and-his-throat

Cans and Can’ts of Ramadaan ♥

Sometimes it is just confusing, so this is here to, in shaa Allah, help you out ♥

Q: Can I use eyedrops or the Sunnah Kohl (eyeliner) during fast?

A: According to the most popular view, it does not.

Shaykh Ibn ‘Uthaymeen said:

Shaykh al-Islam Ibn Taymiyah was of the view that kohl does not break the fast, not even if the taste of the kohl reaches the throat. He said, this is not called food or drink, and it is not like food or drink, and it does not have the same effect as food or drink. There is no saheeh hadeeth from the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) which expressly indicates that kohl breaks the fast, and the basic principle is that it does not break the fast. An act of worship remains valid unless it is proven that it is invalidated. What he said is correct, even if a person can taste it in his throat. Based on the view favoured by Shaykh al-Islam, if a person puts drops in his eyes whilst fasting and tastes it in his throat, that does not break his fast.
(Al-Sharh al-Mumti’, 6/382)

Q: If I take wudu (abolition) and rinse my mouth, do I have no spit out all traces of water so that I do not swallow any

A: No, spit out the unnecessary water in your mouth, but do not spit constantly so much it becomes unreasonable. 

Q: Can I use moisturiser on my face?

A: Yes you can

Q: If I eat something by accident, do I break my fast?

A: No, you may continue fasting

Narrated Abu Huraira:
The Prophet (pbuh) said:
“If somebody eats or drinks forgetfully then he should complete his fast, for what he has eaten or drunk, has been given to him by Allah.”
(Sahih al-Bukhari)

Q: Can I wear makeup during fast?

A: If you are around non-Mahram men, then you cannot.

“And not to show off their adornment.” 
Quran (24:31)
And do not display yourselves like that of the times of ignorance.”
Quran (33:33)

Q: Can I wear makeup after Iftar, infront of non-Mahram men, because then I am not fasting?

A: Please read above Q&A

Q: Is rudeness in behavior and/or speech tolerated in Ramadaan?

A: No

Narrated Abu Huraira:
The Prophet (ﷺ) said,
“Whoever does not give up forged speech and evil actions, Allah is not in need of his leaving his food and drink (i.e. Allah will not accept his fasting.)”
(Sahih al –Bukhari)

Q: Can I kiss and embrace (not have sexual relation) my husband/wife while I am fasting?

A: Yes, regarding your self-control

Narrated `Aisha:

The Prophet (pbuh) used to kiss and embrace (his wives) while he was fasting, and he had more power to control his desires than any of you.
Said Jabir: “The person who gets discharge after casting a look (on his wife) should complete his fast.”
(Sahih al-Bukhari)

Narrated Hisham’s father:
Aisha said, “Allah’s Messenger (pbuh) used to kiss some of his wives while he was fasting,” and then she smiled.
(Sahih al-Bukhari)

Q: Can I have sexual relations with my husband/wife during the nights of Ramadaan, after Iftar?

A: Yes, as Allah SWT says in the Quran

It is made lawful for you to have sexual relations with your wives on the night of As-Sawm(the fasts).
They are Libaas [i.e. body-cover, or screen, or Sakan (i.e. you enjoy the pleasure of living with them] for you and you are the same for them. 
Allah knows that you used to deceive yourselves, so He turned to you (accepted your repentance) and forgave you. So now have sexual relations with them and seek that which Allah has ordained for you (offspring), and eat and drink until the white thread (light) of dawn appears to you distinct from the black thread (darkness of night), then complete your Sawm (fast) till the nightfall”
Quran (2:187)

Q: Can we skip Suhur and sleep instead?

A: It is not preferred

Narrated Anas bin Malik:
The Prophet (ﷺ) said,
“Take Suhur as there is a blessing in it.”
(Sahih al-Bukhari)

Q: Can I delay Iftar?

A: No

Narrated Sahl bin Sa`d:
Allah’s Messenger (pbuh) said,
“The people will remain on the right path as long as they hasten the breaking of the fast.”
(Sahih al-Bukhari)

Q: Should I feel insulted when people eat and drink infront of me?

A: No

If you have any other questions about Ramadaan, please drop me a message in the ask-box and I will in shaa Allah get back to you ♥

I wish you a wonderful, Emaan increasing, Barakah reaping, happy, joyous and fruitful Ramadaan, Ameen ♥

3

For anon…enjoy!

“Hey Nat,” you called from the couch.
“Hey kid,” she called back as she set her duffle on the counter.

Moments later, Nat walked into the living room with a couple Gatorades. You grinned as she tossed you one. Peter, your boyfriend, turned around to introduce himself only for his mouth to drop open. Nat smirked.

“Got something to say?” she asked.
You chuckled. “Peter, this is my older sister, Nat. Nat, this is Peter.”
“I, um, you’re uh-uh-” he paused to clear his throat. His voice came out a bit higher, “Y-Your sister is the Black Widow?”
You nodded. “You knew my last name was Romanoff,” you added with a smirk, “Not exactly subtle.”
“Ah, don’t give him a hard time, Y/N. He’s a fanboy at heart.”

The two of you started to laugh as Peter just stared at the two of you in shock. It was another few moments before it subsided into a smirk of his own. 

Perma-tags: @dontbeamenacetotheforce @jumperswellies @ttelesilla @caitsymichelle13 @myplaceofthingsilove
Semi-tags: @ladysigyn221 @astrangeevent02 @maraudersgallifreyanavenger

Request Here : Submit Here

2

🍷“His sharp features were softened by heavily lashed slate eyes and a full, pouting, mouth. His face was framed by messy bangs but the majority of his shaggy, black, hair was pulled into a ponytail at the back of his neck. His frame was slight but there was obvious pulling at the rolled up sleeves of his crisp white button-up, his biceps straining against the fabric. Merlot suspenders reached over his shoulders, fitting snugly against him as they crawled down to his black slacks and he had loosened the matching red, damask, tie and unbuttoned the first few buttons around his throat.”  🍷

Keith from Voltron Legendary Defender (fic Gate Keeper by @themoonlitpaladin)

Full view is your friend because all those bottles are real alcohol. Have a bartender Keith I’ve been obsessing over lol. The fic is the same as for this Lance 

Fisherman’s Knot Chapter 17

[Ao3]

[Title Songs]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5][Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13][Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16]

Warnings for abuse and also a lot of internalized victim-blaming.

Thanks as always to @thesnadger for beta-ing, thanks to @marypsue for helping me work out some plot snarls, and thanks to all of you for your readership, comments, and patience.


The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea

Ford’s breath caught in his throat. His mind reeled, searching for an excuse, a bluff, anything to get them back on track. Stan could have managed it. Perhaps under different circumstances Ford could have too. If that smile wasn’t so familiar. If the grip on his wrists wasn’t so tight. But try as he might, his mind remained blank.

“I … don’t know what you mean,” he said.  His tone hovered somewhere between confusion and bravado. It wouldn’t fool anyone.

He should have brought a weapon. Something to remember for next time, if there was one. Note to self: don’t listen to children who complain about how a high-caliber plasma blaster would ruin the outline of his suit.

“Tell me, Stanford,” said Doctor Smith. “Do I look like an idiot?”

“No?” Ford replied. You look like a triangle, he thought, and almost giggled at how absurd that would sound if he said it.

“Really?” Doctor Smith straightened up and stood back, crossing his arms. “Then how did you expect me to fall for your transparent little scheme? Did you think I wouldn’t suspect?”

“I … suspect what?” said Ford. He could feel his heart picking up, a drumbeat of terror slicing straight through him. Did he know? Did he suspect? If he knew where Nuala’s skin was truly hidden … if Stan was in danger—

“I knew what you were here for from the beginning. You wanted to steal Sarah away from me!”

“That’s preposterous!” Ford blustered, hoping that he could pass the quaver in his voice off as anger. “Now unhand me or I—”

Doctor Smith laughed, and it was cultured and germane and terrible as his situation was Ford felt himself breathing easier. It wasn’t a cackle. It wasn’t like—he almost thought “his Bill” and felt the bile rise at the back of his throat. It wasn’t like Bill Cipher. This was just a man. No more powerful than him.

Keep reading

on to more important things.

you know that noise robert makes? when aaron’s three fingers deep, stretching him open on weather rough knuckles. dragging over his prostate, robert’s head tipping back, tendons in his neck straining, trying to swallow, trying to think. sweating and shaking and rocking down, trying to work aaron deeper, spread himself wider. when he needs more and aaron’s holding back, making him wait.

you know, that noise, that needy, animal whine in the back of his throat? good noise, that.

April’s instagram

April kneels in front her daughter, carefully zips her white coat all the way up, before grabbing a blue beanie just big enough to fit all of Hannah’s untamed curly locks in.

“Cold outside?” The two year old asks, taking a peek at the street from the glassed hotel front doors.

“Yes, baby, it’s cold outside. It’s snowing!” April replies, with a smile. “So we need to be extra cozy today.”

“We go play?”

“Not now, sweetie.” She goes on, shaking her head much to the toddler’s disappointment. “We’ve got to go meet daddy, remember?”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, with daddy. He’s waiting for us.” They’re back in Bozeman, Montana, where Jackson was requested to perform a surgery on a little boy who got a tumor the size of Texas on his throat. This time, unlike the last, she knows he isn’t planning on meeting again with his estranged father, Robert Avery, who, by the way, still owns that little bar lost somewhere in the woods. But April felt like she needed to be here this time too, with Jackson. So, they decided to make it a family trip and Hannah came along.

“See Daddy…” Hannah quickly moves her big bright eyes back to her mother as her whole face lights up. “And have chocolate?”

“Yes, and have hot chocolate.” April says, remembering how she told her daughter they’d have pancakes and warm drinks at the nearest diner when Jackson left work.  “Ready to go?”

Hannah nods and April takes the little girl’s hand, grabs her purse, sitting on the floor next to her, and stands up. As they leave the hotel behind, making their way through the light, soft snow on their path, April feels the thin air around them. It’s cold and, taking a quick down, she notices how the tip of Hannah’s little nose is starting to turn red. It makes her look adorable, like a baby deer.

As they cross the street, with Hannah’s small hand tightly wrapped around hers, April can’t help but to smile. Being here with her family, after last time, it sure brings back memories. And she couldn’t be happier now, since it feels like they finally found wonderland.

Hello all,

My boyfriend is very sick right now, but he lives in another city. I’m trying to find spells to help him. He has a very powerful cough, his throat hurts, and he has a lot of back pain. Any help or prayers would be so very much appreciated. His name is Charlie.

Thank you all so much, blessed be.

And So We Wait

A Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic. One-shot.

AO3

Summary:

Peter isn’t sure how long he hung in space clinging to the body of what had been his captain. Time twists, bringing memories of the past to soothe the pain of the present.

Spoilers for Vol. 2.


He floats, and floats, Yondu held in front of him because like damn he’ll let go now. 

He’d stopped crying a while ago, though he’s not sure if he can trust his sense of time. His tears don’t fall through the space suit, the moisture deciding to float around in the zero gravity. Most of it is stuck in his hair.

He still mumbles, though, whispering “No, no,” until his throat goes raw. He never gets an answer, and at some point he accepts that he won’t.

It’s a little difficult, keeping hold of Yondu through the field the suit offers. He has to be careful. The Centaurian had a layer of ice across his skin that had pushed it’s way to the outer edges of his clothing. He felt brittle, almost like he could snap in Peter’s grip.

Peter had thought many many things of Yondu through the years, but fragile had never been one of them. 

Keep reading

5

“Hi, Augustus!”

He turned his body in the direction of the voice, his smile broadening even before he caught sight of his boyfriend standing before him. Patrick was beaming, granite eyes sparkling as they gazed into his and a brushstroke of pink coloring his pale, ivory cheeks.

Augustus did a cursory scan of their surroundings and then, upon seeing everyone around them otherwise engaged, pulled Patrick forward and greeted him with a kiss. One, however, wasn’t enough. Augustus kissed him and kissed him, lips lingering for as long as he dared and soft, surprised noises sounding in Patrick’s throat. His mouth tasted like apples again—apples and chamomile tea.

“Hi,” he finally replied with a smile.

Patrick laughed breathlessly, hands gripping Gus’ shoulders and his face as rosy as ever. “Y-y-you’re in a g-good mood,” he observed.

“Of course I am. I’m with you.”

A second laugh escaped Patrick; softer this time, shyer. “Y-you’re so cheesy,” he mumbled.

“And you like it.”

“Yeah….”

Sam Drabble # 28

Submitted By: @bohowitch for my 900 Follower Celebration
All Gif Drabbles for this celebration will be posted on my Gif Drabble Masterlist and labeled 900 FC next to them

Sam ran down the hall, gun drawn, and heart in his throat. His little girl was screaming bloody murder.
“Dada! Dada!”
Sam burst through the room to see you passed out on the floor. Your one year old daughter screaming her head off in the crib next to you.
Sam seeing no immediate physical threat puts his gun away.
“Shh Emily.” He picks her up and hushes her as he checks your pulse.
“Momma?” Emily whimpers.
“She’s ok baby.” Sam keeps her calm as he calls for Dean. He hands Emily to Dean when he arrives and picks you up.
“Call Cas Dean. Please.” There’s an undercurrent of worry in his voice.
Dean nods as he bounces his niece on his hip, “I got Em got take care of (Y/N).
He hoped you were alright as he carried you back to the bedroom you shared.    

SUPERNATURAL FOREVER:
@charliebradbury1104   @fangirl1802   @evyiione
@wonderange  @d-s-winchester
@impalaimagining    @supernatural-jackles  @gabriels-trix
@sdavid09  @ohmychuckitssamanddean
@crowleysplaythings    @sandlee44   @clairese1980
@imagining-supernatural   @crowley-you-sinnamon-roll
@daughterofthebrowncoats   @letsthedogpackandthecats
@deals-with-demons   @etude-bolide  @trashforwinchesters  
@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid  @jensen-jarpad   @tryingtoimagine-spn  
@spontaneousam  @gemini75eeyore
@just-a-touch-of-crowley   @feelmyroarrrr   @lucifer-in-leather
@kas-not-cas @multifandomlove2002
@bkwrm523 @oriona75 @kittenofdoomage @scarletwinchester84 @samwinchesterappreciation @angelkurenai @teamfreewill-imagine @not-moose-one-shots @not-so-natural-spn @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog  @ilostmyshoe-79  @mypapawinchester
@possesstiel   @totallysupernaturaloneshots  @mrssamfuckingwinchester
@samwinchesterseyes
@winchester-smut    @wayward-mirage  @oneshot-twoshot-redshot-blueshot  @abaddonwithyall
@mrswhozeewhatsis
@whovianayesha   @destielshipper222  @impala-dreamer
@crzcorgi  @sis-tafics   @hexparker
@curliesallovertheplace    @carry-on-my-akward-son  @67chevy-imagine
@deanscolette  @i-do-what-i-want-bitch
@mrsbatesmotel53  @splendidcas  @ellen-reincarnated1967
@mysupernaturalfics  @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms
@spn-idjits-guide-to-hunting   @chaos-and-the-calm67   @leslie2898
@doro7winchester  @sunriserose1023  @deathtonormalcy56
@the-latina-trickster  @love-kittykat21
@pureawesomeness001  @thegreatficmaster   @sumara62 @delessapeace-blog
@angelofwinchester17  @smoothdogsgirl   @jayankles
@mizzezm @thatwrestlingfan91    @donnaintx
@skylions-den  @rosiesstanderds  @mogaruke  @jensen-gal
@overcastmisfitkid  @27bmm @mogarukes
SAM/JARED ONLY:
@saxxxology  
@thing-you-do-with-that-thing
@20secspnfam4
@oneshoeshort

Kissing Prompt - Ignis and Noctis


11. when one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more

Ignis takes a deep breath, gathering his courage. It’s now or never. Fortune favors the bold, Scientia. Just tell her.

“I don’t… well, I’ve never done this. I don’t often find myself at a loss for words…”

“Out with it, Ignis.”

“…”

“Come on… I’m not going to judge you. Just tell me.”

Ignis clears his throat. “The time we’ve known each other has been… well… I enjoy your company.”

“I enjoy yours too.”

“I… thank you. It makes saying this so difficult.”

“…”

“I have no right to ask you this… I know I cannot offer you the life you deserve. But if I don’t tell you how I feel about you now…”

“Ignis, please…”

Ignis holds his hand out. “…I love you. I can’t deny it any longer. I understand if you don’t feel the same, but I-”

His grand speech is interrupted by you rocketing forward to crush your lips against his, kissing him furiously. He’s so stunned he can’t even process what’s just happened. When he breaks away from you in a daze his glasses are slightly askew on his face, his cheeks colored by a delicate blush. He stammers out a question, gloved hands gripping your shoulders. “…I’m sorry, are you sure you-”

You’re on him again before the words are halfway out of his mouth, your arms around his neck and your breasts pressing into his chest. This time he acquiesces, parting his lips to receive your eager tongue and groaning quietly into your mouth. When your hands find their way into his hair he’s certain this must be what heaven feels like. When you finally part, he chuckles, voice already strained with passion.

“I guess you’re sure.”

10. staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in

Noctis clutches his glass of champagne, desperately willing himself to think of anything other than how good you look… how utterly alone the two of you are… how soft and inviting your lips are right now… fuck. He’d snuck you off to the balcony for a bit of air and some quiet conversation but the champagne was catching up to him, and his feelings for you were threatening to make him do something drastic. He takes another sip and wills himself to focus on the story you’re telling him, but his eyes wander down to your lips, and after a few moments he just can’t take it anymore. He puts his champagne down on the balcony railing and shoots forward, snaking one arm around your waist and tangling the other in your hair, pulling you towards him and kissing you deeply. You gasp, but you throw your arms around his neck, pressing your body as close to his as your gown will allow. You kiss as though there’s no one else around, drowning in each other for a few heavenly moments. When you pull away from him, your eyes fall on one of the stone-faced guards, and you blush profusely. Noctis strokes your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“What’s wrong? Did I embarrass you? …I’m sorry. I just couldn’t hold it in any longer.”

You shake your head. “No, no… I just… forgot the guards can see us.”

Noctis leans down to whisper hotly into your ear. “They don’t care… and neither do I.”

When he kisses you again, somehow you find that you can’t bring yourself to worry about it either.

“I’ll Take Care Of It.”

2 + Rafael x reader (1000 follower prompt list)❤


Rafael groaned sleepily as his alarm blared on the night stand.

“Rafi.” You muttered. “Rafi, turn off your alarm or get your ass out of bed!” You turned over and were surprised to see a tent in your boyfriend’s lap. You sneakily slipped your hand over his hipbone.

“What are you–”

“Shh.” You hovered over your boyfriend. “I’ll take care of it.” He caught the mischievous glint in your eye.

His breath hitched as you gave him a couple tugs to make him even harder.  You flattened your tongue bringing it up and down his shaft with a hum.

“Mierda.” He muttered as you took him fully in your mouth.  

You bobbed up and down feeling him hit the back of your throat.  His hand pulled at your hair and he tightened his grip as you grazed your teeth against his cock.  You could feel him twitching and his breaths were quickening.

You released him with a pop and watched as he shook squirting his cum all over himself and you.  You smirked as he was in a such a blissful state.  His eyes popped open as you licked up the cum on his chest.  

“You didn’t need to do that!” He sighed.

“I told you I’d take care of it.” You smiled.

“Hm, well it’s time for me to take care of you!” He grinned rolling the two of you over.

kemmlerthekitschmaster  asked:

When did it first dawn in you that Euron was Evil Incarnate?

Well, I already knew he was a nightmare to be reckoned with before we met him…

“Euron Crowseye has no lack of cunning, though. I’ve heard men say terrible things of that one.”

“Euron Greyjoy is no man’s notion of a king, if half of what Theon said of him was true.”

Aeron was almost at the door when the maester cleared his throat, and said, “Euron Crow’s Eye sits the Seastone Chair.”

The Damphair turned. The hall had suddenly grown colder. The Crow’s Eye is half a world away. Balon sent him off two years ago, and swore that it would be his life if he returned. “Tell me,” he said hoarsely.

Aeron had drowned and been reborn from the sea, the god’s own prophet. No mortal man could frighten him, no more than the darkness could…nor memories, the bones of the soul. The sound of a door opening, the scream of a rusted iron hinge. Euron has come again.

and when we do meet him, it’s immediately clear that there’s something different (and terrifying) about this particular Greyjoy…

Euron glanced about the tent. “As it happens I have oft sat upon the Seastone Chair of late. It raises no objections.” His smiling eye was glittering. “Who knows more of gods than I? Horse gods and fire gods, gods made of gold with gemstone eyes, gods carved of cedar wood, gods chiseled into mountains, gods of empty air…I know them all. I have seen their peoples garland them with flowers, and shed the blood of goats and bulls and children in their names. And I have heard the prayers, in half a hundred tongues. Cure my withered leg, make the maiden love me, grant me a healthy son. Save me, succor me, make me wealthy…protect me! Protect me from mine enemies, protect me from the darkness, protect me from the crabs inside my belly, from the horselords, from the slavers, from the sellswords at my door. Protect me from the Silence.” He laughed. “Godless? Why, Aeron, I am the godliest man ever to raise sail! You serve one god, Damphair, but I have served ten thousand. From Ib to Asshai, when men see my sails, they pray.”

The priest raised a bony finger. “They pray to trees and golden idols and goat-headed abominations. False gods…”

“Just so,” said Euron, “and for that sin I kill them all. I spill their blood upon the sea and sow their screaming women with my seed. Their little gods cannot stop me, so plainly they are false gods. I am more devout than even you, Aeron. Perhaps it should be you who kneels to me for blessing.”

…but as for the revelation that he’s a cosmic-horror supervillain, that’s right here:

Sharp as a swordthrust, the sound of a horn split the air.

Bright and baneful was its voice, a shivering hot scream that made a man’s bones seem to thrum within him. The cry lingered in the damp sea air: aaaaRREEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

All eyes turned toward the sound. It was one of Euron’s mongrels winding the call, a monstrous man with a shaved head. Rings of gold and jade and jet glistened on his arms, and on his broad chest was tattooed some bird of prey, talons dripping blood.

aaaaRRREEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

The horn he blew was shiny black and twisted, and taller than a man as he held it with both hands. It was bound about with bands of red gold and dark steel, incised with ancient Valyrian glyphs that seemed to glow redly as the sound swelled.

aaaaaaaRRREEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

It was a terrible sound, a wail of pain and fury that seemed to burn the ears. Aeron Damphair covered his, and prayed for the Drowned God to raise a mighty wave and smash the horn to silence, yet still the shriek went on and on. It is the horn of hell, he wanted to scream, though no man would have heard him. The cheeks of the tattooed man were so puffed out they looked about to burst, and the muscles in his chest twitched in a way that it made it seem as if the bird were about to rip free of his flesh and take wing. And now the glyphs were burning brightly, every line and letter shimmering with white fire. On and on and on the sound went, echoing amongst the howling hills behind them and across the waters of Nagga’s Cradle to ring against the mountains of Great Wyk, on and on and on until it filled the whole wet world.

All it took was one breach of the environmental suit. One cut on the arm. It went downhill from there.

By some mechanism or other, most likely due to the two major parasites both being the type to preserve their host while trying to oust one another, Deston ended up maintaining control of his own body. Mostly.

The green side has the most direct influence, subtly altering Deston’ general instincts, turning him into a blood-feeder in order to sate the parasite (not shown here are a set of five or six piercing probosces that he can extend from his throat, originating from the green parasite).

The purple one, in turn, got infected by the hyperparasite growing out of its mouth (acting much like tongue-replacing crustaceans that infect fish, with a little bit of Leucochloridium paradoxum), which is autonomous for the most part.

Kalhallaran’s border patrol picked him up, amazed he was still alive (humans don’t do well unless they are quickly ferried or escorted to a terraformed area), and helped stabilize his sense of self to control his parasite-mutated body, which only grew more and more grotesque over time.

He doesn’t actually mind, mainly because the creatures that are sharing his body have biochemically ‘convinced’ him that this is perfectly normal.

An example of what I mean by “older stuff” (2013) with worldbuilding, and related to the last post.

Angel Flu

Angel!Ethan, Dark Angel!Mark
—————
Ethan buried himself further under the covers of his and Mark’s shared bed. His head was throbbing harshly, making him shut his eyes tightly in an attempt to ignore the pain. He really didn’t want to wake Mark, but he didn’t feel good at all and he was getting anxious.

Suddenly, a violent cough rattled through his body and he whimpered a bit at how it made his sides hurt. For comfort, he curled into a ball and tried to wrap himself in his wings. However, another cough shook through him, followed by about six more. His coughing fit left his sore throat hurting even more than before.

More whimpering followed, Ethan tried his best not to cry. Firstly, because he wasn’t a fledgling anymore. He was an (almost) full grown angel and he wanted to prove that to Mark. Second, because Mark was snoozing peacefully besides him and Ethan knew Mark didn’t like to be woken up. Crying would not help.

Unfortunately, two more coughs and a sneeze assaulted him and he simply couldn’t restrain from letting out a pained whine. It was followed soon after by a few quiet sobs.

“Ethan?” Came a gruff voice from the darkness.

“Mark.” The younger angel replied in a small voice, sniffling. Ethan grimanced at how he sounded. He immediately cleared his aching throat and tried to make it seem like he wasn’t crying.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Mark asked gently. He got up as slowly as possible, then searched with his hands for Ethan. He frowned once his touch reached the light angel. Ethan was shaking under the covers, curled up tightly.

“Nothing,” Eth whimpered, accompanied by a sneeze.

Mark shook his head, still drowsy, then carefully peeled the covers away from Ethan’s body.

In the dim light, a glistening layer of sweat was visible across his skin.

“Ethan,” Mark mumbled in concern. He only got a whimper in reply, so he placed his hands to his young friend’s forehead. It was burning hot to the touch, confirming Mark’s suspicions.

“It hurts, Moo.” Ethan croaked.

“I know, baby,” Mark brushed some of Ethan’s sweat-soaked hair out of his face, “I think you’re just a little sick.”

“You said that we don’t get sick.”

“We don’t,” Mark huffed pointedly, “Unless we’re very stupid and don’t listen to older angels that know a lot better.”

“Flying in a thunderstorm isn’t stupid, it’s fun,” Ethan grumbled, then coughed.

Mark sighed and rolled his eyes, “What am I going to do with you?”

“Make it better,” Ethan demanded in a hoarse voice. He puffed out his wings intimidatingly.

“Sorry, thunderboy,” Mark said, “Angel Flu isn’t something I can heal. You’ll be better in a day or two, just go back to sleep.”

Mark lied back down on his side and settled in to doze off. Now that he knew what was plaguing Ethan, he could rest without worry. The flu never killed anyone, especially angels.

Besides, it’d be good for Ethan to learn not to do stupid things.

A series of coughs racked through Ethan’s body on the other side of the bed.

“There’s really nothing you can do to make it better?” He whimpered, nuzzling his face into Mark’s pitch black wings..

“I’m sorry,” Mark replied with a yawn, though he felt bad for the angel, “It’s not exactly like there’s medicine.”

Ethan let out another whine, so Mark added, “Some people say hugs are the best medicine, you know.”

Before he could regret saying it, Mark was pounced on by his fellow angel and tackled into a hug. Ethan was still damp with sweat and shivering, and his voice didn’t sound good, but Mark smiled at how content he seemed in the moment.

Ethan nuzzled into Mark’s chest and made a small, happy noise almost resembling a coo. “Alright, now sleep,” the dark angel chuckled, running a hand up and down Ethan’s back, “You need rest.”

Ethan was silent for a moment, then asked, “Can I have more medicine tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Mark held Ethan’s head tightly to his chest and nuzzled his head at the base of the soft white wings. “You can have more medicine.”

toxic-swan  asked:

ooh can i request captain canary for #2?

AO3

#2: “Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.

Sara’s elbow drove into his side suddenly. Leonard’s eyes shot open from his slumber as he turned towards Sara. The woman beside him had her elbows outward like she was bracing herself against the bed. A small whimper escaped her.

“Sara,” he said quietly.

A whine escaped Sara. Leonard turned on the lamp on their bedside table and rolled back over to face her. With the light, he could see that she was starting to cry. Slipping away the knife he knew she kept under her pillow, Leonard gave her a shake.

“Sara, wake up!”

Keep reading

In fiction a character will say “I don’t believe in luck” and somehow the other characters don’t jump down his throat with “What? You mean you don’t believe in predetermination? And that some people are just inherently lucky? Or that you do believe in fate and some people are just destined for greatness and there is no chance involved? Or that there literally is no randomness in a Just World and people deserve everything that happens to them? Because luck means a lot of contradictory, things, so what the fuck do you mean, you ‘don’t believe in luck?’”

A month after they fought, Nia’s father allowed her back into the house.
It had now been about a week and she still hadn’t seen or spoken to him, which was fine with her.
Octavius had asked to speak with her about an important issue, so they sat down to discuss his problem. 

“So Nia I need help–Uh. Why’re you dressed-I mean…well you’re-”
“They’re not for you.”
He laughed nervously. “I didn’t mean that, well I-”


“Calm down Octavius. I’m starting to question whether you’ve even had sex before.” 
Ha laughed again and his entire face was red.
She rolled her eyes. “My reason, not that it’s your business in the slightest, is that I’m inviting Hana later. So, what did you need to speak about.”
He cleared his throat. “Right.” 

“Well you know Karen… well, that she was pregnant, right?”
“I heard something about it. Are you the father?”
“Yes Nia, I am. She didn’t say a word to me, until the other day. She said she was scared I’d leave but I don’t want to. I love her, but my father would disown me if he found out.”
“Send money to her, and your child. Make a plan. You can finish school, then move out with her and even if your father disowns you, you’ll have a proper future. You’ll have nothing to be afraid of, for you and your family.”
“Oh. That makes me feel so much relief. I thought you-”
“You’re my friend Octavius. I’m here, however you might need me.”
He stared at her again.
“Except in the one you’re currently thinking of.”
He chuckled. “Yeah right, I know that.“