Reminder

🚨CALL FOR HUMANITY DO NOT IGNORE YOU CAN SAVE A CHILD'S LIFE‼️

I have lost more than 30 members of my family.I don't want to lose anyone else .All I have left is Lolo, the only survivor. I do not know what her future will be like without her father and her life as an orphan. Please, any amount will save the rest of my family.Please help my family survive these massacres & this war.The crossing will open at any moment.I have to register my family to travel. There's not much time

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Donate to Help Nesma and her family evacuate, organized by Mena K

Nesma Ahmed is raising funds to help her family evacuate from Gaza. Currently, Gaza has been… Mena K needs your support for Help Nesma and h

@appsa @buttercuparry @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @sayruq @megalo-station

Reblog or your mom will die in 928 seconds.

I love my mom.

I am risking nothing

I AM SORRY FOLLOWERS, I LOVE MY MOMMY

Will not risk.

sorry followers :(

Mitski - My love mine all mine

Comfort fic with Mihawk?

Pretty plz oh my sister of mine

(Add smut if you must-but you’re really pulling my arm)

Comfort fic, you say? You get some angst too, sis.

Masterlist here.

Word Count: 1,178

Warnings: angst, longing, fluff, sleeping, embracing (no smut)

Song Suggestion: Mitsuki - My Love Mine all Mine.

Nothing in the world belongs to me // But my love mine, all mine // Nothing in the world is mine for free // But my love mine, all mine, all mine

The halls in the great castle had naught a sound resounding in the chasms. The polished cobblestone lay bare and cold, the warm light of the crystalline chandelier reflecting its small flames atop the surfaces. The darkness from nightfall glistened starlight through the stained glass windows; the moon cascading it’s crescent shape on one of the many portraits that hung high and out of sight within the room.

He had been gone for two weeks, his presence not gracing the ornate floorboards with his silhouette for nine days longer than he promised. He thought the contract would be over swiftly, the great blade Yoru able to cut through anything with one fell, booming swipe. His cloak was dishevelled, his cross was laying slightly askew atop his bare chest. The large, fluffed, white feather in his broad hat was slightly singed around the edges, tanning under the scorch marks to tint it a smoked yellow. It did not go at all according to his plan: get in, get it done, get it over with, and get back to you.

The individual he was stalking had managed to raise an army, something the world government did not anticipate him having such sway nor ability to execute. He was to be brought in alive for questioning, his bounty nullified should he perish below a blade. Dracule Mihawk was tasked with not only capturing this person alive, but also ridding the amassment of pirates that had so readily come to his defence. It took him nine days of combat; never resting, always pushing to get to his target. He was exhausted, his energy resources depleted completely.

As he stalked slowly along the grounds, his staff would turn and halt their movements and chores; offering a swift stoop at acknowledgement of his presence. Mihawk’s shoulders were slumped, hunching down from his great posture as he reached your shared bedroom. Turning the circular handle, he lifted the small latch from its brace against the door and slowly allowed the hall light to break through the darkness.

Atop his large four-poster bed lay his love, his hidden treasure known only to his staff and a handful of others he trusted enough with his secret. His eyes softened, leaning his towering form against the post of the doorframe slightly to take you in. Allowing a soft smile to rise to the corner of his lips, he raked his amber-eyes over you to take in your sleeping form.

You lay in a white silken bed-robe, the fabric of the many layers pooling at your wrists in their lengthy decline. Laying on your side, facing the door, your hair lay gracefully cascading atop his pillowcase. Your right leg bent at the knee, the duvet laying beneath it as to mimic your embrace with your lover; as you would most commonly be cradled against the chest of the warlord as you both slept soundly. Your hand was clutching a single red rose, laying wilting and dried over the mattress alongside his promise to return to you before the cut, thorny rose should ever require water. A single petal fell to the floor as you took a deep breath to indicate your slumber had become interrupted.

Mihawk quickly stepped inside and shut the door behind him, the softest click of the latch could be heard as he attempted to silence his decent. He took his hat off, placing it on the desk beside his armchair, alongside removing Yoru and laying the great blade on it’s wooden, decorative resting hilt. He sighed in relief as the weight had been removed from his shoulders, rotating them to remind his muscles how to behave without harnessing such a weapon. Slowly, he drew his arms out of his cloak, wincing as his biceps contracted beneath the material.

He had overexerted himself, went too hard for too long; something you would chastise him for, he’s sure of it. Placing the cloak on the back of his armchair, he removed his boots and socks from his feet and slotted them beneath the bed. His fingers halted their retract as you let a slow, sleepy moan fall from your lips. Your brows began to furrow as your lucidity continued to propel you within haunted dreams of your love’s demise. Mihawk hastily unclasped the buckle on his belt, pulling in one swift movement to rid it from its place within his pants and tucked the object in one of his boots.

Kneeling his right knee on the bed, he began a stumbled and exhausted crawl to fall his body next to your own. He laced his left arm beneath your right and flattened his forehead against your chest, listening to the slow, rhythmic thump of your heartbeat. The remainder of petals fell to rest atop his curled, darkened locks as he closed his honey-coloured eyes tightly shut. He lifted his right arm to rest over your manubrium, focussing more on his concentration listening to the rhythm of your heartbeat and the rise and fall of your breathing.

In your subconsciousness, you drew down your right hand and laced it within Mihawk’s hair; body completing this soft and gentle embrace from muscle memory alone. The furrow in your brows completely fell from your face and softened in your slumber once more. Mihawk smiled into your embrace, relishing being in the arms of his hidden love once again – albeit nine days late.

He hoped you did not hold such tardiness against him, tracing low circles atop the small of your back before drawing his hand down to clutch the back of your right thigh to hook your knee over the bottom of his ribcage. Sighing into the embrace, he felt your body completely relax into him with a sigh of his own to follow in reaction. The two of you feeling the weight of the absence fleeing from your bodies in this gentle embrace, falling from you in waves of bittersweet reunification.

The gentle light of the crescent moon continued to follow into the room, its light illuminating your embrace through the small partition within the heavy charcoal curtains. Mihawk reopened his yellow eyes, tilting his head up and removing his hand from your chest in favour of brushing a single strand away from your face. Your lips were parted, eyelashes forming a small shadow atop the apples of your cheeks under the light of the moon. Mihawk felt his heart swell knowing you were safe in his castle, slumbering soundly while remaining hidden away from the world government.

Finally having something that was truly his own, not an ability to be used for exploit, nor his vast array of wealth in riches and land. You were his, something that was only for him.

“Sleep now, my love,” he sighed, pressing a lingering kiss against your throat with his eyelashes flickering against the bare skin as he leant in to your embrace. He withdrew his soft touch and whispered against your flesh: “May you forgive me when you wake. I love you, may you continue to be mine. Only mine.”

Why I’m a radical feminist:

In many cultures, ethnic groups, and nations around the world, hair is considered a source of power and prestige. African people brought these traditions and beliefs to the Americas and passed them down through the generations.

In my mother’s family (Black Americans from rural South Carolina) the women don’t cut their hair off unless absolutely necessary (i.e damage or routine trimming). Long hair is considered a symbol of beauty and power; my mother often told me that our hair holds our strength and power. Though my mother’s family has been American born for several generations, it is fascinating to see the beliefs and traditions of our African ancestors passed down. We are emotionally and spiritually attached to our hair, cutting it only with the knowledge that we are starting completely clean and removing stagnant energy.

Couple this with the forced removal and covering of our hair from the times of slavery and onward, and you can see why so many Black women and men alike take such pride and care in their natural hair and love to adorn our heads with wigs, weaves, braids, twists, accessories, and sharp designs.

Hair is not just hair in African diaspora cultures, and this is why the appropriation and stigma surrounding our hair is so harmful.

Hello, I am Aseel from Gaza🍉🇵🇸

I apologize for what I am going to ask, my heart is heavy and exhausted, unfortunately the situation has become difficult after my father was injured

I lost part of my family, my home and everything, and now live in tent

Please only $20 from each person, $20 will save my family from death in Gaza

I don't know if I will survive or die in this war, but I know that your help will contribute to saving my family from death.

My campaign vetted by,,

@90-ghost @fairuzfan @nabulsi @appsa

https://gofund.me/16fe6e48

Aseel, I may not be able to donate, but i will 100% post! Please anyone and everyone, DONATE, Aseel has more than half of her fundraiser fundraised and its only about 8000 more!!! 5 usd may not seem much to the west but to her and her family, it could be life or death. Please donate, she has been hurt a lot and needs all the help she can get!

Aseel, may this message find you and your family as safe as can be.

PLEASE HELP!! PROTECT PALESTINIAN LIVES BECAUSE THEY TOO ARE PEOPLE!!!

A woman in a burnt displacement camp in Rafah delivers a heart-wrenching appealafter occupation forces bombed innocent civilians sheltering there. She desperately questions the absence of support from Arab and Muslim countries, naming Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and Egypt, and decries the world's inaction. She mentions that the recent attack killed and injured scores of innocent people from all ages and genders.

امرأة في مخيم نزوح محترق في رفح توجه نداءً مؤلمًا بعد أن قصفت قوات الاحتلال المدنيين الأبرياء الذين كانوا يحتمون هناك. تتساءل بمرارة عن غياب الدعم من الدول العربية والإسلامية، مسمية السعودية، الأردن، ومصر، وتستنكر صمت العالم وعدم تحركه. تذكر أن الهجوم الأخير أسفر عن مقتل وإصابة العشرات من الأبرياء من جميع الأعمار.

Donate & Share our campagin

Free Palestine

❗️❗️ DON’T SCROLL ❗️❗️

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Donate to Please Help Evacuate Fadi's Family from Gaza, organized by Fadi Sharif

With a heavy heart and a plea for urgent assistance, I am reaching out to you… Fadi Sharif needs your support for Please Help Evacuate Fadi'

Black girls deserve to see themselves in soft aesthetics too. We like Royalcore, Matcha dates, picnics, soft dances, book shopping with our lovers, and even more! We want to be embraced. That’s the types of content I’m making <3

My family woke up in the dark of night, frightened by the sound of rain hitting the roof of the tent, making a sound similar to the sound of bullets. I told them, "Don't be afraid, this is the sound of God's mercy, this is the sound of rain." They went back to sleep, their fear gone and their terror gone. As for me, sleep flew away from me, and I began to watch the roof of the tent for fear of drowning!! In the past, when it rained, we were happy and welcomed its arrival, and the children would go out into the streets to play under its showers as if it were a holiday. But today, when the sky is covered with clouds, our hearts are filled with worry and anxiety, and our chests tighten from the intensity of fear and insomnia. How could it not be, when our worn-out tents, torn apart by the summer heat, will drown in mud and clay at the first drop that falls from the sky? You can imagine the extent of the oppression and pain at that time!! O God, have mercy on the young and old, be kind to the people of Gaza, relieve their distress and extinguish their war before winter comes!! 🌧🏕🌧🌪🍉🙏🏻🚨🚨⛄️

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Donate to Urgent Relief for Family Living in Tent, organized by Ashraf Alserr

About my family: It consists of a mother, father, me, my wife, and my children.… Ashraf Alserr needs your support for Urgent Relief for Fam

Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #79 )

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