I originally meant to post it much sooner, but I ended up rewriting pretty much everything from the ground up, so here we are. Sorry about that ^^' It turned into something a lot heavier than I expected, but I think it says what I wanted it to say.
This is the second chapter from my songfic There are other ways , where Yuu is asked to direct a play from their world .
As I promised before, this second chapter is focused on Kalim and the strength it takes to keep your arms open.
If you haven't read the first chapter yet, the "bitter ending" , which is from Jamil's pov , you can find it here: There Are Other Ways
Next is finally the sweet ending ^^
Song: "Open Arms" from EPIC by Jorge Rivera-Herrans.
The noticeboard outside the auditorium hummed with the ghost of the day's excitement. Kalim stood before it long after the other students had drifted away.
Polites: Kalim Al-Asim.
A friendly role. A doomed role. He'd sung his heart out, and this is what it earned him.
It wasn't that bad, he told himself, bouncing on his heels. I'm just happy to be in the play at all!
His gaze traveled down the list. Stopped.
Circe: Jamil Viper.
The grin that split his face was so wide it almost hurt. He'd known it. He'd known.
—————————
Jamil was leaning against a column near the auditorium doors, arms crossed, face unreadable. Students milled around him, offering congratulations he accepted with smooth, polished nods. Kalim hovered at the edge, waiting.
When the last student finally drifted away, Kalim bounded forward.
"You can relax, my friend!"
Jamil's eyes slid toward him. One eyebrow lifted. "Huh?"
"I can tell you're getting nervous!" Kalim pressed on, clasping his hands behind his back. "So do yourself a service! And try to relax, my friend!"
Jamil's eyes rolled -just slightly- before he settled back into that cool mask. "I'm fine, Kalim."
The eye roll said I understand what you're doing. The words said stop trying. But Kalim pressed on anyway. He always pressed on. That was what you did when you wanted someone to know you cared.
"Think of all that we have been through!"
The words left his mouth before he could catch them. Too bright. Too much.
Something flickered across Jamil's face -too fast to name- and then he was already turning, pulled toward a group of first-years. He walked away without looking back.
Kalim stood alone.
It wasn't that bad, he told himself. He's just busy. He's just tired. It's fine.
"We'll survive what we get into," he murmured, so quiet it was barely a breath. A promise to himself. A thing he needed to believe.
—————————
Who should be the one worrying?
The thought followed him all the way back to his room.
He sat on the edge of his bed, the script open in his lap. The words blurred. He'd been trying to learn his lines for an hour, but they kept slipping away, replaced by the image of Jamil's face when he'd said Think of all that we have been through. That flicker. That look.
He read the same line three times. Nothing.
He needed help… He always needed help, didn't he?
He stood up, tucking the script under his arm. Jamil's room. He'd knock, ask for help, and Jamil would sigh -not annoyed, just tired- and sit with him and run the lines until Kalim got them right. Like always.
He walked down the hall, past doors he'd passed a hundred times, until he reached the one he was looking for. He knocked. Waited.
No answer.
He knocked again. "Jamil?"
Movement inside. The door opened -not Jamil. His roommate, a second-year whose name Kalim should probably know by now. He leaned against the doorframe, and for a second, something flickered across his face. Impatience, maybe. Or annoyance. It was there and gone before Kalim could name it.
"He's not here," the roommate said. "Left for the auditorium a while ago."
"Oh." Kalim's hand dropped. "I just -I was hoping he could help me with my lines, I-"
The roommate shrugged. Turned away. The door closed.
Kalim stood there, staring at the wood grain. He hadn't finished his sentence. Probably hadn't been expected to.
He's got better things to do, he told himself. Jamil's got real work. You should leave him alone.
He should go back to his room. Practice his lines alone. Figure it out.
He turned to leave.
Then stopped.
A while ago. How long was a while? Long enough that Jamil might be tired. Long enough that he might have forgotten to eat. Long enough that he might need someone to bring him something.
Kalim was already moving toward the kitchen before he knew what he was doing.
——————————
The kitchen at night was quiet. Kalim stood in the doorway for a moment, breathing in the smells of spices and old bread and something sweet lingering from dinner.
The place felt both familiar and unfamiliar. He moved through the space, looking for then pulling out a plate. From the cabinet, he retrieved a small box-oriental pastries, the good kind, the kind Jamil had liked when they were kids. Sticky with honey, dusted with pistachios, shaped like little crescent moons. His family sent them sometimes. Care packages from home.
He arranged them carefully on the plate. Three of them. Perfect.
He looked down at them. At his own hand, hovering over them.
His stomach turned.
Look at how you grip your sword,
The lyric came, unbidden.
The pastries were from his family. That was all. Just a detail. Nothing more. He didn't think about the last time he'd eaten something from a family package. He didn't think about the taste that followed. He just... couldn't serve them.
His hand dropped.
He picked up the pastries, one by one, and put them back in the box. Back in the cabinet. They were beautiful , tempting. They were from home. He couldn't serve them. Not to Jamil. Not to anyone.
-enough said.
Dates.
Dates were safe. Dates came from the palm, grew in the sun, could be picked by his own hands. And Jamil loved dates. Always had. Since they were kids, Jamil's eyes would light up when the date platter came out.
Kalim smiled at the memory and headed for the back door.
————————
He stepped out into Scarabia's garden , an oasis of green before the endless desert . The sand was cool beneath his feet, the air still warm from the day's sun. The date palm stood near the center of the courtyard, its fronds rustling softly in the night breeze. He'd passed it a thousand times without really looking at it. Now he stood beneath it, staring up.
The dates hung in clusters, dark against the moonlight, ripe and waiting.
Only the best for Jamil. Only the ripest, the sweetest.
He jumped, caught a low branch, and pulled himself up. The bark scraped his palms. The fronds rustled, showering him with dust.
He climbed higher.
One branch. Another. His arms were shaking already. Back home, there were servants for this. Gardeners. People whose job it was to climb and pick and bring the best fruit to the table. Here, there was just him.
His foot slipped.
For one heart-stopping second, he dangled, fingers wrapped around a branch that creaked under his weight. His heart slammed against his ribs. The sand was too far below. If he fell-
He didn't fall. He scrambled for a better hold, found it, pressed his forehead against the trunk and breathed.
It's fine. I'm fine.
His hands were raw. His arms burned. The dates were still out of reach.
He looked up at them. Gleaming in the moonlight. Perfect. Untouchable.
His eyes stung.
He climbed down, slow and careful, and when his feet touched the sand, he stood there for a moment, breathing. Then he raised his hand.
The magic carpet flew to him with a whisper. A national treasure, used for this. His father would be appalled. Kalim couldn't bring himself to smile.
He climbed aboard. The carpet rose through the branches, steady and silent. He reached out and plucked the dates from the highest clusters, one by one, filling his pockets.
They were perfect. Of course they were perfect. The carpet had done all the work.
Does it matter? he asked himself. Jamil won't know how you got them. He'll just see the dates.
But he would know. He would know that he'd tried to do something himself and failed, and he'd had to call on the family magic to finish it. The same family that sent pastries he couldn't eat.
He cut the thought off. Descended back to the sand. Headed inside.
The carpet followed at his heel, patient, waiting to be dismissed. He sent it away without looking back.
————————
Back in the kitchen, he arranged the dates on the plate. Gleaming under the lights. Perfect. Bought with magic instead of his own two hands.
Why take when we can give ?
His family was beloved by the public back home , for investing in the city infrastructure, for throwing parties everyone was invited to , for throwing money out their limousine’s windows when they passed a busy street.
He was the first in his line to possess the gift of magic. The true name of his unique magic, the spell closest to the truth of his soul, was "The Enduring Blessing"-the power to create an undying pool of fresh water in the desert.
But what if he had nothing to give? What if all he had was his family's name, his family's wealth, his family's pastries and his family's expectations? What was his? What did he have that was worth offering?
How could he offer an endless rain to someone already drowning in his mere existence?
He looked down at the plate. At his hands. At the scrapes on his palms from the bark, the only proof he'd tried at all.
He didn't have an answer.
He lifted the tray.
—————————
The hallway to the auditorium stretched long and dark before him.Two first year students hurried past him before disappearing into the shadows.
You can show a person that you trust them, when you stop and lower your guard.
He did trust Jamil. It wasn't a choice he made anymore -it was just there, rooted in his chest, as natural as breathing. The same trust he'd had since they were children, sharing dates and playing manqala in the cool of the evening.
But trust alone wasn't enough anymore. Not after the Overblot. Not with the whole dorm watching, waiting, whispering.
So he worked at it. Not the trust itself , but the showing of it. The smiling when the person in front of him wasn’t . The steady voice when his hands shook. The way he held the tray with both hands so no one would see him tremble.
He thought of the students who passed him earlier. Their polite, careful smiles. The way their eyes said Poor thing. Still doesn't get it. He thought of the ones who whispered about Jamil like an unable criminal , who looked at Kalim and saw a fool. Half the dorm, maybe more. The other half didn't look at him at all. They looked at Jamil, saying he should have been housewarden. His roommate was one of them. Probably.
“Here we have a chance for some adjustment. Give it a try, it's not that hard. I'm telling you.”
His voice, soft at first, then growing stronger, filled the empty corridor. The song came from his heart-it always did-but he pushed it out louder, brighter, letting it fill the silence. Letting it reach into the shadows behind him.
They didn't believe. Not yet. But maybe if he believed hard enough, if he smiled bright enough, if he showed them what trust looked like-
Maybe they'd follow. Maybe they'd see that Jamil was trying. That people could change. That open arms weren't weakness.
And if they didn't-at least Jamil would know someone believed in him. At least the rumors wouldn't reach his family. At least Kalim could protect him that way.
"This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms"
But even as he sang, something tugged at his mind. Again , Jamil's face when he'd said Think of all that we have been through. That flicker of something. Pain? Resentment? He still didn't know.
"Whatever we face, we'll be fine if we're leading from the heart"
The tray felt heavier now. He shifted it. His arms ached. His palms still stung from the bark. But he kept his voice steady. Kept the melody warm.
"No matter the place, we can light up the world"
What if he doesn't want my light?
The thought came anyway, sharp and cold. He pushed it down. Maybe it didn't matter if Jamil wanted it yet. Kalim would shine anyway. That was who he was. That was what he did. He lit up rooms. He brought dates. He trusted.
And maybe, someday, that would be enough.
”Here’s how to start”
He lifted his chin, straightened his shoulders, and kept walking.
”Greet the world with open arms”
——————————
By the time he reached the auditorium doors, he could hear voices inside. Singing. Jamil's voice, low and smooth. Yuu's, answering. Rehearsal. Of course.
Welcome!
He reached for the handle.
Stay back!
The words came together, a flash of something he hadn't called up himself. Like the door itself was answering. He pulled his hand back. He should wait until they finished the scene. He didn't want to interrupt.
He stepped away from the door, settling against the wall. Just for a moment. Just until they finished.
Inside, the voices continued. He couldn't make out the words, just the shape of them. The rise and fall of a scene in progress.
Stay back, stay back.
He was going to be Polites. Polites was hopeful. Polites believed in open arms. That was easy. That was him.
"My friend, greet the world with open arms."
He whispered the line under his breath. It felt good in his mouth. True.
Something shifted in the voices inside. A change in tone. Harder. Sharper. Kalim's smile faltered.
"We're only here for food."
He looked down at the tray. The dates. The tea. His offering. That was why he was here. To give.
Food, food.
The voices inside were louder now. Not singing-speaking. Arguing? He couldn't tell. The door was too thick. He focused on the dates again. The way they gleamed. The sweetness waiting inside. Jamil would like them. Jamil always liked them.
"Six hundred friends are waiting for us to show our faces."
His grip on the tray tightened. He should knock. He should interrupt. He should-
Food.
No. He was being ridiculous. Jamil knew what he was doing. Yuu could handle themselves. Kalim was just being paranoid. He looked at the dates. The perfect, safe dates. The ones he'd picked himself.
"Stay back, I'm warning you."
His heart was beating faster. He didn't know why. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong.
Food.
He pressed his ear closer to the door without meaning to. The voices were definitely louder now. Raised. A shout-Yuu? Jamil? He couldn't tell.
If we don't get back safely, my men will turn this place into blazes.
What if Jamil did it again?
The thought came unbidden, ugly and sharp. What if Jamil was in that room, right now, doing something he shouldn't? What if the Overblot hadn't changed anything? What if Kalim's forgiveness, his parties, his smiles, his protection-what if none of it mattered?
If Jamil hurt someone again. If word got out. If his family found out-
They would kill him.
Not metaphorically. Not "ruin his reputation." They would take Jamil Viper and his parents and his little sister and they would make them disappear.
Kalim's blood went cold.
Here you go!
He forced himself to breathe. Forced the thought away.
No. No. Jamil had promised. Jamil was trying. Jamil was better. Kalim believed that. He had to believe that. If he didn't believe that, then what was any of this for? The dates, the tea, the endless smiling-what was the point if he didn't actually trust?
He was being paranoid. He was being unfair. Jamil had done nothing wrong. Jamil was rehearsing. Everything was fine.
He waited. Listened.
——————————
Silence.
Sudden. Complete.
Kalim blinked. They'd stopped. The scene was over. That was good, right? That meant they were done. That meant he could go in now.
A laugh escaped him, soft and surprised. He'd done it. He'd waited. He'd trusted. And it had worked.
See?
"This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms!”
He hummed the melody under his breath, a little victory tune. The tray felt lighter now, or maybe that was his heart. He swayed slightly, the song bubbling up from somewhere warm in his chest.
"Whatever we face, we'll be fine if we're leading from the heart!"
He smiled. His hand loosened on the tray. They were probably just catching their breath. Actors did that. In a moment, he'd knock, and they'd invite him in, and Jamil would see the dates, and-
"No matter the place, we can light up the world-"
The sun was still shining. The sun was always shining. That was his job, wasn't it? To be bright. To be warm. To light up whatever room he walked into.
And tonight, he'd done it. He'd trusted. He'd waited. He'd been good.
"Here's how to start-"
He reached for the handle. The metal was warm now from his palm. Ready.
"Greet the world with open arms"
He pushed the door open, smile already on his face, ready to see Jamil and Yuu relaxing after a good rehearsal, ready to offer his gift, ready for everything to be okay.
"Greet the world with open -"
The door swung open.
The world stopped.
The prop bed. The tangled limbs. Yuu above, Jamil beneath-pinned, poised, intimate. Jamil's Circe robes, pink as a desert flower, draped around him like a shroud. His hair falling loose. His kohl-rimmed eyes wide.
Yuu was on top.
That wasn’t part of the script . This wasn't acting.
The smile froze on Kalim's face.
Yuu's eyes met his. Worried. Tired . As if they'd always known this would happen.
My friend, I wish that I could say that I agree.
The tray slipped.
Time shattered.
The golden teapot hit the ground with a sound like a heart breaking. Hot mint tea bloomed across the floor. Dates scattered like abandoned promises, crushed under his own heel as he stumbled back, as he turned, as he ran.
——————————
But look at the way this fruit is glowing and filled with glowing seeds.
The image burned behind his eyes with every step. Jamil’s costume , the soft pink silk ,the golden chain belt around his exposed waist. Jamil's eyes, piercing through him. Yuu's face , snapping toward him .
It took me a while to notice just what kind of fruit they eat.
He understood now. His optimism -the bright, shining thing he wrapped around himself like armor-was something he'd learned to do. Actively. Every day. He made himself swallow it, made himself believe, because the alternative was looking at his family, at his life, at the people who smiled at him across the dinner table, and admitting the truth.
It's a lotus, it controls your mind and never lets you free.
His legs moved with a will of their own. The hallway blurred.
His own silk nightwear clung to him as he ran like hands trying to slow him down.
Jamil's robes were lotus petals. Beautiful. Suffocating.
The lotus gave pleasure. It was sweet on the tongue, easy to swallow. And once you'd tasted it, you wanted more. Needed more. It wrapped around your mind and told you everything was fine, told you to stay, told you to keep swallowing, because the sweetness was worth it, wasn't it? The pleasure was worth the poison.
Kalim had been eating the lotus his whole life.
I’m fine. Sweet. Easy.
It wasn't that bad. Familiar. Comforting.
I'm all better now. He’d reach for it without thinking.
My life is so awesome. Can I really complain?
Easier to swallow than to fight.
At least I have Jamil
The sweetest one of all.
The lotus numbed everything. The fear. The pain. The truth that the people closest to him might want him dead.
He couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop. Because the lotus also gave him something else. Something he'd been reaching for since he was a child.
Jamil.
The dates. The tea. The hours spent together. Jamil's rare smile. Jamil's laugh. The way Jamil was there, always there, even when Kalim had nothing to offer but his company.
Jamil was the sweetness that made all the rest bearable. Jamil was the lotus he'd never stop eating.
———
He ran.
The hallway stretched ahead of him, endless and cold. His feet pounded against the marble.
Behind him, footsteps. Pounding. Desperate.
"Kalim!"
His name. Jamil's voice, cracked and raw.
He didn't stop.
"Kalim, wait-!"
The staircase loomed ahead. He hit the first step, nearly slipped, caught himself, kept running.
That's what we'd get with open arms.
Fragments of memories crashed into him.
Pitying eyes. “Poor thing.”
Whispers. “He should have been housewarden”
Jade’s smooth voice :”The way you blame yourself and try to excuse him is galling”
Yuu's weary gaze, saying nothing.
And Jamil. Jamil in his room. Jamil across the table. Jamil's voice: "I’ll never be your friend."
They'd all warned him.
"Please-!"
Jamil was closer now. Kalim could hear the silk of his costume brushing stone.
"Kalim, I didn't-It wasn't-!"
The voice was right behind him.
Kalim reached the top of the staircase. The exit was there. A door.
"KALIM!"
The shout cracked through the air. Desperate. Broken.
Kalim's hand reached for the door.
And stopped.
He stood at the top of the staircase, back still turned, chest heaving.
Behind him, Jamil's footsteps slowed. Stopped.
The silence stretched.
Kalim could hear his own heartbeat. Could smell the mint tea still clinging to his clothes.
He thought about the dates. The carpet. The scrapes on his palms.
He thought about walking through the dark hallway, singing about open arms, believing it.
Lotus-eaters,
He had been eating the lotus his whole life. The lotus of forgiveness. The lotus of hope. The lotus of open arms. He knew it. He felt sick of its sweetness.But-
He thought about Jamil, standing somewhere behind him, waiting.
Kalim took a breath that shuddered through his whole body.
I'd like to show my friend that kindness is brave.
Sorry if this comes out as weird but like ages ago I posted the first chapter of my jamikali song fic There Are Other Ways on my other account Golden-shade-of-moon (you probably don't remember it's fine ^^' ) and you commented that you really wanted the sweet ending . I hadn't followed up on it because I noticed that I posted a non editted version on Tumblr and I was too embarrassed to do something about it sorry . I have since reworked that chapter and posted it on ao3 and before getting to the sweet ending (that m gonna rewrite too) I reworked the following chapter which is from Kalim's pov . I wanted to ask if you would be interested in reading that before I post it officially. I totally get that that's not at all what you asked for and you probably lost interest in the fic long ago but I was really happy to read your comment (thanks a lot btw) so I thought I might still offer that . I m really sorry if this text is just annoying or you're just not interested you don't have to answer of course . Have a nice day !
Ahh, sorry sorry. I js saw this! I remember reading your story! Don't worry, the text isn't annoying!!
For the fic itself, I'm still pretty interested in it! However, I think reading the chapters when it officially comes out is a better experience for me! But I'm really glad my comment made you happy !!
The only light that illuminated the room was the small lamp by Riddle’s bedside. A small—almost inaudible—groan slipped past his lips, a hand moving to reach out to his side. And as he expected—uhm… The space was… Empty? How odd… He could feel the sheets crumpled underneath his skin. Wait—his eyes widened, realization slowly setting in.
…You weren’t there.
You weren’t by his side.
He shot up out of bed—his eyes adjusting to the darkness in the room, trying to find you, as if hoping you were just sitting on the desk. Or maybe the floor—something he still couldn’t wrap his head around, why did you like sitting (even lying) on the floor, okay he’s getting out of track.
Right. You.
…He turned his head, eyeing the small plush sitting on your bed, okay… He thought of every possibility—coming to one conclusion: You were in the bathroom.
How was he so sure? Well—for starters, you’d never leave your… Beloved plushie, unless you were to head to the bathroom. m
Seeing it sitting on the bed—staring up at him, put a sense of ease in him.
He rubbed his eyes, a small sigh slipping past his lips before grabbing the book by his nightstand—he made himself comfortable, sitting upright with his back to his (now resting on the headrest) pillow. He opened the page he was last on before reading the contents. He figured if he was going to wait for you—he might as well finish the rest of the pages of the chapter he was on.
…That was—if he succeeded.
You came back to the room, after traversing the multiple stairways in Heartslabyul—how did the students not get lost? It was crazy how many twists and turns you had to… Wait—shouldn’t you have memorized the paths by now? You are Heartslabyul’s housewarden’s partner. Nevermind—.
Slipping into the room, as quietly as you could—cringing as the door creaked open, you let out a sigh as you stepped foot inside, closing the door behind you—quietly… Quietly… “Shut. Up!” Damn. Okay.
You sighed as you walked back to the bed, only to stop when you noticed Riddle sitting up, his eyes were closed—the book he had been previously reading resting open on his chest.
…Isn’t that so cute? He was waiting for you! But it seemed he forgot to account for his own weariness taking over…
A small chuckle slipped past your lips as you walked by his side, grabbing the book—putting the bookmark over the page and placing it (after closing the book) on his bedside table. Figuring he’d probably feel stiff from falling asleep sitting up, you gently guided his head and body to lie down, slipping the pillow under his head, before you slipped back into your side of the bed, putting the plushie by your side before letting sleep overtake you.
Good night, Riddle and You ♪
ᰔ ) Leona Kingscholar
The air was… Surprisingly cool, if only the morning air was too. Anyways…
…Shuffle shuffle.
What the… What was that noise? What time was it? Leona was—briefly—irritated for a moment, his ears flicking once, but he thought nothing of the noise. Maybe it was just an animal—or the air picking up and rustling the bushes outside.
Shuffle shuffle.
With a harsh grumble, half-asleep, half-aware of his surroundings, his ears twitched once… Twice… Thrice… Okay—I’ll get on with it. That shuffling, was coming from… The other side of the bed?
You tried your best to make the least amount of noise you possibly could, cringing at the sound of the harsh grumble—but seeing as he didn’t move, you let out a sigh of relief, he wasn’t awake yet.
Moving your leg over the bed, you hoisted yourself up—”Ack—!” You yelped, shivers running up your spine as something—someone grabbed your wrist, turning your head to the side… You see Leona glaring at you, sleep still evident in his eyes.
“Where are you heading off to?” He grumbled, his hand reaching up to run through his tangled hair. “Tt. Sun isn’t up yet.”
“...I need to go to the bathroom,”
“Should’ve just said that instead of makin’ so much noise.”
You swore you could feel a vain popping, before you looked down—realizing his hand having left your wrist already.
“So? Go.”
Geez… Bossy much? How do you deal with him… And he’s asleep already, his back turned to you as you got up and left the room.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The clock was ticking—an irritating noise. If Leona was still awake, he might’ve had a mind to throw that thing across the room with how it was irritating his sleep. Thankfully, he was asleep.
Creakkkk…
The door opened with a creak that made you cringe, the lights from the lanterns posted outside creeping in through the door as you walked in, finding Leona still fast asleep—just as he was when you left the room—before slipping back by his side. A small smile plastered on your face when you slipped into the blankets, your back facing him. Your eyelids get heavier as sleep calls out to you.
…Shuffle shuffle.
…Leona wasn’t asleep, he rolled back to the side, tail tucked between your thighs, his hand moving to your cheek. “Tt.” He grumbled, pulling you into his side before falling asleep, curled up into you.
Aw… Good night you two ♪
ᰔ ) Azul Ashengrotto
“...Mmn,” a soft groan slipped past his lips—his arm moving over his face as his [other] hand moved to grab your side of the bed.
…Huh, odd. Was his bed always this empty?
…Wait.
Shooting up, Azul’s eyes widened as he looked around the room. The bed—it was empty, apart from him that is, a–anyways… You weren’t there.
Where were you? Panic slowly quickly settled into the pit of his stomach, his breathing having quickened as he grabbed his glasses and put them on, turning on the lamps by the bed.
No. You wouldn’t have left so suddenly—right? …Right?
No, that’s right! He thought of everything—anything he could’ve done that would’ve possibly made you upset. you both never went to bed upset or angry at each other. Right… Right. Nothing bad—no arguments, no tears, no nothing.
You… You probably went to the bathroom—or to get water. Yeah! That’s it…
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Azul swore he was going insane, his back to the bed frame, he let out a shaky breath, his hand running through his hair as he looked at the clock. Azul knows you’d never leave him, but… There’s this part of him that fully believes that—ah?
Creaaakkk…
The door creaked open, a figure—slowly—entering, trying to make the least amount of noise possible.
“Ack! Azul!” You yelped—surprised to see Azul sitting up, awake, when he should’ve been sleeping… When he should be resting for an early morning at the Lounge.
“Crap—you scared me, why are you awake? Oh! Did I wake you?”
“...No, you didn’t. I just… Couldn’t sleep.” He answered, his fingers moving to push up his glasses as he looked at you. As if waiting for an explanation… “Ah—I had to use the bathroom,” you chuckled—not noticing the slight sigh of relief that escaped him as he set his glasses back down.
“Ahem. I see,”
He waited until you settled back into bed, cozying up against the blankets—you let out an amused huff when he settled into your arms. That’s right. Your arms, not the other way around.
You let out a sigh as you saw the crease of his brows relax, your fingers moving to brush his hair back away from his face, threading gently through his hair. Maybe you should’ve said something—knowing his anxious attachment issues—but, how could you have when he looked so peaceful sleeping?
Well… Doesn’t matter now.
Good night to the both of you ♪
＞ ◞ ◞ ⟡ ◞ ◞ ＜
reblogs and likes are heavily appreciated !
i haven't been writing much... i know. i lowk went through a few things but i'm much better now, and hopefully i can be more productive :3
✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #640 )✅️
My name is Fatima, a 21-year-old woman🤰.Just one month before the war, I was engaged, dreaming of a warm home and a small family.But the war tore us apart—my fiancé and I were separated between northern and southern Gaza, with no way to communicate💔.
Despite the pain, we held on to hope. Months later, I left my family and joined him.We got married, believing it was the start of a new life.But the bombing returned, and we were displaced again… Now we live in a fragile tent in western Gaza, awaiting the birth of our first child amid conditions unfit for life🥹😭.
I’m pregnant🤰, and my due date is near🥹. I have none of the essentials I need as a mother or even as a human being🙏.We lack everything: medical care, food, clean water, and basic supplies for childbirth and the baby🥲.
I’m not asking for the impossible—just enough to protect my life and my baby’s
Your donation is our only hope🥹😢.
I am Fatima, a 21-year-old woman.I got engaged just one month before the war started. My dreams were simple: a warm home, a small family, an
My campaign is new and has not received much support. Please support me and my family.
https://chuffed.org/project/helpfatema
✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #640 )✅️
I hope you're well. I'm not well. I'm living in harsh conditions during the war, especially since I lost part of my family and my home. I live in a tent with my twin children. They need diapers, food, and medicine. I live alone with my children inside the tent, even though it's not a suitable place to live and not safe for my children. All I want from you is your help, because it means a lot to me and will help save the lives of my young children. Please, friends.🇵🇸💔😭🇵🇸🇵🇸
Vetted by association! Samah is a friend/family of Falestine @/yousef-fals @/falestine-yousef (shared by 90-ghost, shared by el-shab-hussein)
Low funds! Only $252 Raised of $30,000
Samah has a pair of twins who are only 2 years old!
You can enter my necklace raffle (2.0) if you donate to this fundraiser!
I'm a New Yorker fundraising for my friend Samah. Here is her story:
Your donations help people facing frequent bombings every day afford food, water, and other basic needs – it is literally lifesaving!! Please share this fundraiser and donate if you are able to! Every little bit helps!
Tagging for reach~ Please dm me if you want of the mailing list! Thank you!
I’m living for how this is a combination of a villain song but also an ‘i want’ song. The high notes go INSANE and you can feel Jamil’s desperation to be free in his voice 😭🥺💕
There's a tag floating around that spells Leona's last name wrong, so if you click the tags Tumblr recommends when you post a fic, BE CAREFUL!!!
I know lots of people, myself included, follow the Leona Kingscholar x reader tag and check it often. For a long time I've been seeing fics about multiple characters (including Leona) only show up in the tags of other characters. I was confused and thought people were just not tagging his name, but when I looked closer i saw the tag. This is probably because they clicked the autofilled tag when posting! I know this tag has been a problem for a long time but I've seen it happen a lot more recently so I wanted to point it out. Here are the two tags.
"Leona Kingsholar x reader"🚫🚫🚫
"Leona Kingscholar x reader" ✅✅✅
See how the first one is missing the letter "C" in his name? They look sooooo similar at a glance, it's really easy to miss!
I try to send a quick message to anyone who has accidentally used this tag, but I hope this post can notify some people in advance. I feel so bad knowing how hard people have worked only to post in the wrong tag and then get a fraction of the notes they should. Please don't be discouraged, writers!!!!!
dailybridgerton
kianamaiart
jacobvanloon
snowghoul
