressing his cheek into the crown of her head as he thanked her for staying shorter than him. Her laughter is wet with tears, but it was just as sweet as he remembered. Natsuo's was too—just seeing them smiling at him felt like they'd ripped past skin and fleshed and pierced Touya's heart with a dagger carved with love.

Shoto's eyes flittered between his siblings and mother—watching them all stand around Touya as he swayed on his feet, unable to hold himself up as they all murmur quietly to each other—there weren't many words spoken, just the occasional sniffling and hiccuping sobs as they fussed over him

Shoto doesn't know when you intertwined your fingers with his to hold his hand, but he'll be forever grateful you did because his chest is so tight he doesn't think he can breathe right. His eyes move fast, rapidly blinking as he watches the scene in front of him unfold from afar

He's never felt more like an outsider than he did right now. He was watching his family show more emotion in this moment than he's ever seen in years. He looks to you for a moment, almost hesitating to step towards them all as his eyes are clouded with an unmistakable mist. You squeeze Shoto's hand encouragingly, and soon enough, he's slipping out of your grasp and gravitating towards Touya.

He's facing Touya's back right now, watching his older brother lean into their mother's palm as she kisses his hands before Shoto clears his throat—an attempt to catch their attention. He can see the muscles in Touya's back physically tense before he turns around. Touya's eyes catch yours first—before they slowly move to Shoto.

Shoto isn't a very good hugger. He's not really sure how to wrap his arms around Touya without it being awkward. Unfortunately—Touya also wasn't a good hugger. He stills when Shoto slowly wraps his arms around him, the younger boy's eyes closing as his face bumps against Touya's chest. Touya's words are stuck in his throat as his mouth goes dry, a strange feeling spreading in his chest as he looks down to see Shoto's ivory and ruby strands pressed against him.

Touya always thought Shoto had grown up to be a carbon copy of their father. He didn't know why, but he never really assumed Shoto may have grown to be a good kid until the war.

So, Touya tries his best. Wrapping his arms around the younger boy and letting out a shaky breath as his eyes squeeze close.

Rei went overboard with dinner. The table was covered with all the classics—rice, grilled fish, miso soup, pickled vegetables—everything and anything you could imagine. Rei was so proud when she saw the look on Touya's face, her heart soaring as her son muttered something along the lines of how good the food looked.

You were Touya's support through the entire dinner as he spoke. Most of the questions he got asked consisted of how he was feeling and adjusting. He answered all of them remarkably well, his voice even and smile calm as he ate his dinner

You sat in between Shoto and Touya, and you almost wish you weren't sitting between them when you watch Shoto lean over the table to look at Touya every time he spoke. It was like he was in a trance as he watched his older brother speak—if Touya noticed Shoto's lingering stare, he didn't say anything.

Shoto wanted to hear every word that came out of Touya's mouth. And luckily, everyone stayed at the dinner table well after dinner was finished. The conversation was nostalgic and calm. It was sad and maybe sometimes Touya would have to blink back tears, but God, he loved it all so much.

Rei was quiet for most of the dinner, save for soft smiles as she listened to Touya talk. Even when he was a kid, Touya talked a lot. She wants to ask Touya if he knows how he subconsciously leans towards you during the entire dinner, whispering things in your ear that have you fighting a smile

It was stupid little jokes he made whenever someone wasn't speaking to him—he'd jump so fast whenever he noticed the attention wasn't on him anymore as his eyes found yours. Unfortunately, Touya didn't notice how his mother's eyes never left him.

She saw it all. The way your eyes crinkled with a smile whenever Touya said something stupid, how Touya offers to fill your glass and how you and him get into a quiet argument on who gets the bigger piece of fish, both of you insisting the other gets the larger half. You two end up sharing, smiling with silent laughter whenever his fork clinks against yours

Rei knows Touya's kindness isn't because of her parenting. It can't be. Touya was an angry and mean child, one who lashed out often and couldn't get along with others.

She had trouble dealing with Touya, and Enji did nothing but worsen his condition. Her own inner turmoil had her mind falling apart, and she had been struggling with the man who was supposed to protect them just as much as Touya was.

You made Touya like this—calming the storm in his heart Rei thought would rage on forever.

When he was Dabi, Touya was even worse. She had seen the news, she knew her first born was alive and wreaking absolute havoc. Years ago, his supposed death had been her breaking point. And, oh, what she would have given to save him from his inevitable fate.

She failed Touya. She and Enji, they had both failed him. Not intentionally—she never meant to fail him the way she did.

But you had not failed Touya, and Rei was going to treasure you forever for unknowingly saving her family.

Rei hadn't experienced real love before. But the way Touya just looks at you lets her know that even if she didn't get the privilege of being able to know what it was like, her son did. And that alone is enough to make her happy.

"Mom?"

Rei is startled, turning to look at Natsuo when he places a hand on her shoulder, dishes in hand. Everyone's dispersed by now, and she realizes she's the only one still at the table.

"You spaced out again." Natsuo says, a sad smile on his face as he gently rubs his mother's shoulder. Rei's lips part as she makes a little 'o' with her mouth, before smiling softly

"Touya's in love."

Natsuo blinks once, twice, before his lip twitches upward. He slides into the spot beside his mother, leaning in closer as he takes a quick glance at you and Touya—who was marveling over the endless channels on the big screen TV that was placed in the center of the living room, your laughter flowing through the air at his excited commentary—he was pointing out all of his favorite movies as a kid.

"I know. Just...try not to say anything to them, okay? It's definitely not something either of them can pursue yet. Bringing it up in front of them isn't the best idea right now." He mutters quietly as Rei nods slowly, the gears in her mind shifting as she stays quiet in thought. Fuyumi calls Natsuo from the kitchen, asking him to bring the remaining dishes as he quickly stands up, following her voice.

Shoto pretends he wasn't able to hear Natsuo as he keeps his head low, piling the remaining dishes into his arms before strolling after his older brother. Of course, you had offered to help clean up like a good guest earlier—but Fuyumi had shooed you and Touya away before either of you got the chance, telling you to get comfortable in the living room.

Rei tilts her head to try and get a better look at you. Maybe she's getting ahead of herself, but Rei's thinking of the silver wedding band laying on the edge of her vanity. It was a ring that meant nothing, never had when it was slipped onto her finger

But it was a beautiful ring.

She wished it had been spent on a truer love. On something real and tangible, something as beautiful as the delicate diamonds encrusted into it. She zeroes in on your fingers, watching the way they curl around the TV's remote as you dangle it out of Touya's reach. He growls and grunts in an attempt to snatch it back from you, his laughter peaking through his facade easily as your squeals sound through the air

Yes, your fingers look like they'd fit her ring. She didn't ever think about passing her wedding ring down to one of her children, never even considered the thought. But...

For the first time in so many years, it was laughter that bounced between the walls of this house. It was beginning to feel like a home again.

You and Touya are dancing around such a fine line so carelessly.

Touya doesn't even know he's in love with you. He knows he cares for you, knows you've become the most important person in his life—he knows he loves you in some sense, but it took him a lot longer than he'd like to admit to realize he was in love with you.

He can see the cartoon's reflection in your eyes as you watch the TV right beside him. His body, simply put, was drawn to yours. You're pressed against his side, and he can smell you. You smell sweet, and he resists the urge to sniff you.

The thought is odd. He pauses, blinking at the TV screen but not even absorbing what's going on as his eyes slowly drag towards you. Did he almost sniff you, just now?

Okay. Touya was weird, he already knew that. But when has he ever wanted to sniff someone? That was just fucking weird. Suddenly, he starts thinking—and it feels like he's been carelessly missing the ON button in the back of his mind, and it had finally been switched on my some miracle.

He's had these type of thoughts before. Actually—he's had a lot of these thoughts before. He had just...ignored them. Too engrossed in any moment with you to truly acknowledge them.

Yeah, he wants to sniff you. He wants to know what shampoo you use, he wants to know your favorite meal—you know his, when does he find out yours? He wants to know if you have siblings like him, he wants to know if you take cold showers or hot showers, he wants to know if you like his family, he wants to know if you like him the way he likes you.

The realization dawns on him slowly, and Touya realizes he has never been more clueless in his life.

He likes you.

No, not like a patient liked their doctor. And not like how a victim liked their savior—it wasn't like that.

He liked you like he'd die without you, like his heart would cease its beating and he would genuinely be unable to feel any semblance of happiness again if you slipped away

He suddenly realizes you can't like someone that much. It was another feeling, and he was in deep.

"Aw, fuck."

You peer up at him through your lashes, a confused hum leaving your lips as you tilt your head towards him in concern

Touya looks down at you, a small smile splayed on his lips. He thinks, no—he knows he'll never love someone this much.

"You know, I forgot this sucker died at the end." He mumbles quietly, taking your chin between his fingers and tilting it towards the TV as a whine escapes your lips

"Touya! You spoiled it!" You pout, looking at the cartoon and huffing—what kind of kid's movie has anyone dying in it?!

"I'm kidding." He murmurs with a quiet laugh, watching relief flood your features moments later as you tuck yourself back into his side

"Good. I like that little guy."

"The cat?" He muses, leaning further into you as his breath fans your neck

He's so warm. So welcoming and gentle—and you can't even try and stop yourself from leaning further into him.

"Yeah. He reminds me of you."

The cat in question, was a grumpy little thing that spends most of the movie snacking on sweet treats—its belly round and happy from being loved so well. It was a silly little side character, but in an odd way, it reminded you of Touya's little mannerisms. The way it pouted and huffed and cracked the most absurd jokes the entire movie had you smiling ear to ear.

His fingers find your sides quickly, and you try to pry his hands off as he tickles your side mercilessly—adorable huffs of "Touya, everyone's sleeping!" escaping your lips as you try and muffle your laughter, covering your mouth as he pulls your hand away from your lips—saying he wants to hear you squeal and laugh for him.

You get him back, of course. But he doesn't even try to be quiet as you tickle his belly. He laughs loudly, straight from his gut and filled with so much joy that you can't bring yourself to stop

Touya has a really nice laugh, you think, watching him grin so wide—you think it must hurt to be smiling so much. He suddenly hooks a leg over yours, and the both of you roll off of the couch and onto the ground in your fits of laughter—and not once, not ever, has Touya felt more loved.

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n; something is cominggggg 👀!

tags!

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