it is the air i breath

Miss It. (Angsty Harry Styles Blurb)

a/n: Here it is! This is my first ever angst piece, so please be nice haha! But, I hope you enjoy the outcome as much I enjoyed the writing. All the love as always, L. xx

- in which Harry feels like Y/N doesn’t love him anymore.

Harry was so tired. Emotionally drained, one might say. His brain had become too torn on what to think, and his eyes dry from crying. He felt like he couldn’t find peace, even though deep down something was keeping him awake, every single night.

“You know what, Y/N? I miss it.”

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I can’t wait to see Dean’s face when Cas comes back. To see his first reaction. He’ll be shocked. He won’t be able to move for a moment. His eyes wide. Mouth agape. Heart stopping, beating fast, and then skipping a beat. A shiver. Tired eyes blinking tears away. Throat chocked by an invisible noose. Hands tremulous. Lungs burning for lack of air. “When did he stopped breathing?” And then it comes…

“Hello, Dean.”

‘Hello, Dean.” Words that sound so simple. So mundane. But to him, to him they mean the world. They mean life. He can feel warm again. He can feel the blood in his veins circulating. The ice has thawed instantly by Cas’s presence. The air no longer feels suffocating, Cas’s low voice has pierced through it and freed him.

“Cas…” And that’s all he could say. His tongue is too excited to form coherent words. They would be unintelligible if he tries to realease them all at once. A hug should do.

What does EXO do in the middle of the night?

Minseok: He’s lying on his bed belly down, watching kitten videos on his laptop while kicking his feet in the air like a teenage girl, giggling softly when one of the cats fall off a sofa

Junmyeon: Cleaning the dishes, muttering under his breath that ‘no one helps him in this goddamn motherfucking house.’

Yixing: Checking up on everyone who’s awake, making sure to tell them to try and get some sleep.


He’s on league of legends…

Jongdae: Jamming out to some sik beets

Chanyeol: Snoring. Loudly.

Kyungsoo: Kicking Chanyeol for not letting him sleep. Scowling very hard

Jongin: Staring at his computer screen with bloodshot eyes, taking notes on every bear fact known to man

Sehun: Out being slutty tbh, showing his thicc ass to everyone at the nearest club

Mike crawled through a sticky membrane into a forest full of rotted, twisted trees. Strange, quiet noises and floating white particles filled the air. He could guess from Will and Nancy’s descriptions where he was; how the air was cold and thick and rotten-smelling, how the trees looked almost familiar in a horrible way.

“Upside Down,” he breathed.

Eleven. If she was anywhere, if she was alive at all, she was here.

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You Make It Real

A/N: First Spencer Reid x Reader

so i’m not sure if you do any reidxreader, but if you do, could you write one in which the reader is a forensic linguist and gets assigned to the bau to work on one case, as a contractor, and has to leave right after, so reid gets her a permanent position, bc he’d miss her?

Originally posted by netflixandi

There’s so much craziness surrounding Spencer, he sometimes felt like it was hard to breathe. Yet, when Y/N got assigned to the BAU on a case as a Forensic Linguists contractor, it was like fresh air filled his lungs.

She was bright and bubbly, the type of person Spencer had been waiting to come into his life. For the few short weeks, they had spent together, the pair had become close and when Y/M had to leave, it was a part of him was gone.

At first, Spencer didn’t want to admit to himself that he missed Y/N. His head was strong but his heart was weak. All around him, everyone was talking words he didn’t understand. To be honest, he wasn’t really listening to them. All he could think about was Y/N and how much he missed her.

Standing from his desk, Spencer made his way to Hotchner’s office, a letter of recommendation in his hand. Having Y/N on the team made him release there was so much more to learn about being a profiler as well as so much more to learn about himself. Placing the letter on the desk, Spencer flashed a small smile before leaving.

The days felt like years since Spencer had given the letter, knowing there was a chance the transfer wouldn’t be approved. Yet, the doors opening to see Y/N holding a box of office supplies made Spencer’s chest flutter.

learisa  asked:

For the Halloween prompts 63,37 please with Jefferson

63. “I’m the tall dark stranger your parents warned you about.”

37. “Just one bite.”

Originally posted by coporolight

Your breath was coming out in a mist mixing with the cold forest air. Your back was against a tree, listening for any sound. A twig breaks behind you and you, twirl at the sound. When you see nothing, you turn back around only to be met with the cheshire grin. 

“Who-who are you?” you with your voice could be steady, but your stutter was obvious. 

“I’m the tall dark stranger your parents warned you about.” he says, dark curls stark against his skin. 

You bite your lip but you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your mouth. “Oh my god, Jefferson” you laugh more, holding a hand to your chest. 

“What? You wanted this roleplay” he chides, moving his cape which was stuck under his boot. 

“I know but ‘I’m the tall dark stranger your parents warned you about’ really baby?” you say inbetween laughs. 

He rolls his eyes at your laughter but his own grin is peeking through. He circles his arm behind your back pulling you flush against him. “Let’s go home” you whisper. 

“Before we do can I have just one bite?” he mumbles, lips against the skin of your neck. 

- ̗̀Trick or Treat || Young K  ̖́-

Originally posted by helloday6

Totally soft demon! Young K who has no clue how trick or treating actually works in the mundane world.

A/N: hey, hey, hey my dudes, we’re already on the third one! I’ve been really enjoying writing for the fest and I hope everyone is enjoying all of the tagged writings as wellll- feel free to join us! 🎃🎃🎃 [3/16]

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Ship of Bones

An often requested theme that we’ve never done before! This is for works with science fiction elements (Robots! Space!) and those that take place after a catastrophic event in a very different world.

This one turned out rather different than I’d expected. I hope you like it anyway!

It wasn’t until the shadowed figure at her feet stopped moving that she staggered back, spine hitting the metal wall of the engine room with a thud. The wrench wavered, and she forced herself to breath through the adrenaline even as she choked on the smell. The air was thick with blood, and her mouth bone dry as she glanced around, swallowing harshly at the splatter across the walls.

Someone would’ve heard the commotion.

Taking a gulping breath as the shrieking in her head lowered to the familiar rumble, Caroline struggled to figure out a plan. This wasn’t the first time she’d killed someone, deep space was a violent and brutal place, but this was the first time she’d been forced to defend herself so early on a job. She’d taken the gig as a mechanic because it’d been her only shot to get off the accursed outer world she’d been stranded on for months.

It’d been three months since she’d eaten real food, and even the cheap protein bars and porridge that usually made up most of her diet on alien worlds had become scarce. Angry mobs had started to build outside the Human Consulate, and she’d no intention of getting caught up in another purge. Federation troops would be making groundfall to deal with the uprising in a matter of days, not weeks, and she’d have taken a riskier job than a mechanic on a frigate to get away.

A sudden, hoarse groan filled the air and the wrench nearly slipped through her fingers. Caroline watched with horrified eyes as the man she’d have sworn she’d beaten to death twitched. Pressing tightly against the wall, panic threatened to overwhelm her as footsteps thudded above her head.

She’d expected there might be something off about the crew the moment Marcel Gerard had introduced himself. Dark skinned and clean cut, he carried none of the hollowed-cheeked hunger that she’d grown accustomed to seeing over the years. He’d been nothing but professional, his clipped interview surprisingly refreshing after years of leering first mates. The guild she belonged too had confirmed the job offer was valid, and the pay was good.

She’d known it was too good to be true.

But she’d been in no position not to accept.

And now the truth came in the form of the low growls, the clawed hands that dug into the grated floor. Where there was one werewolf, there was a pack. No wonder they’d been willing to offer her food rations, real food and not the fake paste shit, as part of her pay; they could afford them.

She was on a hunting frigate.

The engine behind her began to chatter happily, and dread filled her bones. Most ships only responded to two people with such devotion: the engineer who kept her heart in working order and a captain who loved her. Caroline had been told that the previous engineer had suffered a heart attack and died, but as she watched the werewolf in front of her heal himself, she wondered if that had been a convenient lie.

God, she’d have preferred cannibals to werewolves. At least if she’d have been likely to survive cannibals. A pissed werewolf pack in the middle of space did not usually equal long term survivability to anyone but another werewolf.

Those footsteps came to a stop in front of the bent door, metal grinding as someone forced the door open. Caroline tightened her grip on the wrench and braced herself. She had nowhere to run.

For a moment her shock silenced even the happy purrs of the engine. Messy curls kept short and two-day old scruff, the blue gold eyes that met hers were hotly intent. It was a strain not to focus on bitable lips pulled to a frown, and she brushed off her intense physical reaction to shock. She wasn’t sure she breathed again until he looked at his broken crew member.

“Well,” he murmured, voice low and thoughtful as he glanced at the wrench. “Aren’t you a surprising little thing?”

The clipped edge of his accent buzzed in her head like electricity.

“Tyler, Tyler, Tyler. It appears we’ll need to have another discussion about ship rules,” he murmured, voice a velvet threat. Caroline bit her lip at the way his fingers curved along the nape of the whimpering wolf, the sudden silence as the injured man shuddered at the hold. Captain then. Probably the Alpha.

“My apologies, love. As a rule, we discourage crew from dominance fights. Tyler is still young. A little more training appears to be in order.”

Tyler whined, but the captain made a disapproving noise. Between one moment and the next, his grip on Tyler’s neck tightened and he carelessly tossed the injured wolf back into the hallway. “He won’t bother you again.”

It was a display of dominance and power, meant to intimidate. Lifting her chin, she set her teeth and glared. “As a rule?”

A flickering glance as he took in her bloody clothing and pale face. Her fingers white knuckled, the lethal edge of him tangible. His head head tipped to the side. The hunting smile on his face scraped against her skin like sandpaper.

“Of course. Do you need to see the medic?”

Her stomach jumped, skin too tight as he continued to watch her with eyes that looked as if they could peer through her skin to bones. Something about that stare unbalanced her, and her ears rang with the ships cadence. If she’d any sense she’d play scared and try to steal an escape pod at the first available opportunity.

She didn’t have it in her.


“I’ll have the door fixed in an hour,” he said as his eyes swept the room again, taking in the damage. “Someone will clean the worst of it. Expect Marcel to be by with your room assignment.”

His words jolted her out of the engine’s chattering, and she frowned. Chin jerking to the hammock ties, she crossed her arms, holding the wrench tightly. “Most mechanics sleep in the engine room.

“I’m told it isn’t necessary for your kind,” he murmured, lashes falling to half mast as he watched her a lazy, predatory gaze. “And we wouldn’t want a repeat of the past hour, hmm?”

Her throat felt like a desert. “My kind?”

His smile widened as if she’d walked into a unseen trap. Uneasy, she refused to let the fascinating appearance of dimples soothe her rattled emotions. Something new gleamed behind his eyes and the gold faded, leaving behind a wild blue.

“You’re a Mechanic,” he said easily, utterly satisfied, as if she hadn’t spent a century hiding her identity. As if the alien blood that ran through her veins didn’t mark her for death. Her existence, narrowed down to a single title: Mechanic.

“Mechanics are ghosts, they aren’t real,” Caroline said tautly. His eyes glittered at her lie, as if he could read her face as easily as an open book. It should’ve rattled her, but it’d been years since she’d been nearly driven mad by the voices inside her head. Now she took comfort in the ships she worked on, an engine as warm and alive beneath her palms as human skin.

And this ship, it told her that violence lived here, wild and mercurial, but there were other bonds too.

He chuckled, as if he’d chosen to be amused. “Your scent gives you away, sweetheart. It’s difficult to hide from our noses. You smell like…”

His lungs expanded to breath past the scent of blood. Caroline shifted her weight as he suddenly paused, gold washing through his eyes like a wave. For a moment, she knew she was staring at the wolf that lived beneath his skin, and it was starving. Stark, wild, the blaze of heat in his eyes was blatantly possessive.

The engine was loud in her ears.

Then he blinked. It did nothing to leash the power the radiated from his skin, the sun-bright gaze devouring in a way that left her flushed with awareness. In that moment, between one breath and the next, their balance had shifted and she didn’t understand how. The set of his jaw left her wary, and the room was suddenly too small.

“You smell like sunflowers,” he murmured, head canting. He made no move towards her, but something about the angle of his head, the set of his mouth, set her nerves alight. “I’ve only ever smelled one other who carried a similar scent, and she’s been dead more than a century.”

“Who are you,” Caroline breathed, pressing against the wall though he’d made no move to touch her. He couldn’t have known her mother. Some things were impossible.

“Ah,” he said, satisfaction turning his tone low and potent. “Most people know me as Klaus.”

Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, and Klaus clasped his hands behind his back. He looked pleased, as if his reputation hadn’t been spread among civilizations, the horrors he’d inflicted on enemies and the federation whispered in every back alley on every planet. “You don’t fly a frigate.”

Klaus chuckled. “Come now love, it doesn’t make much sense to recruit in a ship marked for immediate destruction on sight.”

“Recruit?” She managed, voice strained.

“I’ve been hunting you for a long time, Caroline. The golden haired Mechanic who escaped the Federation.” His eyes filled with a dangerous possessiveness, gaze a brand against lips. “No one will bother you while you work. Dinner is served in the mess hall. I’ll come find you, should you be late.”

He left her then, taking Tyler with him. Her palm pressed flatly against the warm metal of the wall, breathing jagged as she absorbed the mild threat in his voice when he said find you. There were a hundred possibilities in those words, all of them terrifying. But no matter how her heart pounded, fingers trembling without her permission, the ship’s rumbling in her back of her mind insisted that this was a good place.

Exhaling, she set the wrench down close to where she’d be working and determinedly set about running a basic diagnostic. She needed the precision of the work to ground her. In a few hours, she’d be expected to choke down a meal, surrounded by werewolves and she couldn’t show an iota of weakness and expect to survive.

Maybe on the way to the mess hall she’d risk getting lost, see what her chances of escape truly looked like. Klaus was correct, she had escaped the Federation and her father’s careful grooming. For a century, she run from planet to planet, never staying still, never settling down. She’d walked away from everything she’d loved, and she wouldn’t let a pack of half-feral wolves change that.

Gorgeous painting by @collectorcreator!

My entry for the competition, category #1 MADNESS. It’s a piece I created with acrylic paint based on this exerpt from The Evolution of Mara Dyer:

“Colors burst in my mind. Green and red and blue. Trees and blood and sky. The sand and the ocean vanished; they were replaced by jungle and clouds. There was a voice, warm and familiar but it was far away.


The word filled my lungs with a rush of air and I breathed in sandalwood and salt. Then there was strong pressure on my hips, shifting me away. Down. Gray eyes pinned me to the earth and the sky changed again above them; the blue chased by black, the clouds chased by stars.”

I LOVE your work!!



Summary: Ginny is having a moment of insecurity and Luna assures her that she’s beautiful as she is.

A/N: Based on this prompt. I hope you like it!

Words: 548

Ginny wasn’t usually self conscious, but something about that week - possibly the oncoming exams, the chaos that was Umbridge’s ruling, the inability to ever relax - had left her an emotional mess, and in order to find an outlet for her emotions she zeroed in on herself and her imperfections. It was shallow and not something she did. Had all but forbidden herself to do. But she did it anyway, and the fact that she was also pissed at herself because of it didn’t help matters at all.

Fortunately Luna was at her side the whole time.

Luna was like a breath of fresh air, and Ginny could barely be in her presence without feeling at least a little comforted. Luna didn’t even have to try, and that was the best part.

“I hate my shoulders.”

Luna looked up from her parchment calmly, her gaze questioning when she said, “Why?”

“Because they’re bony and pointy and freckly.”

“I don’t see why that should be any reasons to hate them.”

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How can I describe something that doesn’t even make sense to me. How can I describe the feeling of being able to breathe under water, but not knowing when you air tank will run out of air. How can I describe the feeling of seeing a bullet right infront of you and not knowing when it will make contact with your skin. How can I describe the feeling of falling and not knowing when you will hit the ground. Tell me, how?

anonymous asked:

speaking of crushes one time I was walking behind him and it was a cold winter day and he breathed and that cloud of breath was visible as it was cold and it landed on my face like HELL YEAH HIS FVCKING CARBON DIOXIDE TOUCHED MY FACE I AM NEVER WASHING MY FACE AGAIN YASSSS SCREECH SCREECH WE SHARED AN AIR KISS HIS CARBON DIOXIDE TOUCHED MY FACE YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHH GOD HAS BLESSED MEEEEEEEE and anyway, kenma's my fav, love him. got any cute ones?


and yes here is a cute Kenma:
Be my saviour and I'll be your downfall - Chapter 19 - PunkyNemo (TheVampireCat) - Daredevil (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Karen Page/Frank Castle
Daredevil (TV series)
Ballads for a dead man series
Chapter 19/?:  I’d like to hear what you’d say to me if I was bulletproof and free again

They’re both quiet for a while and then he shifts, looks over at Foggy, and when he speaks his voice is barely a whisper.

“What you said the last time…”


“Did you…”

“I don’t lie to you Frank, you know that.”

He nods, looks away and she can hear him breathing heavily, air coming out of his lungs in ragged puffs and it takes a while before he seems willing or able to continue.

“Frank? Are you alright?”

“Yeah…” he says dismissively. “I’m fine.”

He’s still not looking at her though. She lifts a hand, reaches out and then drops it back into her lap. She wants to touch him, soothe him. The last time she saw him this this vulnerable was in a graveyard a million years ago when he was out of his world and out of his mind and somehow she was the only thing pulling him back.

Maybe it’s always like that for them. Maybe he always runs away and she keeps him tethered. She’s not sure she can do that forever.

“You’re gonna need to say it again,” he says eventually and his voice is low and thick, that gravel that she feels in her blood and bones.


I can’t tell if the smudges left on my windshield
are from when you drew pictures on the condensation
or from when I tried to wipe them all away last week

I can’t tell if I have a lung condition
and not just because I’m not a doctor
but also because the smog in the air
never affected my breathing before

I can’t tell if my immune system is beginning to falter
or I myself am beginning to falter
from the thought of you not being there
To breathe here with me

I can’t tell why,
when I sit on the shoreline
and have a dinner for one
the message in the empty bottles
always seems to tell me to get another bottle

I can’t decipher
if the numbness I’m enjoying
is from the alcohol in my in my hand
or the knowledge that your hand
fits much better

I can’t tell
that as I fall asleep
on the beach we used to visit,
that the sand that I rest my back against
isn’t actually you

And just for tonight at least,
I’m glad I get to forget


Oh how I implore you

But ever so softly


Your affrimation

In a breathless whisper

Is what I ache to hear.

Lavender fog warms the air

Lazily floating

With my invitation


Shed such rags

That bind you to this world’s bondage.

We belong to nothing else

In our moments

In thought.

Indulge the sight

Let it overrun the despair

Let my caress out turn

The darkness.

Let go

And breath the only words

That matter

Into me

Out of me.

I’ve been injured

Your full presence is my balm

I can ease that brow

I can unfold you

Hold you

In the water’s womb


Us two

In the space

We own.




October 18

Someday I will go away
where none of you can see–
It will be a lovely lonely place
just I, myself, and me.

Someday I will go away
where none of you can find
the place my footsteps brush along
or prints I leave behind.

Someday I will go away
to where the air is clear–
with no bad feelings causing taint
to lace my breath with fear.

Someday I will go away
to a place I am not known–
for if I must be by myself
I’d rather be alone.

A Most Eventful Walk

Imagine 1: A Most Eventful Walk

Summary: Reader is out walking in the woods, there she meets two peculiar sights.

Pairing: Female!Reader x Newt Scamander

Warnings: Snarkiness, Newt Scamander’s face.

Word count: 1261

Credits to me, J K Rowling and Eddie Redmayne.

[Written: 15-18 Oct, Edited: 18, Published: 18]


I smiled at the sound my autumn boots made when I stepped on the leaf-covered path as I walked with brisk steps. The air smelled of pine and fresh rain, covered with a layer of smoke. My coat was warm and soft, a stark contrast from the chilly air my nose was breathing in. I blew out some carbon dioxide, only to watch how the warm air formed a beautiful trail of smoke before disappearing. The smell of burnt wood became stronger the further into the woods I came, and I soon could spot heavy smoke coming from a glade.

Convinced that it couldn’t be a forest fire, after all, it was the middle of November, and I was mightily intrigued. The glade gave up a loud roar, sending chills down my spine. My hand immediately went into my pocket, grasping my wand lightly. I took a deep breath and thought: What could this be?

Careful not to make too much noise, I sneaked around the glade, trying to get a good glimpse of what was going on. The smoke was getting thick, to the point where it was hard to see through. But when I caught a glimpse of it, I thought my eyes were playing a trick on me – what I saw was unbelievable. A great lizard-like creature was running amok, clawing at the trees surrounding it, as it breathed great flames of fire. A flashback, a memory from my childhood, suddenly struck me: It was my tenth birthday, and I carefully unwrapped one of my gifts – a lexicon for mythological creatures. Page 11; Dragons.

The beast before me was almost identical to how I remembered the illustration of my trusty lexicon. Although it was made for Muggle children, it was almost scarily accurate. The dragon before me didn’t look fully sized; more like an awkward in-between state of youngling and fear-striking adult. Except that, the only difference was that this was a living, fire-breathing animal, and the other one was just an illustration in a book. Well, it had been “just an illustration in a book”, all until about thirty seconds ago. Scanning my mind for what page 11 said about said dragons, I slowly backed away from the glade’s outskirts. I could feel my mind racing, still, it produced nothing. A major error in the engine.

Pressing my palms to my forehead, I sunk down behind a bush.

Oh Godric, my mind chanted. Oh Merlin, how do I fight a dragon by myself?

What other choice did I have but to fight? I couldn’t just let it run wild – some Muggle would surely discover it sooner or later. And how did it even get here? For all I knew, dragon-breeding was strictly forbidden by Britain’s Ministry of Magic.

A rustling in the bushed a couple of meters away from me woke me up from my panicked thoughts. Fast footsteps, as well as a hushed voice, were coming towards me. I stayed by the ground, carefully peeking up above the bush, wand ready in my hand.

The voice was getting stronger, and I could make out words:

“No, Pickett, you can’t just run away like that! Do you know how much trouble you’re putting me into? What did you say? … Of course, of course I can notice how a dragon is burning the entire woods down!”

Who was Pickett, and what had he been the cause to? And, maybe most importantly – who was the one, who was into some kind of trouble, and how was he so sure of this dragon? My thoughts almost drowned out the roaring of said dragon, but the crackling of the fire couldn’t escape my senses. This was real – this was happening. A teenage dragon was burning down my local forest. Oh good heavens.

As I was in the middle of cursing… everything, something sharp walked into me. It was a shoe, something I’d notice later on.

“Ouch!” I exclaimed loudly, clutching my leg.

“What in Godric’s name-”, someone uttered. I raised my eyes, only to be met by a tall figure.

“I am so sorry, Miss”, the figure said, before looking at me with questioning eyes. “What are you doing on the ground?”

I turned red, and hurriedly scurried up again. After straightening out my skirt, I met his face again. “What do you mean, Mister?”

He looked at me oddly for a second, before waving any questioning thoughts out of his head and his face became neutral once more. Looking at my wand, he exclaimed: “Oh! You’re a witch!”

“Well yes, I am.” I tried to catch his eyes again, but he wouldn’t let himself be caught.

We both stood silent, not daring to meet one another’s eyes, until the man said: “I don’t suppose you’re aware that there’s a dragon within ten metres from you, Miss?”

“Yes, I’m very much aware of it, Mister.” I looked at him with a sharp glance in my eyes. “What’re we gonna do ‘bout it?”

“Well, we can’t let it go berserk here anymore, it could be hurt by someone. I was thinking of putting it to sleep, and then force it into my case.”

I snorted, “‘Putting it to sleep’? What’re you gonna do, sing a lullaby?”

The man turned a little scarlett, before he simply said: “No.” He looked a little lost, his glance roaming about. Snapping back, he stuck out his hand. “I’m Newt, by the way. Newt Scamander.”

I shook his hand. “(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Well then, Miss (Y/L/N). Let’s go catch a dragon.”

“Hold this, please.” Newt ran off towards the dragon, leaving me with his old suitcase. I raised my eyebrows, wondering what on Earth I could do with some tattered luggage. He didn’t care to leave any instructions, he just started to deal with the teenager before honom. Doing a complicated motion with his wand, he calmly bewitched the dragon. It seemed to be falling asleep, before it suddenly jolted awake again, angrier than before.

Newt looked at me, a troubled expression on his freckled face. “I don’t suppose you want to?” he asked, running back to my side.

“Hold this, please”, I almost sneered and pointed my wand to the dragon. “Petrificus Totalus!”

The spell left a trail of blue light behind it as it hit the dragon in the chest. The dragon swayed from side to side, before giving in and falling down on the ground with a loud thud. I brushed some hair out of my warm face and turned to Newt again. His eyebrows were high on his forehead, his eyes wide.

“That was very impressive, I must say, Miss.”

I jerked my neck towards the dragon. “That little thing, you mean?” Smirking lightly, I watched how Newt walked up to the dragon and opened his case. After putting the open suitcase on the dragon, we both sat down in the grass and watched how the suitcase almost devoured it. It was a strange view, but I’d gotten used to strange views through the years. Newt was quiet for a long time, before standing up and brushing some mud off of his blue coat.

“Tell me, Miss (Y/L/N),” he lended me a hand, “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

Taking his hand and letting him tug me up from the grass, I smiled and I said: “I’d love to, Mr. Scamander. And call me (Y/F/N)”

“Please”, he cocked his eyebrows and smirked lightly, “Call me Newt.”

Hey everyone who took the time to read and review my Supergirl Virtual Season episode! I’m working on responding to your comments! I’m sorry for taking so long, my grandpa’s health has not been the best in recent months and he’s stubborn to boot; a lot of my time/energy in recent months has been spent doing what I can to help him and my family. 

I appreciate all of you taking the time to read, and comment, and leave kudos, seriously, it’s been a breath of fresh air during an otherwise exhausting time. I hope to respond and connect with you guys this week as time and energy allow, and I can’t thank you enough for your patience!