graciousness

  • Nadakhan: "You can bring dead people to life again, but for every person you bring back, you have to sacrifice one body part."
  • *some time later*
  • Jay: *plucks out another hair"
  • Nadakhan: "Okay I know that technically counts but I really feel you’re not getting into the spirit of-"
  • Jay: *ceremonially sacrifices hair, very seriously*
  • Nadakhan: "Like one time, just once, couldn’t it be a toe or a finger or something?"
  • Jay: "Oh like how you so graciously go by what people ‘mean’ and not exactly how they’ve phrased things?"
  • Nadakhan: "…"
  • Jay: "…"
  • Nadakhan: "…sometimes I-"
  • Jay: "Just resurrect them already."

anonymous asked:

25. mino + 35. KSY

Originally posted by ssonqs-archived

(35) As a goodbye. 

a/n: i will post the one for mino later on :) thank you! 

Part of the: The way you said “I love you.”


The pick up truck comes to a stop, Seungyoon’s questionable driving nudging her forward a little too hard as he slams on the breaks graciously.

“Everything okay?” He asks, peering to look at her from the side.

“I guess. Why?”

“Nothing, you’re just so quiet tonight. It’s weird. Are you sick? Did you miss lunch?” Seungyoon shifts in his seat to place the back of his palm on her forehead, dramatically playing doctor.

“Stop…” She lets out a small laugh, pulling away slightly from him, “I’m fine, Yoon.”

Seungyoon says nothing in return, silence soaking them more often than usual. She’s been off ever since he picked her up for the movie that he must admit, he didn’t really pay much attention too.

“I thought you promised things weren’t gonna change.” He finally sighs after mulling over the thought, loosely running his grip over the steering wheel in agitation.

“It’s not just something you can promise, Seungyoon.” She says quickly, like she must have had it at the edge of her tongue this entire time.

She’s staring vacantly to the darkness ahead when he turns to look at her, lost in thoughts he desperately needed to know.

“Do you really have to go?” It’s the first time she addressed it and it took him by a complete and utter surprise.

“You can come with me.” He licks his lip, blinking somewhat hopefully and it’s silly of him to say such thing.

“You know I can’t do that… this is home, right here.” Right now, with you, left unsaid in the back of her throat.

It’s what he expected, making more of a fool out of himself but he never minded when it’s for her. “I’m going to make it big, I promise.”

“And you will, that I know.” There’s a sincere twinkle in her eyes, smiling at him with so much pride as she always does.

“I’ll come back, ask your father for your hand.” He never gave it much thought, not like he needed to because Seungyoon have always known. Yet no matter how many times he has said it, he wishes that she would believe it.

“One of these days you gotta stop saying that. What if you meet someone nice and—”

With bigger dreams, someone better, what’s a small town girl like me to you, Seungyoonie?

He cuts her off like he just knew what she was about to say.

“I probably will—” Her expression drops at his agreement, threating a smile over his lips, “but I won’t change my mind. They’re not you.”

“It’s amazing what time can do, Yoon. Never underestimate it.” She shakes her head wistfully.

“I’ve known you all my life, at this point I should be sick and tired of you, really.” Seungyoon clicks his tongue, dropping his head back to his seat with a thump.

She’s staring at the boy hiding beneath the mess of brown curls peeping through a hoodie a size too big, scoffing out a laugh at his revelation.

“Oh my god, didn’t think you’d come around. I’ll be honest, I’m sick of your stupid face too.” And his stupid voice that could steal the hearts of many, his stupid hair that she just wants to run her fingers through, his stupid pouty lips that—

“But I’m not. I’ll marry you someday whether you like it or not.” Seungyoon’s always been so sure for a lot of things, determined for a lot of things and she realized that she couldn’t make him stay. Not with the potential he has, she couldn’t be holding him back.

“Alright, do whatever you want.”

“So is that a yes?”

“Do you really need to ask?”

“I love you, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Alright.”

//

people who can graciously hide that they don’t like people are so terrifying. last year while working on tech for a play i asked my friend how he became friends with another guy on the crew and he got quiet, looked straight into my soul and said “he’s not my friend. i fucking hate him.” i lost 5 years of my life

4

Moana Visual Development, Part 1.

Here are some of the very first drawings I did for Moana (Minus the last one, which was done later in the vis-dev stage). I was fortunate enough to work on the film in its very early stage thanks to the graciousness of Ron & Jon. Working with them alongside Jennifer Lee and Fawn Veerasunthorn is one of my fondest memories at Disney.

I have lots of Moana artwork that I want to post here, and am still trying to figure out exactly how to group them. Stay tuned! (For more work, you can also check out my instagram: @minkyu_lee_animating)

Moana is out in theaters now! 

5

Disney magic at the Winter Palace.

‘You look like the help’: the disturbing link between Asian skin color and status

Outside a hotel lobby in Toronto earlier this year, an elderly Asian woman stopped my mother and me to ask what time a tour bus would be arriving. Then, the woman asked in broken English: “Are you Philippine?”

“Yes,” my mom replied.

“Ahh, you look Korean!” the woman exclaimed. My mother graciously thanked her.

I darted my eyes, offended and confused at the implication that looking Korean over Filipino should somehow be taken as a compliment. Later I asked my mother: “Why did you thank her?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted sheepishly.

Throughout the years, strangers have told me how “white” I look. Non-Filipino Asians who were surprised by my heritage told me not to worry because I looked Japanese or Korean or Chinese; I never looked like their version of Filipino. And years ago, I would’ve replied exactly like my mother to that elderly woman. In my own family, the notion that fairer skin was more beautiful was always an unspoken rule. My mother filled the bathroom cupboards with Asian beauty products that promised flawless, whiter skin.

She wasn’t alone. Women—and not just Asians—around the globe are subject to the pressure of having fair skin. Skin bleaching is a 10-billion-dollar-a-year industry. And this obsession with skin color isn’t just about beauty: It has real-life consequences that can stretch to everyday prejudice, class status, and quality of life. Many layers of systematic oppression are hidden behind seemingly innocuous compliments and beautifully-packaged day creams. Filipinos, a population that traditionally has darker skin than other East Asian populations, are hit extra-hard with this reality. In California, “Filipinos are the Mexicans of Asia” is a well-known saying among Filipino and Latino communities—an adage that holds extra weight in the age of Trump.

One quick Google search brings up countless personal anecdotes laying bare these prejudices. But the dynamic of idealizing light skin is far from new. The post-Spanish colonial Philippines looked to none other than the Virgin Mary for beauty inspiration. According to Filipino scholar Nicanor Tiongson, Filipinos wanted to resemble the sculptures of saints found in their Catholic churches during this time period.

But it goes back even further than just worshipping the Catholic saints: Joi Barrios Le-Blanc, a lecturer with the South and Southeast Asian Studies department at The University of California, Berkeley, tells me that Filipino preference for fair skin dates back to the Binukot, a pre-Hispanic practice reminiscent of Japan’s geisha. The Binukot, often a wealthy girl, was chosen for her beauty from a very young age, was not exposed to sun and was raised on a hammock so her feet never touched the ground. Described traditionally as “pale as the moon and incomparably beautiful,” the Binukot retained their fair complexions because they were not allowed to work in the fields. Like the Binukot, who was pale simply because her higher class status forbade outdoor labor, fair-skinned immigrants receive privileges their darker skinned counterparts did not.

This longstanding bias bleeds into an international Asian hierarchy, on which Filipinos are considered the bottom rung. Because of its high unemployment rate, high inflation rate, and widespread income inequality, the Philippines remains one of the poorest countries in Asia. Some Filipino immigrants can’t obtain any other work simply because their qualifications aren’t recognized by host countries. (Often, Filipino doctors become nurses abroad because it is too costly and time-consuming to retrain as a doctor in their host countries. The pay as a nurse is still more lucrative than remaining a doctor in the Philippines.)

Some people in East Asian countries “have a tendency to look down on South East Asian countries, viewing them as poorer countries who have less political power,” Barrios LeBlanc told me.

Unfortunately, this prejudice also occurs among fellow Filipinos, and it seems to stem from skin color. Barrios mentioned that the Aeta people, an indigenous group in the Philippines characterized by their dark skin and curly hair, are often marginalized by their own patriots.

“Many people in the lowlands feel superiority towards other ethno-linguistic groups,” Barrios says. She recounts a story where her Filipino friend, married to an African American man, was jokingly warned by a colleague that her children would be seen as Aeta if she took them to the Philippines.

When Sierra Adkins, a Filipino-American, worked as a teacher in South Korea, she was encouraged to not disclose her Filipino heritage. In a blog post for Pilipino American Unity for Progress’ website in 2013, Adkins wrote that a colleague explained to her that Filipinos are “ranked lower socially” because Filipino immigrants in South Korea commonly take maligned gigs as nannies or prostitutes. “Filipino women were seen as second-class and unfit to teach the uber-rich students at my Hagwon,” she wrote. Adkins left Korea after only four months.

Many Asians of previous generations—both in Asia and North America—strictly adhere to this hierarchy. Courtney*, a close Filipino friend, noticed this bias in her Chinese mother-in-law. She’d matter-of-factly share her thoughts anything from Filipino-specific health conditions to stereotypes of Filipino women’s promiscuity. Her mother-in-law’s antiquated views caused Courtney a lot of grief. Though she married within her race, Courtney still felt like she wasn’t “the right kind of Asian.”

One of only times Courtney felt acceptance from her mother-in-law was when she’d comment on Courtney’s lighter skin. “She asked my husband why I was pale because Filipinos are dark,” Courtney told me. “And then said, ‘Oh, I guess she’s not so bad because she’s not dark like the rest of them.’”

Filipinos aren’t much better; the Tagalog phrase “Mukha kang katulong,” which translates to “You look like the help,” is a fairly common insult within our community. As a teen, I remember it being used to poke fun at an aunt who had gotten a suntan. This attitude even shows up in pop culture. In Singapore, a sketch comedy show called The Noose features a Filipino character named “Leticia Bongnino” whose repeated catchphrase (said in a heavy Filipino accent) is, “My name is Leticia and I am a maid.” Her character speaks broken English and has a Bangladeshi boyfriend who can only say the word “yes.” Leticia’s appearance is frumpy and unfashionable; she wears a children’s clip to pin back her short bob. A Twitter account under Leticia’s name uses bad grammar and has tweets like “BREAKING: Leticia have to clean windows today or no dinner for me.”

This hierarchy has certainly affected the way I’ve been perceived—and even the way I perceive others. In “passing” as half-white, Korean, Japanese, or any other Asian ethnicity that “ranks higher,” I have accepted a certain privilege and social acceptance from the Asian community. I have graciously thanked strangers for insisting that I have mixed heritage and that I don’t look like the typical Filipino. Given the global disdain for our darker skin and our roles as caregivers, it’s no wonder we find comfort in being mistaken for someone we’re not.

But nowadays, I’ll no longer nod politely. And the next time someone compliments me for not looking Filipino, I will say, “Actually, I do.”

*We’ve chosen not to identify Courtney by her real name to avoid more familial strife.

link

ATTENTION SPN CON-GOERS

((I’m hoping as many people will see this post as possible because I feel that it’s very important.))

As I think a lot of you are aware of, for the last few years, conventions have been a place where people have felt the need to tell the actors of Supernatural (particularly Jared, Jensen and Misha) their personal stories of mental illness, suicide attempts/survival, and everything that comes along with those subjects. There have been multiple posts that I know of here on Tumblr and on other social media outlets begging people to stop treating the boys as therapists because it’s obviously a very hard subject to listen to in an environment where they are unprepared and put on the spot.

We know that the boys handle these encounters with fans graciously and kindly and that they do their best, but we also know that hearing these stories from fans have had negative effects on them. We know that Jared has, multiple times, had to excuse himself from autograph sessions to gather himself. In a fan convention setting, putting this kind of emotionally heavy subject matter on the boys isn’t right- as so many have said.

And now I’m telling you that if people don’t stop doing this to them, the boys will stop doing conventions altogether.

I’ve been in touch with the head of Creation Entertainment and though I can’t share the emails with anyone because of confidentiality reasons, I will tell you that he said himself that the actors have stated that if they continue to be treated as therapists without any control by Creation’s staff that they will no longer do conventions.

Because of this, Creation is going to be implementing rules that ruin the experience of photo ops and autographs for everyone in line who just wants the chance to say “hello” to the boys. By ignoring Creation Entertainment’s request (on their website and at the conventions) to not treat the boys as therapists and ladle heavy stories on them during a time that should be enjoyable for them, we as a fandom have potentially ruined conventions for them altogether.

If we want to keep the boys happy and healthy and enjoying the conventions like we all do, then we have to stop treating them like our personal counselors. It’s unfair to them, and to the other people in line, and it’s obviously taken enough of a toll on them for them to say something to the heads of the convention.

Please stop. There are other people and other ways to talk about your problems that are completely healthy and in environments that are safe.

Those Five Words

‘In April 1779, Alexander Hamilton wrote in a letter to John Laurens, five words so racy, so explicit that they were thoroughly marked through by his son in an effort to censor his father’s passion.  Those five words have haunted curious academics for centuries, leaving us to only imagine what bawdy innuendo he could’ve written that was worse than even ‘the length of my nose’.  @john-laurens​ requested the microfilm and graciously shared so that we all can speculate what those five words were.

I submit to you, 

“In drawing my picture, you will no doubt be civil to your friend; mind you do justice to the length of my nose and don’t forget, that I ⟨never spared you of pictures⟩.”

I’m more sure of some words than others, but in explanation:

Keep reading

Ask Me.[Newt Scamander Oneshot].

why do i love romance so much

Originally posted by karlmordo

Title: Ask Me.
Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader.
Words: 2,700.
Rating: T. (Mildly suggestive content.)


If you focused your hands in the correct position, you could almost feel the ghosts of the white scars that lined on his torso. Slowly healed reminders to Newt, that despite all the goodness and kindness in the world, there was always going to be a counter balanced reaction. In this very delicate case, it was put in the situation of his creatures, his naturally kind hearted nature and the injuries he may have gotten when trying to gain their trust. You could hear his voice inside of your mind, echoing, ‘They’ve never been dangerous. I was, and still am utterly willing to prove people wrong’.

You supposed that it was his gentleness and graciously loving attitude towards his passions that made you fall in love in the first place. Typically, his actions reflected his personality, especially in moments of bliss like the one you found yourself tangled in.

His hands were entwined deeply in your hair, and with nervous fingers, he’d twist a piece between them and hum more to himself as he craned his head down for another kiss. Not allowing such satisfaction, your playful side rose as you pecked his nose lightly. Newt hovered still, his full lips curling on the sides into that infamous half-grin. Newt surely made you question whether or not he was aware that his appearance had such an altering effect on you, because occasionally he acted the part, where as other times he found himself rather clueless.

Right now was a memory of the latter.

The look on his face nearly shouted at you, ‘So, you want to play games?’ Raising yourself against him with your hands flat against your chest, your lips grazed against his to answer him silently. Dropping his hands, Newt cupped your cheeks and allowed his fingers to slip across your smooth skin. A shudder of appreciation reached down his spine, or better yet, a shiver of anticipation of the unknown. Heavily dilated eyes caught hold of yours while his fingers continued a journey downwards now resting gently on your shoulders.

It was there that he paused to hesitate. Dropping his head to avoid eye contact so you couldn’t catch onto his contemplation, he stared at your right shoulder, almost admiring the way that the dim light of your hallway was illuminating your skin. Giving it the appearance of being on fire, he thought to himself. And the strange wonderment rose in his mind, crashing like a wave. If he were to touch you now, would your skin be hot like the blaze he imagined? Or would it be like a chilled fire, cold and eager to be warmed?

The dress that was so beautifully sculpted to fit you was non-existent there and left your skin free for all to see, and for him to touch. And in all honesty, such a naked piece of body had been begging to be touched all evening. And when he said all, he meant, all evening. Since the sun went down, to this second in your hallway. Newt stood pinned against your body and the wall and lifted his eyes. You had been hinting all evening, his mouth tilted upwards, that you wanted this so why would he be one to deny it when it was so close? He finally figured out your game, and to say that he was proud of himself for catching on would be an absolute understatement.

“There are quite a few names to which I could call you right now,” He whispered, pressing his mouth against your ear, “Let me think…” The rush of his fingers now touching your bare skin rose goosebumps onto your arms and through your body. Even if it were chaste and inexperienced, you wouldn’t have it any other way or with anyone else. “Seductress,” He began, relying on the depth of his voice rather than the actual volume, “Or are you a temptress? Are they the same thing, or is there a difference? Of course-” His hands rose from your skin before pattering back down on your back, where the dress too, left little to be imagined. It dipped far, resting to stop on the small of your back. He didn’t allow his curious fingers to dive any lower than the base of your neck though. That’s where they rested, and that’s where they would tickle you. “Seducing and tempting are very similar, but not the same. To seduce is to be… Well, pulled into a sexual act, isn’t it? Whereas, one would use the word ‘tempt’ in a more subtle, gentler tone.”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you vaguely questioned where this sudden burst of confidence came from as his voice tuned down your hallway, echoing off the plaster walls. You had thought, for at least a minute that maybe he was turning this into a lesson, into a lecture like he did when put into nervous situations. He’d begin blundering, finding a way out without actually confronting the situation he was put in front of. But, after giving it a good hard think, you deduced that it couldn’t have been that. The way that he was speaking to you, so huskily, the way his hands were raking along bits of your body that he hadn’t actually seen before, were telltale signs that this was something else. This was slacked confidence, raw emotion and genuine sex appeal. A side of Newt that you didn’t even know existed was getting clearer and clearer the more he allowed himself to build up in self-awareness.

“Allow me to ask…” Newt swallowed, kissing the shell of your ear, “Am I seducing, or am I tempting?” He pushed his head back and gazed down at you. Through the very little light you were getting, you could see a bit his beautiful eye color. “I know what you are, or at the very least, I know what you’re trying to do.”

“May I ask what you think that is?”

Newt gave you a small grin, pecking your lips before uttering against them, “You’re being a big flirt who’s denying me the simplest of pleasures, like an actual kiss.”

“Why give you the pleasure of such when you’re the one so blantly seducing me?” Your tone of voice dropped as you attempted to stay in control.

“Me?” He questioned. Heat burned on the tips of his ears, down his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose at your accusation. “I’m not one to seduce, and you know that.”

“Don’t lie.” You snickered, “At the very least-” You mocked him, “You’re building yourself to be a small bit tempting.”

“Never.” He shook his head in playful denial, his beautifully ashy hair bouncing along with the movement. You found yourself entranced for a second at his unspoken beauty. “I would never do such a thing to you.”

“Lies.” You ran your hands up his chest to rest them on his shoulders. Newt licked his bottom lip at the sensation of your hands running along his body, even if he was fully clothed in front of you. That was something he’d never get used to. The meager brush of your hands, and what they would do to him in moments like this constantly amazed him. “You’re tempting. Standing there, looking amazingly beautiful…” His eyebrows raised at your choice of words, “Oh excuse me-” You spoke sarcastically, “Did I say beautiful? I meant handsome.”

“I’d have been okay with beautiful.” Newt laughed quietly. Keeping one hand rested on the back of your neck, he swooped his right hand forward and put it under your chin. There, he propped your head up so he could properly look down at you.

“I was going to use pretty.” Your expression was smug, teasing and a bit flirtatious. He could see the latter, especially in the little glint behind your eyes.

“I’d have been alright with pretty as well,” His voice dropped once again as he looked at you lovingly. “But, I’d prefer to call you that.”

“I hope you don’t just like me because I’m pretty.” You pouted. Newt shook his head once again with a small cackle. Keeping the position of his hands, he pushed himself off the wall, successfully moving you back so you were now pinned between the wall behind you and his body.

“I love you because you understand me, which I had been looking for. And, honestly. I had lost hope. I was ready to marry Pickett, because I thought only he would understand my blabbering.” Newt joked, the hand under your chin now dropped to dance down your neck before caress your sternum. “Imagine that, Pickett Scamander. Sounds pretty awful to me.”

“Who’s to say I want to marry you?” He raised his brows once again, only this time in a way that said, ‘Are you kidding me?’ Newt was right to react in such a way, though your question once more of a tease than to be taken literally.

“Who’s to say I’ll ever ask?” He replied rather smoothly, his eyebrows still skeptical. “Unless you, my love, intend to tie me up and make me, you can’t assure that I ever will pop that question.”

“I actually expected it tonight.” You admitted, “Queenie may have let it slip that you were planning it-”

“Wait, wait-” Newt panicked, feeling his heart drop into his stomach at the sound of your statement.

“She also told me that Niffler stole the ring? Did you ever find it? Oh goodness, I hope you found it.”

“Of course I found it.” Newt scrambled slightly to rest one of his hands on his coat pocket, where the ring was lying snug.

Silence spilled between the two of you as he stood awkwardly in front of you. Mentally, he was cursing at Queenie for letting the cat out of the bag like this, but then again, she probably didn’t mean to. She rarely thinks before spilling out things like this. Getting vicious at her was going to do Newt no good right now. He drew a deep breath in, prepared to take on the accidental mishap with as much grace as he could.

“I was just kiddin’,” You popped your mouth and looked at your love in front of you, “Queenie didn’t… She didn’t tell me anything… I— was just playing around with you…”

He stopped moving altogether, and his breath hitched in his throat. It was coming to him now, the smack in the face of intense realization. “You didn’t….” You shook your head no, an obvious expression of guilt washing onto your face as you stared at him. “Oh, no…”

“I mean, now I do, and I know Niffler did steal the ring so…” Your voice cracked. “Surprise.”

“I was going to ask,” He said quickly and looked off to the side, “I just, couldn’t find the moment to do it? I mean, dinner, wouldn’t that be a cliché? I’m not a fan of doing it in such a way, I want you to remember it. I don’t want your engagement story to be a copycat of so many others.” He began speaking a bit faster, tears pricking at the back of his eyelids, “So, I thought, maybe on the walk home? But, I caught myself staring at you and before I knew it, you had lead me home, and then this, and now, and I thought maybe I could stave until the morning and perhaps… I don’t know, surprising you with a ring at breakfast? But, is that too cliche as well? I don’t know.

“Then last night, I nearly had a heart attack when I had misplaced the ring… what an irresponsible thing to have happened…” He rubbed his forehead, “I had left it sitting on my desk, and left for a moment, only a moment and when I came back it was gone. I went into an absolute frenzy. I should have figured it was Niffler, that little bugger… So obsessed with shiny things. He had taken it, and if I was bloody thinking, I’d have checked him first before throwing my case into a mess for two hours…

“And now, I’ve gone and ruined one of the biggest surprises of your entire life, because I couldn’t understand that you were only joking around. I ruined it…” He reached into the pocket of his jacket, plucking out a small velvet box, “This was meant to be something special, not some night of-of…”

“Newt.” You spoke quietly, contradicting his frantic voice. Reaching up with your right hand, you put it onto of his. “Shhh…”

“But, I…”

“You didn’t ruin it, it just…” You puffed, “Didn’t go as planned. That’s okay…” He swallowed quietly and balled his hand into a fist around the small box in his hand. “Any moment you asked me would have been special. I’m positive I’d have remembered it for the rest of my life, just like how I’m going to remember this…” You laughed quietly and clasped your hands around his, “I mean, you still get to ask… If you still want to…”

“I do…” Newt looked at his hand, “How do you want me to? I guess, at this point it doesn’t matter, does it…?”

You thought for a second and smiled lovingly, “Do it the way you want.”

He took a deep breath in and nodded, dropping to his knee without a second thought. Despite his attempt to remain cool and situated, his mind was racing. Of course before hand, he had mentally written a letter, things he was going to say to you but now that it was actually happening, he couldn’t find where he had stored it. Newt was left speechless. He kissed your knuckles slowly, looking up at you as you pulled your hand away from his balled fist so he could open the velvet box. It was smooth under his fingertips, alarmingly so that Newt actually found himself shaking in an attempt to open it as quickly as possible.

“I never imagined myself to be the type to marry, simply because for years, I was seemingly married to creatures and to finishing my book…” Newt told you, “Maybe love was for some, and never for me. I didn’t need it, until I met you… Everything changed then…”

His voice was breaking with emotions as he stared down at the ring, “I can’t give you much, other than a case full of creatures, an old scarf, a few bow-ties and magic spells and maybe a good solid kiss every so often, and I know not a lot of people would jump to be with someone as… Annoying as I, but for you, it seemed to be considerably different….

“From the time that Queenie had informed me that you thought I was, quote ‘Cute’, to the first actual encounter, there was something so different about you, and I couldn’t take my attention off of you. The way you walked, carrie yourself, the way you talked with such confidence, something that I wish I had, and something you’ve actually helped me with… I cannot thank you enough for the opportunities and things you have shown me…

“And if you’d allow me, for the rest of our lives…” He looked up at you Newt’s stare was intense, digging deeply into your own that you could almost feel him infiltrating your thoughts. “I’d love to show you equally amazing things… If you’d allow me the pleasure of a ‘yes’ to my next very needed question so I can stop talking and finally kiss you.” He fumbled, raising his wrist slightly to reveal to you the ring that he had so carefully thought about and chose. It was simple, but beautiful.

 A golden band and placed delicately in the center was a flower of diamonds. Small, beautiful and absolutely everything you could have ever wanted all rolled into one ring. You sniffled, staring at it for a moment before looking back at Newt. And the second your eyes caught hold of his, the question flowed from his mouth and sang into your ears.

“Will you, (Full Name) the love of my life, and the dazzling, perfect, amazing mother to my creatures… Will you marry me?”


Hey guys, hope you enjoyed because I know I had a lot of fun writing it! Reblogs and likes are appreciated. Stay tuned for more Newt! :D 

I left it on a cliffhanger, for a reason guys. ;) More to come.