#try this miracle liquid called water

[beardedmrbean]

[invisible-lint]

Before and After: Nightmares

Lucien x Archeron!Reader

Summary: the first in a series of drabbles before and after you went into the cauldron

Warnings: angst. angstier than I intended oops

Word Count: 1.2K

You grab a knife off a fae distracted by what Amarantha is doing to your twin. You are not one of them. She can't stop you. You may not be able to kill her, but you will not let Feyre go down alone. You stalk forward, ready to try, prepared to die with her, when warm arms circle around your body. "Don't," Lucien whispers. Your gasp of indignation shifts to a scream of rage and horror when Feyre's neck snaps, the cruel fae queen finally done torturing her. You scream, not noticing as the masks fall off the faces of the spring court fae. You scream and scream, thrashing against him, trying to get loose, the knife still gripped in your hand as Lucien holds you. You scream until your throat is raw and you can't scream anymore. And then suddenly through some miracle performed by the high lords, she's alive again. Changed. Fae. But alive. And you sob, your body going limp, the knife clattering to the stone floor. You sob and Lucien continues to hold you.

You’re not sure what it was that woke you, the air, suddenly cold from the blankets being thrown back, or Lucien calling your name. You swing at him wildly, perceiving him as a threat in your sleep-addled terror. He grabs your hand, holding it until you’re awake enough for clarity to come across your features. He crawls into bed with you, pulling you into his arms as you start crying. He presses soft kisses to the top of your head, whispering reassurances into your hair, his hand against the small of your back. He holds you like this, waiting for you to be ready to tell him what this nightmare had been about. You had them more often than not. Sometimes, about your own experiences Under the Mountain, but more often, you relived Feyre’s death. Terrified by how powerless you were to stop it, how utterly powerless you would be to prevent anything else from happening to her.  Lucien just holds you, knowing that you’ll tell him what it was about when you’re ready. 

“I was back Under the Mountain. Watching Feyre die.” He looks at you, brushing hair back from your face. “I’ll never be able to save her, will I? I couldn’t then and now… Now the thing that is hurting her is not something I can take a knife and try to kill. The aftermath…. It is suffocating her. She is drowning and there is nothing that I can do. What are you supposed to do when you so desperately want to save someone you love and can’t?”

He looks at you momentarily, trying to find the words that will comfort you. How can he, when he feels the same way about you and your mortality? Every day is like a ticking clock drawing closer to the moment when he will lose you, and no matter how much he may know it’s coming, he knows he will never be prepared.  

“I don’t know… I wish I did…” His voice is so soft, that with your human ears, you almost don’t hear him. You nod, making a sound that’s half sniffle, half sigh. 

“Will you stay with me?” You ask, voice soft as tiredness begins to creep back over you.

“Of course. Always.”

"You'd truly neutralize the cauldron? Aren't you at all curious about what it can do? How it can help you? Save your human twin, doomed to die before you?" You hear the king speak as his guards drag you in, fear bright in your eyes. You look to Feyre, to the family you've found in the night court and you could weep at the state of them. You hold your chin high, hoping to radiate bravery you don't feel as Feyre begs. You don't fight, you don't make a scene as the guards drag you to the large cauldron in the center of the room. You bite back your scream as they lower you in, the inky water so cold it's painful. And you don't fight as you're submerged, floating, suspended in a space much larger than what the cauldron should hold. The icy hot liquid burns your body as you change until finally, you're being dumped out onto the stone floor, shivering, sputtering, and coughing. Your new fae senses are immediately overwhelming. It's all too much. The sobbing, the begging. Nesta’s cries of fury. Elain’s sobbing. The sickening scent of blood. Even the stone floor, is far too cold and rough against your skin. You wish you could just close your eyes and fall asleep, fade into blissful unconsciousness where nothing is too much. You flinch, looking up as Lucian drapes his coat over you, no longer sure what he is to you. You try to tell yourself that you don’t care about the sadness in his eyes at your fear and uncertainty towards him. You just want it to all be over. You just want-

You awaken suddenly, shoving the male away from you. You move across the bed, putting as much space between your bodies as you can, grabbing a hairbrush from the vanity to arm yourself, before realizing it was Lucien. He watches you, hands raised in front of him, as if to calm you like you were a frightened animal. You throw the brush at the wall a foot or so away from him, hoping to drive him away. But he stays, watching you. You grab something else and throw it, this item shattering against the wall, but still he doesn’t leave. You hate the way he looks at you, hate the regret that fills his eyes. The pity. You throw something else towards the bathing room.

“Get out!” You scream, not caring how loud you’re being, not caring if you wake the whole of Spring. But he doesn’t, he just stands there, watching, waiting. After a few minutes, the sobs come and you sink to the ground. He crosses the room, sinking down next to you, pulling you into his arms. Tonight, you let him, some part of you tired of shoving him away, when you so desperately want him there. You cling to him, sobbing into his chest and he holds you tight. He brushes your hair out of your face, keeping it from clumping in your tears. He’s glad that you can’t see his face, seeing the tears that are threatening to spill. He knows that this is his fault. He couldn’t stop you from going into the cauldron and now you hate him. His mate hates him, and most of the time, he believes he deserves it. He flinches, startled out of his thoughts by your hand on his face. He leans into the tender touch, savoring it, despite his surprise.

“Why do you keep coming back when I treat you this way?” you ask.

“Because I deserve it. You should hate me.” I hate me is left unsaid.

“No, you don’t. I don’t.” You shouldn’t.

“Why not? I should have stopped it. Stopped them.”

“Perhaps. But what could you have done? Against Tamlin? Against… It wouldn’t have made a difference.” He says nothing, knowing that you’re right, but not wanting to agree.

“You couldn’t have done anything more than I could have with that knife Under the Mountain. I used to wonder why you didn’t try harder to stop Tamlin from suffocating her.”

“And now?”

You look him in the eyes. “Now I know you’re just as powerless as I am.”

A/N: And there's fic 2 on the blog! I have a few ideas for the next chapter of both this one and Everything Could Be Okay. Hopefully, the next one for Lucien will be fluffier, he certainly deserves it!

divider once again by @tsunami-of-tears

[atinyslittleworld]

Wooyoung meeting his newborn baby

newdad!wooyoung x newmom!reader

Genre: pure fluff

Warnings: none

Wooyoung was lounging on the couch, lazily scrolling through his phone, when his girlfriend, Y/N, suddenly let out a gasp from the kitchen.

"Wooyoung!" she called out, her voice tinged with excitement.

Wooyoung glanced up, a playful grin spreading across his face. "What's up, babe? Find a spider in the sink again?"

Y/N emerged from the kitchen, her hand resting on her swollen belly. "No, silly," she chuckled. "I think the baby might be coming."

Wooyoung's grin faltered for a moment as he processed her words. Then, he burst into laughter. "Nice one, Y/N! You almost had me there."

But as he looked at Y/N’s face, he saw that she wasn't joking. Her expression was serious, tinged with a hint of anxiety.

"Wooyoung, I'm serious," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I think my water just broke."

Wooyoung's laughter died in his throat as he scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding with panic. "Wait, what? Are you serious?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes wide with apprehension. "Yes, I think so. I felt a sudden gush of liquid, and now I'm having contractions."

Suddenly, everything seemed to blur for Wooyoung. He felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he realized that this was really happening. Their baby was on the way, and he needed to act fast.

"Okay, okay," he said, trying to keep his voice calm despite the rising panic in his chest. "Let's get you to the hospital. Do you need anything? Should I grab the hospital bag?"

Y/N nodded, her breathing becoming more shallow as another contraction washed over her. Wooyoung rushed to gather their things, his mind racing with a million thoughts. He couldn't believe that this was happening now, when they least expected it.

As they hurried out the door and into the car, Wooyoung's mind raced with worry. He knew that Y/N was in good hands at the hospital, but he couldn't shake the feeling of anxiety gnawing at his insides. What if something went wrong? What if he wasn't prepared to be a father?

But as he looked over at Y/N, her face twisted in pain but still filled with determination, he knew that he had to be strong for her. They were in this together, and he would do whatever it took to support her through it.

Finally, they arrived at the hospital, and Y/N was quickly taken into the maternity ward. Wooyoung paced nervously in the waiting room, his heart pounding with anticipation. He felt like he was on pins and needles, each passing moment feeling like an eternity.

Finally, after what felt like hours, a nurse emerged from the maternity ward, a smile on her face. "Congratulations, Mr. Jung," she said. "You have a healthy baby boy."

Relief washed over Wooyoung in a wave as he rushed into the room to see Y/N and their newborn son. Tears filled his eyes as he looked down at the tiny bundle in Y/N’s arms, his tiny fingers curled around his own.

"He's beautiful," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes shining with tears of joy. "He's perfect, Wooyoung. Our little miracle."

Wooyoung leaned in to kiss Y/N’s forehead, his heart overflowing with love and gratitude. In that moment, as he held his newborn son in his arms, he knew that nothing else mattered. They were a family now, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

[imustbenuts]

The Unnamed King in FEH Book 8

:v ITS THAT ONE EMPEROR. not slick, intsys.

the unnamed tyrant king in fire emblem heroes' book 8 is a reference to a king who also was known as a tyrant, was ruthless, and wanted to attain immortality.

his name was... Qin Shi Huang.

well known for trying to attain immortality through good old chinese alchemy, and then likely dying from mercury poisoining. bc mercury is a key ingredient in those immortality elixirs. (and thus likely had acute mercury poisoning induced psychosis. sometimes called the Mad Hatter's disease. which could explain him burying some 426 scholars alive at one point. look, the guy was a tyrant.)

he also ordered for his tomb to be built while he was still alive. but due to reasons only the front part of his tomb was excavated and this is now known as the terracotta army. bc it's full of clay soldiers.

the inner sanctum where he sleeps in remains unexcavated, tho when probes were inserted the mercury reading was off the fucking charts.

also some guy after his death whose name is Sima Qian wrote that there was a order for all of his childless concubines and their extended family to be buried alive in his tomb. and that to guard the knowledge of said tomb from idk raiders, the labourers, worksmen and artists who built it were also buried alive. the exact number currently unverifiable again no open. (some numbers like 70,000 have been thrown around but shrugs)

læraðr absolutely stepped in it rip

also bonus: chinese feng shui elements is at play here

uhhh lets see. for what we need today are these two:

Green outer arrows = An element feeding and being beneficial to the creation of the following element.

Red inner arrows = An element destroying and being detrimental to the creation of the following element.

so Mercury. what this basically says is that Metal is super effective against Wood. mercury was known as some kinda miracle Water liquid, but now known as a form of liquid Metal bc we understand science better now. the chinese alchemists believed Mercury was like some kinda wonder Water ingredient with lots of Yin which would somehow grant immortal life so they really went wild with it.

anyway, Læraðr is of the wood element. if hes dealing with Mercury, he would have gotten absolutely wrecked by the element according to feng shui.

and for what its worth he might be suffering from the same mercury poisoning effects the unnamed king had too.

[moon-fics]

Another Universe- Peter Parker

A/n: Ugh I miss writing pure angst! Anyway, Lime Light will be pushed back a bit!! I want to write two more of these based on Tom and PS5 Spider-man but idk! This one is based off of Andrew's Peter but you can imagine anyone.

Summary: You've always loved Peter Parker, from the moment you met to the day you die. Maybe in another universe it isn't so tragic.

Warning: swears, angst, no happy ending, mentions of death and blood

You stare out the window as the rain falls, a small candle battling the cold glass for room. New York has always been gloomy during the fall season and you can't help but enjoy it just a bit. When the sun is blocked by the clouds and the air is cold, that's something you'll never get tired of.

As your eyes follow a raindrop on the window, the front door opens. You're quick to get up from the bay window, listening as the sounds of footsteps get closer. You act before you see him, you know those footsteps. The bright red and blue are blurry in your vision as you throw your arms around him.

"How's my bug doing?" You ask with a hum. He smells of rain and cinnamon, a combination you never thought you'd love so dearly. He's still wet from the rain and you know he's going scold you for getting yourself soaked as well.

"Oh, the usual," He laughs, gently pulling you off him. There's a dark stain on your shirt from where the water absorbed and a few droplets on your shoulders from his hair. "May invited us over for dinner," He informs you, planting a kiss on your cheek.

"Oh, do you think she'll make meatloaf?" You ask excitedly, watching as he removes his suit and lets it drop to the floor. You'll pick it up in a second, but right now you're focused on him. He's unharmed which is a miracle that you welcome gratefully.

Peter grimaces at the thought, "I hope not, I'll have to lie all night about how great it is," His expression returns to a smile, knowing that he'd willingly do it anyway. "Maybe in another universe she's a top chef known for her meatloaf," He jokes, throwing his head back at his own idea. You, however, enjoy May's cooking. Besides the occasional date night, she's the only home-cooked meal you get.

"It's not that bad, you only got sick twice last time," You tease, following him to the bedroom. Your apartment is small but pleasing to look at thanks to your touch. Peter originally wanted to paint the walls tan but you convinced him a nice light blue would be better.

"Let me wash up and we'll head to her place," He kisses you softly, letting his lips linger for just a second. "Maybe you could join me?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

You've already taken a shower today and you'd only need to change your shirt to be ready. "Maybe in another universe," You tease, pressing your pointer finger against his forehead to push him away. With a grin, you turn around and head to the candle to blow it out

--

It's freezing cold and you're sure you can't feel your fingers anymore. You stare up at the sky, tracing the dark clouds with your eyes. Snowflakes slowly fall down on your face, kissing the ground around you.

You can't help but think about the warning about yellow snow, but no one mentions crimson snow. Probably because the chances of you coming across an alarming amount is small, at least you hope it is.

"Y/n?" A voice calls out, but it's muffled by the wind. You can't move an inch of your body, not even to see who is screaming. You swallow the dryness in your throat in hopes it'll dampen, but it remains parched. "Y/n, you have to look at me," The voice pleads.

A masked figure pops into view, hovering over your face. The red mask is a dead giveaway and your lips curl up. Your breath is visible in the cold air but it's small and labored.

"Hey, bug," You cough out, liquid filling your mouth. It's metallic and hot, definitely not saliva. "Sorry, I can't make Christmas tonight," You laugh, trying to make light of your situation. As you keep your eyes on the mask your vision slowly blurs, right as the mask is removed. Peter's hands cup your face, his warmth giving you comfort.

"No, you'll make it. We'll just postpone it," He assures you with a shaky voice. He doesn't even sound sure of himself and that's how you know this won't end well. Peter Parker will once again lose to fate.

You take a breath that lets out a whistle sound, blinking away tears. "I'll have to ask May to make her meatloaf just to torment you," Your voice is barely audible and you're glad Peter has super hearing. He lets out a weak laugh, his hands positioning your head onto his lap.

There are sirens that are growing louder but you know it'll be too late. By now you're surrounded in blood-soaked snow and your body won't be able to recover. "Hey, Pete," You try to speak but it sounds like there's mucous in your throat, like you're dying.

"Do you think that in another universe Spider-Man always wins?" The question remains in the crisp air for some time. It echoes in your heart that is slowing down and leaps into your throat which now has barbed wire around it.

"I'm sure of it," He nods finally, tears freely falling down his cheeks. They land on your skin and blossom through your veins. As the world slowly blurs into darkness you can only imagine a universe where May is a famous chef and Peter is happy.

[hannahhook7744]

I Don’t Know Why All The Trees Change In The Fall, But I Know You’re Not Scared Of Anything At All;

Cover:

Summary: Isabela’s son is a mama’s boy. Trigger Warnings: Confusion, fear, jealousy, thoughts of violence, swearing, blasphemy, anger issues, and repeated use of the word ‘stupid’. Encantober 2024: Leaves. The way Isabela is thinking of Pedro is based off this wonderful fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37560733/chapters/93751921

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Arlo Emo Marquez Madrigal, son of Isabela Rojas Madrigal and Bubo Marquez, at five years old didn't yet know why all the trees changed in the fall (or why the leaves changed whenever his mother wanted them to). 

Or whether Snow White's house was near or far away. 

But one thing he did know without a doubt was that his mamá wasn't scared of anything at all. He knew this because he'd seen it first hand, on multiple occasions.

He'd seen her chase off the mean old dead fish lady with a cactus after she insulted his mamá’s Tío Bruno. 

He'd seen her chase off his papá’s mean old papá and hermanos with an Épée. 

He's seen her chase the donkey farmer with a chancla after he tried to ask Tía Luisa to help him catch the donkeys again on Christmas morning. 

Arlo had even seen her pick up spiders with her bare hands and had seen her wrestle one of her potato people out of Parce’s mouth  and send the jaguar to the corner. 

So, yeah. Arlo or Mi pequeña flor, as his mamá liked to call him, knew that his mamá wasn't scared of anything at all and he'd even wager all of his allowance with Primo Camilo on it if he hadn't been banned from gambling by his padres. 

Which was exactly why when, during his gift ceremony, his hair went from soft and dry to liquid-y and move-y he ran in terror straight for his madre without even glancing at his door or his siblings’ new doors because he knew she'd protect him from whatever his gift had done to him and make Casita fix it.

And he knew she would because he had the bestest mommy in the Encanto. “¡MAMI! ¡MAMI! ¡MAMI! ¡MAMI!” 

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To Arlo’s disappointment, mamá couldn't fix his hair. 

His hair, that had gone from wavy and curly and pitch black (like both his parents) to teal water with live, moving goldfish in it—because apparently his gift could affect his appearance far more than just making eyes go from hazel to green like it had with Tío abuelo Bruno. 

Arlo hated it. 

He hated his stupid new hair and wanted his cool old hair that made him look like his parents’ clone back. He hated his stupid Hy-dro-kin-esis or his water bending as Tío abuelo Bruno and Primo Cy called it. He hated that his head was always wet and that he could feel the fish moving, and that his papá and mamá couldn't play with his hair anymore. He hated that he couldn't cuddle with his parents or his siblings and cousins without his hair dripping everywhere. 

Arlo hated his stupid water-filled room that drip, drip, dripped non-stop no matter the time of day. He hated how the water rose when he was upset and how people he didn't know in town kept trying to touch his hair. 

He hated everything about his gift and he hated the miracle and he hated Casita and he hated his Tía Mirabel for handing him her magical door knob during the ceremony.  But most of all he hated his siblings and cousins for getting gifts they loved when he was stuck with one he hated that kept giving him ear infections that Abuela Julieta’s food couldn't heal. 

Why did his hermano Miguel Jr (or Smiley or MJ as he had been nicknamed) get to make shields out of thin air? Why did Miguel Jr get to make a shield bubble that he could run into walls with, without getting a boo-boo when Arlo was stuck with water bending?

Why did his hermana Zoey get to talk to and fix machines that he could befriend while Arlo was stuck with water bending?

Why did Princesa get to make different gasses?

Why did Elmira get to play with music and make things happen?

Why did Claudine get to turn invisible and why did Rachel get to make things come to life by sewing?

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Why did Cesare get telepathy and Cornel get to see the dead and Cy get to see the future like Tío abuelo Bruno did?

And why did Rick get to tell when people were lying?

Why was Arlo the only one with a gift he hated?

Why did Casita and the miracle hate him?

He didn't want this gift. He wanted something cool, like being the next miracle holder or his mamá’s gift! Preferably something like his mamá’s gift. Not a dumb ol’ gift that ruined his hair and ruined his room and ruined his cuddles!

Arlo couldn't even draw the leaves on his mamá’s vines and plants anymore without the water from his hair dripping onto his drawing and dampening the paper!

It wasn't fair!

He wasn't even allowed to swim anymore either ‘cause the adults and bigger kids were scared that they wouldn't be able to see him ‘cause of his hair if he drowned. He loved swimming and now he couldn't. 

He couldn't play outside while it was cold either or sleep in someone else's bed with them without getting everything all wet because of his hair anymore either! It wasn't fair. 

It wasn't. 

And he didn't know why his mamá couldn't fix it— didn’t Casita know that his mamá was the bestest mamá and that she had to listen to her? Didn't the miracle know that?

Arlo hated them for not listening to his mamá and he hated that his mean old gift made his mamá sad. He even tried to hide how much he didn't like his power after he saw how much it upset her but the fish haired boy wasn't sure if he was successful because she kept trying to tell him that he'd grow to love his gift to make him feel better.

That abuelo had picked it out just for him. 

That water was the reason her leaves and vines and leaves and flowers and leaves could live. That his water could save her plants in a drought. Whatever a drought was. 

But it didn't make him feel better—because he knew that his mamá was just lying for his benefit; something that only served to make him despise his gift more because it had turned his honest madre into a liar —which he knew was a bad thing because his bisabuela Alma said that lying was rude and not good and not nice, and that they shouldn't lie. 

And if his madre was a liar because of his gift, then his madre was bad and he didn't want his mamá or his papá to be bad. 

But they were. All because of his useless, awful gift.

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“See how green and lively the water makes the leaves, hijo? Isn't it nice?” Isabela asked, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice as she kneeled in front of her five year old with a big fake, painfully forced smile on her face. 

Hoping that her son wouldn't notice that she was trying to fake it till she made it. It, in this case, being love for her son’s gift. 

Since the mad scientist of a florist, quite frankly, despised her poor little son—who was so much like her that it hurt—’s gift. Maybe the artist would have liked the gift given to her little mini-me if Arlo himself had liked it but she would never know because her Arlo didn't like his gift and didn't want it.

El infierno, her little flower had even gone as far as begging for Casita to take it and his room back. 

It killed her and Bubo to see their son in such pain, especially since they had done everything they could think of to ease the boy's misery with absolutely no results other than Arlo trying to hide how much he was rejecting his gift from them. Which neither of them wanted in the slightest. 

Dios, the first thing Isabela was gonna do when she died was strangle her abuelo for giving her poor flower such a dreadful gift—if he was even responsible for this whole ordeal, that was. Not that the artist doubted that her grandfather was responsible for the miracle and their gifts; oh, no she was fairly confident that that was the case ever since Mirabel had suggested it. Mirabel was hardly ever wrong these days and Abuela had even confirmed that it did sound like something her Pedro would do. 

El absoluto imbécil.

And Cornel did say that Pedro had even admitted to being responsible for choosing the gifts each of them had gotten. 

Oh how she couldn't wait to ring his neck for the gifts he'd given her triplets and for the mischievous nature Camilo had undoubtedly inherited from him. El bastardo.

Dios, Isabela hadn't been this mad since she found out while giving birth that she was having triplets. 

Arlo scowled at the potted plant—something he'd never have done before his disaster of a gift ceremony—scrunching up his nose and hugging what was now his stuffed flower. Glaring at the plant as if it had done something to personally offend him as a fish attempted to swim out of his hair. “ No. ”

Oh, juro por Dios, she was gonna murder her abuelo for a second time when she next saw him.

[archiveofthelibrarian]

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Manwion had hair of silver, which at night, reflected the starry sky yet glistened gold when Laurelin waxed. His long silver waves was adored by all, Quendi and Ainur alike, rivaled only by the gold-silver hair of Artanis which was said to have captured the very essence of the Two Trees.

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Love and Glass

Chapter 1

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Inspired by my conversation with @animatorweirdo as anon here.

I did not proof read this, so feel free to point out any mistakes.

Masterpost for the fic can be found here.

DISCLAİMER: I do not own anything you recognize. This is a fanwork for entertainment purposes and should be regarded as such.

Word count: 1.162

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It was just like any other night.

You were on your couch, relaxing and catching up on that show you had neglected for the past month.

It had been a very hectic month at work.

You didn't even want to think, so Netflix was it.

The hours went on and you became more engaged in your show by the minute.

But suddenly, your attention was torn away from the show by a very suspicious noise coming from your backyard.

Cautiously, you took your gun and went to investigate the matter.

What you found was a creature of such beauty, it was otherworldly.

Though he was the exact same height as you and appeared human, he was anything but a normal human.

His hair was silver and it went down to his waist in delicate waves as it reflected the starry night as an ocean, calm and deep.

His face was drained and his complexion was of unsullied light.

His eyes were the darkest shade of blue, capturing the light of stars in themselves.

You were completely entranced, but through some miracle, you managed to keep your guard up.

"Who are you?" you asked, pointing the gun to his forehead.

The creature tilted his head in curiosity. His eyes shined with childlike wonder and innocence.

"What is that?" he asked with pure wonder and innocence. His voice felt like liquid gold to your ears.

"Answer the question!"

The creature flinched and took a step away from you, terrified.

It would be very unwise to trust him, yet it seemed the creature was genuine in his every behavior.

It was almost like he was untouched by malice and did not know of any ulterior motives.

Ignoring the screaming voice of reason in your brain, you lowered your gun and started speaking softly. "Hey, hey. I am sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

The creature looked you in the eyes, his very gaze piercing your heart. "Really?"

You nodded. "Yes, I was just trying to be cautious."

The creature seemed to have believed you in an instant as he lowered his guard entirely.

"Now, what is your name?"

"I don't have a name," the creature said. You felt a tinge in your heart. How could someone not have a name? You so desperately wanted to ask, yet knew better than to pry into a stranger's personal matters.

"Then, how do your people call you?"

"Manwion," he said. "The Amanyar call me Manwion for I am the son of Manwë and Varda."

You felt as if someone poured a bucket of ice-cold water over your head.

"I am sorry, did you say Manwë and Varda?"

He nodded. "Yes, the King and Queen of Arda," he said tilted his head. "Do you not know them? How can you not know them?"

That was it. You had fallen into a coma during work and this was some coma dream shit.

You must have frozen since the creature gently took your hand, jolting you awake.

"Are you okay," he asked.

This was a dream. It had to be.

But the evidence was right here.

"Yeah, I am. Just, surprised..."

That part of your brain which has always been too kind decided to take matters into its own hands as you decided to go invite him in. Whether it was a dream or reality, you couldn't leave someone out here in the middle of the night.

"Why don't you come inside and then we can talk. It is quite a chilly night after all.

The creature smiled. "Okay."

Throughout the entire night, you two talked and as the first light of the sun dawned on earth, it became clear to you that this creature was truly what he claimed to be.

He was the son of Manwë and Varda, the King and Queen of Arda.

He was Manwion, the Silver Prince of Arda,, who was made out of silver crystal and given life.

He was the embodiment of innocence and joy.

He could never know any evil or malice for his heart was untouched by any of it.

But it did not mean malice was nonexistent because he couldn’t know it. And this was a world full of malicious intent.

He was so vulnerable here.

If anyone found out about his existence aside from yourself, they would take him and turn him into a lab rat.

The images of this creature of pure light and joy being experimented on played in your head.

It was so horrible.

You could not let that happen.

So you decided to hide Manwion’s existence from the world, letting him stay in your house.

Manwiom really wasnt hard to love with his cheerful and radiant personality.

He really was the embodiment of joy.

As days turned intp weeks and weeks turned into months, you found yourself liking Manwion more and more.

Looking at him when he wasnt looking, bringing him new things he had not known earlier so that you could see his face light up with joy...

You had fallen in love and you had fallen hard.

But Manwion was a divine being of another world, he was the Silver Prince of Arda and you were but a mere human from Earth who worked 8-5 and ran on cafdeine most of the time.

The thought of having your affection resipricsted seened like fever dream no matter how you looked at it.

But he did in fact return your affections. And he return them as much more beauty than you ever thought was possible.

And so began your days of bliss on Earth.

But it would not last as few things ever did.

Despite all your caution, the authorities managed to find out about Manwion and thus began a search for him.

With no other choice, you took the barest necessities for your survival and Manwion and you fled from your home.

You held the hand of Manwion tight as the light from police cars threatened to blind you.

Manwion's hands were shaking from terror.

There were so many guns pointed at you.

The officer repeated his demand for you to turn yourselves in.

You were hesitant to speak as anything you said would render you in an even worse situation.

Just when you thought it was all over, the very fabric of the space-time was torn, revealing a dark tentacle.

The tentacle started wreaking havoc as it blasted the police cars away.

In the chaos, you and Manwion got separated.

The moment you realized he was not with you, you started to look around frantically.

And suddenly, your world narrowed to the sight of him screaming as he was captured and dragged into the depths of the void by the dark creature.

Without thinking, your body sprang into action taking a gun one of the officers had managed to somehow lose, you held onto the tencale and got dragged with him into the void.

The tear on the fabric fixed itself, trapping you, the creature and Manwion inside.

[ltash]

Venom

Part 9 "Redemption"

Simon Ghost Riley x female OC

I am going to hell Simon Riley and I am taking you with me.

As for hell Princess, I've been there and back.

"I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you."

Anastasia opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the harsh fluorescent light of the hospital room. The steady beeping of machines surrounded her, a testament to the battle her body had fought to stay alive. She had lost a lot of blood, and it was nothing short of a miracle that she had survived. Her mind was foggy, the edges of consciousness blurred with pain and disorientation.

"Ghost," she whispered, the name slipping from her lips as if it were the only thing tethering her to reality.

The doctors and nurses rushed to her side as she began to panic, her heart racing dangerously. Her breath came in short, frantic gasps, and alarms blared as her heart rate skyrocketed. Despite their efforts to calm her, Anastasia's heart gave out, sending her into cardiac arrest.

"Clear!" one of the doctors shouted, and the room was a flurry of motion and urgency. They worked tirelessly to resuscitate her, the seconds stretching into an eternity. Finally, with a jolt from the defibrillator, her heart started beating again, weak but steady. She had come back from the brink once more, but the fight had left her exhausted and fragile.

***

Ghost awoke abruptly in the middle of the night, his body drenched in cold sweat despite the chill in the air. Shirtless, he felt the cool air prickling his skin, but it did nothing to alleviate the heat of his anxiety. He had been haunted by a nightmare, a twisted amalgamation of memories and fears.

He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. It had been about Anastasia-her pain, her fear, her haunting eyes as she lay wounded. The dream had felt all too real, a vivid reminder of the consequences of his actions.

Ghost made his way to the kitchen, the darkness of his apartment offering little comfort. He poured himself a glass of water, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. Leaning against the counter, he couldn't stop thinking about Anastasia. How was she? Had she survived the night? Was she still fighting for her life?

The questions gnawed at him, each one more persistent than the last. He had done what he thought was necessary, but now he was left grappling with the aftermath. Ghost knew he had to find out about her condition. The uncertainty was unbearable, and he couldn't shake the nagging feeling of guilt that had taken root in his mind.

As he stared into the darkness, he made a silent vow.The road ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: Anastasia's fate was now intertwined with his own, and he couldn't turn away from it.

The first thing Ghost did that morning was call Laswell. He didn't even let her greet him before he blurted out his question.

"How is she doing?"

Laswell's voice was steady, but there was a hint of concern. "She went into heart failure, but she's stable now. She's in the ICU."

Ghost felt a mixture of relief and anxiety. "Okay. Which hospital is she in?"

"She's at Manchester Royal Infirmary," Laswell replied. "But you can't see her yet. She's in the ICU, and only immediate family is allowed."

Desperation gnawed at him, a persistent itch spreading through his heart. He needed to see her, to confirm with his own eyes that she was alive, that she was still fighting. The cold reality of his actions weighed heavily on him, and the need to confront it was overwhelming.

He paced his apartment, the walls closing in on him. He knew he couldn't just barge into the hospital, but the thought of waiting, of doing nothing, was unbearable. He had to find a way to see her, to make sure she was truly okay.

Without wasting any more time, he grabbed his jacket and headed out. He needed to be close, even if he couldn't see her. The drive to Manchester was a blur, his mind racing with thoughts of Anastasia and the uncertain future that lay ahead.

Upon arriving at the hospital, he parked his car and sat there for a moment, staring at the imposing building. He couldn't go inside, but he could be near. He could wait and hope for any update, any sign that she was recovering.

Ghost leaned back in his seat, the desperation still gnawing at him. He closed his eyes, trying to find a moment of calm amidst the storm of emotions. He knew that whatever happened next, he had to be ready to face it. Anastasia's fate was intertwined with his own, and he couldn't turn away from it now.

He clenched the steering wheel, his mind racing. Anastasia had no family-no one to be by her side during this critical time. The realization hit him hard, intensifying the guilt and desperation gnawing at him. He couldn't let her face this alone, not after everything that had happened.

Determined, he stepped out of the car and headed toward the hospital entrance. He knew he had to find a way to see her, to be there for her, even if it meant bending a few rules. As he entered the hospital, he approached the front desk, trying to compose himself.

"Excuse me," he said to the receptionist. "I'm here to see a patient in the ICU-Anastasia. She doesn't have any family, and I need to make sure she's okay."

The receptionist looked at him sympathetically but shook her head. "I'm sorry, but only immediate family members are allowed in the ICU. It's hospital policy."

Ghost leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Please, she has no one else. I'm the closest thing she has to family. Just let me see her for a moment."

The receptionist hesitated, glancing around before nodding slightly. "I'll see what I can do. Please wait here."

As he waited, Ghost's mind raced with thoughts of Anastasia, of the moments they had shared, and the bond that had formed despite the chaos. He knew he had to be there for her, to make sure she knew she wasn't alone.

After what felt like an eternity, the receptionist returned with a nurse. "Follow me," the nurse said, leading him through the maze of corridors to the ICU.

They stopped outside a room, and the nurse turned to him. "You can only stay for a few minutes," she said, her tone firm but understanding.

Ghost nodded and stepped inside. Anastasia lay in the hospital bed, hooked up to various machines. Her face was pale, but she was breathing steadily. The sight of her, so vulnerable and fragile, stirred something deep within him.

He approached her bedside and gently took her hand, careful not to disturb any of the equipment. "Anastasia," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. "I'm here. You're not alone."

She didn't respond, but her presence was enough for him. He knew she was fighting, and he would be there to support her, no matter what. For now, he could offer her his presence, his silent promise that he wouldn't abandon her.

The minutes passed quickly, and the nurse signaled that his time was up. Reluctantly, Ghost let go of Anastasia's hand and stepped back. As he left the room, he glanced back one last time, silently vowing to do everything in his power to help her recover.

Outside the ICU, he took a deep breath, the weight of his actions still heavy on his shoulders. But now, he had a new resolve. He would be there for Anastasia, to make amends and to ensure she had the support she needed. The battle was far from over, but he was ready to face it head-on.

Ghost was overwhelmed by his impulsive need to see Anastasia again. Despite knowing the severity of his actions, the satisfaction of knowing she was alive and recovering gave him a strange sense of relief. Every day, he checked in with Laswell, anxiously awaiting updates about her condition.

On the fifth day, Laswell finally gave him the news he had been waiting for. "She's stable and able to talk. You can visit her and ask whatever you need to know."

He didn't waste a moment. The instant he ended the call, he grabbed his jacket and headed out, his heart pounding with anticipation. The drive to Manchester Royal Infirmary felt both quick and interminable, his mind racing with thoughts of what he would say and how she might react.

Arriving at the hospital, he felt a mix of determination and anxiety. This time, he didn't bother with a disguise. He strode purposefully through the corridors, his focus solely on reaching Anastasia's room. He had to see her, to hear her voice, and to make sense of the complicated feelings that churned inside him.

When he reached her room, he paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts and steadying his breath. He pushed the door open gently and stepped inside. Anastasia lay in bed, looking pale but alert, her eyes following his movements as he approached.

Anastasia sat on her hospital bed, her thoughts a tumultuous storm. The uncertainty of her future loomed large in her mind. She knew that once she divulged everything she knew about Makarov, there would be no turning back. Makarov would consider her a traitor, and there would be no forgiveness, no acceptance. She had nowhere to go, no one she could truly call her own.

The betrayal she felt was profound. She had trusted Ghost, despite knowing what he was capable of. Even after his warnings, she had chosen to believe in him. But that trust had been shattered when he wounded her so brutally.

Anastasia heard a knock at the door and her gaze shifted towards it. There he stood, his presence filling the doorway. He wore blue jeans and a black leather jacket that accentuated his imposing figure. His skull mask, a stark reminder of his brutal nature, gleamed ominously on his face.

She recoiled for a moment, memories of his violence flashing through her mind. Despite the fear, she remained silent, her eyes locked onto his.

"Anastasia," he said, his voice low and steady.

"Simon Riley! What are you doing here?" she replied, her Russian accent adding an edge to her words.

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "I came to check on you. To see how you're doing."

She narrowed her eyes, distrust evident in her gaze. "Why? After everything you did, why would you care about my well-being?"

Ghost took a deep breath, his gaze never wavering. "I know it's hard to believe, but I do care. What I did was necessary for the mission, but it doesn't mean I wanted to hurt you."

Anastasia clenched her fists, struggling to contain her emotions. "Necessary? You stabbed me, Simon. You left me for dead."

He took a step closer, his voice softening. "And I regret it. But we need to focus on the bigger picture now. Makarov is still out there, and he won't stop until he gets what he wants. We have to stop him, together."

She studied him, trying to gauge his sincerity. The mask made it difficult, but there was something in his posture, in the way he spoke, that hinted at genuine remorse. "Why should I trust you again?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"Because we have a common enemy," Ghost replied. "And because I can protect you. I know I broke your trust, and I don't expect you to forgive me easily. But right now, we need each other."

Anastasia looked at him with a mix of defiance and pain when he said they needed each other. "I don't need anybody, Simon Riley," she spat. "I trust no one now. You are a monster, Simon."

"So is Makarov," he replied evenly. "Don't you know he's a liar? At least I don't lie. I am a man of my word."

She laid back in her bed, her eyes filled with a stubborn determination to resist any attempt at manipulation.

"You know what Makarov did, don't you?" Ghost continued, his tone steady but urgent. "He blasted an entire airport, killing hundreds of people. He was planning to poison a whole dam. You know how much destruction he would have caused if we hadn't stopped him."

Anastasia turned her head away, her mind wrestling with conflicting emotions. She knew the horrors Makarov was capable of. She had seen them firsthand. But her trust had been shattered, and the wounds-both physical and emotional-were still raw.

"I know what Makarov has done," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "But that doesn't make you any less of a monster in my eyes. You used me, hurt me, left me to die."

Ghost felt a pang of guilt but pressed on. "I did what I had to do to stop a greater evil. I won't ask for your forgiveness, Anastasia, because I know I don't deserve it. But I am asking you to help me finish this. After Makarov is gone, you can go your own way, and I will never bother you again."

She looked at him, searching his eyes for any hint of deceit. What she found was determination, perhaps even a glimmer of regret.

"You know what he has done, and still you are defending him?" Ghost leaned closer, trying to reach her emotionally. He gently held her hand, but she yanked it away, her eyes filled with defiance.

"It's only propaganda, Anastasia," he said, his voice rising with frustration. "He and his men won't let you see the atrocities he has caused. He's a terrorist, for fuck's sake!"

Anastasia's expression hardened. "He saved me when my parents died," she replied, her voice steady. "He took me in, trained me, made me who I am today. I cannot forget what he did for me, Ghost."

Ghost took a deep breath, trying to keep his temper in check. "I get that. I understand loyalty. But you have to see the bigger picture. Makarov uses people, manipulates them. He might have saved you, but that doesn't erase the blood on his hands."

Anastasia's eyes flickered with conflict. "You don't understand. When you have nothing, no one, and someone offers you a purpose, a place to belong... it's hard to see them as a monster."

"I do understand," Ghost said quietly. "I've been there. But at some point, you have to recognize the truth. Makarov doesn't care about you. He cares about power, about chaos. The moment you become a liability, he'll discard you."

Her gaze softened slightly, but she still looked unconvinced. "And what about you, Ghost? You used me too. How are you any different?"

"I'm not asking you to trust me blindly," he replied. "I know I've given you every reason not to. But this isn't about me. It's about stopping a man who won't hesitate to destroy countless lives for his own gain. I'm asking you to help me because it's the right thing to do, not because I expect you to forgive me."

Anastasia looked down, her mind racing. She couldn't ignore the truth in his words, but the loyalty she felt toward Makarov was deeply ingrained. "I don't know if I can betray him," she whispered.

"You're not betraying him," Ghost said softly. "You're choosing to stop him from causing more pain and suffering. You're choosing to save lives. Including your own."

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with uncertainty. "If I help you... what happens to me after all this?"

"You'll be free," Ghost promised. "Free from Makarov, free from this life. We can help you start over, find a new purpose. But we have to stop him first."

"I leave it to you, Anastasia. Choose wisely. You only get to choose once." Ghost stood up and turned around, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the hallway.

"You are better than this, Anastasia. Your life has just started. If you choose to help us, you'll be free. But if you don't, I'm afraid you'll have to spend the rest of your life in prison." His voice was steady, carrying the weight of the ultimatum.

Without turning back, he left the room, the door closing softly behind him.

Anastasia sat in silence, his words echoing in her mind. The choice he presented was stark and unforgiving. On one hand, she could cling to her loyalty to Makarov, a man who had saved her but also embroiled her in a life of violence and terror. On the other hand, she could choose to help Ghost and the others, potentially finding a way to start anew but betraying the man who had given her purpose.

She stared at the ceiling, memories of her time with Makarov flooding her thoughts. He had taken her in when she had no one, had trained her, given her a sense of belonging. But she couldn't deny the horrors she had witnessed under his command, the innocent lives lost, the bloodshed.

Her hand instinctively moved to her wound, a physical reminder of the brutality she had endured. Ghost's words rang true: she deserved a chance at a real life, one not defined by violence and fear.

As she mulled over her decision, she thought about freedom. Real freedom, not just the illusion of it. If she helped Ghost, she could escape the shadow of Makarov, perhaps find redemption for her own sins. It was a daunting prospect, but it was a chance-a chance she might never get again.

Anastasia was escorted to an interrogation room, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. She knew what she had to do-reveal everything she knew about Makarov's operations, his plans, and the extent of his network. The interrogators questioned her relentlessly, probing for every detail, every connection, every bit of intelligence that could help them bring down Makarov.

Despite her resolve to cooperate, there was one piece of information Anastasia held back: Makarov's current location. She couldn't bring herself to betray him completely, not yet. Her loyalty, deeply ingrained from years of training and indebtedness, still lingered, despite her decision to turn against him.

Hours passed as the questions continued, the pressure mounting with each passing moment. Anastasia maintained her composure, carefully choosing her words, divulging everything except that critical detail. She knew the consequences of withholding information from them, but she also understood the consequences of revealing Makarov's hiding place.

Finally, the interrogation reached its conclusion. Anastasia was led back to her room, where Laswell awaited her. They exchanged a knowing glance, aware of the delicate balance she was trying to maintain.

Ghost was perched on his recliner, lost in thought about the decision Anastasia might have made, when he heard a knock at the door. He stood up and walked over to open it, finding himself face to face with two familiar blue eyes filled with defiance. Anastasia stood there, flanked by two agents.

"Anastasia," Ghost said softly, his voice betraying a mixture of relief and apprehension.

"Simon," she replied, her tone guarded yet tinged with a hint of something unresolved.

[holly-natnicole]

Team M

'lladdadrawingassoonasIcan!!

None of 'em attend the same school nor live in the same country; Moana Waialiki lives on the Pacific Island named Motunui (she's not royalty in this Crossover, though), Miguel Rivera Gómez lives in a town named Santa Cecilia in México, Merida DunBroch lives in a village named Doune in Scotland (she's not royalty in this Crossover, though; plus there's no mention of a village or town or city near Merida's canon home castle therefore I picked the Real Life village Doune as her home specifically coz it's near castle ruins), Meilin Lee (a.k.a. Lee Meilin a.k.a. Lǐ Měi-Líng a.k.a. 李 美铃) lives in a city named Toronto in Canada (no red panda form, though), & Mirabel Beatriz Madrigal lives in a village named Encanto in Colombia (no miracle & magic, though).

Their respective birthdays: 10th June 1986 (Merida); 14th November 1986 (Moana); 6th March 1987 (Mirabel); 1st March 1989 (Meilin); 20th October 1989 (Miguel).

The red panda is named Lǚ Yóu (a.k.a. 旅游). She's a magical creature able to speak in any spoken human language, understand any spoken human language, heal her own & others' injuries by using moonlight during full moons, transform herself into a shadow then back to normal whenever she wants, teleport through a shadow into another shadow anywhere on planet Earth whenever she wants, and (if the 5 in their transformed states channel their energies into Lǚ Yóu through their white rings to boost her own magical energy) create a violet-tinted black portal for Team M to go through in order to reach 6 different Universes where their enemies are trying to drain all energy (kinetic energy, heat energy, spirituality-linked magical energy, etc.). Her sincerely befriending each member of the quintet separately (in the 1st 6 Episodes of {insertCh.1.link 'Team M'} during the first half of the year 2002 results in each of the 5 during a full moon gaining 1 of the 5 rings Lǚ Yóu has. She became genuine friends with dozens of children age 10-16 in various countries before finally these 5 caused the metal bands she wore to react thus – on different days – each member of Team M had their 1st transformation into a Magical Warrior, their predecessors from 1001 years ago having been called the Five Legendary Warriors Transformed by Magic. (Lǚ Yóu platomically bit by bit grows emotionally close to all 5, but is closest with Meilin.)

Moana's alias when she's in her transformed form is Wai, Miguel's is Viento, Merida's is Clach, Meilin's is Huǒ (火), & Mirabel's is Luz (she was gonna go with Electricidad then Eléctrica before settling on Luz). Wai can control any pre-existing thing if over half of it (even if only by 1% over half of it) has water (H2O) in it & control ice as well as snow along with water vapour plus she can shift the 4 from liquid to solid to gas then back again. Viento can control any pre-existing wind (even if it's going only 5 metres per second), including using it to lift things (great for cushioning his own and other people's falls plus even making himself glide) as well as push things (great for increasing his own speed). Clach can control any pre-existing stone, cement, sand, clay, dirt, and lava; she can also change them from solids into liquids then back again. Huǒ can control any pre-existing fire and make its temperature change (anywhere from cold enough to make boiling hot water instantly turn into ice to hot enough to melt any metal) without the flame vanishing (the fire is pale orange when cold enough to instantly freeze boiling hot water & dark red when at 3422 degrees Celsius which is the hottest it can go). Luz can control any pre-existing electricity (be it either in a battery, lightning during a thunderstorm, or anywhere in-between). All five Magical Warriors have super strength, super endurance/durability, super speed, & the ability to travel through pre-existing shadows same way as Lǚ Yóu (of course, they can't do it nor use any of their other special powers when in their civilian forms). Thanks to at least an hour each week doing her sporty hobbies (riding a horse, rock-climbing, sword-fighting [with a wooden boardsword since no-one underage is allowed to practice with an actual broadsword made of metal], and especially doing archery), Merida is the sole member of Team M able to fight weaker enemies even without transforming into Clach. When transformed into their Magical Warrior selves, each of the 5 suffer from any effects (hunger, tiredness, illness, injury, menstruation [in the case of everyone except Miguel], etc.) if they've already got that problem during the second before saying "Metamorphose!" in any language (or thinking & signing it, or thinking & writing it). Likewise, injuries (although much less likely to happen when the 5 are in their Magical Warrior forms due to the aforementioned super durability/endurance) transfer from Wai to Moana, Viento to Miguel, Clach to Merida, Huǒ to Meilin, & Luz to Mirabel.

"Metamorphose!" triggers the ring's colour to leech off the ring onto the person wearing it, the colour in glittery sparkles spreading over the person in a second then his or her Magical Warrior outfit materialises onto him or her whilst the sparkles fade away in 4 seconds. The five's domino masks are magical, preventing their identities from being known despite not covering their entire faces and despite their hair staying unchanged.

The five human members of Team M meet each other as duos then trios then squads throughout the second half of 2002 'til on 6th December all 5 together as a quintet meet in Finland.

There are 8 Universes in total; the one where Lǚ Yóu & all the non-human villains are from, the Universe where planet Earth is (basically this story's version of Real Life 'verse), and 6 others.

The adventures of Team M are a combination of 'Pretty Cure' (2004) franchise & the quintet's own respective movies. Other 3D cartoon Disney and/or Pixar canon fictional characters are either residents of 1 of the 6 Universes or residents of planet Earth.

[cookieseals]

don't got much a fanfiction website rn to post junk on soooo here we go-

Memories are crazy yall-

(Writing of 2 of Acorn4's memories are below)

Memory 1, "The First Day":

My eyes open, screen slightly dim to not blind myself. But what was the point of doing that when there already was a bright light pointing at my screen. Soon enough, the light was turned off, I saw a yellow figure. Couldn't tell much of what they were as I was seeing colors from the bright light prior.

Seconds past before I hear their voice,

"Greetings, I'm Steve. Steve Cobs." They said calmly.

I used my bright orange paw to rub my screen, seeing the yellow figure now in clearer view. As their name had suggest, they were just like their name.

"Welcome to the world, Acorn4. You're my finest and newest model, and with your advanced emotion emulator. You'll do splendid here." Cobs greeted.

Cobs then reached his paw towards mine, which at the time I didn't know what to do. So, I allowed him to do so. Now, should have I allowed him? I feel weary of him, but why? Maybe because I just met him, maybe that's it..? He simply was just someone new?

But looking back at him, he seemed to be examining it. Which I gotta admit, it's more painful than it sounds. He dug his claws deep into my paw, why? No clue.

"Uhh.. Mr.. you're hurting my paw" I choked out, I couldn't believe myself being so nervous. Cobs glanced up at me, having a lot of annoyance but returned to a calm or should I say more blank expression?

"Acorn4, you must learn how you tolerate it. And I would request you refer to me as sir." He replied before writing on a paper attached to a clipboard.

Then would explain my purpose, I was made to be donated to a place where I would help raise something called a squrriel, whatever that is.. The speech was so boring, I would rather talk about how I got here but I guess that was on hold.

"I have what is means to protect you" Cobs said to me before selecting something on a screen I couldn't see. It lowered some sort of machine down, I wanted to move away from it but I was strapped to the table so that was pointless to try. Once the transparent screen made contact with my face, everything went blank...

-

Memory 2, "The Training Dive":

It had a been few days since I've been awakened, been finding my foods that I enjoy, nuts. They were a favorite of mine, mainly walnuts were the exact type.

Cobs motioned their paw towards the small pool of water. Of course, I didn't know what he wanted so I ask;

"Sir, what exactly are you wanting me to do?"

He rolled his eyes by this.

"I want to you to attempt to get into the water."

I then glanced at the clear liquid that I guessed was water and slowly dipped my leg into the assumed water. It was quite cold as it brushed against my fur but I continued on and stood in the freezing water, only my neck and head didn't touch such water.

Cobs then had explained how to swim, to kick my legs and make sure to not have my neck or head touch the water. So, I did just that. Using my legs to kick and my front paws used as assistance, and when I looked up at them.. They looked proud? Was I doing a good job, that's a miracle!

That was short lived and then ordered me to get out for the next 'task'... I luckily got an easy one, figure out what will be my uniform, all of them looked quite depressing. None of them had any bright colors, it looked as all of them were placed in gray scale. I glanced at each one, the majority of these uniforms were simply all black and the only thing not making it look as if you pretending to be a black hole was the name tags and logo for the company on the back. I've decided on the only one not black in color, a light gray uniform with pale blue on the shoulders.

Cobs assisted me when getting on the uniform, it was my first time after-all wearing such things. I could tell he likely had done this before with some sort of the other Acorn phone I never met. The uniform itself was alright, kinda tight to wear but at least my fur had enough room to not cause me to overheat from it.

And this seems to be getting better and better, hope it stays that way.

-

Just two starting memories for now hagagdifkrjt8fufufuthtj

[crackship-connoisseur]

bloody desperation

Summary: After returning home from the vampire manor, expecting to clear the air of his situation, Jim learns that he will be forced to go through with his arranged marriage to Claire. In an act of desperation, he drinks the vial of vampire's blood given to him by Hunter, with the promise that it will help him.

Word Count: 1,619

Characters: Jim Lake Jr, Claire Nuñez, Ophelia Nuñez, Toby Domsalski, Barbara Lake (Trollhunters), Hunter (The Owl House)

CWs: blood drinking, physical illness

A/N: i wish had written more fics to actually build up to the context for this but alas my writing style is fucking rancid and its a miracle i even wrote a single fic for any of my aus at all. oh well. if you have questions shoot me an ask

~~~~

"Please, won't you excuse me for a moment." James forced a cheerful tone as he let go of Claire's hands. 

The news was far too unbearable. He needed a moment to collect himself, so he briskly made his way into the nearest bathroom. He hunched himself over the sink, one hand gripping it firmly, the other over his mouth as he tried not to let any horrified sound he'd make escape. 

This was a disaster. He was going to be forced to go through with this wedding. He had hoped to come here to sever all of his ties, make up some excuse as to why he could not marry Claire, but he was met with that wickedly cheerful hostility that he had come to know so well from Claire and her family. 

He had to think fast. He surely would be seen if he tried to escape on his own. He knew now there was absolutely no reasoning with any of them. He pressed his hand into his chest to try and stabilize himself and then…

… he felt that firm little glass tube attached to the string around his neck. The vial of Hunter's vampiric blood. He instantly pulled it out from the layers of fabric he had stuffed it under to hide it. He examined it very carefully, the thick red liquid sticking in thin layers to the edges of the empty part of the glass as he swirled it slowly around. 

This was his escape wasn't it? Hunter said to use it in case of an emergency. This certainly felt as dire as one. He had explained mostly how it would work to him the night before. That it would create some kind of mental connection between them, and James would be able to contact him through telepathy, but only at certain times of the night. 

He had to make up his mind quickly. Surely if he stayed any longer in this bathroom, everyone would come to question him. He felt totally and completely helpless. There was no way he could fight off all of the people in the house by himself. But he was scared of what it would do, terrified of how it would transform him. Worse yet, what if it compromised their location, the location of the vampires? 

Though there was no one at the door, no voices calling for him, absolutely no one to bother him, he felt suffocated with pressure. He made up his mind. He knew Hunter was strong and could help him, and would help him at any cost. 

He pulled the necklace off of himself, rather dramatically yanked the cork out of the vial, and with little hesitation, he tipped his head back and pressed the opening of the vial to his lips.

James didn't know what he expected. It tasted like blood. A thick irony substance that slid disgustingly down his throat. He tried not to gag it back up by swallowing handfuls of water with it. That seemed to do the trick. 

He breathed in deeply and his exhale hunched him over into the sink. He inhaled once more to stave off the nausea and lifted himself up just enough to look in the mirror. There didn't appear to be any immediate changes. He never could have guessed how long it would be before the effects took hold, but he supposed there'd be some sort of noticeable instant change. 

He pondered over it some more as he examined himself for any signs of vampirism. He didn't feel anything changing within his body, so he soon came to the conclusion that he would be safe for now. 

Content with himself- well, about as content as he could be in this stressful situation, he breathed once more to prepare himself for his social duties. It was if they had read his mind, for he heard a knock on the door, and Claire's voice with it.

"Are you alright in there?" She inquired 

James swiftly opened the door to meet Claire's worried look. He suddenly let go of the door handle that he clung to, as it felt unusually hot. Much hotter than he ever recalled, but at least it hadn't burned him. 

"Perfectly fine, dear." James tried to keep himself together. 

Claire's quizzical expression revealed that she didn't seem to quite believe him, but they had too much to get on with tonight for her to ensure further. She simply accepted him at his word and held out her elbow for him to grab as she spoke. 

"We're all waiting downstairs. It's time for dinner." She said matter-of-factly.

James slipped his arm around her elbow to lock them together, and they very mechanically made their way to the dining room. James wondered if that door handle could have been made from silver as they left. 

In the dining room, they were greeted by a great deal of Claire's family, as they had lived close enough to attend the dinner rehearsal, and of course Tobias and James' own mother. 

"Well, here they are! The two betrothed!" Claire's mother Ophelia exclaimed triumphantly. 

They both smiled quite awkwardly as everyone stood from their seats and waited for them to take theirs. James could feel that nauseating pressure building up inside of him that he always felt at the prospect of this wedding. He wasn't sure if it was his nerves, or the blood finally taking effect, but he tried not to care about it either way.

He and Claire both shuffled their way to the end of the table, where there were two grand chairs for them to be seated in. They stood there quite awkwardly for a moment, the defending silence of the crowd only growing louder for James, before he realized he was supposed to give his rehearsed speech. 

He could hardly remember the words now. Claire glanced at him nervously, waiting for him to speak. James cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak, but Claire seemed to want to take executive decision, and produced her own speech. 

"We thank you all for coming, on this holy night of love, for we are truly blessed and grateful for the union of these two families." She chanted out quite confidently, more than James would ever be able to muster. 

There were some rather confused glances between the party guests, but they didn't dare interrupt the triumphant and charming Claire. She continued. 

"So let us eat this great wedding feast, to honor this union of love and prosperity." She finished by raising her wine glass into the air, and everyone else followed, before calmly sitting down.

A union of prosperity indeed, James thought to himself, rather irritated. He knew what Claire's family expected of him. He would be the backup in case they ever fell into debt. He would have to pick up the slack should they ever go bankrupt. He was the attempt at saving their wealth, all under the guise of true love since childhood. He couldn't believe all the optimism he once had, all the denial in his heart. To think he only thought he was getting cold feet. This arrangement was indeed systemic. 

Oh how badly he wished he could be in Hunter's arms at this moment. He felt no pressure around him, no expectation of performance. He knew he could be his authentic self around Hunter. But most of all, he just wanted comfort. The comfort he knew he couldn't get the same high from out of Claire. He wished he never left that sweet embrace, had he known this is what he was to come home to. 

He was so focused on his dizzying thoughts that he didn't notice the food being brought out, and plated by the servants. He finally noticed that his mother and childhood friend Tobias were seated to his left, and Claire and her family were seated to his right. As much as he cared for these people, he felt so closed off from them, trapped in a dizzying claustrophobia. It occurred to him suddenly that he truly was not feeling well, and he could tell by the worried expressions around him that it didn't go unnoticed.

"James, are you sure you're feeling alright?" Claire inquired quite softly, a stark contrast to her wild and frantic behavior earlier at the vampire manor. 

She instantly placed her hand on James' shoulder, bracing him in case he fell. 

"I'm certain that I am fine." James blurted rather exhaustedly. He didn't intend for it to sound that way. 

"You look pale, dear." Claire pressed further this time.

"I assure you, I am perfectly okay." James tried to sound convincing, and grabbed Claire's hands in his own to further reassure her.

She could feel how clammy they were. 

"Please, let's just enjoy this dinner." He finally begged, letting go of Claire's hands and trying to sit presentable. 

Claire simply closed up on herself, taking the hint that he did not want her to press him any more. 

The food was just coming around to their end of the table, a plate being served to Tobias, when James suddenly felt a horrible stabbing in his chest. He saw his vision start to go white as he tried to ignore the pain, but it was futile, he suddenly keeled over, clawing at the fabric of his coats and exclaiming in pain. 

He could hear everyone around him start to jump to his aid. That only made him feel worse. His vision completely blurred and he suddenly fell completely out of consciousness, surrounded by nothing but darkness. He couldn't even hear anything anymore. He had no idea what was going on in the outside world.

[almaqead]

"The Boiling Drink." Introduction to Surah 10, Surah Yunus, "The Dove."

According to the Islamic tradition, the chapter is predominantly revealed during the Meccan phase (610–622) of Muhammad's prophethood (before his move to Medina), therefore, a Meccan sura. Based on its context, some verses appeared to date to when Muhammad just started his call to Islam.

Allāh sent the messengers to guide mankind. With each, He would send miracles pertaining to what that nation excelled in. Moses was given a staff, which turned into a serpent. And he was sent to a nation who mastered magic. Jesus was sent to a nation who mastered medicine and was sent with the miracle of curing the sick.

As for Muḥammad, he was sent to a nation who mastered language. Thus, he was sent with a miracle related to that. That miracle is the Qurʾān, which is at the pinnacle of Arabic eloquence. The scholars mentioned that one aspect of the miracle is that the verses and chapters of the Qurʾān are all connected.

There are many teachings and lessons contained in this sūrah. This, like other Makkan sūrahs, discusses the fundamentals of Islām. The foundations of Allāh’s oneness (ar. tawḥīd) along with debunking the false notions of polytheism (ar. shirk) are detailed. Along with that, it clarifies and removes doubts and objections by establishing the concepts of Prophethood, Resurrection, and Judgement. The Qurʾān is also one of the central topics addressed in this sūrah.[6]

At the end of Surah 9, Muhammad said the only way society can entertain the possibility of destiny is if forced immigration ends and a focus on Zakah takes place all around the world instead.

Donald Trump is still a free man and lunatics claiming to be Palestinians and Jews are still trying to take up position in front of or inside college campuses in order to continue attacks which began on October 7 in Israel. Similar attacks are expected to continue against other governments inside and outside the United States.

The lawless climate which includes Atrocity Crimes committed by Pro-Lifers is exposing young children, men and women to rape and murder, while the number of climate emergencies in America grow in frequency and severity.

While we are distracted, scratching our heads about all of this, poverty, scarcity, and depravity all around the world increase, not Zakah. The Quran says it was written for the express purpose of notifying humanity during times such as these.

Thus begins the Surah.

10:1-4:

Alif-Lãm-Ra. These are the verses of the Book, rich in wisdom.

Is it astonishing to people that We have sent revelation to a man from among themselves, ˹instructing him,˺ “Warn humanity and give good news to the believers that they will have an honourable status with their Lord.”? Yet the disbelievers said, “Indeed, this ˹man˺ is clearly a magician!”

Surely your Lord is Allah Who created the heavens and the earth in six Days,1 then established Himself on the Throne, conducting every affair. None can intercede except by His permission. That is Allah—your Lord, so worship Him ˹alone˺. Will you not then be mindful?

To Him is your return all together. Allah’s promise is ˹always˺ true. Indeed, He originates the creation then resurrects it so that He may justly reward those who believe and do good. But those who disbelieve will have a boiling drink and a painful punishment for their disbelief.

Commentary:

Yunus means "the sludgy trust", a Yonah or Jonah is "a dove."

The etymology for the assumed root יון (ywn) yields the noun יון (yawen), meaning mire or swampy, boggy ground. Mire's signature failure to provide secure footing is often used proverbially.

Note that in the Bible dry land often signifies factual and consensual certainty, whereas water (seas and rivers) denote liquidity, growth and potential. This is why in the Bible the great cultures are always associated with their respective great rivers.

From the same or identical second root יון (ywn) comes noun יונה (yona), meaning dove. In the Bible the dove serves both as a symbol of weakness or indecisiveness, and of vast abundance (as well as being the bodily form of the Holy Spirit). Apparently, in antiquity doves were everywhere.

They were recognized to show no resolute dedication to an ecological niche (like, say, the eagle), and to flutter about in uncertain circles, much unlike the straight paths of, say, ravens. Ravens are associated with hearing and doves with sight. The Greek word for dove is περιστερα (peristera), of which element περι (peri) indeed describes both a broad circle and ubiquity.

Curiously similar to the word for dove, the verb ינה (yana) means to do someone wrong or to oppress or vex someone. Perhaps the two have nothing to do with each other but where the great leaps are most celebrated, it's the little irritations in life that provoke the most massive progress. Or in other words: for every one brilliantly engineered iPhone there are hundreds of staples, paperclips and rubber bands that tie much more of life together.

The noun יין (yayan) is of unclear pedigree but is obviously similar to the previous. It means wine; either simply fermented grape juice or mankind's culture at large, seeing that in the Bible humanity's cultural world is often depicted as a vineyard: many separate grapes make much liquid wine, and many separate minds make much liquid culture.

We like to think of the Presence of God as Holy and those who fathom Him as magicians, but as the Quran says there is no magic in honorable behavior. Those who try get to drink the wine on Shabbos, those who fail get "a boiling drink" or a glass of freshly hot beer piss.

The Value in Gemtria for 10: 4 concludes the Fatihah or benediction for the Surah. The Number is 13120, יגא‎באֶפֶס, "the gigabytes."

The term gigabyte refers to the amount of information that can be contained in a human brain...but the defining byte, the one that order them all is called Tzadek, "the crown of the righteous."

Every soul that falls down to this world and becomes susceptible to deception can be raised up into righteousness again through Light on the Mind that reminds us of God.

The beginning of Tzadek is called a "Big Bang" in the Hadith:

"The Qur'an says that "the heavens and the earth were joined together as one unit, before We clove them asunder" (21:30). Following this big explosion, Allah "turned to the sky, and it had been (as) smoke. He said to it and to the earth: 'Come together, willingly or unwillingly.

Six Days?

The Qur'an states that "Allah created the heavens and the earth, and all that is between them, in six days" (7:54). While on the surface this might seem similar to the account related in the Bible, there are some important distinctions.

The verses that mention "six days" use the Arabic word "youm" (day). This word appears several other times in the Qur'an, each denoting a different measurement of time. In one case, the measure of a day is equated with 50,000 years (70:4), whereas another verse states that "a day in the sight of your Lord is like 1,000 years of your reckoning" (22:47). The word "youm" is thus understood, within the Qur'an, to be a long period of time -- an era or eon.

Therefore, Muslims interpret the description of a "six day" creation as six distinct periods or eons. The length of these periods is not precisely defined, nor are the specific developments that took place during each period.

After completing the Creation, the Qur'an describes that Allah "settled Himself upon the Throne" (57:4) to oversee His work. A distinct point is made to counter the Biblical idea of a day of rest: "We created the heavens and the earth and all that is between them in six days, nor did any sense of weariness touch Us" (50:38).

Allah is never "done" with His work, because the process of creation is ongoing. Each new child who is born, every seed that sprouts into a sapling, every new species that appears on earth, is part of the ongoing process of Allah's creation. "He it is Who created the heavens and the earth in six days, then established Himself on the Throne. He knows what enters within the heart of the earth, and what comes forth out of it, what comes down from heaven, and what mounts up to it. And He is with you wherever you may be. And Allah sees well all that you do" (57:4).

The Qur'anic account of creation is in line with modern scientific thought about the development of the universe and life on earth. Muslims acknowledge that life developed over a long period of time, but see Allah's power behind it all. Descriptions of creation in the Qur'an are set in context to remind the readers of Allah's majesty and wisdom.

"What is the matter with you, that you are not conscious of Allah's majesty, seeing that it is He Who has created you in diverse stages? See you not how Allah has created the seven heavens one above another, and made the moon a light in their midst, and made the sun as a (glorious) lamp? And Allah has produced you from the earth, growing (gradually)" (71:13-17).

We are not growing. We are not growing in stages, we are getting worse. The Torah and the Quran offer us an amazing opportunity to remember why we were given this life and why not. The unkindness we are all witnessing and experience are holding us back. Thus the Surah will continue.

[undecidedscorpio]

So Much For Stardust

A Short Good Omens Fic

Warning: Lots of Angst! Listen to So Much for Stardust if you want to feel extra angst.

Crowley parks the Bentley. Raindrops pelted down on the windshield. Not quite sure when the rain had started or why it was coming down so hard, he couldn’t care less. Stepping out, Crowley hadn’t bothered with a miracle. He might as well feel like he did on the outside as he did on the inside.

Drowning. 

Walking up to his old apartment in Mayfair, he was dripping in the stuff. Leaving pools of water everywhere he stepped as he walked to the door of the apartment. Mail was stacked on the edge of the door with his name on it. Electing to ignore it, he opened and closed the door with the pile of mail, now soaked, lying there.

The apartment looked the same. Shax hadn’t bothered changing anything aside from a single cup on the countertop. Holding it in his hands he turns it over, reading the word “bitch.”

His grip tightened at the thought of Shax. Had she stayed in her lane, and not interfered, likely things would have been fine. It was easier to blame another demon for his own demise rather than remembering the angel he loved choosing to leave him. 

Without a thought, he threw the mug against the wall, the sound of it shuddering bringing momentary relief. 

Right, he thought. Why not?

Walking down the halls of heaven felt hollow. The Metatron was walking next to him, showing him around heaven as if it had changed in any way that would matter to the new Supreme Archangel. The words that came out of his mouth seemed drowned out by the angel's own thoughts. 

He kissed me. He really kissed me, he thought. There had been no time for the angel to really put the pieces together. Now that he was in heaven, reality washed over him. Gasping for air at the final realization of what he had done; leaving his best friend behind. No. That's no longer acceptable, let alone accurate. His Love. He left his love. He left him for what? A job that he doesn’t even want? Aziraphale tried to remember why he even said yes in the first place. He had been so sure it was the right thing, and now? Crowley's words echoed in his mind.

How could someone so clever be so stupid? 

Crash

Glass and ceramic pieces remained scattered about the apartment. If Crowley could break it, he sought to make it so. Ripping down glasses and mugs, throwing them to the side to hear the shattering sound that seemed to, at the very least, felt gratifying.

He grabbed a bottle of wine, having planned to throw it, too, remembering that he was gifted by his so-called friend. 

No. They were still friends. 

Right? 

He popped the wine bottle open and brought it to his lips, tilting the bottle up. Wine escaped his lips, dripping down his jaw, mixing with the tears the demon hadn’t realized he had begun to shed. The bottle was nearly empty when he stopped. Looking at the red liquid, swirling it around in the bottle, remembering it was a post armageddon gift. Now, it was but the beginning of the next.

“Ngk!” he screamed as he threw the bottle against a new wall. Wine stained the wall, dripping down to the scattered glass beneath it. 

The Metatron's words broke through the fog that was Aziraphale's thoughts. “And here is your desk, we don’t have much use for them but perhaps that will change, yes?”

Aziraphale nodded softly. He waved the Metatron goodbye, electing to create a sound barrier around his new desk that simply sat in the middle of a random corridor. He had been struggling to hold back his tears walking with the Metatron that he miracled them to earth, who knows where. 

Sitting down at his desk, head in hand, he began to sob. Trying to remember why he was there in the first place. Thinking back to his conversation with the Metatron, how he knew about Crowley and his arrangement. Worried as to how heaven might retaliate against them had he said no. So he said yes. To protect him, he told himself. 

Crowley had all but confessed his love for Aziraphale moments before the kiss. It should have been a moment of celebration, a loving reunion as they both, at last, had each other.

Instead, it was painful. Heart-wrenching. 

And there was nothing the angel could do about it. So, he cried.

 

Crowley, hunched forward, taking long strides down the hallway. The door opened before he could reach for the handle, as it feared for its life. 

As it should, Crowley thought.

Standing at his desk, arms stretched out, he threw whatever plans Shax had left to the floor. For good measure, he set them ablaze. Flames fanned around him, rising to meet him. His hands were flat against the marble desk. He curled his fingers, dragging them down into the marble as he screamed into the flames, trying to release his rage as he cried out. 

He slumped down into his throne, left only with the sharp pain of his own broken heart. 

Crowley took his sunglasses off, throwing them against the already frightened door. The broken pieces lay on the floor.

Looking up, his mind was filled with so many questions. For himself. For Aziraphale. For Her. 

One that had encompassed them all. 

His eyes shone amber yellow, full of tears that began streaming down his face, as he asked “Why?”

[tonyfergusonblogs]

A Healthy Way to Lose Your Weight

Shakes designed to aid in weight loss have been on the market for decades. The market for meal replacement shakes has exploded, with products marketed as everything from a quick breakfast on the go to a miracle cure for dieting and nutritional ills.

Nevertheless, are weight-loss shakes a healthy option?There are two primary varieties of these substitute meals:

A canned or bottled drink that has already been produced.

Anything that may be made into a drink by adding it to milk or water

Some Best Diet Shakes in Australia come in a wide range of flavours, while others may only provide a few basic flavours and recommend adding fruit or other toppings for diversity. Protein shakes are a common name for these beverages.

If you need to get specific nutrients into your body, Best Weight Loss Shakes Australia is the way to go. Protein smoothies are commonly used by weight lifters & body builders to replenish and develop muscle. These drinks aren't meant to replace meals; rather, they provide concentrated, goal-oriented nourishment.

As protein stabilises blood sugar levels and reduces cravings for carbohydrates, protein smoothies have gained popularity as an over-the-counter diet solution. They help curb appetite, leading to lower calorie intake and ultimately weight loss. They don't provide a balanced diet that's necessary for optimal health.

Aspects of One's Way of Life

The disadvantages of Lady Shake Recipes include the time and effort required to prepare them and the social awkwardness that can result from eating them in a group.

To prepare, simply mix the powdered shake with some liquid, usually milk or water. The original recipe called for a simple shaker cup for the mixing. A blender is necessary if you'd like to spruce up your smoothie with some fruit and crushed ice. If you've decided to consume Vegan Meal Replacement Shake to help you lose weight, these are minor issues that won't stop you.

Feeling awkward when sipping your smoothie while your lunch companions devour their fast food is understandable. About 70% of people are overweight or obese, so you won't be alone in your pain, and you'll rapidly feel empowered by your progress.

The Benefits of Weight-Reduction Shakes

Main perk of Weight Loss Shake for Men is that it provides a balanced meal in a very low-calorie package. Using Weight Loss Shakes in place of two meals each day improves overall nutrition while drastically cutting calories, particularly at times of day when fast food is consumed. A weight reduction smoothie with the appropriate combination of ingredients can replace multiple meals and provide more adequate nutrients than can be obtained by consuming that many calories in one sitting.

Is It Safe To Use Weight Loss Shakes?

Yes. If you're trying to lose weight and aren't sure where to start, a high-quality meal replacement drink can be a terrific first step. When it comes to maintaining a healthy weight and getting enough nutrition to fuel a healthy lifestyle, shakes are a terrific option.

[hellsfirekeepsyouwarm]

Don't Come To Me Pt. 4

Hello darlings, it's Billy time again ❤️ i brought a lighter smut to you (spoiler). I dunno where I am going with this, but I'm happy many of you wanted be on the taglist and all.

Billy Russo x F!Reader

Warnings: Light smut, hangover, curse words

Summary: Reader wakes up in hangover agony, but Billy is there to kiss it better.

Taglist: @gwynethhberdara @icarus-isflying @intothesoul @malfoyeyes

Part 3 Part 5

It's the worst morning you ever had. Hangover hit you right at your forehead before you could open your heavy eyes. Sharp pain runs through the front of your head, spinning down to your spine, reaching every nerve, muscle and cell you are made out of. You groan, throat dry as the fucking Sahara, you might start to see mirages when you finally ready to open those eyelids.

You want to get back to that restless sleep, even the uncomfortable trashing around in bed is better than being awake. Thank goodness it's a saturday morning. Right? You can't remember which evening you chose to get completely hammered. It had to be Friday.

You move you body, twisting your torso because the pose numbed out your side, and it's time to torture the other, but gosh you wish you just stayed just like that. The sun burns your face, screaming at you to get up, to go do something productive, to live laugh and love. Love.

The reminder in your body shakes awake your mind, the memories of last night flashing in your head.

Shit.

The guy at the bar, Billy's car, him dragging your ass up right to your bed. Jesus.

This makes you jolt awake, not remembering Billy leaving last night. You remember him sitting next to you, looking annoyed and tired.

Well, at least now you remember it was a Friday night in fact.

Some moments are sharp, some blurred, and you are terrified of what you might have said to him that slipped your mind due to your intoxicated state. You remember scolding him, then him doing the same, trying to stop you talk shit, then him talking shit about your ridiculous crush on Frank. It's a mess.

You look up to your bedside table, searching for that glass of water you put there before bed, but instead you find a bottle and medicine next to it. Literally a life saver.

Your body screams for detox, whole head pounding as blood flows different when you sit up against the headboard. The painkiller flushed down with a big chug of water, your whole being thankful for the liquid. It's a small relief, but it's life saving. The water may hydrate you, but it can't take away the bitter taste of all the liquor you poured into your poor body. It's a miracle at this point, that you survived that much of a violence on yourself.

Pee. Gosh you need to pee so bad. It's like your body giving you the signals one by one, taking baby steps, standing them in a nice disciplined line, so when you fulfill one, another comes forward. Now it's you bladder who demands attention, and you think you gonna pee yourself before you can reach the bathroom.

You are looking ridiculous in the bathroom mirror and you just see a flash of your reflection.

What even happened really last night? Memories are there, but not in the right order and that makes you dizzy and confused,still half asleep.

Angry. Frank. Bar. Drunk as fuck. A strangers hand on your waist. Billy. Cold air, then warm car seat. Billy's hair falling out of it's usual style. Him getting rid of your shoes. Sitting on the edge of your bed.

Pictures and sounds, holes and jumps between them so you can't quite make out the whole night properly. You definitely said stupid things you can't remember right now.

You don't dare to look in the mirror again, focusing on the dull skin of your hand as you wash away some of the sweat from the bad sleep.

Baby steps, so what is the next one? Getting back into bed? That would be great, right? Lazy day in bed. You head towards the sheets, calling your name, gross and warm in a not so good way, but still your bed. Bacon.

You freeze in front of your door, the delicious smell making it's way up to your nostrils, stomach reacting with a big grumpy rumble.

You can hear the bacon frizzle on the stove, light clatter of plates, the opening and closing of the fridge. No fucking way.

He stayed? Or he came back? You thought he left after you fell asleep. As much as you can remember, you did say some shitty stuff, so it never occurred to you that he would stay. He runs away, storms out, leaves you hanging and comes back when he chilled out.

You are in an awe, so you simply step out of the bedroom, instantly meeting with his bare back. He must have pulled some witchy stuff on you, because you are entranced. By his muscles moving under his skin as he does a task as simple as flipping bacons over. His hair damp, droplets of water dripping on his neck, rolling down his spine. The sweatpants he left in your house ages ago now hanging gracefully on his hip. Fucking hell, he looks so domestic, vulnerable and soft.

You must have made a sound, because he turns around quickly, your eyes meeting with his cheerful face, a smile spreading on his lips, eyeing you up before focusing back on the breakfast.

"Hello there sleepyhead. You snored so loud i barely got any sleep." His voice is lightweight, teasing in a delicate way.

"What? I snore?" You mumble, rooted on the spot where he caught you.

"Yeah, like a French bulldog." He laughs out loud when he sees your dumbstruck expression. "I'm just teasing. Sit down, it's almost ready."

It's just now you see the plates laid out perfectly on the kitchen island, eggs and some veggies coloring the whiteness around, a glass full of orange juice stationed closed by. A simple but satisfying aesthetic.

You do as he says. You sit down, following his every move. He has a shy smile on his lips, he glances at you in between tasks, placing the hot bacon on yours, then his plate, making sure everything is in front of you, so you can enjoy your breakfast. Breakfast you can count on one hand how many times you had in the kitchen.

He sits opposite of you, still looking like a teenage boy doing something romantic and nice for his first girlfriend. He looks almost innocent. Almost. A t-shirt covering his broad chest would add to that innocence.

"You are staring." He states, stuffing a mouthful of eggs into his mouth. His appetite awakening your stomach again with the monster sounds you are sure Billy can hear too. The whole apartment complex could hear it.

"I thought you left." You blurt out, not capable to hide the surprise. He looks hurt for a moment, guilt flashing across his face before turning back into a sheepish smile.

"I was tired. Plus i needed to make sure you won't choke on your vomit." You can feel heat creep up on your face, cheeks blazing, giving off more heat than the Sun.

"Billy!" He laughs, he's more than entertained by your embarrassment.

"I didn't mean to overstep. I just...." He sighs, placing down his fork. "I felt like i needed to stay. I wanted to."

You feel warm, not the warmth you felt on your face, it's a welcoming feeling. Something you felt ages ago, maybe with Frank when you thought you have a chance with him. You whole being melts from the looks he gives you, his words sinking deep, slowly, to memorize every detail of his voice.

"Well, you certainly proved you are a good housewife." You mumble with a half smirk, biting a nice crunchy part of a bacon.

"You doubted my skills?" He acts shaken up, hurt, placing a hand on his chest.

You feel your smile hurting your cheeks, it's humanly impossible to have a bigger and wider smile than you have on your lips now. It's heavy, but a comfortable heavy. Something clicked in place as you watch him eat with a same cheeky look as you probably have, deep dark eyes scanning over your movements, with both admiration and a hinted lust.

What is happening?

Yesterday you felt like it's a lost cause. There is no fucking way you and him will ever have a common ground on what to do with the connection between you. That you'll always yearn for him in a way you can't have him.

But now? Feels like you just won his heart over, and you have no clue how you managed to do it. Gosh, you must have said a ton of shit with your drunken tongue.

You want to ask him about it, actually, you are dying to know every word you have said, because your memory has failed you badly, but it would ruin the moment. It's nice and calm, and it's so rare to see him like this. He might look happier than ever, and it's really affecting you, you heart is practically beating out of your chest.

So you eat in silence, enjoying every bite, every sneaky glance, and cocky grin from him. And soon enough, the hangover is just a tiny feeling in the back of your head, your trembling hand is the remaining reminder of the booze tortured body. Or it's the deepening desire for him, you are too far gone in the clouds to decide.

You need to collect yourself, you sure do look like a lost puppy looking at her new owner, and you hate it how easy is for him to bring out the lovesick school girl in you. It's maddening and overstimulating, so you stand up, maybe too quickly, worry flashing in his eyes as leave your seat so abruptly.

"You alright darling?" He asks, placing the glass of orange juice down back from his mouth. You stop next to him, reaching for the empty plate in front of him.

"Yeah. Thanks for the breakfast. It was amazing." You peck his temple, a daring thank you for the meal.

"What are you doing? Sit back down, let me clean up." He's almost off his seat, ready to put you back down and enjoy the rest of your juice, but you push him down by his shoulder. You need to look somewhere else than him, because you will go insane if you don't do something with your hands.

"No. You made breakfast, i'll do the dishes." Thank the fuck he listens for once this time. He doesn't protest.

You let out a relieved breath as the cold water hits, slowly turning to burning hot, cleaning the plate too quick for you to get your shit together. You almost get frantic when you realize you can't scrub two plates and forks to oblivion. You look over to the pan he made the food, and thank god it's there, because now you are going to wash them 2 times more than it needs to be.

You feel him before you see or hear him. He moves and the air shifts around you. You know he's close before he touches your hand, gently pulling yours away from the pan you attempted to demolish with a ridiculous amount of dish soap and lava hot water.

His fingers slides up on your hand, other part of his body following the movement, dosing his closeness inch by inch. First his right side, hot quick breaths tickling your ear, you would giggle if not for the overwhelming electricity of lust coursing through your whole being. Thigh faintly touching your ass, chest scraping your shoulder. Not staying still until he follows with his other side, stepping directly behind you. You have to grab the sink in order to keep you from moaning when you feel his chest completely pressed against you, his fingers stopping at your upper arm when the other firmly grabs your waist.

A perfectly orchestrated mission. He fucking knows what he's doing.

"Don't hide now." Low, pleading, soft. Everything about him is different. It's Billy, but goddamn it's not Billy at the same time. He knows you want to run, desperately, so you can have a breather, a way to think. He doesn't want you to think. You spiral down too fast when you think too hard. "Please."

Fuck.

His lips finds the perfect spot in the crook of your neck, placing an open mouthed kiss, his nose brushing your heated up skin, subtle scratching and poking with a delighted sting.

Please. He said please and you hate to admit that it's more than enough. Right here and now you would do anything to stay like this forever and ever.

You give space for his kisses, head falling back on his shoulder in a sweet, sharp breath. You can't help but let his name slip in a whisper.

"Billy." He hums, pressing himself closer, if that's even possible. His body fitting yours like a missing jigsaw piece you searched under every furnituree. Your ass held up by his thighs, his hips pushing yours to the sink, only your toes touching the ground to meet his height.

His touch turns more urgent, his hands wondering over your stomach, holding you in place so he can have the best angles of your neck and shoulders to attack with his lips, to have your earlobe caught between his teeth.

He laughs huskily at the surprised grunt you make when he sucks on the sensitive tiny body part, the tip of his nose poking your ear, hearing and feeling every ragged breath he takes.

You are basking in his attention, devouring you, swallowing you whole, he could eat you up and you want nothing but melt, become one with his want. You can feel him, hear him, but gosh you can't see him, but you need to see that deep storm eyes, you want to see his face, to be certain, to ease your mind.

And you would try if he wasn't locked on you like a handcuff, a living breathing cage with metal bars to keep you inside.

"William." You whisper concertinaing on not mixing with the moan that bubbles up from your throat. You press your body against his to signal him, but it's just flushes you with an unbearable heat, and it's doing more to Billy when you call him by his full name.

He shifts slightly, not trying to let you move, but you turn around anyways, meeting with the a dark expression, a not very Billy like blush on his ears and cheeks. He stunned for a second, now it's your turn to have your hands all over his skin, running up the tip of your fingers on his stomach to his chest. Travelling arm to arm, arriving on his neck, fingers running through the raven hair.

You can see every little reaction, and you are swimming in them. The roll of his eyes when your fingers massages his scalp, leaning into your palms, his hands digging into your hips. He is still holds you captive, but he handed over the lead to you without any question.

You look at his parted lips, and suddenly you feel insecure, scared of kissing him. Not even the unholy dry humping or wet patches from his mouth on your neck could scare you, doubt your mind, but the sheer idea of kissing him does.

Fuck it. You are in the heat of the moment, so fuck it.

You pull his mouth to yours, use your advantage and not wasting time to slide your tongue to battle with his. You can feel his voice vibrating into your mouth, his lips matching your rhythm. He tastes like orange, sweet with a sting of sourness, lips soft but teeth sharp as he catches your lower lip for a quick bite.

He's slower now, having his time to enjoy the kiss, a kiss that's still filled with tension, but not overwhelming like the last minutes have been.

You don't know how long you keep torturing each others lips, sometimes breaking it with small giggles, or just to take a deep breath to dive back in.

"Is this still breakfast?" The question ends up half in his mouth as he chases you after a longer breath break.

"Uhum. It was a package deal." You giggle, feeling his own smile against you. He's gonna kill you.

Jut when you feel the pace pick up again, the annoying ringtone clips the bubble you were in up until now. Billy groans still drunk on you, but your mind spins as you wake up from the haze. Frank. Frank is calling? You have to speak to Frank. You need to know that he's alright. Before you could think more Billy snatches his phone up from the kitchen island, one hand still attached to your hip. He turns back to you, just as close, holding the screen towards you, showing the big letters that spells 'Office'.

"That's on being a fancy CEO." You say, voice hoarse from the ungodly amount of making out.

"You love it." He teases, thumb hovering over the green sign on the screen, eyes boring into yours. "I do." You say, and like a nod of head or a green light, he picks up the phone when he made sure you aren't mad about the interruption. And with that he's gone in the world of Mr. Boss.

You wonder where you left your own phone in midst of drunken state. You touch your lips, still swollen from Billy's attacks, and you keep smudging and pressing the delicate plush skin while your eyes scans for your bag or phone. With a couple steps forward you find your bag next to the couch where you always seem to abandon it. You haven't brought it with you to the bar, but it's likely you dropped it there, a weird routine you always do after countless of times leaving your apartment without the cellphone.

Thankfully it's there, running low on power, notifications piling up on the locked screen. You are only interested in one. Unknown, number you aren't familiar with.

You can hear Billy pacing back and forth, a nervous habit when he's talking on the phone. He glances your way the same time you look up at him, he flashes a toothy grin, but his eyes slightly worried. Seems like this morning ends too quick, he sounds concerned, the person on the other end probably giving him not so good news.

You scroll and scroll, crouching next to the couch, not caring for standing up or sit down. You search for the one you want to see, and you find a text sent at 3:17. You open it, feeling the anticipation and fear creep up.

All good, sweetheart. Sorry for going MIA.

[magicpumpkin3]

Octo!Azul x reader

Warning!: NSFW; tentacles; emotional(?); author been thirsty idk-

Kissing Azul was always an intimate thing. He was always gentle and carefully. Like you were some kind of a rare glass that could be crushed by a single touch. Your lips were worm against his. Holding him and stroking his back... peaceful moments like this were rare.

You pull away to take a gulp of air. Looking at Azul, into his loving eyes, you smile at him, placing a hand on his cheek and slowly stroking it with your thumb. Relaxing into your touch, he closes his eyes.

"Azul…" you say in hushed loving tone. "Yes, my love?" Oh, how you loved when he called you that. "I have something in mind we can try…" He lazily opens one of his gorgeous eyes and grins at you. "Hmm? What do you have in mind dear?" That husky tone...He knows exactly what he's doing! "I want to love all of you…" He looks at you a bit confused then before. "You always do that, dear. Kissing me, hugging me, giving every part of my body love..." Here goes nothing. "Azul, if it's okay with you, I…" You briefly pause looking into his eyes. He straightens up and looks at you patiently. Hint of curiosity and worry in his eyes. "I would like to…love other you too…" Eyes open wide, he stares at you in shock. "You don't mean..." Realization flashes in his eyes. "I do mean it...if it's okay with you." Azul pulls away a bit. Face painted in conflict, he looks down on the floor. "I... you can't... someone like you wouldn't want to be with...that useless octopus! I... I'm unworthy of such...such thing!" You can feel your heart break at those words. "The fact that you can even tolerate me being a stupid octopus is a miracle by itself! I…Wouldn't you like to be with someone more presentable? Someone who isn't just a silly octopus that wants to hide in his pot?" He looks you in the eyes.

He's hair ruffled, without coat, glasses on a nightstand, jacket opened a bit...He feels so vulnerable. You've been together for a good amount of time for him too feel comfortable about his...less human form but… he just can't let it go! It's like letting go of trauma. He wants to but…he just can't!

"Dear, I want to be with you...All of you." Your voice, saying like that to him. It wakes up something inside of him. Something that only weak and useless octopus would feel. He didn't even notice tears, slowly rolling down his cheek. You getting closer and hugging him, whispering sweat nothingness into his ear. He can't take it. Knees giving up he almost falls down if it wasn't for you. Slowly sitting down with him in your arms, you let him cry it out.

He can feel butterfly kisses being pressed to his face. Hand stroking down and up his back. It's too much. Clinging to you, like you're his last hope in himself and his abilities, Azul starts kissing your face, neck, and down your throat. Soft moans escape you a few times.

"Love, I think I'm ready…" Azul says softly. "You sure? You don't have to if you don't feel comfortable or don't want to." Pulling away a bit to look at him. Nodding a bit, Azul brings your faces closer.

Next thing you know, you're giving each other heated kisses and try to stumble to his bathroom. Finding sweat spot on your neck, he sucks on it hard making you moan. Your back hits the sink.

Taking of his jake, you leave a few kisses across Azul's chest. Sucking on one of his nipples, you can feel shivers going up and down his body, hearing soft whimpers. Pulling away, hearing him moan in frustration, you turn to the tub and get water running. Feeling if Azul's hands roaming your body, trying to take of the useless rugs you call clothes. After getting rid of your clothes, you can feel wet, open mouth kisses go down your back. He placed his hands on your side, holding you close and giving you all his love and attention. It drives you crazy.

It drives him crazy to say the least. Dragging hIs tongue up and down your body. You turn around and let him explore your front. Immediately Azul attracts your nipples, playing with them and biting one of them. "Azul…ugh! Azul, dear, tub is ah, ready." Leaving your needy nipples, Azul looks at you in the eyes and gently kisses you, like he didn't try to almost eat your chest or anything. Pulling away, he takes his pants and boxers off. Sigh and looking at you for reassurance. It's not too late to turn back yet. Smiling gently at him, you nod.

Settling down into his big tub, Azul lets his tentacles free. They swirl around him, like they are trying to hide him. His skin turned a bit gray, like in his overbolt form, some of his dark coloring going up his back and arms. Azul looks at you, still terrified that you'll find him disgusting.

"You're beautiful dear..." He felt kisses caress his entire face, jawline, neck, down his throat...Azul lets out a moan of pure pleasure. Tentacles stuffing and clinging to the tub. He then feels your hips on his groin, or were it was in his human form. All his 'legs' immediately went to your limbs, without him actually realizing it. Your mouth went to his chest yet again. Shifting position, you spill some of the water. Pressing open-mouthed kisses to Azul's abs, you let your hands travel up and down his body. Azul is gorgeous. All the noises that he's making, every movement, everything about him is perfect.

Moaning and whimpering beneath you, Azul loses himself. Your hands roaming around him, mouth kissing him, touching his less human parts without any disgust. No, there was no disgust, only admiration. Crying out in pleasure when your hips grinned against him. Your warmth. It all drives him crazy. He could help himself, letting one of the tentacles explore your upper half. Sweat sounds coming from you. Removing his limb with loud poops he adds more. It was your turn to drawn in his love.

Tentacles swirl around you, not leaving your skin without proper affection. Moaning Azul's name out, you try to keep yourself from moving too much. Water was spilling behind the edges of bathtub. You let out a cry of pleasure when you feel Azul's fingers press to your entrance. Arching your back, you let him suck on one of your nipples. Burring one of your hands in his now soaked hair and leave another one gripping on the edge of bath, you sink on to his fingers exhaling air. Not waisting any more time, Azul starts to move fingers inside of you. Whimpering, you bring his face closer to your chest. Bouncing a little on his fingers, you don't notice how one of the tentacles was near your face. Using the opportunity it slipped inside of you mouth. Sucking on it, you feel Azul cry out and shake under you. You feel his fingers leave and being replaced by his limbs. You shudder, now fully gripping to Azul for dear life. Tentacles pomp inside of you, hitting spots that make you see and even feel stars. Removing tentacle from your mouth, Azul reaches out for you and pulls you in for a kiss.

You were so tight. You were close he could tell. Your moaning and whimpering, the way you pulsating around him, it told him everything. Pulling out of you, he grips your ass, lifting it a bit. Bending his body more comfortable for him, he lets his erection bee seen. Near the place where his beak should've been, there it was. His cock, on the base is black but getting higher it gets lighter, his tip pearly white. It's thick, covered with bombes, maybe a bit rigged and a bit longer then his human one. Breathing heavily, he lifted you a bit more. Looking into your eyes for reassurance, he keeps you steady, despite shaking like a leaf. Small nod was enough for him.

Silence scream left your mouth. Everything felt too much. Azul kissing your shoulders and neck, telling how good you're taking him and moaning into your ear, tentacles swirling and clinging around you. Letting yourself abject to the new size, you give a light push with your hips as a sign.

Pushing a bit further into you, Azul gave out a cry. It feels so good, you feel so good! Keeping steady rhythm he thrusts into you. Moaning your name like a prayer. No, it was prayer to his God like being, you! Your soul, your body, everything about you deserves to be worshipped. Lifting himself a bit, Azul starts to lick, suck and bite your skin. Moving faster, he lets his tentacles move around your lower half, bringing you more pleasure.

Ridding Azul, you feel yourself getting closer to the end. Your hips slam, his sloppy kisses and prayers, moans echo trough the whole bathroom. It feels too good. Throwing your head back, you let out a loud cry, feeling your body shutter. Burning heat of knots in your stomach letting themselves loose. White noise and balk dotes play in your eyes. A few slams later, you feel Azul pulls inside of you. Next thing you know, feeling of hot liquid spilling inside, overwhelms you.

Breathing ragged, you look at one another. A small, exhausted chuckle escapes your lips. You, carefully, bend down and place a kiss on his forehead. Azul pulls you in, clinging to you and hugging you with all of his limbs. "Is it okay, if we stay like this a bit longer?" You let out a small sigh of approval. "I thought you'd never ask." Snuggling closer to your favourite octopus, you let your worries float in the sink. "I love you dear. I hope you'll never forget that…" Before Azul had chance to answer, you already sealed your lips with his, melting into a sweet kiss.