“I am Groot,” Peter said dutifully. He felt like an idiot, but there were only a limited number of ways to while away quiet nights on the ship when neither of them could sleep. If it was him and Gamora, or him and Drax, they could spar, but he’d only tried sparring with Rocket once. It took weeks for the bite marks to heal.
Rocket’s oddly expressive – for a raccoon – face wrinkled in an expression of disgust. “Do you even hear yourself? That is nothing like what I just said.”
“Dude, that is exactly what you just said.”
“No, I said ‘I am Groot’ and you said ‘I am Groot’.”
“Which is … the same?”
Rocket stared at him for a long moment, then pointed at his snout. “Read my lips: I am Groot.”
“Was I supposed to repeat that, or …”
Rocket showed some teeth. Peter shut up. There was a moment of silence and Peter was just about to put his earbuds back in and quit with the language lessons when Rocket said suddenly, “Quill, if I say, 'I am Groot,’ just like that, what do you hear?”
“Is this a trick question? Especially the kind of trick question that’s gonna end in you pissing on my bed?”
“That was only once, and you had it coming –”
“No, for the love o’ cheese, it’s not a trick question. Just say 'I am Groot’.”
“I am Groot,” Peter said. “I feel like a complete jackass right now, in case that was your intent – hey, where are you going?”
“Jus’ need to get a thing!” Rocket’s voice trailed behind him.
Peter flopped back down in the chair in the mess and put his earbuds in. He was actually getting sleepy, and considering going back to bed, when Rocket jumped up onto the table in front of him with something clutched in his paws.
“What’s that?” Peter asked, sitting up. He palmed off the Zune and took off the earpieces. He had to hand it to Earth tech: the new music player was a lot more convenient to carry around than his late, lamented Walkman.
Rocket’s device was a thin, flat screen about the size of a hardback book; he had it clutched with a paw on each side while readouts rippled quickly across it.
“Okay, now say 'I am Groot’,” Rocket declared, studying the screen.
“Come on, man, do we really have to go through this again?”
Peter sighed and slouched in his chair. “I am Groot.”
Rocket’s ears pricked forward. “I am Groot,” he said, and tapped the display with his paw, causing the tiny, scrolling lines and numbers to freeze. “Did that sound the same to you?”
“Well … yeah?”
The flat pads of Rocket’s fingers danced across the display, and he laid the screen on the table between them. “Know what you’re lookin’ at?”
“Squiggly lines,” Peter said automatically.
“Did your mama drop you on the head a lot as a baby, Quill?”
“No, but Yondu did occasionally.” Peter rested his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. As much fun as it was to mess with Rocket, he did actually think he knew what the raccoon was getting at. “That wiggly line is some kind of … uh … noise – wiggle – curve, right?”
“That’s real precise.”
“I was abducted from Earth before we got to algebra in school. Cut me some slack here.”
“Excuses, excuses. I was raised in a cage and my mother had an IQ of 3.” Rocket touched the display, zooming in on it. “Point is, I don’t think it’s just that all a’ you two-legged bunch is too obtuse to understand perfectly clear speech –”
“– like I used to think. It’s more like, my ears hear at higher and lower frequencies than yours do, so I get different overtones. Put simply for the simple, I can hear things you can’t.”
Peter leaned forward, intrigued. “So, wait – you mean all this time, all his 'I am Groot’s sound different to you?”
He realized what he’d said as soon as the words left his mouth, and got the flat 'I am dealing with morons’ look from Rocket that he’d instantly realized he had coming. “How am I supposed to understand him if they don’t, Quill, I ask you?”
“Okay – point – but … so why does it sound like 'I am Groot’ to the rest of us?”
“It sounds like 'I am Groot’ to me too.” When Peter glowered at him, Rocket held up a paw. “No, I ain’t messin’ with ya. This time. No, that’s what the translation unit picks up, 'cause it ain’t so smart about some of the less humanoid languages. It’s just, I hear it like …” He hesitated and waggled his paw. “It’s like your music, right? All those up and down tones at the same time. Groot can do that. Your throat, my throat, can’t.”
“Singing?” Peter said after a minute. “Groot’s singing?”
“I refer you back to the part about bein’ dropped on your head.” Rocket pursed his lips and let out a sharp whistle, making Peter jump – there was still some part of him that couldn’t quite hear whistling and not expect a death arrow to follow an instant later. And he might not be the only one, because Rocket stopped abruptly, closed his mouth, and then said, “Quill, do this,” and hummed softly.
It wasn’t really a tune. “You just want me to hum?” Peter asked. “Like, generic humming?”
Rocket curled his lip and the hum became more of a snarl.
“Right, humming,” Peter said hastily.
The funny thing was, the instant his soft hum of response hit the right harmonics with the note Rocket was humming (and the raccoon did have a good sense of pitch; Peter had always suspected so) he understood exactly what Rocket was getting at.
“Ohhhhh. When Groot talks, it’s like a symphony. Is that what you mean? And the 'I am Groot’ part is the part in the human audible range.”
Rocket’s ears and tail went up cheerfully. “Yeah, ezzactly. He’s tryin’ to communicate, it’s just he didn’t get any farther than 'I am Groot’ when he was learning. It’s as hard for him to do the talkin’ part for the translators as it is for you and me to do his kind of talk. He can hear us just fine, though. Actually to him, understanding our talk is dead easy.”
“So how do we understand him?” Peter asked. “Can you, I dunno, juice up the translator so it picks up a higher range of frequencies, or something?”
“I dunno. That’s not a bad idea.” Rocket tapped his claw against his teeth before picking up the screen thing and hopping off the table. “Have to think on it. Don’t wanna explode your heads or anything.”
“Yeah, well, on that lovely note, I’m goin’ to bed.” He actually was tired enough now to fall asleep in spite of the inevitable nightmares (the bitter cold and darkness of space; Ego’s face dissolving in his hands; his friends crushed by rocks or blown apart). The music helped as it always had, a melodic bulwark against the dark, wrapped gently around his heart – but it could only do so much.
Rocket grunted absently as he trotted off, already engrossed in figuring out the problem.
The thought occurred to Peter as he wandered back to his quarters, thumbing idly through the songs on the Zune, that these sorts of mechanical puzzles served the same purpose for Rocket as his music did for him: something to make his mind go quiet.
The music did that … and so did letting Gamora beat the stuffing out of him in the ship’s small exercise area. Or getting language lessons from Rocket. Or –
“I am Groot?”
Peter jumped as small hands grabbed hold of his pants leg. Groot shimmied quickly up to perch on his shoulder.
“Hey, little buddy.” Peter opened the door to his quarters and left it open so Groot could come and go as he wanted. Or so he could hear if anybody got into a fight or whatever. He flopped wearily on his unmade bed, careful not to dislodge Groot. “You know, I’m not sure how much of this you can understand right now, but Rocket’s teaching me to speak your language.”
“I am Groot?”
“Well, to understand you more than speak it, I guess I should say.” He was lying on his back now and he couldn’t really see Groot except out of the corner of his eye, but he could feel the little tree shifting around in the hollow where the collar of his sweatshirt rested against his neck.
“I am Groot,” Groot said insistently, almost in his ear. Small hands patted at the side of his face and his earlobe.
“Yeah, yeah.” Peter pinched one earbud between two fingers and held it where Groot could get at it. The little hands took it out of his fingers. Peter settled himself comfortably as Groot squirmed somewhat ticklishly against his neck, and sorted through the songs. “How 'bout Elton John tonight, buddy?”
“I am Groot,” came the sleepy answer.
“You know, little guy,” Peter murmured, as the first strains of the music began to play and Groot snuggled comfortably against his neck, “whether or not Rocket can get his new gadget working, I think we understand each other just fine, don’t we?”
PLEASE make sure to regularly check your pet’s toenails! This dog’s owner had not realized that the dewclaw was curling around and growing into the paw pad. It embedded a full centimeter into the pad, causing an abscess and severe pain in the area. It would have taken weeks to get to that point. Antibiotics and pain medication are the mainstays of therapy.
Nail trims are especially important in any dog with dewclaws, cats with extra toes, and senior pets whose nails do not get worn down as quickly anymore. I see this problem most often in ancient cats.
So this is habit I noticed when my roommates go on break or for some reason Piggy is not getting enough attention. She paws at my face. Normally it’s at 6-8 a.m. when she does this (my other roommates are early risers I am not, she used to go to one roommate who would wake up early for attention) she gets in my face and paws at it. Most of the time it’s without claws but if I haven’t paid her any attention she brings out the claws slightly and paws a little more aggressively.
This is the first time I’ve managed to get it on camera, as normally she stops as soon as I wake up or have cuddled her and it’s normally at a time when I am not a human and am trying to charge up my humanness in order to get through the day. Please enjoy!
Mostly because I can’t NOT feed him, and killing him is im-paw-sible it seems… (the microwave didn’t even phase him… mostly cause he phased through the door
before I could even program the thing!)
So. The arrangement.
Apparently, Plagg has noticed my attention straying
to a specific part of Ladybug’s anatomy whenever I am transformed… mostly
because whatever I look at, he has to look at as well.
Which I find to be
karmic justice, since whatever cat-like tendencies he has I HAVE AS WEL—getting off
So, the bottom-line is, if I can figure out who Ladybug is by the end of the
week just by looking at her bottom-line…
…then Plagg will eat nothing but mozzarella cheese sticks for the next month.
No more stinky camembert for a whole 30 days.
…if I can’t…I’ll have to get him two wheels of the monstrous odorous cheese, and stay
off the LadyBlog for a month.
Sorry it took me so long to get this part out. My book is going to be released
in like five weeks, so needless to say I’ve been a little preoccupied.
As dark began to fall, the air became cold.
The chill caused you to pull your cloak closer, trying to get what little
warmth you could out of it. In all of your days travelling, it seldom got this
cold in the summer, and yet the further you walked, the colder it got.
Your breath came out in front of your face
in thick clouds of warmth, and as you continued moving forward, you couldn’t
believe your eyes. Snow. In June. Something was amiss here. You could feel it.
Something dark. Something magic. And though you wanted to turn back, to return
to Villeneuve and try again another day, your heart and your feet seemed to be
conspiring against you.
And then you heard a snarl.
It was vicious, hungry, and it was right
behind you. A wolf. And then there were five of them. Growling, low to the
ground, and ready to pounce. You broke into a run, but you knew it wouldn’t be
enough. They were faster than you, there were more of them, and even with your
magic, you wouldn’t even stand a chance.
Adam watched in the mirror as the wolves
surrounded you, and seconds later, he had run out the front door of the castle
as fast as his beastly legs would carry him. He could only pray it would be
fast enough. The snow crunched under his paws as he took long, swift strides.
The tatters he called clothes waved behind him like a flag of war, ready to
open fire on the enemies that dared to threaten you.
You were so close. Closer with every step.
It kept him moving forward. The drive to see you…to save you,
it pushed him faster and faster until-
Adam tackled the nearest wolf, taking him
down with ease. Another jumped onto his back, but he managed to shake it off.
He scratched one of the attackers with one of his massive paws, causing a halt in
“LEAVE HER ALONE!!!” He roared with more
emotion and raw anger than he ever had before, baring his sharp fangs. His yell
echoed through the trees, through the woods, and scared off several flocks of
birds. Though the wolves growled and glared at their large rival who had once
again taken something that belonged to them, they backed off, slowly retreating
back to where they came, their eyes still locked on him as they left.
You. Were. Terrified.
Not only had a pack of hungry wolves chased
you, now a gigantic monstrous beast was standing in front of you. But there was
more. He had defended you. Now what? What were his intentions? Had he only
saved you to kill you himself?
You lit your palm with pale white light and
held it up in defense. He turned to face you.
“W-who are you? What do you want with me?”
Your boots sank into the snow as you took a few slow steps back. He took a few
steps forward. “S-stay back.” You ordered. Your voice was scared, but firm.
“I’m not going to-”
“How do you know my name?” You asked,
quickly lowering your hood with your free hand.
“I’ve known you for a very long time.” His
voice was low, gentle. He approached slowly. You met his blue eyes, and in his gaze,
there was something you hadn’t expected to find: humanity. “Even if you haven’t
known me. I care about you. And if you’ll let me, I can keep you safe.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” For a
second, your silver eyes began to glow.
“I know you’re running from the darkness.”
Adam stated. “I know you’re a child of the stars. And I can help you.”
“Why should I trust you?” You took a small
step closer. “How do I know you aren’t working with…him?”
“You have more knowledge than you let on.
Feelings of things that have been, that will be. Read me and you’ll know my
intentions are pure.”
You felt your soul reach towards him,
trying to decipher if his words were truth. In his eyes, you saw kindness, and
in his past you saw darkness. And now…there was hope. The creature before you was
more than he appeared to be. You could tell that much. There was also magic
there. Dark magic with good intentions. It was a part of him, like a handprint
on his soul. A scar of something he used to be.
“You said you could protect me. How?”
“My castle is enchanted. You’ll be safe
“People are chasing. Bad people. Dark
“And to get to you, they’ll have to go
through me.” He replied. You stared at him for a long moment.
“I’ve never even met you and you’re willing
to lay down your life for mine.”
He offered a kind expression.
“Well…I’ve known you all my life. You’ve
been there for me in my darkest days. It’s about time I returned the favor.”
Also quick note, I’m linking videos for the dance scenes, in case my description is a little off. They’re not carbon copies of what I imagined, but it gives an idea of what they will look like. I’ll just mark it with an X
(A/n): You request, I shall deliver. I had literally noo where to go with this so I kind of WINGED IT LMAO
Request: Cuddles with Steve or Tony?
Warnings: So like, fluff and stuff. Maybe a swear?
”Nnnehhhhhhgggg…..” Steve moaned, dropping his heavy duty backpack to the door mat and shutting the door with his boot.
He heavily dropped on the first step of the winding stairs, putting his hands to work on his laces that held his boots to his feet. Once he was freed from them, he wasted no time sauntering into the kitchen, where you were.
“You’re home early.” you hummed. You were peeling some potatoes, stationed in front of a shiny silver faucet and sink. A goof smiled swept on your face when Steve walked in, though you didn’t actually look up from your task.
“The mission was a lot simpler than intended and we got let off earlier and I hate airports and apparently having a large vibranium shield is considered inappropriate and I should leave–and can we just cuddle?” he drawled, asking with his mouth and his eyes.
“Hm, of course, but not right now hun. I’m making dinner.” you replied lacing it with a sheepish laugh “I didn’t expect you to come back today, so I’m making homemade fries and some frozen chicken strips.”
You put down your potato peeler and strode over to the freezer; pulling out a bag of chicken strips.
Steve pulled a face.
“But can we just,”
He stepped closer to you, holding out his arm and you laughed.
“can we just,”
He pawed at your wrist, causing you to screech with more laughter; accidently letting go of the bag, having it fall onto the hardwood floor below you both.
“just,” he finished “cuddle?”
Steve picked you up, like you pick up a toddler.
“My chicken strips!” you cried out.
“Fuck yer’ chicken strips.” Steve demanded tiredly and literally fell on the couch. “Pardon my French.”
“Nonono, Steve.” you pried, but didn’t try to struggle, because it was like bear wrestling.
“Become the tired.”
“Shh, who is Steve?” the blond mumbled drunkenly.
“You’re Steve, you dumb spoon.” you said, dropping your head back against the couch throw pillows in defeat.
“No, I’m tired.”
You couldn’t help but let a last laugh slip your lips when you began to relax fully into the cushions.
(A/n): I don’t even know what this is. It’s super short but I guess it’s okay. The request was pretty blunt and vague so I just.. this.
Pairing: Carlisle Cullen/Wolf!Reader Words:1150 Warning(s): Injury mention A/N: Wooo carlisle. i dont think i have written for him yet. Also sorry this sucks big time, my writers block was preventing me to do crap. Request:
Can you do a fic where the reader is a wolf and gets caught in a bear trap and her imprint carlisle helps her?
MARE: the dog of the block. the one no one wants to mess with.
has no owner.
might have a bit of a anger problem. gets into fights with every dog. owns the biggest trash can of the city like a boss.
CAL: the dog who only wants to be pet but when you actually do pet him he /licks/ the hell of you and ends up throwing you to the ground with he’s paws cause he’s so excited and only wants to be loved. finishes he’s food in 2.7 secs.
MAVEN: thinks he’s a cat so spends all the time licking himself and sleeping. trying to improve his purrs. loves when his owner makes him wear dog clothes (specially tuxedos). gets involved cause of /drama/. has no friends cause he keeps stealing their food for fun.
KILORN: the kind of dog who looks at everyone like he’s judging them but if you throw a stick would chase after it like his life depended on it. the one who spends the whole freaking night owling at the moon like an idiot. likes to chase his own tail.
FARLEY: rage chiuaua. too little to bottle all the rage inside her. bites. and bites hard. is /small/ so owns the best places to guard her when it rains
SHADE: the dog that steals the neighbours chickens and that knows where to find the best places to pee.
CAMERON: owns a collar for /style/. too proud to sneak to the trash cans. may bite if you get too close.
EVANGELINE: the most fabulous white poddle around the block. don’t let her pink toenails fool you.
PTOLEMUS: loves to leave presents in every garden. flirts with every other dog.
Rating: Slight angst that leads to such sincere fluff you may explode upon reading. <3
Hope you enjoy!
As a well-experienced magizoologist, Newt Scamander was skillfully experienced in the art of observation. With even the smallest twitch, he could decipher what was bothering a Bowtruckle, if a Thunderbird was ill, or what mood a Graphorn was in.
Though he was trained in the realm of magical creatures, he found he indulged in the process of observing you. Memorizing the way you walked, the tune to your laugh, the little habits you exhibited when deep in thought, he found something new about you every day. He considered you a treasure trove of endearing behaviors that kept giving and giving, and providing the motivation to continue chasing after your affections day after day.
The wizard kept this in mind as he admired the expression of wonder you wore when interacting with the creatures, no matter how often you took part in the duties of the magical case. He was in a constant state of awe when you consistently showed interest in his extensive knowledge of magical beasts, though he was always happy to sate your ravenous curiosity.
With the task of cleaning the Bowtruckle tree this afternoon, Newt had become a bit dirtied up whilst re-filling the tree’s pot with fresh soil handful by handful to pack it accordingly. It gave him a chance to enjoy your company as you tended to each Bowtruckle, offering to hold them as you cooed lovingly at each one as though they were your own.
“Do Bowtruckles have a way of defending themselves?” You piped up, raising a brow in interest as you lovingly ran your index finger along a Bowtruckle’s back, who gave a chitter of satisfaction at your touch.
“When threatened, they can be known to gouge the eyes from those attacking their home,” Newt explained, enunciating as best he could with his wand in his mouth. “They’re stronger in numbers.”
He took joy in the way your enchanting E/C eyes glittered with admiration. “I almost don’t believe it with how accustomed they are to you,”
“Just lucky, I guess.” Newt joked, clapping his hands together to rid of the excess dirt before shoving his wand back in his pocket and picking up the bucket of water, pouring it carefully over the new soil. “Though there was one instance whe–”
A blur of almost-transparent white suddenly flew by, knocking over the bucket and spilling its remaining contents on the magizoologist, muddying his clothes all the more. You gave a laugh as Dougal revealed himself in front of Newt with what could only be described as a mischievous smile of sorts.
“Oh, come now Dougal,” Newt lightly reprimanded, shaking his now wet hands and reaching for the Demiguise with expectantly raised brows. “Back to bed for you.”
The Demiguise slipped elegantly from Newt’s reach, instead choosing to slink around the Bowtruckle tree and hide behind your legs with a slight huff. You couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled from your chest at Newt’s surprised expression as he placed his hands on his hips like an angry mother. “I’ll take care of our little rebel here, you’d better go change into something dry.” you offered, placing the Bowtruckle from your hand back onto the tree.
Giving a shy smile at your courtesy and charming laughter, Newt gave in with a sigh as he wrung out the sleeve of his dress shirt. “I reckon that’s for the best, don’t let his puppy-eyes fool you, though.” he warned, his heart warming at your genuine grin before he set off for the shed to change.
You crouched next to the Demiguise with a raised brow. “Alright Dougal, you might have Mummy there wrapped around your finger,” you gestured to Newt’s retreating form with a knowing smile, “But you and I both know it’s bedtime.”
The Demiguise gave what could be considered a discontented sigh as he reluctantly wrapped his long arms around your neck. You expertly lifted the creature into your arm, cradling him gently as you made your way to his hanging nest on the other side of the case. You softly hummed a lullaby, a smile of satisfaction tugging at the corners of your lips as you watched Dougal’s eyelids droop as you neared your destination.
Settling the Demiguise into his nest, you inhaled sharply in surprise as his large eyes suddenly opened and dilated, becoming pools of glowing sapphire as his paw gripped at your hand. Though the creature’s gaze was upon you, he wasn’t truly seeing you there. You recounted all the information Newt had told you about the Demiguise, and tilted your head to the side curiously as the beast’s gaze returned to its normal shade of shimmering gold. “What did you see?” you muttered, more to yourself than anything as Dougal only continued to stare at you, though you noted his grip on your hand tightened slightly.
You mulled over your limited options in your mind, eventually releasing Dougal’s hand, though he still seemed a bit apprehensive at your actions. “Mummy knows best, I suppose, I’ll go get him.” you concluded, sending the Demiguise a reassuring smile over your shoulder as you headed back toward the direction of the humble shack. You speedily made your way through the landscapes of the case, casting a glance behind to make sure Dougal wasn’t following you.
You suddenly felt your breath catch in your throat as you stepped on a long foreign object that was splayed across the pathway, though it didn’t take long for you to realize it was a spotted tail evidently slinking from under your the pressure of your footstep. Everything became a messy blur as you turned to the the origin of the tail, a mass of spotted yellow lunging toward you as a thunderous roar shook the ground and a clawed paw powerfully swept at you, which you assumed was what caused you to fall back so forcefully into the dirt.
Catching your breath, you meekly looked up to the mighty Nundu that growled in discomfort, the surrounding bush leaves trembling from the vibrations as she pulled her now-throbbing tail to her body protectively. “Oh sorry, I’m sorry!” you quickly apologized, scooting back and raising your hands in surrender under the shadow of the immense beast as your heart pounded in your ribcage, “I didn’t mean to, I should’ve seen you there, I…” you trailed off as you caught sight of fresh blood on the dirt between you and the Nundu. “Are you bleeding?” you asked fearfully, concern evident in your hushed tone as you cautiously crawled near the gigantic beast that licked at her tail, now seemingly unconcerned and barely aware of your presence.
The worry in your face was quickly replaced with confusion as you observed the small bloodstains on the dirt path, noting the thin consistency and deep red color didn’t match the blood of a Nundu. Your eyes widened in horror as a new pool of red appeared next to the others, a few droplets outlining the darkening stains, and dripping onto your palm as you lifted your hand to your chest carefully. Almost afraid to look, you pulled back and exhaled shakily at the sight of your hand coated in red.
Forcing yourself to look down, you inwardly cursed at the immensely deep gash that dragged across your collarbone, the blood seeping from the wound and into your blouse at an alarming speed. Your ears pounded with the sound of your erratic heartbeat, the adrenaline from the initial encounter with the Nundu concealing the eventual pain of your wound for the moment. You took one last look at the cat-like creature just to be sure she hadn’t suffered any lasting injury to her tail before staggering down the path with quaking knees.
Feeling your thoughts float out of reach as you became lightheaded, the natural landscape of the magical case began to blur and spin as you stumbled gratefully up the steps to the shed, one palm against your open cut while the other hurriedly swung the wooden door open.
Despite the painful burning sensation becoming apparent with every passing second, you could have almost forgotten about your injury completely as you drank in the sight before you.
Evidently in the midst of changing into dry clothes, Newt had jumped in surprise at your loud and sudden entrance, paused in the process of putting his hand into his clean crisp white shirtsleeve. For a moment, a slightly awkward quiet settled in the shed, as you couldn’t help but stare at the shirtless magizoologist before you, his chest freckled and awash with scars that ranged of all sizes, some still in the raw process of healing over while others permanently streaked his skin like miniature mountain ridges.
The sight gave you chills that tickled up your spine as the combined sensation of distress and awe churned deep inside of you, as you had never seen Newt’s scars before. You met his deep herbal gaze, his brow furrowed in perplexity as you swallowed thickly, feeling heat rush to your cheeks, though you reasoned it could just as well have been from the blood loss.
The thought reminded you of your predicament, and you blinked rapidly to break out of the trance you had found yourself in staring at the shirtless wizard. This appeared to free Newt of his own enchantment, his seafoam eyes widening in horror as he gave a light gasp at the sight of your blouse splashed with crimson.
Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, you found yourself surprised and slightly embarrassed at the whimper that escaped your lips, your fingers gripping at your collar as the pain swelled across your chest. Newt was immediately at your side, his dress shirt long forgotten as his gaze scanned for the source of the bleeding, “Oh, Y/n, what happened?” he whispered, gingerly removing your shaking hand that covered your cut, his brow creasing in concern as you trembled under his touch, pain evident in your ragged breathing.
“It was an accident,” you managed to grunt, shaking your head and avoiding the magizoologists gaze in shame, attempting to swallow back the stinging sensation from your injury. “I made a silly mistake is all.”
“This is far from silly,” he muttered, observing your trembling form and quickly taking action to scoop you into his arms before your shaking knees collapsed. If you weren’t in such pain, you would’ve enjoyed the intimate gesture, though there was a sense of solemn worry in the air as Newt set you on the worn workbench, allowing him to properly inspect your injury under the lamplight. He chewed at his lower lip anxiously as he prepared a damp cloth to wipe your wound clean in one hand, the other quivering with his wand as he recited a string of healing spells, gaze hardened and focused.
You felt the gash along your collarbone heat and tingle slightly, though it wasn’t long before it returned to the deep aching that penetrated your chest. Newt sighed as he finished wiping away the drying blood, the wound having finally ceased it’s excessive bleeding. “Y/n, how did this–”
“I startled the Nundu,” you hurried to interject, feeling a pang of guilt in stomach as Newt shot you a terrified look. “But I didn’t mean to, and she panicked, and-,”
“I shouldn’t have left you Y/n, I’m so sorry, this is my fault, I–” Newt rambled, stopping short when you grasped his wrist for his attention.
“It was an accident, no one’s fault.” You stated firmly, looking at the magizoologist expectantly and smiling when he gave a curt nod of understanding.
He set to work collecting various bottles and jars of seemingly random liquids and herbs, though you had faith he knew exactly what he was doing as the wizard poured the ingredients together to make a violet, paste-like mixture that smelled of ground pepper and fresh-cut wood. “Sorry-this may hurt a bit,” he warned, giving you an apologetic expression as he pinched a bit of the mixture in between his fingers and gently spread it across your wound, evicting a hiss of pain from you as it burned across your skin. “So sorry love,” he repeated, quickly finishing the process and wiping his fingers on the now blood-stained cloth. He felt his muscles finally relax as you gave a sigh of relief, the pain subsiding as a result of the mixture’s properties.
Newt puffed out his cheeks in exasperation, his hands coming to rest on either side of you as he drummed his freckled fingers along the wooden ledge nervously, shoulders sinking slightly as he timidly met your E/C gaze. “I’m afraid it’s going to, ahm, scar.” he swallowed apprehensively, herbal eyes scanning you to gauge your reaction.
He was a shocked to see no trace of panic or disturbance in your face, rather a look of curiousness and perhaps even enthusiasm etched in your expression as your E/C gaze dropped to his chest, causing his cheeks to dust a light pink in the realization he hadn’t bothered to finish dressing himself when he saw your injured state.
“Like yours?” you inquired, voice barely above a whisper as you observed the magizoologist’s scarred chest that was much more evident in better lighting.
Newt took a moment to process your question, or rather the enchanted tone with which you had uttered it, observing your keen gaze as you examined his own scars. “Y-yes, I suppose.” he licked his lips warily, unsure of how to feel under your admiring stare. “I’m terribly sorry, Y/n, I–”
“Do you wear them like medals… or like chains?” you asked, looking up to your wizard with E/C eyes laced with concern.
Newt was taken aback by the oddly-wise and potent nature of your question, the compassion in your gaze making his heart thunder in his chest with affection. You appeared so eager to hear his response, your patient yet expectant eyes giving Newt the surge of confidence in his answer, “They’re a part of me now so I suppose I, ahm, wear them…as a part of myself.”
Newt observed your thoughtful expression as a ghost of a smile graced your lips, looking to his chest once more with newfound wonderment churning in your E/C gaze.
Under your stare, despite your uncritical and accepting manner, Newt felt the need to explain himself, the words spilling from his mouth before he had time to think of why he was even speaking. “I-it’s not their fault of course, none of these creatures are dangerous, n-not really, it’s worth it– though I’m aware they’re not the most attractive–”
You pursed your lips in thought as you tilted your head curiously at the wizard. “You’re proud of them, in a way.”
Newt found himself speechless, your hypothesis revealing a monumental element of himself he hadn’t realized existed until that very moment. His mouth hung slightly ajar, attempting to formulate a response, though he found most words escaped him, mind reeling with the newfound revelation. He found words weren’t necessary, though, as he watched you raise one hand and press your two fingers together, bringing them to your lips where you ever-so-gently placed a kiss.
Newt could have sworn his heart skipped a beat entirely as you delicately placed your fingers to his chest, atop the beginning of his largest scar that curved down his ribcage. He shuddered slightly as your soft, warm skin tenderly trailed down the mark, as if you were memorizing the pattern from your touch. The magizoologist had never felt so vulnerable and yet so secure at the same time, your gaze comforting and actions sincere. He observed in fascination as you brought your fingers to your lips once more, then placed them on another smaller scar that stretched along his shoulder and traced it just as softly, your contact fond and affectionate as you repeated the process over and over until you had coated every scar with a cherishing touch.
When you had finished the intimate motions, you brought your hand to cup the wizard’s cheek, gazing upon him lovingly. “I’ll be proud of mine, too.”
Newt’s seafoam eyes looked to you in pure fascination, sighing as he felt himself practically melt into your touch. His chest blossoming in adoration, Newt gingerly lifted his two freckled fingers to his own lips, imitating your actions as he fondly traced just below your forming scar along your collarbone, the sensation of his fingers against your skin sparking fireworks in your stomach.
You felt your heart leap in your chest as Newt’s fingers continued tracing along your chest and trailed up your neck softly, his hand cradling the back of your head. His half-lidded herbal gaze flickered to yours as if to ask permission as his freckled nose brushed against yours, your growing smile giving him the encouragement to pull you forward and close the space between the two of you, lips crashing and hearts fluttering.
The lingering prickling pain across your healing wound seemed to simmer away as Newt’s lips met yours, plush and warm as his fingers entangled in your H/C locks. He gave a sigh of satisfaction when you slid your hands from his shoulders up to his wild almond-streaked curls, leaving goosebumps in the wake of your touch against his bare skin. You giggled when Newt pulled away for air, his cheeks flushed a rosy pink as he bit back a grin and pressed his forehead against yours.
“Merlin’s beard, you’re so…” he shook his head thoughtfully, amber curls tickling your forehead as he chose his words with care. “…breathtaking”
You hummed happily and felt yourself blush in response to such sincerity, lost in his eyes that were like pools of raging, passionate green sea waters that frothed with raw ardor. Completely smitten, you drank in every detail of the wizard before you. Cinnamon dusted honey curls complimented his freckles that were like constellations in the serene sky of his shyly affectionate expression. Savouring the sensation of such close proximity, you allowed one hand to drift to his shoulder and trace along a similar scar along his collarbone as you looked to him adoringly. “And you’re a masterpiece.”
Newt exhaled sharply in disbelief, baffled by the sincerity and capacity of your words, their meaning penetrating him on an intensely sensitive emotional level. To be told that he, in all his battered-up, scathed, freckled glory, was someone of beauty in your eyes, was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, wonderment and gratitude washing over his form entirely. Giving a chuckle of elation, Newt felt the surge of joy and confidence to pull you into a much more fervent kiss, grinning at your squeak of surprise.
When the need for air arose again, the both of you rested with foreheads pressed together, smiling like giddy schoolchildren, soaking in one another’s presence.
A light chirping brought you back into reality, the familiar sound drifting through the open shed doorway and crescendoing into a cacophony of peeping. “The Occamy’s sound hungry.” you smirked.
You couldn’t help but give a laugh at the slightly annoyed expression Newt wore, though it quickly dissipated as his maternal instincts took over. “I, ah, suppose we should tend to that.” he murmured, though you noticed he made no effort to move from your current position.
“I got it.” You smiled, giving Newt a light peck on lips with a contented smile as you swiftly slid down from the wooden tabletop. You giggled at his little pout of disappointment, snatching his clean white dress shirt from the shed floor and wrapping it around your shoulders as you strutted out of the shack with a wink tossed your shoulder.
Newt couldn’t help but stand there in the shed, stunned, blushing and utterly infatuated.
Later that night, Newt set to scribbling notes for his book, scrawling a few sketches of his beasts in the margins for illustration inspiration, his papers strewn across the workbench haphazardly. However, he found himself unable to concentrate as hoped, listening to your steady breathing in the cot behind him, he could hardly resist the thought of sleep.
The idea gnawing at him relentlessly, Newt gave in to the temptation. He abandoned his materials scattered on the tabletop, leaving his chair and meandering to the cot, observing your eyes fluttering in deep sleep. Gently, so as not to wake you, the magizoologist cuddled up next to your slumbering form.
Newt slightly panicked when you gave a moan of contentment, though he found himself smiling when you snuggled closer to him, mumbling something incoherent in sleep. Utterly enchanted, Newt indulged in the sight of you so peaceful, eventually gazing down to your newly forming scar along your collarbone.
In the same fashion as before, Newt traced along the ridged red line with two freckled fingers, the connection he felt almost overwhelming as he recalled the events of that day. His soul tranquil, Newt nuzzled closer, under the crook of your arm and into your chest where the soothing rhythm of your heartbeat lulled him to a deep sleep.
Hope you enjoyed!
A big thank you to all those who like/reblog, and to those who have left such lovely comments, they truly make my day, thank you! <3
It's Called a Baby, Sweetheart-Chapter 4: The Darkest of Pits
Nick, devastated by Heather, begins to regret his decisions. He starts to beileive that Heather could be right and battles with the love he still has with her over the deeding hate for the choices he made…
Hey so I recently started my journey with an eevee that my cousin gave me... And I'm a bit worried about him, because he keeps pawing at his ears, and is often skittish for no reason. He will accept food but only if I leave it for him and remove myself from the immediate area(he starts whining when he can't entirely sense me tho). I think that my cousin was doing something ill-advised, who do I ask for help with this?
It might be abuse (call a Pokémon center if you suspect anything), but, personally, it sounds more like canker (still call a Pokémon center–this time for an appointment).
Canker is pretty common and very uncomfortable for long-eared Pokémon. The ears itch, causing pawing and rubbing. Since the Pokémon can’t hear well, they become skittish and nervous. They will often cling to their trainer, since they represent safety. Eating becomes a fretful process, since ducking the head to grab some food further irritates the ears. A quick visit to a Pokémon center should help, and with proper treatment, it will clear up in a week or so.
To make it worse… wrapped up in bed with him first thing in the morning and he’s got all that scruff and he’s talking to you with that same tone he was Rob Brydon on Graham Norton. “Come back outta there!” when you try to hide from his cheer underneath the blankets. “Come back, don’t be that way!” And he’s pawing at the blanket and you’re trying not to smile cause he’s being a nuisance who’s ready to get up and wants you to join him.
A/N: I’m finally back with Part 6 after what seems like forever! I’m sorry to keep everyone waiting, so I hope the moodboards I posted kept everyone satisfied last night hehehe (there’s more to be posted, not to worry!). In this part, there is a lot of emotional manipulation, so please be warned! Take everything lightly, okay, my babes? Enjoy, and please leave some feedback when you’re done! x
Pairing(s): Chanyeol x Reader
Warnings: Emotional manipulation, mentions of firearms, slight violence, asshole Chanyeol
Summary: Just Chanyeol being an asshole and Luhan freaking out.
Luhan is awakened by incessant meowing in his ear, accompanied by the
soft pad of paws across his bare stomach. With a groan, the drug lord rolls
over onto his side and buries his face further into the pillows, drowsily
ignoring the meowing which just seems to increase in its volume.
Something soft and fluffy swishes across his face, tickling his nose and
he emits a startling sneeze, bolting upright as a result. Rudely jolted awake
from his dead-like slumber, Luhan glances around him grumpily, searching for
the source of his disturbance. A ginger cat is seated on his hunches beside
him, tail flicking from side to side urgently while repeated meows spill from
him as he gazes up at the drug lord with murky eyes.
It’s Super Bowl LI, people! All or nothing! Macerated black cherries, blueberries, boysenberries, cassis, Bonne Maman mixed berry preserves, vanilla extract, and a hint of coconut crème on the nose. Fresher on the palate with loads of blackberries, boysenberries, blueberries, and a dusting of cinnamon. Well-balanced so you don’t feel the alcohol. Just put your paws up ‘cause you were born this way, baby!
Cabernet Sauvignon, Zinfandel, Petit Sirah, Carignan
Found Dog. Need Advice. Please. This Is Important.
Wednesday was a wild day. So, yesterday morning I was driving to school and saw a dog badly limping on the side of the road. We stopped to see if we could help and chased it down, but couldn’t find out where she came from. There were no tags and she was filthy.
We decided to take her to the vet instead of leaving her there and continuing to school.
I don’t know if she’s a stray or belonged to someone in the area since there was nothing to track down her owner, but if she did belong to someone, I’m worried about how good of an owner they might be for her to be in the condition she was when I found her. There were ants all over her and my hand came away covered in dirt and at least three shades darker after holding her and calming her while my ride brought the car around.
There was no chip, and we learned that she had a injury at least a few months old that never healed correctly and caused major arthritis in her front left paw. She wasn’t dehydrated, but was a few pounds underweight, and it looked like she’d been outside for quite a while.
We know she’s at least ten years old. She also can’t eat dry food because some of her teeth have been worn down to the gum line. I didn’t want to call the pound, because there aren’t any No Kill Shelters in our area, and if they don’t find the owner in three days they either put them down or put them up for adoption, and I know it’s far harder to adopt out older, disabled dogs. She also has minor cataracts, and might have a few hearing issues from what I’ve observed since bringing her home. We don’t know about worms or any parasites. I paid $72 dollars for the checkup and some meds, and couldn’t afford to check for those as well.
I went to Kroger and tried to find some food, and asked a lady who worked there what would be good for a senior dog. I ended up telling her about the information and she bought all of this for us without letting me pay for any of it, which was amazing. It was over $30 worth.
I’m not sure what else to do. The only no kill shelter around is in Nashville, and they won’t accept drop offs from people outside the area due to crowding issues. I can’t afford to get her all the shots she would need, and my family already have gotten quite upset at coming home to find her in our backyard. Although my uncle seemed more upset that I skipped school. They won’t pay because I’m the one who brought her here, and I don’t have a job to keep making money. They think I should have just left her there.
I’ve washed her (or maybe she washed me) with some no tick no flea dog shampoo, but right now she’s having to stay outside because we don’t want her to bring anything in that might affect our cats.
She’s very sweet and mild mannered. Hasn’t barked or shown any aggression whatsoever since we found her. I’ve been trying to think up options all day yesterday. If we can’t get her to the shelter or find out where she came from, I’m going to need to find her a home, but I don’t know anyone who would take her in.
Does anyone have any advice? I don’t even know what to call her…and if she already has a name I don’t know if I should just give her a new one.