streak lightning

Spellcasting Combat Narration for D&D

image credit: Ben Wootten

So I was gonna include this in my other article on narrating combat, but it proved far too lengthy, so I made this into part 2! 

Combat is easy to describe compared to narrating spell attacks. I ran into this problem last session when I was getting into detail telling the barbarian how they tore off an ogre’s head but then the druid just kept using Fire Bolt and I kept defaulting to “you shoot a bolt of fire at his face.” I’m going to try and vary things up with these lists and help everyone else in the process! I am organizing them by energy type.

Mode of Attack

Half of a spell’s attack is how the caster shapes their spell. The same spell can look very different with every casting if you have a creative DM. Feel free to switch it up each time it’s cast, or vary the same spell when cast by different characters of different classes.

Attack Words

Generic shapes and terms that will launch from the caster’s hand.

Helix, Spiral, Beam, Erratic, Mote, Bolt, Stream, Blast, Burst, Blade, Arc, Miasma, Cloud, Eruption, Wave, Cone, Missile, Rune, Glyph

Class-Based Ideas

  • Bard
    • Energy manifests from thin air a foot in front of their instrument as they play
    • Energy is shaped like ribbons of written music that ripples towards enemies
    • Several tiny motes of energy appear with each note sung or played. Each point of damage comes from a mote hitting the opponent (rolls a 4 out of a d6, 4 of the 6 note-motes hit)
  • Cleric
    • Energy falls from the sky or emerges from the ground as the cleric prays
    • Beam of energy originates from holy symbol
    • Spell attack should highlight that the cleric is granted their powers from a greater power, don’t have the energy come from their hand/finger. Have the energy come TO them, and then be thrown at the enemy.
  • Druid
    • Energy is shaped like an animal.
    • Energy rushes forth from the surrounding wilderness and zooms past the druid and toward the foe.
    • Much like Cleric, energy shouldn’t come from the caster. It should come from elsewhere before being thrown at the enemy.
  • Fighter (Eldritch Knight)
    • Energy blasts from their bound weapon pointed at the enemy.
    • Energy fires from their mouth as they yell.
    • Energy surrounds their weapon and is used in tandem with it (if close enough)
  • Monk (Way of Four Elements)
    • Literally just watch Avatar: the Last Airbender and do that.
  • Paladin
    • Most Paladin spells are smite-based, so they usually happen when an attack hits. Otherwise, let the energy come from a higher power like the Cleric.
    • Energy bursts forth from within the creature hit
    • Energy surrounds weapon right as the strike lands
    • Energy falls from the sky or erupts from the ground
  • Ranger
    • Honestly, most Ranger spells often seem a lot like man-made traps like Cordon of Arrows (arrow traps), Fog Cloud (smoke grenade), or Grasping Vine (slipknot trap). But otherwise, Play it like the Cleric where the energy comes from a higher power.
    • Energy takes the form of the Ranger’s animal companion or an animal they associate with.
    • Spells seem to cast automatically whenever the Ranger is in a tight spot, almost as if nature itself is protecting them. The Ranger gives an approving nod whenever this happens in thanks.
  • Rogue (Arcane Trickster)
    • Energy is always accompanied by a shimmer of glitter
    • The Rogue plays with the energy over their fingertips as they whistle before casting the spell.
    • Energy enchants one of the Rogue’s daggers and casts the spell by tossing the dagger at the intended location or target.
  • Sorcerer (Draconic Bloodline)
    • Energy takes the shape of a dragon of your bloodline.
    • Energy surges forth from your breath
    • All energy takes the shape of your bloodline dragon’s energy type, regardless of the actual energy type. For instance, a sorcerer of a blue dragon’s bloodline that casts Burning Hands or Cone of Cold keeps the energy type but shapes the fire and cold damage into the form of a bolt of lightning. 
  • Sorcerer (Wild Magic) 
    • Energy takes on many random forms, never under the full command of the Sorcerer.
    • Energy erupts from random places in the environment when the Sorcerer calls upon them.
    • Energy bubbles and fizzes with all energy types (but mostly the one called upon), as if a piece of Limbo was thrown at the enemy.
  • Warlock (Archfey)
    • Your energy shimmers with iridescent colors and showers enemies with sparks of glitter.
  • Warlock (Great Old One)
    • Your magic corrupts and twists the flesh of the target of your spell, regardless of the energy type.
  • Warlock (Fiend)
    • Energy takes the shape of the unholy symbol of your patron.
  • Wizard (Abjuration)
    • Energy shoots forth from your magical wards, arcing towards your enemies.
  • Wizard (Conjuration)
    • You conjure a short-lived elemental of the energy type you need. It soars at the enemy.
  • Wizard (Divination)
    • You weave the glowing threads of fate in the palms of your hands, tweaking reality to cast your spell.
  • Wizard (Enchantment)
    • You enchant an object to exude the energy and toss it at the enemy.
  • Wizard (Evocation)
    • I mean, you just sorta blast them. That’s what this school’s about.
  • Wizard (Illusion)
    • Your spell usually spawns two or three illusory copies. When the attack misses, the enemy simply managed to dodge the right duplicate.
  • Wizard (Necromancy)
    • Your energy takes the shape of a skull screaming as it flies toward the enemy
  • Wizard (Transmutation)
    • You transmute the energy out of the surrounding environment and fire it at the enemy


So if half of a spell’s attack is the shape and travel of the spell, the other half is when the spell hits. I organized this list by energy type, as different energies will do different sorts of things when they hit a creature. This is mostly a collection of interesting effects, colorful language, and examples.


  • Your bolt of fire singes their armor (burning cloth, blackening leather, discoloring metal)
  • A tiny bead of fire explodes on contact
  • Showers them with red sparks
  • Your attack leaves behind a billowing trail of smoke
  • A fast-travelling meteor of flame soars from the sky towards the enemy.
  • Your flames leave blisters and cracked skin in its wake.
  • Your fire blackens the enemy’s flesh


  • You freeze the moisture in the air into icy daggers that fall onto your enemy
  • You freeze the water in their blood to damage them
  • Their skin turns blue and numb
  • You literally hurl a snowball at them.
  • Your spell leaves them covered in a layer of frost
  • A buildup of ice covers where your spell hit. (it’s easily shattered once they move, though)
  • A blast of icy wind and rain leaves them shivering.


  • A crack of thunder pummels your foe
  • A high-pitched, deafening shriek focuses itself on the target
  • A thin trail of blood races from the foe’s ears from a sound no one else can hear
  • The enemy falls to their knees cupping their hands over their ears, gritting their teeth
  • You buffet the target with waves of thunderous sound
  • The ground shakes with the force of your spell. Brittle glass objects nearby shatter.


  • Lightning comes from the sky to smite your foe
  • You all smell the faint odor of ozone before a bright bolt of lightning streaks toward the target of your spell
  • Before your enemy can blink they are showered in electrical sparks followed by crippling pain
  • The enemy’s back stiffens as the powerful current of lightning surges through them
  • Your attack leaves a permanent web of lightning shaped burns all over one side of their body
  • Your blast of lightning causes their skin to rupture as it travels through their body


  • Your acid sizzles as it burns a new, unnatural color into their skin
  • The attack melts their flesh, leaving them permanently disfigured at the site of the spell
  • Your spell’s acid causes blue fire to burn where it hit their skin, and bleaches their armor and belongings
  • A rancid smell fills the foe’s nostrils as the acid bubbles on their bare skin, burning through the simple cloth of their shirt.


  • You spew a poisonous cloud from your mouth at your opponent
  • A spectral viper or insect is flung at the opponent, biting them and filling them with magical venom
  • Your index and middle finger each grow a poisonous fang which you sink into your opponent’s arm (melee range spell attacks only)
  • The enemy’s mouth fills with a foul tasting liquid which forces its way down their throat


  • Your target’s flesh bubbles and boils as a black ichor sputters from the spell’s origin
  • The foe’s flesh festers with magical disease as boils and wounds quickly cover the affected area
  • A skeletal hand wriggles free from beneath the earth, flying towards the target
  • An incorporeal undead shrieks as it flies from your finger toward the enemy to deliver the spell’s effect
  • Black energy swirls around your arm before launching towards the enemy as if it had a life of its own
  • Your iridescent blue magic enters the target’s body and afflicts their soul, making them momentarily dazed as their eyes glaze over.


  • A holy light shines from the skies to harm your target, regardless of time of day or obstructions
  • A halo of radiant energy surrounds your head and blinds the target as they gaze upon it
  • Enemies that aren’t of your alignment hear the whispers of your deity moments before being enveloped in a blinding white light
  • The foe’s eyes and mouth emit warm light and they howl in pain
  • A blade of radiant energy slashes through the victim, leaving a trail of blinking motes of light in its wake
  • The enemy’s skin blisters from the raw positive energy surging through them

So essentially this whole post was a creative writing assignment for myself, but I hope that it gives you guys new creative ideas for new spells or new ways to describe existing spells! They don’t much affect the mechanics of the spell at all, so most DMs I suspect will be fine with most of these descriptions if you want your character to cast spells a certain way.

The signs’ angel wings

Aries: fluorescent bright blue, small, look like shooting stars in the dark

Taurus: pale pink, easily hidden, emit a soft star-like glow

Gemini: one wing is white and one is baby blue, both with silvery tips, little but powerful

Cancer: deep crimson, blazing with beautiful fire (but they aren’t harmful!!… unless you want them to be *wink*) >

Leo: dark green with white flecks, the softest feathers

Virgo: shimmery gold wings that create magic dust, when in flight the shimmery dust floats down softly over only the sweetest people and they are given lovely dreams

Libra: dark purple and extremely delicate with soft blue patterns that look like flowers

Scorpio: jet black with small silver streaks that resemble lightning bolts

Sagittarius: very long, soft white feathers, taper at the bottom, the tips are fairy-like and translucent

Capricorn: opaque silver, look like they’ve been dipped in stardust, long wingspan

Aquarius: the colors of a stormy sky, cold to the touch, they sometimes flash like lightning when in flight (only when it’s dark)

Pisces: lavender, fluffy feathers and very small

when i think of june, i think of wispy streaks of lightning that cut through the sky like a knife slicing through fruit. that heavy, earthy, wet smell of grass. cool air against bare skin that makes your bones feel vulnerable. the richest greens, sweet and moist yellows, dark purples that swallow everything

Frosting and Crushes

Summary: Newt has been distant the past week, focusing only on Tina and their work. You try to strike up conversation with him at dinner, but, after many failed attempts, grow irritated and leave early. Queenie decides to take matters into her own hands.

Word Count: 2,224

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by Anonymous

Requests are currently open! Feel free to send one in

You sit at the dinner table with no goal but to enjoy the meal as Queenie flutters around, stirring pots with both her hands and magic. She already denied your offer to help, so you decided to pass the time talking with her. Newt had disappeared somewhere, probably inside the case, and you had immediately decided against a walk when you glanced at the growing grey clouds outside.

Inside is warm and cozy. You’re wearing your favorite gold sweater. The heat from the cooking keeps out the bite of chilly air rattling the windows. Queenie is humming a jazzy tune you’ve never heard before, only stopping to giggle at Jacob’s red face when he bumps into her.

“I’m sorry.” He says as his face turns a shade of tomato red.

“It ain’t a problem, honey.” Queenie doesn’t break a stride. “What is it you’re making?”

You’re pretty sure she asks it for your sake, given the sounds your stomach has been making since he stuck the pastries he’d spent all afternoon making into the oven, and the smell had spread throughout the small room.

“Special strawberry turnovers.”

“What makes them so special?” You ask, raising your voice over the bubbling, clanking, and simmering sounds filling the area.

“They’re my momma’s recipe. Filled with love and one other special ingredient.”

Queenie swings by Jacob with the pot of stew in hand. “I don’t think nutmeg is very secret, honey.” Five bowls float down into their places around the table as Queenie sets the stew in the center.

“I never said –“

“You don’t have to.” She smiles at him and lifts the pot’s lid.

The rich smell wafts over the table to you. You breathe it in, closing your eyes to revel in the memories it brings back. Your mother always made beef stew with potatoes and chopped carrots for special occasions. Mentally thanking Queenie, you slide your chair back and step toward the pot, scooping the stew in until it nearly sloshes out the side. Queenie merely smiles at you and twirls around Jacob.

She resumes her humming. The turnovers mix with the scent of the stew and your mouth waters. The windows shake, generating a beat that Queenie forms her music around. Jacob’s laugh fills the warm room, and your entire world, for once, is at peace.

Your content joy only expands when Newt walks in, messy auburn hair plastered against his forehead from the rain sprinkling outside, giant, beautiful smile stretched across his face. You glance at your stew, fighting the huge smile trying to break upon your face. Queenie kicks you under the table and, when you meet her gaze, lifts an eyebrow. You give a quick nod before staring back down at your food, trying to resist beaming.

The fight becomes much easier when Tina walks in behind Newt, also covered in water, smile upon her face.

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capeandcowl  asked:


Originally posted by helgabrook

Tagging all the folks who asked for McKirk - @yourtropegirl​, @gracieminabox​, and a couple of anons. Sorry this took me a while! 

Who said “I love you” first


Just in casual conversation.

They’re just shooting the bull in Bones’ office. Sickbay is slow today, and Jim’s not on bridge duty until beta. They’re only a week into whatever this is, but after spending years in each others’ pockets and six months in deep space, there’s nothing unusual about seeing the captain in sickbay or the CMO on the bridge, and the conversation is easy, comfortable. Jim’s got his feet propped on Bones’ couch, and Bones is sprawled haphazardly across his desk, swinging his left foot and sipping a cup of coffee.

“I’ve got seven in engineering that are late on their vaccination schedule,” Bones is saying. “So, I’ll be handling that fallout later today.” He shakes his head and makes a mental note to check Jim’s record. “I don’t know what it is about engineers, Jim. It’s just a damn hypo.”

“Hey, Bones,” says Jim suddenly. He sits up on the couch, as if the thought has only just occurred to him. “I love you.”

It surprises Len. 

In fact, Len doesn’t even answer, he’s so shocked.

In fact, Len spends the next 30 seconds or so hacking and sputtering on the coffee he’d inhaled.

“Jesus, Bones, I just professed my undying devotion to you,” Jim laughs. “Try not to die on me, okay?”

“I’ll… I’ll have your records transferred to M’Benga,” Len says when he can finally speak. 

Jim just rolls his eyes. 

Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background

The background of Len’s PADD is solid black. Anything else distracts him as he’s trying to read.

The background on Jim’s PADD is a picture of the bridge crew on their most recent shore leave. 

They’re on a beach. The sand is fine and black, the sky painted in streaks of soft oranges and greens. Jim’s grinning widely, holding a sprawling Chekov in his arms. Bones has his arms folded across his chest, but the tiny grin that tugs at the corner of his lips and his dancing eyes give him away. Sulu and Scotty are both in mid-air, Scotty’s face screwed up in concentration, Hikaru’s arms and legs outstretched like an exuberant starfish. Nyota’s got hold of one of Pav’s feet, and she’s laughing. Spock looks particularly relaxed, one hand resting delicately on Ny’s shoulder.

It’s Jim’s second favorite picture ever.

When he activates his device, though, the background changes.

This one is of Bones. 

It’s a rare moment. Jim had snapped a photo of Bones on that same shore leave, on that same beach. It’s rocky, here. Bones is propped on a large white stone, weight resting on one hand, the other arm slung easily over his knee. He’s looking over the water, away from the camera. He’s shirtless, still damp from swimming, hair mussed from the wind. He’d been completely heedless of Jim’s presence, relaxed and utterly at peace, a soft little smile dancing on his lips. 

It’s the only candid picture of Bones that Jim has, and Jim will never, ever change his background to anything else.

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror

Jim likes to leave notes for Len everywhere, not just in foggy mirrors. In fact, Jim has a bundle of old school yellow sticky notes that he uses for exactly this purpose.

It starts in the academy.

Jim leaves an occasional note for Len to find. Len’s confused by them, at first. 

He thinks, at first, that it must be some sort of strange recall technique, a weird study habit that Jim had picked up from… somewhere. 

When they start to pile up, Len decides that enough is enough. He gathers them up and stuffs them in a spare shoebox. He tosses the box under his bed, thinking Jim can ask for them, if he needs them.

It’s not long before he has quite the collection.

The notes never say anything important, sometimes a random word - “Vagarious,” or “Apoptosis,” or “Jumentous.” Sometimes it’s a quote. Jim’s got an astounding repertoire of collected wisdom, Len learns, referencing everyone from Mark Twain to Surak to Lady Gaga. Sometimes it’s just a garbled, out-of-context sentence - “I do not know where family doctors acquired illegibly perplexing handwriting,” - and occasionally, Jim sketches. 

He sketches everything, little scenes from his day, Len’s medkit, a PADD, a discarded bottle of brandy. Jim’s not an artist, not by a long shot, but his subjects are instantly recognizable to Len, if a little cartoonish.

Len finds a few of himself. One in particular that he’s pretty confused by. 

He’s sleeping, he can recognize this by the scattering of zzzz’s that surround his face and his (over-exaggerated, Len thinks) mussed hair. 

This note is labeled. 

“Lips,” it says. 

Len furrows his brow at this one, but adds it to his box, anyway. It’s just a habit, by now, his automatic response. 

At the beginning of second year, when Jim’s Survival Strategies field study group goes missing, Len finds himself sitting on his bed with the box in his lap. 

Jim’s been gone for days. Len’s hounded and hounded administration, and gets the same deferral every time. “We have no information to disclose,” they say.

Len takes the notes out of the box one by one and just stares.

The depth of emotion that they evoke, the ridiculous sentences punctuated by stark wisdom - “Gary eats lots of pies,” juxtaposed with, “It is paradoxical, yet true, to say, that the more we know, the more ignorant we become in the absolute sense,” - the surprisingly elegant script, it all brings Len to his knees, and in that moment, Leonard McCoy quits fooling himself.

He’s in love with Jim Kirk.

Jim, of course, comes sauntering back into the apartment at 3 am that morning, unkempt and sleep-deprived, but otherwise totally fine.

And Len can breathe again.

He doesn’t say anything about the notes, but he starts to look forward to them. He’s keeping them intentionally now, storing them up for the one awful, inevitable day when Jim doesn’t come back to him. 

“It’s just part of the game, Bones,” Jim’s words echo in his thoughts. “Command is all about sacrifice.”

Len feels a little guilty about it, like he’s doing something he shouldn’t, like he’s harboring a dirty secret by hoarding away little pieces of the man who will inevitably break him. Loving Jim Kirk is like loving a streak of lightning - blazing, brilliant, blinding and beautiful, but gone far too soon, and leaving a trail of devastation in its wake. 

Len knows he’s going to get burned, but he keeps the notes anyway.

Later, after the boys fucking finally sort things out and Len pulls his head out of his ass, it becomes a game to Jim, leaving sappy post-its around sickbay for Bones to find.

And Len saves them. 

Every single one.

Who buys the other cheesy gifts

Totally Len, at least at first. 

It starts during their first Christmas at the academy. 

Len buys Jim a coconut bra. 

Jim wears it proudly, sauntering up and down the dorm hallways and singing Blue Hawaii at the top of his lungs until Len’s burying himself under his blanket and wondering what in the name of god possessed him to think that would be a funny joke, anyway.

After that, it becomes a fierce competition.

Who initiated the first kiss


When Jim beams back on board after spending a week and a half in a Romulan prison camp, something in Len snaps. 

He charges up the steps of the transporter pad, heedless of his audience, and catches Jim hard by the upper arms.

Jim, who’s shirtless and smiling. 

Jim, who appears to be remarkably intact. 

Jim, who’s eyes are impossibly blue and sparkling.

Jim, who’s bare skin is deliciously warm beneath Len’s palms.

Jim, who is so wonderfully, blessedly alive.

“You stupid, stupid fuck,” Len breathes, and then his lips are on Jim’s. 

It’s instinctive, automatic. 

Jim’s eyes open wide, and then he’s kissing Len back, feverishly, desperately, clinging to Len like a drowning man, soft little groan humming in his throat.

It goes on for a while. Len curls his body protectively around Jim’s, and Jim melts into him, finally, finally, and it’s like coming home. 

“Oh,” says Jim, a little breathless, as Len pulls back.

“Yeah,” Len tells him simply.

And after that, things fall into place.

Who kisses the other awake in the morning

Len, contrary to popular belief, is the early riser of the two. It’s a product of years of early morning surgeries and wonky call schedules; try as he might - and oh, does he try - he has a hard time sleeping in.

It’s a rare thing, on the Enterprise, for them to have a morning together. 

Len savors it.

Len lays still as long as he’s able. He counts Jim’s respirations, the steady in and out whoosh of soft breaths that tickle Len’s cheeks and flutter gently through his hair. He numbers the tiny freckles that kiss Jim’s nose, traces the delicate curve of Jim’s eyelashes and the tilt of his jaw.

He lays there and he memorizes Jim, piece by piece, reveling in the stillness of the moment and the heat of Jim’s bare skin on his.

Finally, when he can stand it no longer, Len eases carefully out of bed and replicates a cup of coffee.

He has every intention of letting Jim sleep, of sitting on the edge of the bed with his hand resting on Jim’s shoulder and the latest issue The United Federation Journal of Neurosurgery pulled up on his PADD, but then Jim gives a snuffling little sigh and crinkles his nose just so, and Len is done for.

He slides smoothly back into bed, wrapping his arms and his legs around Jim and starting at the hollow of his neck. 

Who starts tickle fights

Jim tries this once.

Only once.  

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower

It is a foregone conclusion that Jim’s gonna follow Len uninvited everywhere. 

Into his office.

Into the bathroom.

Into medical staff meetings.

Into supply closets.

Into the shower.

Who surprises the other at work with lunch

Jim tries.

During the academy, he can rarely catch Len. Their schedules never quite seem to jive, and when Jim does occasionally slip out of his Tactics class a little early, Len always seems to be seeing a patient or doing a case. 

He manages it just once, in their third year. Len’s shocked to see him, but grateful for the sandwich. They sit huddled in the tiny clinic break room, and if Dr. McCoy seems a little less tense after, “Jim Kirk, my roommate, not my boyfriend,” leaves, well, the nurses don’t say a word.

Later, on the Enterprise, it’s a little easier. Jim typically a has a pretty good idea of what Bones’ schedule looks like, not to mention a direct commlink to the CMO, so they take their lunch breaks together more often than not, usually in Bones’ office.

Bones will never admit it, but it’s the highlight of his day.

Who was nervous and shy on the first date


Len’s a bundle of nerves too, but seeing silver-tongued Jim stumbling over his words fixes that real quick. Len’s an utter gentleman by nature, and god, after so long, it’s just so good to finally be with Jim, without pretense or doubt, that Len finds all his apprehension falling away. He’s suave and charismatic, disarming Jim with an easy smile and a southern charm that’s as natural as breathing.

Years later, Jim asks him about it. “Were you not scared, Bones?”

Bones shakes his head. “Of course not,” he says. “I was with you.” 

Who kills/takes out the spiders

“Bones.” Jim’s standing at the edge of the room, pointing a shaking finger.

“My god, Jim, it’s just a wolf spider.”

“It’s fuzzy.”

“It eats ants, Jim, not people.”

Jim’s shaking his head emphatically. “I do not care,” he whines. “I want it gone, Bones. Please.”

Bones is laughing now.

“It thinks you’re ugly too, you know,” he’s saying as he reaches with his bare hand. He’s paying more attention to Jim, not the spider.

The spider, who’s back seems to be writhing, pulsing, moving.

Len nudges her gently with a finger, and the babies go swarming, hundreds of them pouring from her back and scurrying across the floor.

Jim shrieks and launches himself on top of his desk. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

“Well, I’ll be,” says Len softly, wondering how the hell he’s going to get them all out, now that they’re scattered through the apartment.

It’s a long, long time before Jim forgives him.

Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk

Jim boldly, loudly, unapologetically proclaims his love for Len when he’s drunk.

Len’s a little quieter. 

Oh, he’s a shameless flirt, but his words are a little softer, the platitudes a little sweeter. He catches Jim by the waist and calls him beautiful. He nuzzles into the back of Jim’s neck, and he smiles into his skin. “Jim, Jim, Jim,” he whispers, over and over again, running his hands worshipfully over Jim’s chest and shoulders.

Jim is unashamed to admit that these are his favorite nights.

Kalopsia (M)

» the belief that things appear more beautiful than they are.

Summary: Jungkook’s a photographer who has a knack for finding the beauty in the simple things.
Word Count: 10,623
Genre: Photographer!Jungkook + angst/smut/fluff 
Warnings: Mentions of death 
A/N: Based on this song. This is incredibly long, and I’m sorry.

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Hospital For Souls

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Request by an anon: Hello!:) Can you do a imagine where the reader has a really bad accident during quidditch and draco panics and rushes to madame pomfrey and fluff? Thanks! <3

Admittedly, looking back now, it seemed as though everyting that occured was a tad too conventional, which of course, is always a sign worth assessing. The grounds held an air of complacency, which masked the inexplicable uneasiness in the atmosphere.

The dread settling upon his chest should have warned him otherwise, yet, Draco remained unyeilding to the multiple shivers running up his back at every gust of wind. 

Draco stared intently at the spot where Y/N had disappeared from at Madam Hooche’s whistle. Only fleeting glimpses of mustard and crimson could be caught lashing like whips in the storm. The commentary was as incomprehensible as the players themselves. It was as the crowds had and the Quidditch match had begun to grow in intensity that they appeared. Billowing cloaks merged into the fierce sky like acrid smoke from a house fire. The faceless enigmas that hovered above the players were vengeful ghosts seeking closure.

Potter and Diggory had disappeared into the smog merely minutes before the creatures had dispersed in search of prey. Distant screams plagued the atmosphere as rain marred vision and dementors loomed like omens of death above them.

Fear unlike anything he’d ever experienced infiltrated his chest. Y/N was up there. If she was attacked….no one would see, nor hear…be able to save her. He’d heard the accounts of how Dementors sucked the souls out of their victims; leaving behind only an empty shell of the person. Clambering down from the seats, Draco sprinted in search of a means to halt the match. He’d barely crossed a few metres before a vicious strike of lightning streaked the sky and illuminated the area surrounding it. It was by chance that he caught a glimpse of her. A fear-stricken yell tore from his throat as one of the gnarled creature’s claw clamped around Y/N’s throat.

Time lost its pace and stretched innumerably. Draco lost all sense of hearing and could barely register himself screaming above the rest of the crowd. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a body shrouded in scarlet fall from the heavens like a bullet. Vaguely, he registered Dumbledore casting a spell and halting them before they hit the ground. But his focus was on Y/N. Her suspended form hung like a puppet in the Dementor’s grasp. His quivering hand plunged within his robes and aimed at her body, bracing himself for when she fell. It seemed like hours before she was let go, a silvery animal cast by a teacher had charged towards the creature and forced it away. Gathering his strength, Draco yelled, “ARRESTO MOMENTUM!” Stabs of relief shocked his numb body as her form slowed before hitting the ground and the impact lessened.

Gulping down tankards of air, Draco streaked across the battlefield of a pitch and flung down beside Y/N’s immobile form. The storm’s determination to unleash it’s rage above refused to cease as teachers and students surrounded Y/N. Someone had gripped his upper arm and hauled him to his feet but he couldn’t care less who they were. Floating eerily above the grass, two conjured stretchers supporting the injured players flew towards the hospital wing.

All rationalty failed him as he flung himself into a sluggish sprint after them. Burning lungs and splitting thighs accompanied him into the hospital wing whilst Madam Pomfrey hustled towards him; demanding an explanation. A string of incoherent words flew from his mouth as he rushed to explain the horror he had witnessed. 

“Will she be alright? Let me help. I’ll do anything. She can’t die, don’t let her die. What are you doing with that?! Send her to Saint Mungos, woman!” Draco stressed, going into a full blown panic attack.  

“Mr Malfoy do calm down, she will be fine! Sit, sit. And drink the draught, boy!” Madam Pomfrey fretted as she shoved him into a seat beside Y/N and handed him a steaming glass of calming draught. 

Draco casted the draught aside mindlessly and gripped Y/N’s hand tightly. “My father will be hearing about your incompetence woman, if you don’t heal her instantly-”

“Mr Malfoy!” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, scandalised. “There is no need for such impudence-”

“ ’s fine, Draco, ’m alright.” Y/N mumbled faintly, succeeding in erradicating the argument.

“Y/N!” Draco exclaimed worriedly. “Y/N I-”

Y/N lifted her hand arduously and smoothed it over Draco’s crowned hair. “Shh, I’m okay.” she croaked out with a weak smile. “I’ll be fine.” 

“I’ll get father to speak with Fudge, get the Dementors punished and taken from the school.” Draco stated determinedly. “They won’t get away with this, I promise.” he finished softly and pressed his lips to her temple. “Y/N wrapped her arms, frailly, around his neck and pulled him closer. Draco’s intoxicating scent was slightly washed out by rain, but was nonetheless comforting. Burying her face into his warm neck, Y/N fought back tears. 

“I can agree with you there, Mr Malfoy. Creatures like that have no place within this school. Now take this sleeping draught if you need it, Miss Y/L/N. I’ll see you in the morning.” Madam Pomfrey said authoritatively and placed the sloshing glass atop the table and bustled off to attend to Potter. 

“Don’t leave me.” Y/N whispered pleadingly against his neck.

“Never.” Draco whispered vehemently and planted a chaste kiss on her lips before her eyes fluttered shut and she lost consciousness.

Day 1: Kiri already knew he was in trouble with this one.

AHH I’ve never drawn these two! Their hair was so hard, dear lord. I hope I did them justice.
And yes, demon!Kirishima wears sweaters with crosses on them. It ticks exorcists off. XD



The wind howled through the valley, shrieking and crying over the hills, as Céilí stood over her daughter’s cot. Her baby slept in the cocoon of toys she’d made for herself, clutching a soft, worn muslin in her little fist, her face at peace and blissfully unaware of the rain battering against her window.

Céilí leant into the cot, gently easing her hands underneath the little warm body and lifting her. Effie shifted, gave a sleepy sigh, but she nooked into the curve of her mother’s neck, cuddling handfuls of black hair against her cheek, the feather-flutters of her breath on Céilí’s skin feeling like the brand of an iron.

She still had the baby smell, she mused, nudging the blonde curls with her nose, and wondered when she would outgrow it. Her hair would be longer in a few months, probably; Brigitte could start tying it soon, with ribbons or bows or something nice.

The tears that had been burning her eyes began to roll down her cheeks, and for all of the downpour outside and Effie’s shifting sleep she did not wake to her mother’s sobs.

They sat in the rocking chair for a long time, Céilí clutching onto her daughter like a rope through a storm, her wracking cries echoing around the dimly-light nursery. A crack of lightning streaked across the sky, the flash behind the curtains illuminating the room for half a second, a bone-bleached snapshot of a family breaking apart.

Effie stirred and opened her eyes, grumbling softly into her mother’s neck at the disturbance. “Shh,” Céilí soothed, stroking her back. “It’s ok. Go back to sleep.” The lump caught in her throat again. “It’s time to sleep, little one.”

Pebbles (NSFW)

Sixpenceee Stories Contest (September - October 2016) Second Place Winner

Story by Sixpenceee user UnsettlingStories; Tumblr

We thought we were having a hell of a hailstorm when we woke up in the middle of the night to a peal of thunder and the sound of our cabin being pelted. It went on for about a minute, then it stopped. There wasn’t any rain, which was strange. We went back to sleep, faintly aware of the smell of something burning. I figured it was probably from a lightning strike somewhere else.

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RusEng Headcannons

-Their relationship is very recent and new.

-It all started out as a “drunken mistake”.

-It was really nothing but sex in the beginning. But, both do expect more out of a relationship than that, so it didn’t take long for them to get to the romance part.

-The start of their romantic relationship was awkward because Ivan doesn’t speak much unless he has something important to say, and Arthur’s a bit of an introvert, so he can only lead a conversation for so long.

-They both think the other is hilarious because they both have the same dark humor.

-Ivan calls Arthur “My flower”.

-They gossip about the other nations to each other all the time.

-They usually speak in English since Arthur’s Russian is very broken.

-They often get into fights because one rolled their eyes at the other.

-They like to go outside on the porch during storms and watch the lightning streak across the sky.

-Arthur loves Ivan’s cooking, and compliments the meal every time.

-A lot of their dates are visits to each other’s houses.

-They like to take walks in the snow at night when it’s peacefully quiet and the stars are out.

-They read books together and discuss them, kind of like a book club.

-Their favorite place to cuddle is on the couch in front of the fireplace.

-They are a very quiet couple who are comfortable and casual around each other. They don’t say ‘I love you’ a lot, because they know that the other loves them, and there are no doubts whatsoever in any part of their relationship. Arthur often brings up that he doesn’t even want to know what it would be like if they started this when they were younger, because both were very immature in their past…Ivan agrees every time, and both are grateful that this is not the case.

Fate, Luck, and Love

Prompt:  Sometimes you need a little bit of scheming to make two people fall in love. Soulmate AU.

Pairing: Oak x reader

A/N: Day 7. It’s been real guys. Thanks for all the support and love. I appreciate all of you.

Fate had the responsibility to weave lives together and make sure that separated souls would find their way back to each other. However, there was one limitation: she couldn’t intervene with their lives, no matter how much she wanted to. Time had to run its course.


She’d never seen two unfortunate souls such as theirs. Perhaps it was her nurturing side– they were her very first pair of souls she matched after all – but she couldn’t help but dote on the two. They were perfect for each other. Her: outspoken and strong-willed. Him: kind and witty. But for whatever reason, they had yet to find each other.


She solemnly watched as centuries passed, mourning the times where they were so close but yet so far.


The first time they met, she was slaughtered by his people. He was an explorer of sorts, sent to discover new land and resources. She happened to be in the clearing they found, dressed in clothes they’ve never seen. She panicked, screamed obscenities in her language and as she turned to escape and tell her people of their arrival, one of his men fired a bullet from their weapons and killed her.


The next time they met, she was a servant. His wife, a jealous woman, who took notice of his partiality towards her, had her sold to a different home.


The third time they met, he was a politician. James Madison was his name, if she remembered correctly. The poor girl was too shy to confess her love to him and so he married a wealthy socialite instead. He prospered in his career while she admired him from afar.


The fourth time they met, it was almost the happy ending Fate wanted. She was a nurse and he was a soldier. They met at a bar, married, and just as she was to give birth to their son, he was killed in a battle across the sea.


The most recent time they met, their love was taboo. She never understood why it was wrong for two men to love each other. Fate was unhappy that after their short affair; they moved on and lived the rest of their lives, married to women that they did not love.


Fate frowned.


Perhaps it was time to visit Fortuna and Venus.


Present Day

Oak watched, impressed, as a woman zoomed past him and continued to weave through the crowd on her skateboard.

“Oh fuck!” she screeched when a woman in front of her decided to stop and bend down to tie her shoe.

She jumped off her skateboard, avoiding the imminent collision with the woman, but couldn’t seem to gather her balance from the sudden change in momentum. She stumbled, falling to the ground, but prevented herself from falling face first by sticking out her hands to catch herself. Unfortunately, her cup of coffee was crushed in the process.

Oak, frustrated that none of the people who passed by her bothered to check on her, quickly rushed to her side. “Hey, that was quite a fall. Are you alright?”

To his surprise, she jumped up to her feet, wiped away the dirt on her jeans, and ran to stop her skateboard from rolling down the street.

The woman who was tying her shoes spun to give the girl a glare. “Hey watch where you’re going, will you?”

“Who fucking decides to suddenly tie their shoe in the middle of the sidewalk anyways?” she replies venomously, stepping forward to the woman.

“Maybe a normal person?!”

Oak stood in between the two women. “Alright, alright, cut it out,” he says, “you guys are causing a commotion.”

The older woman harrumphed, mumbling something under her breath, but then turned to leave. Oak sighed in relief and turned to the fuming girl behind him. She shook a fist at the woman walking away and he couldn’t help but laugh. What kind of person in this day and age did that gesture anymore?

“Oh damn it,” she cursed once she’d gotten a good look at her squashed coffee cup, “happy fucking Monday to me.”

“Are you okay?” Oak asked tentatively, not too sure if he made the best decision to approach her. She seemed…crazy.

“I – sorry,” she mumbled, relaxing when she saw the look on his face, “I haven’t had the best morning.”

“It’s alright,” he replied, “we all have those days.”

She smiled. “I feel like I have more of these type of days than the good days.”

Oak liked her smile; it softened her features and made her seem less intimidating. “Well I hope today gets better for you,” he said sincerely.

Her smile got bigger and for some strange reason, Oak couldn’t seem to make himself leave. She was definitely cute, albeit odd and foul-mouthed, but there was something about her that made him feel like he’d met her before. Perhaps she was a friend of Anthony’s or Jasmine’s? She seemed like she would know them.

“My name is Y/N, by the way,” she said, tucking her skateboard under her armpit before she stuck her hand out for him to shake.

He laughed and took her hand. “My name is Oak.”

“Oak? Like the tree? Is it because you’re huge or something?” she blurted out as she looked at his crotch.

Oak stifled a laugh. “What?”

She yanked her hand out of his hold and slapped it over her mouth. “I, fuck, I’m sorry. Did I say that out loud? I just meant that you looked big,” she blushed, “like, tall. You’re tall… and I swear I’m not a pervert.”

Oak threw his head back and laughed, amused. “I mean, you’re not wrong.”

She let out a squeak and, if it was possible, turned redder. “I didn’t mean it like that – “

“Relax, Y/N,” Oak interrupted her, “I knew what you meant. I was just teasing you.”

“Have we met before?” she asked after a moment of silence.

So she felt it too.

Normally, he didn’t approach strangers, let alone have a conversation with them. But with her, the conversation came easy, as if they’ve known each other for centuries. It was peculiar, but he couldn’t ignore the connection he felt with her.

Oak looked up at the sky when he felt a droplet of rain hit his nose. “I know this is kind of crazy, but do you want to get some coffee with me?”

A smile slowly spreads across Y/N’s face. “I’d love to,” she replies, “and I think you’re right… My day is definitely turning out to be a good one.”

Fate looked up at a flash of lightning that streaked across the sky. The loud boom of thunder that followed made her wince.

Uh oh, He was mad.


She, along with Fortuna and Venus, had just broken a cardinal rule.


Fate laid the plans for them to meet.


Fortuna made sure that it happened.


Venus made sure that the attraction was there.


“I really like this place,” Fortuna hummed, blowing a kiss at a man who stopped walking to stare at her beauty, “we should come down and visit more.”


Another bolt of thunder, this one much louder than the last, cut through their conversation.


“Alright, that’s our cue,” Fate sighs, “maybe Venus can convince Him for a lesser punishment.”


She ignored Venus’s haughty reply and turned to look at the couple, smiling when she saw them running down the street to avoid the rain.


She had a feeling that this time, the two would finally have the happy ending they deserved.

Storm Front

Happy Valentine’s Day to my amazing Secret Valentine, @starscythe!!!  I do hope you enjoy this gift, my friend, as you gift us with so many incredible manips all year long. Meeting you in person in November was such a joy, and I hope we can hug in person again in the near future. 

Without further adieu, here is your  @oqcelebration valentine. :D

He’s heard stories, of course, broken whispers whenever a fierce storm blew in unexpectedly, mumbled musings if an acquaintance suddenly fell ill. These are never voiced loudly, as superstition’s lingering hold on the forest proves to be an ominous task master, leaving such wonderings to drift from one listener to the next, more often than not finding fertile ground stripped bare by black magic’s lingering touch.

The Evil Queen’s dark curse had taken many, but there are those among the forest’s remnants who believe she herself still dwells in this realm. They speak of her in hushed fragments, discuss sightings of a dark, solitary figure who roams the forest at night, a cloaked woman who has somehow lost her magic but now lives bound to it, perhaps in just retribution for a curse so foul it emptied their lands and cast both friend and foe into fates unknown.

Robin has never put much stock into superstition, neither does he give credence to legends or fairy lore. His is a world defined by what he can see, touch and confiscate, a world in which people rarely fit into molds of “good” or “evil”, a world in which he’s observed unspeakable acts committed by the most respected of citizens while those judged as lesser are the very ones who offer shelter and food to the starving. He lives by his wits and senses and surrounds himself with a thieving group of outcasts he’d readily give his life to protect.

Yet even he, the infamous Robin Hood, has to admit that the air feels odd tonight, that there is a charge to the impending storm brewing in the eastern highlands that makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He senses a disturbance, one that feels altogether too personal and close at hand for comfort. Roland must have felt it, too, for the boy had clung to him as Robin soothed his son’s whimpers until he’d finally fallen into a fitful sleep.

It is enough for him to grudgingly admit that tinges of magic probably remain in his forest, even if the queen is nowhere to be found. Dreams of Marian and of his mother plague his sleep and fill him with sense of urgency altogether foreign, one that pushes him towards consciousness even as his body rebels.

A loud clap of thunder finally awakens him, and he’s surprised to find that he’s drenched in sweat. Roland is still sleeping soundly, but one touch to his son’s forehead reveals that the boy is hot with fever. He holds his child close, drawing the blankets up around him, but he worries as all parents do, even as the wind howls just outside their tent.

Roland needs feverfew tea. Unfortunately, their stashes of medicinal herbs have run dry in light of the recent bout of sickness that have ravaged both his men and their families, and he lies there only minutes before deciding to risk a trip to the lake’s edge to gather what he needs. He wakes Little John and asks his friend to keep an ear and eye out for his son before donning his thickest cloak and disappearing into the forest’s canopy. He’s survived far worse storms than this, he reminds himself, ignoring the tingling sensations skittering up his legs that feel altogether supernatural.

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|| rainy ||

it’s storming where I am right now.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and is not meant to represent the celebrity’s actual life/lifestyle.

**do not plagiarize/repost this story**


Streaks of lightning were seen shooting across the grey skies, catching her attention as she dropped her book in response. The young woman stands from her once cozy spot on the couch, feeling as though the pouring rain was beckoning at her to come outside and play.

She was never someone who feared storms or shied away from the opportunity of feeling the pinpricks of rain on her skin.

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✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ 

Riley had never been shy of a little rain. As a kid she embraced the rainy days, she would always slip on her rubber boots and raincoat and out she’d go; splashing, jumping, twirling around in the downpour with her mouth wide open. It was almost too perfect that the boy she ended up falling in love with, loved getting caught in the rain just as much as she did.

So when the wind picked up on their afternoon walk through the park after school, she glanced up at the black cloud that consumed the sky above and felt a rush of excitement.  They were only a few blocks from Lucas’ apartment complex but there was no way they’d make it there before the storm started.  

Lucas furrowed his eyebrows as he looked to the now dark sky, clutching Riley’s hand in his as if he was preparing to run. “Is this why you wanted to walk to mine?” His mouth curled into a small smirk as he gazed knowingly at the brunette before him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She smiled, resting her head on his shoulder as they continued their trek to his house.

The scent of rain is heavy and a stillness falls over the street, and in the silence comes a low crackle of thunder. For a moment, everything stops. Even the wind holds its breath. A streak of lightning splits the sky, and the downpour begins.

“Run!” Riley shrieked, as they ran across the slippery sidewalk, weakened by the weight of their now soaked clothes. Neither of them could stop the smiles from forming on their faces as they leaped across puddles while Lucas hovered his jacket over their heads to shield their eyes from the rainfall.  

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Something Better (Newt x Reader)

Originally posted by newt-and-pickett

For the lovely @tangle-of-ivy who requested: I’ve always been obsessed with soulmate AU’s and I’d love one with the Reader and Newt.However, I’m always disappointed when in most Soulmate AU’s the story ends right after they discover each other. I’d like to see one where we get at least one big scene after the initial meeting

Soulmate AU in which you can see all colors except that of your soulmate’s eyes. When you meet for the first time and look into their eyes, you’ll see this color for the first time and know you’ve found one another. <3

Words: ~3000

Rating: Soulmate fluff that will make your heart burst if you’re not careful! <3 

Hope you enjoy!

You always preferred to leave the window open while you worked at your desk. You found the busy sounds of New York streets below comforting, the fresh air that drifted in would assist in concentration as you wrote or sketched, and the sunlight that dripped through always brought a smile to your face.

Though likely odd to some, you saved your biggest smiles for heavy rainstorms. You often recalled the day you were caught in a thunderstorm, walking down the pier with the intentions of getting home to a warm cup of hot chocolate and a good book. You had spared a glance to the ocean behind you, skidding to a halt with wide eyes at the sight of a sea drained of any color, replaced with dull shades of gray. Though you laughed at it now, you were terrified when you asked a passerby if the ocean was indeed gray, and had received the oddest look in response. Even to this day you found you could barely breathe at the realization you had found the color–or rather, the absent color–your soulmate must have possessed in their mysterious eyes. Ever since that fateful day you had made it mandatory to visit the beach when it stormed, hope swelling in your chest when clouds coated the normally blue skies.

Pausing in your current writing, you glanced up to the darkening sky with baited breath, a grin already tugging at your lips.  You stared at the ashen clouds above, skin prickling with goosebumps at the unmistakable sensation of a spring breeze wafting through the window and blowing your H/C locks from your face. E/C eyes wide and unblinking, you waited in anticipation for a sign of rain. When the clouds continued to drift peacefully, you slouched in your chair and rested your head in your hands in defeat. A sudden flash of lightning streaked across the clouds, sending shockwaves of hope through your heart as a familiar rumbling echoed in the sky. Your desk shuddered as if in fear, the vibrations titillating your skin and prickling at your nerves as the clouds growled with thunder.

Practically jumping from your seat, you didn’t bother to grab a jacket with the excitement surging through your veins and fueling your determination, not giving any care to the puzzled looks you received as you dashed through the rain to the beach, a smile on your face the entire way.

You had never met them, yet you knew they were out there.

This fact both excited and worried you, the possibilities eating away at your thoughts as you sat atop your favorite rock that rested a safe distance from the powerful waves. You ran a hand through your damp H/C hair, thankful the heavy rain had slowed to a light sprinkling. The storm itself remained, creating a static, dry atmosphere that seemed to charge the air with energy.

As you stared, you pondered the possibility that your soulmate was just beyond the gray waters along the horizon. If you managed to cross them, perhaps they would be there, waiting on a distant shore for you to emerge from the waves like a goddess of the sea.

You did your best to imagine a stranger’s eyes that would somehow look familiar, a new color pooling into the sea and enhancing your vision along with filling the empty piece in your puzzle of a heart. Only one specific shade of color was missing from your life, and though you could see all others, the thought of your soulmate’s color being absent forever was acidic, simmering in the back of your mind and gnawing away at your skull, allowing thoughts to spill from your mind and seep into the sand below. You were meant for someone, and you and that someone were meant for something better. Though you had no idea what that was, you craved it endlessly.

Normally, during a clear day, the ocean boasted a deep blue that resembled melted sapphires, deep and profound. During a turbulent storm, high winds and heavy rain, the water instead shimmered a dull gray that tugged at your curiosity and dampened your soul with unfulfillment.

How tragic it was to you to see such a marvelous being deprived of color. The waves churned with passion and power before softly stroking at the sands, subtle in the grand scheme of a dangerous rainstorm, chaotic yet comforting. You liked to think your soulmate resembled such a hauntingly beautiful sight, pulling at your imagination to concoct a color to resemble a mix of passion and softness. In some storms, when the waves licked at the sandy shore hungrily, you felt similar yearning, and found it pleasant to think perhaps the longing waves resembled your soulmate who felt the same way. Though bittersweet, you never missed a storm on the shores, to remind yourself your one and only was indeed out there, and possessed eyes of the hauntingly beautiful waves you deeply desired to see.

In the midst of your thoughts, you detected a flicker of movement out of the corner of your vision, smooth and gliding just out of your sight and into the rumbling clouds.

Your curiosity got the better of you, your H/C gaze searching the sky for a glimpse of what you swore was a tail of some sort as you walked down the beach.

It didn’t take long to spot the shimmering, stark white against the ashen clouds, though you almost couldn’t believe your eyes at the sight before you. Billowing with glistening feathers of deep amber, you watched in wonderment as the enormous bird seemingly stared back at you with golden eyes, screeching over the thunder as it circled the clouds. You didn’t dare blink, in case you should lose sight of the magnificent creature, though you tore your gaze when you heard a recognizably British voice yell from a few yards down the shore.

“Now Frank, I do believe it would be best to come back now.”  the voice belonged to a navy coat-clad man with a mop of honey hair that ruffled in the winds, and as you approached, you couldn’t resist admiring the layers of freckles you spotted dotting his cheeks and hands as he nodded to gesture to the open suitcase in his hands. “In you go, please.”  

The enormous creature gave a squawk of resistance, to which you couldn’t stifle a giggle at the stranger’s adorable pout in response. At your laugh, he turned to you with surprise, opening his mouth to say something, though he was cut off as the golden bird dove to the beach, landing in the sand between the two of you with a thud. The beast towered over you as you stared with wide eyes and trembling knees.

“That’s just Frank! Thunderbird’s look quite intimidating at first, I’m sure,” the stranger licked his lips apprehensively as he observed Frank crane his neck toward your stiffened form. “He won’t hurt you I promise, he’s just curious…” he trailed off, watching in wonderment as Frank lowered his head and nudged against your open hand.

“H-hi there…” you greeted breathlessly, cautiously raising your hand and accepting the Thunderbird’s invitation to stroke its massive head. Newt carefully approached from behind with the case, setting it down in the sand and watching in fascination as Frank practically cooed at your touch. “I think it’s time for you to go home now.” you suggested, feeling the air rush from your lungs in awe as the bird met your eyes once more, sharp and intelligent as he nudged your hand gently off of his skull. You opened your mouth to speak again, but instead gave a light squeak of surprise as the Thunderbird gave a loud screech and leaped into the air, his powerful wings creating gusts of wind that knocked you off your feet. The beast hovered for a moment before soaring into a circle and diving into the open case in a matter of seconds.

Your chest heaved in shock, mind racing as you processed the events that just transpired, though feeling exhilarated as you clenched fistfulls of sand tightly to be sure you weren’t dreaming.  Meanwhile, the handsome stranger quickly shut the lid to the case, snapping the locks and puffing out his cheeks in relief before hastily rushing to your side.

“Newt Scamander, at your service, though I suppose you were at mine today.” he gave a brief grin that scrunched up his now visible freckles as he shyly offered a hand. “And whom do I have the pleasure of thanking?”

The wind continued to billow at your skirts and ruffle at Newt’s honey-curls that you realized you already found endearing as you gratefully took his hand and allowed him to help you up. “Y/n L/n, a pleasure to…to…” you trailed off, swallowing thickly as you met Newt’s eyes that widened at the sight of yours. You felt your hand shake in his as you observed his eyes, a deep gray as your stormy ocean, suddenly flood with vibrant color, of that you had never seen before, though it sparked a flame of possibility in your mind as you turned to the shore with eagerness.

The water no longer reflected a murky, drained, tired gray, but a shimmering green unlike any you had ever seen before. Paler, like watered down emeralds that stewed in salty pastel blue, concocting a gentle, almost tender green so soft it made the waves appear to caress the shore rather than crash upon it. The color sent shivers down your spine in fascination, your surroundings all the brighter with its involvement.

Realization washed over you, your breath catching in your throat in marvel as you quickly turned back to the man whose eyes mirrored that of the water. You sighed in wonderment, practically intoxicated with the seafoam green, saturated and deep like the ocean itself.

“That’s you,” the words began spilling from your mouth before you could even think to compose yourself and speak reasonably. “I came out–I always come out here when it storms, I come sit on the docks, or the–the beach, and I watch…”

Newt’s brow furrowed in perplexity as he followed your gaze out into the watery horizon, staring at the waves that licked at the sand, leaving bubbling foam in their wake. Looking to your E/C gaze that were glossed over with unshed tears, he felt his heart skip a beat at such a shade of E/C he had never had the pleasure of knowing. Newt released a breath he hadn’t noticed he had been holding at the realization that you too, had discovered a new color, and thus meant…

“I come out and watch, and I just wait for…for…” you trailed off, looking again to the ocean in disbelief.

“For me.” Newt finished breathlessly as you faced him once more, his voice airy yet composed, like the fluttering of butterfly wings.   

“For you,” you echoed, cautiously bringing your hand to cup his cheek in wonderment as your thumb traced his freckles, already memorizing their compelling constellations. “Newt Scamander.”

The way you said his name, soft like a breath of spring, drove him deliciously mad, as it was the sweetest sound Newt swore he ever heard. His heart thundered in his ribcage as he mirrored your actions and caressed your jawline with a trembling freckled hand. “Words cannot fully express…what a joy it is to meet you,” he sighed, giving you a watery smile as he blinked back tears that formed at the mere sight of your elated expression.

In a state of awe, you felt your thoughts float away in the wind, forgetting whatever you had planned to say since the day the sea became colorless to you. Instead you felt an intense allure to the wizard before you, instincts taking over rational thought as you inched closer. You tugged at the lapels of Newt’s navy coat, pulling him tantalizingly close, his lips barely hovering above yours as you brushed your nose against his freckled one lovingly, the contact causing his cheeks to flush a slight pink, though you noticed his shy smile tugging at his lips.

A salty mist swept up in the wind from the waves, tickling at your exposed skin, the chilling stimulation combined with the breathtaking sight of Newt’s eyes that frothed with just as much passion as the waves sent shudders of haunted delight through your form. Your shivers quickly dissipated, however, with the pleasing sensation of Newt’s arms snaking around your waist and neck, pulling you into a heated kiss that took your breath away with it’s combined fervor and delicateness.

You practically melted into his embrace, his lips melding perfectly against yours with a subtle hint of spiced vanilla as his freckled fingers trailed up your spine and tangled in your H/C locks. He then pressed a trail of soft kisses along your cheek as he gingerly kissed up to the shell of your ear with a soft purr, “I don’t deserve such perfection…”

The compassion behind the intimate contact and confession poured into your core, sparking an inextinguishable blaze in your chest that warmed your entire being with rich warmth and fed the flames of devotion to the man who so naturally filled the space in your heart. You turned your head ever-so-slightly to nuzzle into Newt’s exposed neck, appreciating the scent of damp wood, fresh rainwater and a smidge of citrus that somehow smelled like home.    

So timid yet passionate, tender yet potent with eyes of raging waters that ran deep, he was a perfect storm. Your perfect storm.

The two of you fit snugly together in one another’s embrace, your relief and contentment manifesting in deep exhales. A soft breeze swirled around you, brief and light, as if the universe sighed in unison, satisfied with the fated outcome on the ocean shore.

Your chest blossomed with bliss when Newt clasped your hand as you walked down the streets, his seafoam eyes casting shy glances at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice, a constant shy smile plastered on his face as he led you to your destination. He became very animated when discussing his friends, whom he claimed would simply adore you the moment you walked in the door.

Though encouraging, Newt’s words couldn’t sedate the rising apprehension as you stood outside the door to the apartment, gnawing at your lower lip when he knocked.

Newt instantly took notice of your nervous state, squeezing your hand comfortingly and leaning over to place a light kiss on the crown of your head, murmuring lovingly, “They’ll love you,” you felt him smile against your H/C locks, “Almost as much as I do.”

His words sparked fireworks in your stomach, your anxiety dissipating as the door opened to reveal whom you assumed was Tina, based on the description Newt had given you. “You’re late for dinner Newt,” She wore an expression of playful annoyance that quickly turned to one of curiosity and excitement when she saw you, noticing the lovestruck look Newt wore when he looked to you. Tina’s eyes widened hopefully.

“Is…is she…?” she trailed off, raising a brow and biting at her bottom lip to suppress a hopeful grin as her gaze darted between the two of you.

Newt gave a genuine smile as he nodded excitedly, “This is Y/n L/n, and she has the most ravishing E/C eyes, doesn’t she?”

You blushed at Newt’s words, practically beaming as Tina gave a small cry of joy, shouting into the apartment behind her shoulder, “Pull up another chair to the table!”

Tina dragged the two of you into the apartment, cozily lit by candlelight with a crackling fire in the living room. The man you noticed in the kitchen paused in his baking task to flash the two of you a warm smile. “What’s with the grin there Mister English?” he chuckled, looking to you with a welcoming nod. It only took a small glance at Newt’s enamored expression for him to put the pieces together, though Tina made sure to make it clear as she gestured to you mouthing “Soulmate!”

“Ooh!” he chuckled happily, removing his oven gloves to properly shake your hand as he introduced himself, “Jacob Kowalski, nice to meet ya miss…?”

“L/n, Y/n L/n.” You bit back a grin as Jacob sent Newt a knowing look.

“She’s adorable, I’d keep her around Newt.” he winked.

“That is indeed the plan,” Newt replied with a shy smile, pride swelling in his chest at his friend’s approval.

Jacob chuckled at the wizard’s smitten appearance, opening his arms and shrugging at you, “I’m more of a hugger anyway,” he admitted, and you couldn’t help but laugh jubilantly as you reciprocated Jacob’s hug, already feeling a part of a family you just met.

Over Jacob’s shoulder, you noticed the the strawberry-blonde Goldstein sister rush into the room with a charming smile that grew into a grin as she looked to you and Newt, undoubtedly reading your thoughts with excitement. Jacob stepped to the side and gestured to you with a smile. “Hey hun, this is Y/n,” he introduced, smirking as Queenie gave a small jump of joy.

“Oh honey, you found her!” Queenie squealed, looking to Newt excitedly before turning to you and taking your hands in hers gleefully. “She found you! Oh sweetie, it’s wonderful to meet you!”

“The pleasure’s mine,” you grinned back, unable to suppress a giggle as Queenie bubbled with genuine laughter of delight. Her smile reminded you of how grateful you were to have such an opportunity to meet such lovely individuals, let alone your soulmate whom you already wanted to give the whole world to.

Queenie’s expression melted into one of admiration at your thoughts as she gave you a motherly peck on the cheek, turning to Newt with praise dripping from her voice. “Oh Newt, honey, she’s just perf–”

“Perfect.” Newt finished with her, his voice barely above a whisper of enchantment, though audible to you all the same, making your heart flutter in response as he looked at you with complete adoration under his cinnamon-dusted curls.

After dinner, the rest of evening consisted of lovely conversation and the sharing of personal stories. You all played few card games, during which you found yourself bursting into laughter when Tina would playfully scold her sister for reading her mind to see what cards she held.

You all had retired to the living room, enjoying the warmth of company as well as the fireplace that crackled and popped in the quiet of night. Jacob had fallen asleep in the midst of a card game with Queenie, which she whispered was the “cutest thing”, though it didn’t take long for her to follow when she relaxed next to him and drifted off herself.

Tina was currently nose-deep in a book, glancing up from time to time with a smile as she observed you and Newt cuddled on the sofa, transfixed by the dancing flames as well as the mere presence of one another. You nuzzled into Newt’s chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat soothing as your eyes fluttered closed.

As you allowed yourself give in to the pull of sleep, you felt Newt press his lips to your temple lovingly, murmuring sweet nothings that lulled you a blissful slumber in the arms of your one and only.

Hope you enjoyed!

A big thank you to all of those who have liked/reblogged, and left such lovely comments, I cannot express how appreciative I am of each one of them, they truly make my day, thank you! <3

Tags: @deanskitten, @flourishandblottsbooks, @maybe-maj@winchestermogernsternholmes, @orangepumpkinpen, @bringmetomnow, @blackseasiren, @kaijasimagines, @rebelliousreckless, @jacob-remembers-queenie, @yukishirohana, @little-kampfer, @ryeosomnia, @itsleviosa14, @hesitantdanger, @captainaudreystark, @buckynewt, @sooper-dee-dooper-natural, @sammat97, @kowalskimander, @idontactuallyunderstandbut, @hellssarcasticqueen, @imanunbrokenfangirl, @problematicdesi, @paocristina18, @lunaaaaa384, @thx-but-no-thx, @theakwardpandainahat, @fall-dovah, @jackdawsonsgrl, @bluhimaweirdo, @hanelizab, @the-socially-awkward-extrovert, @duquesarosa, @timelady10-11, @lostinmusicals, @choconim, @sprinklesandsnowflakes

anonymous asked:

Comfort fic: The boy's crush is terrified of thunderstorms, but they are traveling with Noctis regardless, the boys sees their crush is terrified one night while camping, how do they "comfort" their crush?

Hey non, I’ve seen a similar ask/answer to this somewhere else so I took it to a different route without the smut. Not what you asked for, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. This is based on the fun from the livestream the VAs did!

Song of Storms

The Regalia is missing.

But that’s not the worst part, oh no.

The world is full of thunder, endless reels of claps and rumbles that make you jump and start on your chocobo. None of the chocobo’s are bothered by the storm and are running up ahead on the road away from Wiz’s chocobo post. Yours is skittish and slow, darting its head this way and that while you try to contain your fear which the chocobo is obviously sensing.

When the guys turn and find you a mile behind them they circle back and watch your chocobo stamp its feet and cry out every now and then. You sit nervously on top, heart racing as the storm rages on.

“Awww, little guy must not like thunderstorms.” Prompto is obviously talking about the chocobo, but your cheeks turn red at the thought that he might be talking to you, embarrassed of your fear being discovered.

A streak of lightning crosses the sky, followed by a flash and a large boom. You cry out in fear at the same time your chocobo bucks you off and flees.

The guys dismount immediately, Noctis coming to your side first and helping you up. “You ok?”

As you’re about to lie your ass off about being fine, another crack sounds from overhead, lighting the world with unrefined power. You flinch and fight back tears as adrenaline overwhelms your system, and you would run if you could but there’s nowhere you can go.

“It wasn’t the chocobo that was afraid of the thunderstorm was it?” Gladio asks, though you know he knows the answer. They all do.

You look down and shake your head fiercely as a low rumble sends tingles across your skin.

Ignis places a hand on your arm and. His expression is soft as he says “Let’s make camp for the night.”

As you trek through the woods up to the safe haven of a camping site you twist your fingers in to the hem of your coat as the lightning worsens, the darkness of the night making the flashes more intense.

Camp is up quickly, though not quickly enough for your liking as you stand underneath the cloudy sky, feeling like you’re about to be struck down.

The light rain forces you all to eat supper inside the tent, and though you feel better in the lit space, closely packed in with your friends who are chatting loudly, you still flinch at every crack and boom.

Laying down to sleep is a nightmare and you’re on edge, you know the guys either side of you can feel how tense your body is.

In the awful quiet of the night every deep rumble shakes you to your core.

And then it starts with Prompto.

“When the night has come, and the land is dark,” his voice is off key and everyone stills to listen as his voice wavers with nerves at the attention.

“And the moon is the only light we’ll see,“Noctis joins, their voices boosting one another’s confidence and firms their tune a little.

To your right Gladio is settled with arms folded behind his head, and you hear   His deep bass voice provide "bom bom, bombom bom,” as a backing tune to the lyrics. You smile in the darkness

“No I won’t be afraid, no I won’t be afraid, just as long as you stand, stand by me.” Their voices are sweet, and you feel warmed by their voices destroying the quiet, and the rumbles fade away.

“So darling, darling, stand by me. Oooh stand by me, oh stand now, stand by me.” Ignis joins with his baritone, and you smile up at the roof of the tent as their singing drowns out the outside world.

“Stand by me,” you sing quietly, and happily.