made by me but shh

Sweet Creature

Click here if you’d like to listen to the song to help set the mood. x

It was one of those days.

Harry adored his job. He really did. His work was his first love, he always said. But there were certainly days where it all got to be a little too much.

He woke up at six in the morning to be greeted by a rainy and foggy sky outside. He spent a good ten minutes gazing at the great love of his life, her hair splayed in all different directions from having forgotten to tie it up in a ponytail like she usually did. Her lips were slightly parted, and her eyes were still puffy from the night before. He exhaled a sigh at the memory of it—it was the first time they’d really fought in a little while, but it’d been a doozy. Exhaustion took it’s toll on the both of them, but they were both too stubborn to admit it. It had been over something petty that he wasn’t even angry about anymore, even though at the moment in all seemed so important. And even though they tried to never go to bed angry, their tired eyes beat out the need to make up.

He exhaled a soft sigh as he watched his love, and he could see the tension built up in her features still from last night. He didn’t want to wake her just yet, because he knew that she would not love being woken up at six in the morning if she didn’t need to get up. The two of them rarely ever got a good night’s sleep anymore, and he didn’t want to take away her rest.

He got himself out of bed and walked over to the bathroom, going about his morning routine as quietly as possible as to not wake his girls. Within half an hour he was dressed up in a pair of black jeans and one of his button-ups. Usually he wouldn’t get so dolled up to go out this early, but he had a few morning radio shows he was making a live guest appearance on and impressions mattered to him. Having decided to get breakfast on the way to work, he quickly slipped out of the house without making a sound.

The rest of the day didn’t get any better.

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me? crying the entire time while making this? absolutely

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“Wait, can you go back? I didn’t catch what you said.” Neville scrambled for a new sheet of paper and his quill and ink. His elbow managed to knock a textbook off the desk and tip over his bottle of ink, spilling it everywhere.

I put hands on Neville’s shoulders and made him look at me, stopping him from freaking out anymore. “Shh, love, you need to calm down.” I took out my wand and cleaned up the ink before Madam Pince could kick us out of the library. One of Neville’s biggest fears was Professor Snape and Neville got like this whenever he had a Potions test coming up.

I held Neville’s hand and soothed him.

“Hey,” Neville was nervously looking around the library but I got his attention. His eyes looked sadly at me. “Hey, I love you and this exam is going to be fine. All you have to do is try to calm down. Okay?”

Neville slowly smiled at me. He hugged me tightly around my waist and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He nuzzled my neck and peppered kisses on it, whispering, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Week Eight: By Your Side

Premise: What if Claire had conceived on her wedding night?

You can read previous weeks here.


July 30th, 1743; Castle Leoch.

I jumped at the sound of someone clearing their throat and turned to find Murtagh standing in the doorway of my surgery.

“I, ah, beggin’ yer pardon, lass,” he stammered as he doffed his hat. “I didna mean to startle ye,”

“No, it’s quite alright,” I assured him and waved him inside. He stepped forward tentatively, making my blood run cold and a question tumble from my lips.

“Has something happened?”

“Ach, nae, lass! Nothin’ o’ the sort. Jamie’s just fine, last I saw him, but he said- ah, tha’ is, I thought ye might- ifrinn,” he trailed off and glowered at me.

I bit my lip to keep from smiling.

I’d never seen Murtagh so tongue tied before. Not that he spoke all that much, but what he did say was always short and to the point. The man that stood before me was clearly at a loss for words and I hadn’t the faintest idea of what he was getting at.

Shifting from foot to foot, he tried again, “Do ye need me to, ah, fetch ye anythin’? More water or wee plants from the garden or such? The lad willna be in from the far pasture til the evenin’ meal an’ I didna want ye to be in need while he was away, ye ken.”

“No, thank you,” I answered slowly, wondering what on earth had prompted his offer. “I’m well situated at present.”

He nodded gravely, placing his worn hat back on his head. “Aye, well, I willna be far.”

With that he turned and left.

What was that all about?

Jamie didn’t make it back to the castle before the meal, leaving me solo amid the myriad of noxious smells that passed for dinner at Leoch. Scents were a constant battle for me and I fought nausea at every meal. Geillis was in attendance tonight, but she was doing little to distract me from my stomach.

In fact, she was only adding to my discomfort.

“Enough about my husband, what about yours?” Geillis asked with a coquettish smile.

“What about him?” I replied cautiously, swallowing hard.

She dug a rather sharp elbow into my ribs. “Well, what d’ye think? Does he look as nice out of his sark as he does in it?”

Oh God, does he ever.

Uncle Lamb had taken me to see Michelangelo’s David the summer we were in Italy, but its chiseled features had nothing on my husband. It was my professional medical opinion that a more perfect pairing of oblique and gluteus maximus muscles didn’t exist.

“Um…” I groped for an answer as I tried to get my brain out of the bedroom.

“Then ‘tis true?” she whispered.

I panicked, imagining the new lie Laoghaire had spun and was feeding the gossip mill, “Is what true?”

“About the thumbs?”

“Thumbs? Geillis, what in God’s name are you talking about?”

“Surely ye ken that? A man’s thumb will tell you the size of his cock, Claire! Great toes too, of course, but those are harder to judge, what wi’ the shoon and all.” She nodded towards Jamie, who had just appeared, as if summoned, in the doorway of the great hall, “Yon wee fox cub looks as though he could cup a good plenty in those hands of his, hm?”

“Geillis Duncan, will - you - shut - up! Someone will hear you!”  I hissed, my face flaming.

“No one of importance,” She waved the idea away and grinned cheekily, her voice rising a decibel or two. “Besides, they ken he’s got ye wi’ child already, ‘twould no’ be a shock for me to commend him.”

If Laoghaire were in the room, I’d have strangled her on the spot, and I very nearly strangled Geillis in her stead.

I could see the girl’s look of pure hate when I told her I was carrying Jamie’s child, the image forever ingrained in my mind. She was not one to let things be and I knew the moment the words left my mouth that gloating this fact was a mistake. She’d even had the gall to suggest, to my face, that the baby wasn’t Jamie’s.

Part of me was surprised she hadn’t spun that into her tale.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, shut up!” I pinched her hard beneath the table. “Its none of your business!”

She took on a look of complete innocence as Jamie sat down on the other side of me. He smiled apologetically and squeezed my hand as he poured himself a glass of wine. I was surprised there was any left, for Geillis seemed to have drank far more than her share.

“Oh, aye? Well,” The sly smile was back in Geillis’ green eyes. “I dinna ken about that, Claire, for the entire castle kens it to be true.”

“Kens wha’?” Jamie asked as he took a sip.

“That ye got your wife wi’ child on your wedding night.”

He choked on the liquid, his face quickly matching the deep crimson of the wine.

it was ungodly hot in here. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck as I tried to breathe thru my mouth and not my nose. The stench of the unwashed Highlander across from me was enough to fumigate an entire city block and, when combined with whatever the hell that was, it was all I could do not to vomit onto my plate. The man dished himself another helping of the concoction, sending a fresh barrage of fumes my way.

“She hasna the sense God gave a goose, ye ken,” Geillis tittered on, oblivious to my discomfort and Jamie’s barely concealed rage. The grating sound of Geillis’ voice swelled with each wave of nausea, her every intonation making the bile rise in my throat.

I gripped Jamie’s arm as my head began to spin.

“Are ye alright?” he whispered, bringing his face very near mine.

Gagging as the smell of his breath overwhelmed my senses, I got out an emphatic no before he swept me off the bench and made for the door.

A combination of sheer willpower and the breeze created by Jamie’s movements kept the inevitable at bay until we made it into the passageway on the other side of the door. He wasn’t able to avoid the mess, and took the brunt of it upon himself as we came to a sudden stop.

“I’m sorry,” I croaked between dry heaves, the both of us now wet with my warm, pungent vomit.

Jamie managed a wry grin, answering, “Dinna fash, Sassenach, I’ve been covered in worse.”

He didn’t turn to go towards the stairs that led to our chamber, but continued down the passageway ahead of us.

“Where are we going?” The back of my throat burned, my words little more than a whisper.

“Your surgery,” he replied, “‘tis cooler, aye?”

It was. For all it’s cave-like disadvantages, it did remain cool in the heat of the day.

Jamie pushed the door open with his shoulder and the chilled, damp air welcomed us. He set me down gently atop the stool near my work table, then moved about the room in a determined frenzy. The empty bucket I used for such a time as this was placed in front of me, the door was latched and locked, the basin was filled with fresh water and a clean cloth found, and the bed in the corner prepared for an occupant. All of this completed, he shed his soiled shirt and knelt in front of me.

“Wha’ can I do, mo nighean donn?”

I took a deep, shuddering breath and leaned forward, resting my head on his shoulder.

“I think you’ve already done it.”

“Did you tell Murtagh about the baby?” I mumbled, half asleep, sometime later.

I hoped Murtagh had heard the news from Jamie and not from someone else, as Laoghaire had saw fit to broadcast my condition to the entire castle.

Jamie brushed the hair off my neck, replacing it with a kiss, before responding with a rumbling, “Umhmm.”

Murtagh’s random visit suddenly made sense, and was far more endearing than I had registered in the moment.

“Why do ye ask?”

“He stopped by to make sure I was alright while you were gone,” I explained.

“Gone?” Jamie’s confusion was evident, “I didna go anywhere, Sassenach.”

I smiled, “Apparently, the far pasture was entirely too unreachable for his liking.”

A knock sounded at the door, followed by the godfather in question’s muffled voice asking, “Are ye within, Jamie?”

Speak of the devil…

Jamie made a sort of growling noise deep in his throat and pulled me closer. “Ignore him and he’ll go away.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the face he made.

“Shh, Sassenach,” he whispered, silencing me by giving me a breathtaking kiss.

It worked.

“I ken ye can hear me, ye wee gomerel,” Murtagh muttered as he tried to open the door, but found it latched. He shook it a time or two, testing the strength of the lock, before uttering something in Gaelic and giving up.

His footsteps echoed in the passageway and I knew he’d left.

“What did he say?” I grinned as Jamie’s ears turned pink.

“Somethin’ about stabling a broodmare with an ass,” he grumbled good-naturedly. “‘Twas a complement to ye, to be sure, mo nighean donn, just not to me.”

“What a pity,” I quipped, taking his mouth in mine as my hands drifted further south, “ for your ass is worth complementing.”

he tipped his head back and laughed in earnest, “I dinna think ‘twould sound the same coming from him, Sassenach.”

  • Aragorn [examining lines in the dirt]: The Uruk-hai came through here.
  • Legolas: Well, obviously. This takes us through Rohan. Leads directly to Isengard. Don't need to be a Ranger to know that. Hey, Gimli, who am I? [mockingly] Ooh. I'm talking to the dirt. I hear it speak to me.
  • Aragorn: Actually, this road cuts through a plain. Nowhere to take cover. That one runs next to a forest. That's where they would've made camp.
  • Legolas: Obviously...
  • Aragorn: Shh...the dirt is talking to me again. What's it saying? He's saying the mouthy one's an idiot who wouldn't last a day on his own and should go home. I agree.

skittlemcfrootloops  asked:

I HAVE A FUCKIN PROBLEM,ALEX'S VIDEO OF "THE SQUIP SONG" MADE ME HNNNNNnNng I.. SIHP I HSIP I PISh I HIPS I SHH- I SHHH-- I SHEP IT IT MADE ME SHEP IT OKAY?!?! HELP,AND OH MY GOD YOUR HEADEr IMAge

DUDE CALM DOWN— MICHAEL MALL SAYS SO

Swirls

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They twirled through the dark, swaying through the black as all the windows could barely burn them with the light they struggled to retain. Quiet on bare feet, toes pressing into pale tile barely visible in the ink. The shadows grinned and whispered with glee as their closest friend showed a small smile that mirrored theirs. Soft black fabric sliding through the air, sleeves curling through the hall like the smoke coming from the match of their souls. A small green flame trapped in an ebony body, pulsing and twining with the millions scattered across the planet. A green that cut through the blinding light of the world, shadowing it in protective pale darkness. Specters smiled as their kin danced between worlds. A cat near as dark as their bodies and eyes as bright as their own swayed with the lifeline, a normally terrified creature more sensitive to the light than others curling around bruised ankles, dark and lithe. Water pooled in a speckled coffee maker, the glass of the pot the only thing that shone with any light. The kin twirled with the cat, shining with all the radiance a fading star in the darkness could. Light filtered onto a wooden table, but the specters easily made it seem like it could do nothing to dampen the glow of their friend. They danced with them, the only tune being the dripping and sizzling of void-colored liquid falling into a near-full pot. The kin near floated to a dirty white fridge covered in pale magnets and photos, quickly opening it and plucking the creamer from the contraption. A cup sat already next to the now warm coffee, and they poured the coffee and rinsed the glass quietly. The shadows clung to them as they poured the creamer into the dark mug and stirred it gently, tugging at their kin’s hood and twirling their see-through fingers through soft hair as the milky white liquid blossomed in the pitch of the bitter coffee. They knew their time with their lifeline was up as soon as the spoon was set in a glistening sink, but their kin felt as airy as the specters that surrounded them. Their light faded as they walked back into the flood of light, the specters looking on through the eyes of the cat that dared not follow into the light.