First part of a two part fanfiction(may write more than two chapters if I get extra inspiration)
Summary: Regulus and Reader have been dating in secret since their fourth year. After returning from winter break of their sixth year Regulus tells reader to meet him at the Astronomy tower at Midnight.
Or: Regulus receives the darkmark during winter break of his sixth year. Now he must face the music and tell the truth to his partner
Can also be found on my ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whydoineedthisusername/pseuds/whydoineedthisusername
It was dark that night. With stormy clouds and bleak skies.
Midnight.
The cold air biting into my skin as I lie in wait for him to come.A note transferred to my pockets in the crowded halls. Discreet and unsuspecting as James tugged me along to the Great Hall.
“Meet me at the Astronomy tower at midnight.”
Nothing more, nothing less, no smiles or caring words. Not even a hint of eye contact lest we risk my brother catching on.
Thunder rumbled in the distance as I was lost in thought. What could it be? Rarely do we meet on school nights; rarely does he need to pass a note. Usually he draws me into a classroom or empty hall to confirm my presence at the tower.
Not that he ever needs to. It's always the same, Saturday at midnight, lost in one another for hours. It's been that way for two years. Ever since we got paired up in fourth year potions; it became irreversible. The hidden touches, whispered secrets, stealthy gazes, became integral to our lives at Hogwarts. The moment our eyes met it was inescapable. Yet still, this change of pace unsettles me.
I’m not stupid. It's impossible to ignore. The war that wages outside this castle. The rise of the Dark Lord. I know what it means for Regulus. Being from the most Noble and Ancient House of Black that darkness surrounds him. This war, this Dark Lord, the Deatheaters have been a part of his life before I even knew of Voldemort's existence. Before the war officially began, the Blacks had already been well established in his favor. I know of the pressures Regulus faces. The expectations. The future his family charted for him does not include joining the Order like his brother. No, like his parents, his cousins, his friends, he is expected to become a servant of the Dark Lord.
A Deatheater.
Is that what this meeting is about? Or has his mother finally found out about our relationship? Is he ending it of his own accord?
I sigh. It's been ten minutes of nothing but my own thoughts, spiraling to the worst possible conclusions. I could be worrying over nothing, maybe this is just another simple meeting, maybe he wanted to see me after hours on more than just Saturday nights. But something is holding me back from believing that. Something in the back of my mind, maybe it's just the abrupt change in routine, maybe it's how quickly he walked away, or the way he wouldn't meet my eyes during dinner. Whatever it is, something tells me it's not that simple.
Footsteps. I turn around before he can even open his mouth to speak and I smile, albeit hesitantly, as Regulus enters my focus. The pit in my stomach continues to build.
“Reggie”, I whisper, practically breathless. The nerves and anticipation rising with every second. His lips twitch into a barely noticeable smile before quickly falling into his infamous frown once again. His eyes are stormy and conflicted, wary and broken, everything about them screams bitter acceptance. As if he's already certain of how this conversation will end.
“Y/n...” He starts but quickly trails off, seemingly unable to find the words he called me here for.
“What is it Regulus, why did you want to meet up tonight?” I ask, trying my best to disguise the uncertainty and fear in my voice. I'm not particularly successful as his frown deepens when I speak.
“We need to talk”, he says with that same uncertainty and apprehension in his voice that had filled my own just seconds ago.
“I know that…” I trail off again. “What about?”
I ask, nervously biting my bottom lip as I wait for his answer. He takes a breath and as he goes to speak I swear I can hear a clock chime deep within the castle. Definitive and foreboding.
He can barely meet my eyes as he goes to speak, brows furrowed, subconsciously grazing his arm. I've rarely seen him like this. So uncertain, the few times I have were during the weeks after Sirius ran away. When he showed up beaten and bloody at our doorstep, bags packed, and notably no Regulus in sight. He had confided in me then, on this same tower, about how he missed his brother, how he hated him, how he regretted not running away with him, and finally, how he knew he never could. This doesn't bode well at all for whatever he's about to tell me. My heart drops again.
“It's-”, he clutches his arm again. “Over winter break…”
his gaze doesn't meet mine, focused solely on the floor. Instinctively I step closer to him, my gaze wary but soft, my hand grasping his shoulder.
“Y/n I'm sorry but I…I had too.” Regulus says as tears fill his eyes.
“Had to what Regulus?” I ask, despite knowing, at least subconsciously, exactly what he meant. I study his expression, his face, the dark eyebags under his now wet grey eyes. He's exhausted, scared, and most notably, he's resigned. To his fate, to his family, to how he has decided this conversation will go, I'm not sure. Maybe all three. He looks as if his head has been thrust into the pillory and the guillotine has already begun to fall.
Instead of answering, he begins to lift the sleeve up his left arm. Slowly, as if once he's done everything will be final. I hold my breath as it finally comes into view.
The darkmark. Symbol of Voldemort's henchmen, of the Deatheaters. It stains his porcelain skin. A blemish on Regulus and myself. I stare down at it, my face pulled into a frown and it feels like reality has finally come crashing down on us. What does it matter if we've spent two years evading the watchful eyes of our siblings, of our friends, of every student at Hogwarts? What does it matter that we've spent every break writing to one another in secret, never signing the letters in case a nosy sibling or parent would read them? What does it matter that I've been fully prepared to defend Regulus to the end of the earth once it were to come out? That I had already accepted the distrust and disgust my friends and brother would throw my way once I told them. What does all of that matter when the war is inescapable and has finally caught up to us? It's not fair, I think, that we've had to take so many precautions, just to be within each other's arms, only for that mark, that symbol, to stain everything we've worked towards.
I take in a shaky breath and look up to Regulus. My eyes filled not with betrayal, not with anger, but instead sadness and grief. I take another step closer to him and despite the hideous snake and skull that now consumes his left arm, I hug him tightly and bury my face into his shoulder as I let my own tears rush out. He doesn't say anything, doesn't react at first, but slowly and surely wraps his arms around me and sobs. We stay like that for a while, unable to stop the emotions that have overtaken us. I can't think about what this means but at the same time I can't ignore it. I've been able to run from this war for so long, despite knowing how many slytherins had already joined his ranks, despite knowing my brother and his friends have joined Dumbledore's order, despite Lily telling me I too should consider joining, I had fooled myself into thinking this war wouldn't reach us. That me and Regulus were owed just one more year of peace before it was finally shattered.
Slowly I remove my face from crushing Regulus’ shoulder and try to compose myself. I have dried tear stains covering my face and a shaky frown on my lips but at least I'm no longer sobbing. Regulus looks down on me, tears still glazing his eyes and that defeated expression still frozen on his face.
“Regulus”, I start, my voice shaky and hoarse.
“I-”, he cuts me off before I can even form a sentence, his voice wavering ever so slightly.
“You don't have to say anything Y/n. I understand. You don't have to spare my feelings, you can leave, I understand”. He places firm emphasis on that last part, knowing of my families standing within the order, knowing of their beliefs and my own, knowing the inevitable danger staying with him would put me in, how much I could lose by doing so, but my eyes widen slightly at his words, at his acceptance, and another tear slips down my face.
“I'm not going to leave you Reggie. I don't want to.” I say as I reach up to cup his cheek. I take a quick glance down at the mark that's still so prominently on display and sigh before looking back into his eyes.
“I-, I already knew this was a possibility. I'm not naive. I know what your family is like. I know their values…” I say, voice firm, a stark contrast to just moments ago.
“I'm not going to lie and say I'm not devastated that you've taken his mark, that you've joined his side…” I break eye contact with him looking off in the distance as I contemplate my next words. “But I knew what I was getting into, I've always known.” I use my thumb to wipe away an escaped tear. “This mark, this allegiance, I know you Regulus, It's hard for me to believe you would seek it out.” My voice is bitter as I speak, not at him, but at the Dark Lord for going after children, at his family for their expectations and the weight they've placed on his shoulders, at me, for allowing myself to fall for a boy I knew would one day bare this mark, and more importantly, for not being nearly as angry at him as I should be. Where was that Gryffindor sense of justice we prided ourselves in? Where was that righteousness my family wore like a heart on our sleeves? Why couldn't I find it within myself to get mad at him? Why do I instead feel a deep rooted sorrow and an unshakable determination to get through this?
As I lost myself within my thoughts Regulus began to speak. Voice soft, whispering as if he’s scared to be overheard. As if vocalizing it will make it more real.
“I didn't want this Y/n, my mother and father, they let him into our home and brought me to his feet.” He looks at me, tears beginning to well up again.
“I knelt for him and let him brand me with this mark. They were all watching…I couldn't- I couldn't refuse”, he says looking away from me, shame, guilt, and resentment filling his voice. His words confirm what I already knew, that his parents had made him stand by the Dark Lord's side, the fears I had, the fears Sirius had, the fears Regulus himself had, had finally come true. The Blacks made their favorite son take on the mark of a monster and of course he agreed because who was Regulus black to defy his fate? Who was he to deny the will of his parents? And now, who is he to defy the will of the Lord they made him serve.
This time I pull him close to me and embrace him again. My fingers running through his hair as I speak. “I know Reggie, I know…” I say soothingly, hoping to calm him down. I hold him tighter as I feel him begin to cry softly again. I look down at him in pity, at what he's agreed to join, the lord he has promised himself to, the conflict I could see within his eyes.
“We'll get through this Regulus, you don't have to worry about me going anywhere, I'll be right here with you through everything okay? We've made it this far already, this mark isn't going to change anything.” As I say this I remove myself from his hold and bring his left arm up to my lips, leaving a trail of soft kisses up his dark mark before finally kissing his lips with a bittersweet smile and a warm gaze.
We made our bed years ago when I first smiled at him across the Great Hall, ignoring my brother's and his friends' antics and Regulus smiled back despite the daggers his brother glared at him. If we have to lie in them now, after years of sneaking around and lying to our friends and families, then so be it. Whether that bed lies in hogwarts, my home, or Grimmauld place, whether it's filled with lions and snakes, it will be our own to claim. I will stand by Regulus Black, through it all, and he too will stand by me and nothing anyone says or does, the Marauders, our parents, or even the Dark Lord himself, will be able to change that.
well 🧍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.
I'm participating in artfight 2025! I'm new to artfight and wanted to share my ocs here!
My user is flowersandcentipedes here's a link: https://artfight.net/~flowersandcentipedes
I also am doing oc themed poems as attacks/revenges(wouldn't count officially or for points) so if you're interested fill out my hitlist!: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSccfJR4DdM87d3xUP4tHIJvwy6PPqyJ5NKgUabH6gFmTUPYgw/viewform?usp=dialog
Anyway here are my silly little guys! None of them have names yet🥲
My demon oc:
My serial killer oc:
Lastly my elf oc:
Also feel free to drop your user! I can't guarantee I'll attack you but I'll atleast check out your account and characters!!!
When a child from your settlement goes missing, you go willingly into the woods to rescue him from the entity that dwells there. You're not at all prepared for what you find. Based on the tale of Tam Lin. Warnings for dubcon + smut. if you know the story, then you know what else is coming. if not, brace for impact.
part 1
part 2
The dizziness swamps you all at once, the knife and chopping block swimming and doubling before your eyes. The nausea comes up a split second later. You clench your jaw and turn away from your work, breathing through your nose. It’ll pass. It always passes. Even if you have to throw up everything you’ve eaten today – which isn’t much – it’ll pass eventually.
“Hey,” Keigo says from next to you. He sounds worried, or maybe annoyed. You’d probably be annoyed, if you were him. You’d just hide it a little better. “Are you going soft on me? I can do this myself.”
“I’m not going soft.” The wave of nausea passes, and you pick up your knife again. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Keigo raises his eyebrows. “Because that’s the second time in a row you’ve done – that –”
“I do it other places, too,” you say. You look down at the bloodstained chopping block, at your equally bloodstained hands and apron. It’s not the blood that’s making you sick. You don’t know what it is. “Let’s get this done. I don’t want the other chickens to freak out more than they have to.”
Meat is hard to come by these days, but the kids have to have at least some of it, and that means slaughtering animals. You and the others do most of the livestock tending yourselves, because the kids have a bad habit of getting attached to the animals, but you and the others are just barely adults yourselves, and run about the same risk of getting attached. The job of slaughtering animals when it’s needed goes to Keigo, who never gets attached to anything – and to you, because you can grit your teeth and get through whatever needs to be done.
You’ve always been like that, always thought of yourself that way, but earlier this summer you were put to the test, and you passed. After what happened in the woods with Tam Lin – Tomura, your mind whispers, and you ignore it – there’s nothing you aren’t able to survive. The fact that you survived almost in one piece is the answer to any question about your own determination you’ll ever ask.
Izuku’s bounced back fast from his visit to the woods. Other his newfound ability to scare the living daylights out of the other kids with his vivid descriptions of Tam Lin, he’s his normal self, albeit with more friends than before. The world held Katsuki to his word about his treatment of Izuku. And in case Katsuki ever wanted to forget, Izuku keeps the white rose he stole from Tam Lin with him at all times. Any and all attempts to steal it from him have gone poorly. You’ve spent more time picking viciously hooked thorns out of kids’ fingers over the past two months than you have patching up scraped knees.
You show up in Izuku’s stories, too. He tells the other kids about how brave you were, how you weren’t scared of Tam Lin at all, how you got him out of the woods and got yourself out, too, safe and sound. Nobody questions him, not even the others your age, which means your act is working. Or if it’s not working, there’s something that won’t let them see the truth. The songs and legends of Tam Lin are perfectly clear. Everyone knows what happens to Tam Lin’s victims, and everybody can imagine how they’d look and feel afterwards. You aren’t behaving like someone whose virtue Tam Lin stole. You don’t feel like that, either.
Or do you? When you think about what happened in the woods that night, you feel like your mind is going to fracture under the strain. You would never have slept with him if you didn’t have to. You kissed him because you chose to. The way he touched you felt good, and you let him – no, you wanted him to give you more. He wanted everything, and you gave it, and you didn’t want to – but you liked seeing the effect you had on him. You liked seeing a creature of myth and legend brought down to earth by you, liked what happened when you whispered his real name. Tomura, he said, and then: Do you remember? How could you forget? You see what happened between the two of you in your dreams.
You see other things in your dreams, too, or feel them. In your dreams there’s a sense of urgency you can’t explain, an undercurrent of fear that’s not your own. And it’s been getting worse. At first it was just a whisper. Now it’s strong enough to snap you awake – and if it doesn’t, you have the nausea to keep you from sleeping well. You’d worry that it would tip off the others if they weren’t constantly tired, too. Natsuo and Fuyumi, Manami and Yue, you and Keigo – there’s more than enough things on your minds to keep you up at night.
You and Keigo finish the slaughtering, and you shed your apron and wash your hands before taking the chickens to Yue in the kitchen. She has help in the form of some of the older kids, but she’s still nominally in charge. She gives you a pleading look. “Save me,” she says. “I hate it in here. I like eating, not cooking.”
“Same,” you say. She gives you a weird look. “What?”
“You barely eat anything I make,” Yue says. “If my cooking sucks that bad, you should do it yourself.”
You’ve been eating a little less overall, mainly because you’re not sure what’s making you nauseous and you don’t want to waste food that could go to somebody else. “Your cooking is fine. It’s just a me thing. And I’ll swap with you if you want to do the slaughtering.”
“Ew. No.” Yue shivers. “Just come back and help me later.”
“I can help now,” you say, but then a little-kid shriek splits the air and your blood turns to ice for a second. “Okay, I can help when I’m done with that.”
“Go,” Yue says. Now she looks like she feels bad for you. “Good luck.”
You race off through the settlement looking for the source of the shrieking, and you find it in the pavilion where Fuyumi teaches classes for the younger kids. The meltdown’s coming from the primary school kids, and as you get closer, you see that Fuyumi’s trying her best to soothe them while looking pretty upset herself. You come in for a landing next to Denki and Toru, both of whom are crying. “Hey, what’s going on here?”
“It’s gone,” Denki wails, and points at the settlement’s cassette tape player. “The music. It’s gone forever.”
“That’s not what I said,” Fuyumi says. “I just said it wasn’t working right now –”
“It’s never not worked before,” Hanta protests. “You have to bring it back!”
“I said we could take it to Manami later –”
“But we want it now. You promised –”
While Fuyumi tries to settle the kids, you investigate the tape player. Fixing stuff isn’t your strong suit, but it was working fine yesterday. Maybe it just broke, or maybe it’s something with the batteries. You run off to find the battery tester, and when you come back, you find Keigo helping Fuyumi physically restrain the kids from taking the tape player apart. “If it’s just the batteries, we don’t need to take it apart,” you say. You pry open the panel on the back and show the kids the batteries that are inside. “Now I’m going to test them.”
All four batteries are dead. You tell the kids it’s not broken, which helps them calm down a little bit. “We can get the music back,” Natsuo promises. He showed up at some point. Now everybody’s here but Rumi and Yue and Manami. “All we have to do is get some more batteries.”
“When can we get them?” Katsuki asks. “You said we could have music. It was my turn to pick the song.”
“Which song were you going to pick?” you ask. “I could sing it for you.”
The promise of the tape player being fixed and the prospect of another song is enough to calm most of the kids down. Katsuki still looks upset. “You can’t sing like the tape can.”
“No, but she’s still pretty good,” Fuyumi promises. “She was in a choir.”
Katsuki looks confused. “What’s a choir?” Kyoka asks.
“A bunch of people get together and we all learn different parts of the same song,” you explain. “Some people sing one note, and some others sing a different one, and it sounds better together than it would if you just sang them separately. If you don’t want a song, I won’t sing one. But some music is better than no music, right?”
The other kids agree, and for once in his life, Katsuki goes with the flow on something. He names his song, and you sing it, knowing that this is a temporary fix at best. Batteries are worth more than gold is these days, and unless you missed something the last time you and Natsuo took inventory, you don’t have any to spare. Tomorrow or the next day, one of you is going to have to break the news to the kids that the music’s gone and it’s not coming back.
That’s an upsetting thought, but it’s one you can ignore. You can’t ignore the spike of cold that comes out of nowhere to drill down your spine, the sudden certainty that you’re being watched. Without allowing your voice to break, you glance away from the kids, out across the settlement to the edge of the woods.
He’s not there, at least not that you can see. You knew he wouldn’t be. Why would Tam Lin come to the edge of the woods when his domain lies deep within it? There’s nothing out here for him. You strangle the thought that he would come for you, because he heard your voice, before it can fully form. It’s more likely that he comes to the edge of the woods often, and you’ve just never had the ability to notice it before. You remind yourself of all of that, and still, you feel the ghost of Tomura’s gaze on the back of your neck long after the song ends.
Later, after the little kids have gone to bed, the six of you discuss the problem with the batteries. “I did inventory. We don’t have them,” Keigo says. Even though you knew, your heart sinks. “We’re this close to not having enough to run the battery tester. There’s no way we can spare any for the kids.”
“If we’re running low, we should look for more,” Rumi says. “I’ll head out tomorrow. Who’s with me?”
“We could trade for them with the other settlements,” Yue suggests. “I’d do that.”
Yue always wants to go to the other settlements. You don’t think it’s because she hates all of you so much as she hates feeling stuck and needs to know that there are still other people in the world. “We don’t have anything to trade,” you say, and she glares at you. “For anything else, maybe. Not for batteries.”
“So we go looking for them,” Rumi says, like the rest of you are stupid.
Natsuo turns to her, exasperated. “Where?”
“North. South. There are caches all along the road from when the army was clearing this place,” Rumi says. “I can roll out early and be back by nightfall. We need four people to stay behind and watch this place. Who wants to go with me?”
“Me,” you say, before you can really think about whether it’s a good idea. “I’ll take the south side.”
“North is me, then,” Rumi says, satisfied. “Tell the kids not to worry. They’ll have the music back by nightfall.”
You don’t sleep well, but that’s nothing new. You’re awake enough at dawn to pack alongside Rumi, to fill a backpack with clean water and enough food for a small meal, to wrap an analog watch around your wrist to track the time, to collect a map even though you’ll be doing nothing but following the road. Manami inspects your map and Rumi’s, then draws identical lines across the northern and southern roads. “This is as far as you can go,” she says. Rumi scowls. “Don’t. If you don’t turn around there, you can’t make it home by nightfall.”
“The Folk’s armies are five hundred kilometers away,” Rumi says. “Who cares if I’m out overnight? She stayed out overnight and came back fine, and she was in the woods.”
She’s pointing at you. You cringe. “Get back by nightfall,” Keigo says firmly. “Both of you.”
Rumi sets off north at an exuberant jog, and you proceed towards the south. Or start to. before you’ve gone more than a few meters down the road, you find yourself doubling back. There’s something else you wanted to bring with you. All at once you’re certain it’s a mistake to leave without it.
Unlike Izuku, you don’t carry the rose you won from Tam Lin with you everywhere. You keep it in a glass of water by your bed in the room you share with Yue, Manami, and Fuyumi, and although the water level never drops, the rose hasn’t wilted or even unfurled its petals completely. You reach in through the window rather than risk opening the door, reminding yourself to lock it in the future, and pluck the rose out of the glass. Part of you wants to put it in your hair, but it’s still got its thorns. You tuck it into your shirt pocket instead. Then you turn back to the southern road.
The road is long and meandering, backed up to the barren fields on one side and the woods on the other, with small pockets of ruins along the way – a cluster of houses, a gas station, a bus stop, a library. The closer ones have probably been picked clean already, by the adults as they marched off to any one of the spring-summer-autumn wars since the Folk came, so you pass them up. You count steps to keep your mind busy, sing through songs you remember from choir or from YouTube when there was YouTube or from the radio when the radio played anything other than bad news. If you can’t find the batteries, you want the kids to have at least some music left.
Part of you is frustrated with the kids, even though you shouldn’t be. They’re freaking out at the idea of losing the music, when you and the others have lost so much more. Your life since that day seven years ago has been one never after another, endless instances of believing things couldn’t get worse only to be proven wrong. Part of you wants to tell the kids to suck it up, because it can get worse – and it will.
But that’s harsh, and it’s not a surprise. You know living in this world changes people for the worse – Yue’s gotten more stubborn, Keigo’s gotten colder, Natsuo’s withdrawn. You don’t want to let the world make you cruel. You don’t want the children to face the losses you and the others have learned to live with. You want things to be better for them than they were for you. If that means scouring the known world for batteries so you can play them their songs on the cassette player, that’s what you’ll do.
You weren’t dumb enough to think there’d just be packs of batteries lying around, but you didn’t expect just how scraped-bare everything would be. You have a little luck in the more distant ruins when you start testing things like flashlights and TV remotes to see if they still work. That nets you a handful of half-drained batteries, which is better than nothing. Or it would be, if they were the kind of batteries the cassette player uses. Is there really that much of a difference between A and AA? If you’d been something other than thirteen when the world ended, maybe you’d know.
By a little after noon, your backpack’s weighted down with a bunch of different batteries and exactly one that will fit the cassette player, which needs four. If Rumi’s had the kind of luck you’re having, you’ll only have half of what you need to get the cassette player working again. You’ve managed to scavenge a little bit of food – energy bars in ancient packages, dried fruit and trail mix that could probably survive a nuclear war in addition to one with the Fair Folk. It’s not much, but you won’t return home empty-handed.
You tell yourself that, and that it’s time to turn back, but the urge to keep looking pulls at you, the need to make sure the kids get at least a few more weeks of music before it disappears for good. But you know this road. You remember traveling the opposite way along it, heading to the spot where the settlement was being built. If you wanted to find anything else this way, you’d have to walk twenty kilometers further. If you do that, there’s no way you’ll make it home by nightfall.
You turn back reluctantly, but you’ve only gone a few steps before a different memory pops into your head – the hollow tree in Tam Lin’s grove, and the piles of objects he took in trade. You saw all kinds of things there. Some of those things need batteries to work. And all of them were covered in moss and dust. If Tomura hoards those things, never touches them, leaves them long enough for plants to grow on them, how likely is it that some of those things might have the kind of batteries you need?
It’s a terrible idea, but the longer you think about it, the more it seems like your only option. After all, you’ve bargained with Tam Lin before. Even if he already took your virtue, you’re pretty sure you still have things he wants. And you’re doing it for the kids. It’s not until you’ve already stepped off the road and into the edge of the woods that you admit the other piece to it. You want to see Tomura again. Not enough to go into the woods alone. But more than enough to go in with an excuse.
Even though you’re entering the woods kilometers away from the settlement, the same false path appears before you. The forest throws up the same set of tricks to try to lure you off-course. The only difference this time is – time. When you passed through the forest to find Izuku, you could feel time warping around you. But right now, even though it looks different, the forest feels like any other forest. The way forests used to feel, before.
You can’t get complacent. The Fair Folk are strongest when you think you’ve got the upper hand, and even if Tam Lin isn’t one of them, he’s more like them than he is like you. You remind yourself to be careful as you make your way along the path. Just like before, the path ends suddenly, right at the edge of Tam Lin’s grove. And just like before, you stop yourself just before you cross the edge.
You don’t see Tam Lin anywhere, and for a second, you’re worried. Then you remember that Izuku was already trapped by the time you found him. Tam Lin had already been summoned. Can you summon him without stepping into the glade? Only one way to find out. “Tam Lin?”
Nothing. Not even a shadow moving in the glade, but you know he’s here somewhere. You try again. “Tam Lin?” you say. And then, quieter: “Tomura?”
“You came back.” Tomura’s voice is nothing more than a whisper, coming from everywhere and nowhere. Then you see him, unfolding himself from inside the hollow tree and crossing the glade towards you. “What are you doing here?”
You catch your breath at the sight of him, but not for the same reason as before. Last time it was horror. This time, it’s – worry. You’re not sure what else you’re supposed to do but worry. He has more scars than he did before. Some of them look so new that they can barely be called that, and there are bloodstains on what’s left of the shreds of his shirt. The closer he gets to you, the worse it looks, and the question spills out. “What happened to you?”
“I asked first.” Tomura stops at the edge of the grove, close enough for you to touch. “Why did you come back?”
“To make another trade.”
“For what?” Tomura tilts his head, studying you. “You don’t need my help to get out of here.”
Why does he think that? “The things you’ve taken from people,” you say, and he rears back like you’ve lashed out at him. “I don’t want to take them away. But if they have batteries in them, and you aren’t using them – would you trade me for those?”
Tomura watches you, wary now. “I don’t want to take all of them,” you say, “just a few.”
“What do I get?” Tomura’s eyes sharpen. “What if I want everything?”
You thought he might say that. Knew it. Hoped for it – no, you won’t go that far. You can’t go that far without your mind starting to spin. “You can have everything,” you say. “But I get to go first.”
“Done.” Tomura steps back, allowing you to cross the border into the glade. “What do you mean, you get to –”
You kiss him, and the memories flood back in, memories you’ve been doing your best to ignore for the last two months. If the way Tomura reacts is anything to go by, he hasn’t been ignoring those memories at all. He pulls you against him so quickly and tightly that he loses his own balance, and the two of you topple backwards into the thorns, you on top. The thorns don’t retreat the way they did before. You see them dig into Tomura’s skin and feel a surge of revulsion. “It’s sharp –”
“I don’t care.” Tomura claws at you with shaking hands. “They won’t get you if you stay up there. What did you mean –”
You kiss him again, trying to work up your confidence. It’s not the same as before – you’re not scared – but you’re as inexperienced with this as you were with sex, and staying down here with the thorns isn’t a good idea. “Can we go somewhere without these?”
“My tree.” Tomura sits up, rises to his knees and then his feet, all without letting go of you. “Hold on.”
Once you’re in the shelter of the tree, you slide your backpack down from your shoulders and shove at Tomura until he leans back against one of the massive roots at the edge of the hollow. You settle into his lap. Tomura looks up at you. “You’re going first.”
It’s not a question anymore. “Right.”
Kissing Tomura isn’t quite like you remember it. This time there’s no undercurrent of fear, no dread about what will happen next, no terror for what he’ll do to you. When you kiss Tomura this time it’s only a kiss, and while you taste his blood no matter how careful you are, you like it more than you thought you would. At first Tomura’s skin is icy, cold enough to raise goosebumps on your arms. The longer you spend kissing him, the warmer he gets.
It happened so fast last time. You didn’t have time to touch him. Now you cup his face in your hands for a few moments before running your fingers down along the sides of his neck to his shoulders. Tomura stirs beneath you, makes a sound that gets lost in the kiss as you shift back in his lap, giving yourself room to run your hands along the planes of his chest. You have to be careful of the scratches from the thorns, but even when you avoid them, you can’t escape the reminder that’s something’s wrong. He’s covered in old scars, too. He’s thin enough that you can count his ribs.
The urge to ask what happened, what’s wrong, is almost overpowering, but that’s not why you’re here. You sit further back in Tomura’s lap again, too far away for a kiss. “No,” Tomura complains, his hands settling on your hips. “I want –”
He falls silent, his pale face flushing, as you trace his cock through the worn fabric of his pants. His thighs tense and he shifts restlessly beneath you. You untie the drawstring on his pants and pull at the waistband. Tomura’s hands leave your hips at once, batting yours aside to pull down his pants to the middle of his thighs. You wait until he moves his hands to wrap your fingers around his cock. Tomura’s face flushes even deeper than before.
“I’m not making you,” he says. “You want to?”
If you didn’t want to, you wouldn’t have come back. You nod, and Tomura’s hips jerk beneath your hand as you begin to stroke his cock.
You remember being embarrassed, last time, at how strongly you reacted to his touch. He couldn’t watch you while he ate you out, but you can watch him while you jerk him off, and unlike you, Tomura’s not worried about what his reaction looks like. He squirms and twitches, spreads his legs wider, while the flush spreads from his cheeks down along his throat and his chest. The color only makes his scars stand out in sharper relief, even worse when his chest begins to heave with ragged breaths. His eyes are closed, his lips parted. He looks –
Your mind clamps down on the thought, refusing to complete it. A sound works its way out of Tomura’s mouth, twisting into words as it touches air. “Don’t stop,” he says, and you shake your head, even though he can’t see you. “So much better when it’s not me –”
With all the people who must pass through his glade, he probably has a lot of examples to think of. You feel an odd surge of jealousy and swallow it down. Tomura’s head tips back, exposing his throat, and you lean forward without thinking to kiss it. Tomura moans. His cock twitches in your hand, precum leaking from the tip – so much that you wonder if he’s come already. But he doesn’t tell you to stop. You go back to kissing his neck, a question rising to your lips. “How long has it been since someone did this?”
“How long ago did you leave?”
Your stomach clenches. That can’t be right. “You can tell me the truth. I promise I won’t stop.”
“Can’t lie.” Tomura’s voice is a strained whisper, breaking into a gasp as you kiss the corner of his jaw. “Wouldn’t. It was you. It’s only been –”
You kiss him properly, cutting him off before he can finish the sentence. You have an awful feeling about the answer Tomura was about to give, and even once you pull away, you don’t want to risk hearing it. You keep up the slow, even strokes of his cock as you sit back and awkwardly sink down between his legs, struggling to find the right angle. Tomura protests when you let go of him, but when your lips close around the tip of his cock, he falls entirely silent. You make the mistake of glancing up and find him wide-eyed, open-mouthed, panting for breath. The word springs to your mind again. Pretty.
He looks pretty like this. The thought ties you into knots, and you lower your mouth to his cock again so you won’t stare. But even then, you aren’t safe – he’s loud, and he’s twitching beneath you, and his hands flutter across your shoulder, across the back of your head, like he’s searching for something to hold on to. It distracts you enough that you reach up and capture one of them, lacing your fingers through his. Tomura’s grip tightens to the point of pain. You remember that from before, just like you remember how his thighs tensed, how he froze for a split second before falling apart, and you take him as far down your throat as you possibly can.
Your nausea picks the worst possible moment to reappear. You almost gag, and Tomura comes down your throat, his breathing harsh, his grip on your hand excruciatingly tight. Maybe if you let him keep your hand, he won’t notice the gagging. There’s so much cum. You don’t remember this much from last time, but last time it leaked out slowly over the next day. You didn’t have to deal with it all at once. You swallow what you can, hating the temperature and texture as it slides down your throat, then pull away to spit into the thorns outside the hollow.
It takes a lot of spitting, first to clear your mouth, then to get rid of the taste. You look up at some point and realize that Tomura’s watching you, and you feel a surge of shame. “Sorry.”
He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to eat it, either. Come back.”
You spit one more time, then crawl back into the hollow. Tomura’s pulled his pants back up, but his face is still flushed, and there’s a mark on the side of his neck where you kissed him a little too long. His hand lies open at his side, where it must have fallen when you let go of it. “Closer,” Tomura says. You edge a little closer. “It’s supposed to be my turn.”
He looks exhausted. Besides, you don’t think it should be a turn-based thing, and you’re a little worried about him finding out that getting him off turns you on. “Maybe later,” you say. “You need to rest. Is it okay if I look through the batteries?”
Tomura nods. You wish you had a blanket or something to give him. The way he curls in on himself, it looks like he needs one. He needs a blanket, and you need a drink of water. You unzip your backpack and hoist out one of the canteens, leaving it unzipped. The water in the canteen is lukewarm from being carried next to your body, in the sun, but it’s clean. You gulp half of it in a single swallow.
“You have water?”
Tomura sounds shocked. You glance at him and find him sitting up, eyes wide. For a moment he’s fixated on the canteen. Then he glances down at your backpack. “Is that food?”
“Yeah,” you say. “Do you want some?”
Tomura nods. You pass him the rest of the canteen, then sort through your backpack for food. You brought a few different things. “What do you want?”
“Anything.” Tomura hiccups, and you glance back to see him setting the empty canteen aside. It’s a good thing you brought a second one. “I don’t care. It’s food.”
“Come and pick,” you say. “I only brought stuff I like, so I’ll be happy no matter what you leave.”
You brought some bread. It was Fuyumi’s turn to bake, and she likes to make the bread pretty, so there’s a swirl design inside it that she probably made from cinnamon. There’s jerky, too. You and Keigo made that, because you’re the only ones who really feel comfortable handling raw meat. Rumi’s the one who picked the apples that Manami dried into rings, and the package of mixed nuts is Yue’s, because she’s the only one tall enough to get into some of the trees without a ladder. Tomura stares at it. He doesn’t reach for anything.
“Do you want some of all of it?” you venture.
“Is it a trick.” Tomura’s voice is raspy, in spite of all the water he just drank. You look at him, puzzled, and he repeats himself. “You came back here. You wanted me again – and you brought water, and – and food. Things like that don’t happen! Is it a trick?”
It’s not a trick. You wouldn’t do that – but the Fair Folk would, and they have, and they do. Every story you’ve ever heard is clear about the dangers of faery hospitality, faery food. “It’s not a trick,” you say to Tomura. “I promise.”
“Prove it,” Tomura says. “Tell me a lie.”
You think of something you can instantly disprove. “I threw the rose away.”
Tomura looks shocked. Shocked, and then hurt – and then he looks away, hunching in on himself. You reach for him, alarmed, but then you remember why you told that lie in the first place and fumble the rose out of your shirt pocket. “It’s right here,” you say to Tomura. He doesn’t move. “Tomura, look.”
He won’t. You shift your backpack to one side and get closer, wrapping your arms around him from behind like he did to you before you left the woods last time. You open your hand and show him, and you feel the rattling breath he takes. “It’s not a trick,” you say. He’s already getting cold again. “You can have all the food if you want it. I’ll have some when I go home tonight.”
Tomura nods but doesn’t stir. You loosen your hold on him, only for him to settle back against you more firmly. “I was wondering,” you say, “about the roses. Izuku’s is still alive, too, and it’s been two months since we picked them. How –”
“They’re alive because I am.” Tomura’s hand comes up, covers yours. “When I die, they’ll die too.”
When he dies. When, not if. “Tomura,” you say hesitantly, “is something going to happen to you?”
“Don’t throw it away,” Tomura says instead of answering. “Promise.”
“I promise,” you say. You take your hand back and tuck the rose into your pocket again. “Let’s eat something, okay?”
“Okay.”
Tomura eats like a wild animal, or how you imagine a wild animal would – tearing into things with his hands and his mouth, barely chewing before going for the next bite. You’re sort of worried he’s going to choke, but after he’s mauled three or four pieces of jerky, he slows down, glancing guiltily at you. “Sorry.”
“I said you could have all of it,” you remind him. He goes back to eating, a little more slowly than before. “Is there not a lot of food around here?”
“There is. Faery food.”
Tomura doesn’t need to say anything more than that. You get the picture. But – “How long has it been since you ate something that wasn’t faery food?”
Tomura’s shoulders lift, then fall, and all at once, you’re certain that you don’t want the answer – just like you don’t want to know how many people’s virtue he’s actually stolen. There’s only one question you do want the answer to, and it’s the one Tomura’s repeatedly dodged. “Just eat,” you say. “I’m going to check in on the batteries.”
The edges of the hollow are packed with the results of Tam Lin’s various trades. Tomura’s kept them loosely organized, which helps you decide where to search; if a stack looks like it’s mostly made up of phones or books, you leave it be. There are electronics, just like you were hoping there would be, including a tape recorder that’s a lookalike for the one the kids have back at the settlement. You set it aside for last, then start testing.
Without a battery tester, the only way to know for sure is to check what kind of batteries are in each item, then test to see if they work. You try to pick things Tomura won’t ever need – digital alarm clocks, flashlights, remote-controlled toys, a TV remote for a lifeless TV a few feet away, faery moss covering its cracked screen. The flashlights’ batteries are all dead, so you use them to test the others. The toys all have dead batteries, too, and they aren’t as mossy as the rest. Did Tomura play with them, after he took them? It’s hard to imagine Tomura as a kid at all. How old is he?
Flashlights are useful. Toys aren’t, but to little kids, they’re the most valuable things they own. Those are the kind of things you can imagine Tomura taking in trades, but with some of the other objects, it’s hard to see any value in them at all. Why would someone hesitate to part with an alarm clock, or a TV that doesn’t work? The TV confuses you more than the rest. It’s heavy and obviously useless. If you’d been towing it through the forest, you’d be glad to get rid of it.
Tam Lin makes trades. Either you trade him your virtue, or you trade the most valuable thing you own. There’s no way some of these things were something precious to someone. Why would Tomura accept them over what you offered to him? The realization strikes you all at once, and you sit back on your heels, feeling sick to your stomach. The legends about Tam Lin are one thing, but in practice, Tomura’s taken anything the people’s he’s trapped have offered. Anything but what he took from you.
You wouldn’t let Tomura finish the sentence, but your mind fills it in: It’s only been you.
You can’t think about that. You force the thought out of your mind and go back to the batteries, searching methodically. The alarm clock and TV remote yield two batteries each, meaning you’ve now got enough to power the cassette player and a couple of spares. You got what you came for, and now you can leave – but you keep searching anyway, because the new batteries will run out eventually, and you’ll need more spares. That’s why you’re looking. It’s not because you don’t want to leave.
And it’s not that you don’t want to leave. You don’t want to leave him.
“It’s getting dark,” Tomura says after a while, his voice dull. “You should go.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“What I want doesn’t matter.” When you glance back at Tomura, you find him hunched in on himself, already looking away. “Go.”
“No,” you say. “Answer me. Do you want me to go?”
Tomura hunches over more tightly. His voice is so quiet that you can barely hear him, even in the awful stillness of the glade. “No.”
“Then I’ll stay,” you decide. The anxious knot in the pit of your stomach relaxes. “I’ll go back in the morning.”
Tomura doesn’t react. You decide it’s a good idea to keep talking. “I found the batteries I need,” you say. “I also found some that are the wrong kind. I can move them into things you want to use.”
“Just take them.” Are you imagining the way his voice catches? “I won’t need them anymore.”
You’ve let it slide multiple times today. You’re not letting it slide again. “Something’s going to happen to you,” you say. “What is it?”
“If you ask me that again, you can’t stay here.” The threat lands between the two of you with a heavy thud. “I’ll make you go.”
“I don’t want to go,” you say. You tuck the batteries into your backpack, then come closer to Tomura across the hollow. He startles when your hands touch his back, when you move some of his tangled hair aside; then you kiss the back of his neck, and he shudders. “I want to stay here with you.”
“Why?”
Tomura must know what he’s doing, asking you that question as night falls, in the middle of a faerystruck glade, as the Folk’s magic builds to its full strength. If you choose to answer his question, it’ll be impossible for you to lie. Why should you answer his question when he refused to answer yours? But you haven’t thought hard enough about this to have a real answer, so you share what little you’ve got. “I just do,” you say. You kiss the back of Tomura’s neck again. “I’ve been thinking about you since I left. I volunteered to go look for batteries so I could leave the settlement. I think I was hoping I’d get to see you again.”
His shoulders slump with relief – or maybe despair. You can’t say for sure. In any case, he twists to face you, and although he tries to bury his face in your shoulder, you frame it between your hands. “I’m staying the night,” you say. “What do you want to do?”
You’re expecting him to start yanking at your clothes, but instead he looks like he’s thinking it over. You kiss him, in case that will help him decide, and he kisses you back, his mouth trembling beneath yours, his hands shaking as they slip beneath your shirt and mold themselves to your waist. What he mumbles against your mouth is the last thing you were expecting him to say. “Sing.”
“Huh?”
“I heard you. Yesterday. You sang.” Tomura pulls away from you reluctantly, which is how you know he’s serious. You can’t kiss him and sing at the same time. “Sing something for me.”
“Um, okay.” It’s not what you were expecting. You’re also not expecting Tomura to nudge you backwards, until you’re leaning against a tangle of roots and his head is resting against your chest. “Any requests?”
“Whatever you want.” Tomura exhales, slow and shaky. “Just sing.”
You know pieces of a lot of songs, but there’s only one that’s been stuck in your head recently, one you’ve found yourself singing under your breath. It’s what you sing now, even though you can’t remember everything. “A lady sits in a lonely room, sewing a silken seam, and looking out at Carterhaugh, among the roses green –” It sounds like a choir song, something old, something you would have learned to sing in harmony. “She lets the seam fall at her heel, the needle to her toe, and she is gone to Carterhaugh as fast as she can go –”
It’s strange, what you can and can’t remember about the song. You remember enough to sing something that sounds whole, but there are pieces that are missing. Why the lady in the song is going to Carterhaugh, whatever that is. What she’s doing there. What happens to her. Why she comes back different, different enough that her father notices and asks what’s wrong. It feels like something you used to know, something you should remember, but no matter how you search, you can’t find it.
Besides, Tomura doesn’t seem to mind. Even when your singing dissolves into humming, most of your attention drifting to untangling his hair a few strands at a time, he doesn’t complain. He falls asleep, and sleeps soundly. You should be able to sleep well, too – after all, you have what you’ve been dreaming of, and whatever fear you held for him is long gone. But your thoughts won’t go quiet, and your nausea lurks just out of sight, mixed in with unease. It’s the second night you’ve spent in the Fair Folk’s woods, and this time, you don’t sleep at all.
gods I’m so annoyed, I’m reading this book called Malice by John Gwynne, and I’m only at the start but I’m kind of starting to rEALLY REALLY REALLy ship these two characters Veradis and Naithair but NO ONE SEEMS TO HAVE EVER READ THIS BOOK IN THE ENTIRE WORLD WHYYY????
I apologize for reaching out like this 😔, but I’m urgently in need of help to survive these difficult times due to the GazaWar💔. Any small donation could be a lifeline for me.
If you can’t donate, please consider rebloging my pinned post. My full story is here:
Hello, I hope you and your family are well. Can you please help me recycle the post on my account? 🌺 And help rescue my family from the war in Gaza? 🙏 Thank you.
I hope this message finds you and your family in good health. My name is Eman Zaqout from Gaza. I am reaching you out to seek your urgent help in spreading the word about our fundraiser. I lost both my home and my job due to the ongoing genocide in Gaza and we are facing catastrophic living conditions. 💔
I kindly ask you to visit my campaign. Your support, whether through donating or sharing, will help us reach more people who can make a difference. Thank you for your continued support for the Palestinian cause. Your dedication brings us closer to freedom. 🙏🕊
Note: Verified by several people as 90-ghost and aces-and-angels. ☑
https://gofund.me/b141d50f 🔗
I was super inactive and didnt see this at all, but Im still going to post it, hopefully someone sees this and helps me support Eman Zaqout from Gaza.
I come here today to ask for your help to save a family suffering in Gaza.
Eslam is a mother of two children, Hanaa (5) and Alma (10 months).
There has been a ridiculously high spike of prices in Gaza and it has become nearly impossible to live everyday without spending more than 500 US dollars.
As a Filipino, that is 29,435 pesos worth of money just to buy BASIC necessities and survive everyday, and that is not counting the additional funds needed to tend to her children's sickness and infections.
If you can, please donate ANY amount to this GoFundMe. They are halfway through their goal, and it's completion means they are not only able to use the money to survive, but to also ESCAPE once the opportunity arrives.
My name is Victoria, from the greater Chicagoland area, and I am starting this fundraise… Victoria Beauchamp needs your support for Help Esl
If you are unable to donate, even just spreading their GoFundMe can help their story reach the people who CAN donate.
There's already been so many families who have reached out and shared their stories, and that's even more reason you shouldn't ignore their suffering.
My name is Mahmoud, and I'm a 17-year-old from Gaza. The ongoing war has devastated my city, destroyed my school, and made daily life incredibly challenging.
Despite these hardships, I'm determined to continue my education and build a better future. I've been given a chance to study abroad, but I need help to cover the costs of leaving Gaza, as well as living expenses and other essentials abroad once the crossing opens.. 🙏
If you can, please consider donating or sharing, your kindness can truly make a difference, and thanks for your time. ❤🍉
https://gofund.me/bd3ccf0b 🔗
OF COURSEE ‼️‼️‼️‼️
https://gofund.me/bd3ccf0b
Everyone, just take a few seconds to click on the link and donate if you can or share the news!!
As someone who just finished my education, now furthering my studies, this hits me hard 💔
So please please please, spend some time to share, to donate, spread the news ‼️
My name is Aya. I am reaching out from Gaza to seek your help in saving my family. I am raising funds to evacuate my family from war-torn Gaza. Every passing minute endangers our lives and increases our suffering, especially with the constant bombing and the lack of food and water supply. 😞😞 Please, extend a hand to save our souls and make the world hear our cry. 💔
✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is (#217)✅️
Best regards,
Aya
https://gofund.me/4f615392
https://gofund.me/4f615392
Tumblr netizens‼️‼️ do your job. It's just a click on the link <333
Hello, unfortunately my previous account was deleted so I will retell my story, my name is Ahmed Al-Dani, I am 14 years old. I live in Gaza, where I was born amidst ongoing conflicts and wars. In 2008, while my mother was pregnant with me, a phosphorous bomb fell near our house, and I inhaled the toxic gas. This led to genetic deformities that affected the growth of my teeth and hair.
Throughout my life, my family has tried to find solutions to my health problems, and we have visited many doctors in Gaza. The treatment recommended by the nurses was dental implants, but each tooth costs about $1,000, which is beyond our means.
My treatment journey began, but the ongoing conflict has made things more difficult. My family and I have been displaced more than seven times in the past ten months, and we now live in the southern part of Gaza without work or income, relying only on savings that we hoped to use for my treatment.
Please support me or share my story to help me continue my treatment and travel outside of Gaza, where I can complete my dental implants and take care of my health. The total cost of coordinating the travel and medical treatment is $50,000. Every donation, no matter how small, will be a beacon of hope for a better life.
Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #198 )
Thank you for your generosity and helping me get a chance at a new life.❤️❤️
https://gofund.me/4258a923
Even though I don’t have anything to give, I’ll make sure to repost this and get the word out.
While we are being killed daily We are being starved too. We are going through a terrible famine in the Gaza Strip.There is no food, vegetables or meat.
I hope everyone will help us, donate to us and stand by us in this harsh famine and Reblog my pin post.
The wind is now blowing with all its force, and the dilapidated tents of the displaced are trembling under its weight!! O God, calm this wind with your strength, and send down upon the people of Gaza the clouds of your mercy!!
Even though I don’t have anything to give, I’ll make sure to repost this and get the word out.
I’m reaching out today on behalf of my dear friend Ismail Almughanni from Gaza 🇵🇸, who is going through an incredibly tough time. Due to the recent conflict, Ismail has lost both his home and his beloved bakery. His bakery wasn’t just a source of income—it was his passion, a way to serve his community, and a beacon of hope for many.
Now, Ismail is striving to rebuild, but he can’t do it alone.
Here’s how you can help:
1. Spread the word: Please share or reblog the pinned post on his profile. Every share helps his story reach people who may want to support.
2. Donate if you can: Any contribution, no matter how small, will bring him closer to rebuilding his bakery and reclaiming what he lost 🍞❤️.
Your support will mean the world to Ismail. Together, we can help him rise again and rebuild not just his bakery, but his future 🌿🤲.
Thank you so much for standing by him during this difficult time.
Even though I don’t have anything to give, I’ll make sure to repost this and get the word out.
I hope this message finds you and your family in good health. My name is Eman Zaqout from Gaza. I am reaching you out to seek your urgent help in spreading the word about our fundraiser. I lost both my home and my job due to the ongoing genocide in Gaza and we are facing catastrophic living conditions. 💔
I kindly ask you to visit my campaign. Your support, whether through donating or sharing, will help us reach more people who can make a difference. Thank you for your continued support for the Palestinian cause. Your dedication brings us closer to freedom. 🙏🕊
Note: Verified by several people as 90-ghost and aces-and-angels. ☑
Boost!!
Tags are to boost!!
Todayonthenight🌙 @todayonthenight - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
