turn-over

Anon asked: “Manon’s first period with Dorian. She bleeds through the sheets one night. Doesn’t know what to do, Dorian’s magic wakes him up cuz of her blood???”

First of all, this fandom is OBSESSED with periods. AND I LOVE IT.

Second, this was a PREMIUM ask. Please. Keep them coming. Manorian angst is LYFE.

Third, I’d be lying if I said this fic wasn’t partially inspired by one of @itach-i‘s yet-to-be-posted Manon theories.

[You’re All Right - Manorian]

Dorian’s magic woke him in the middle of the night. It spiked and thrummed just beneath his skin. Up, up, up, it seemed to say. It’s the witch, wake the witch.

Dorian turned over, scanning the room, Manon. Nothing was out of place.

She fidgeted in the bed next to him. He moved closer, lighting one of the lamps on the bedside table with his magic.

Her brow was furrowed, and he could tell she was breathing heavily, panting. The thin white nightgown she worn clung to her chest, slicked by sweat that coated her skin.

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Mute. Part 4.

Find the rest: HERE.


Keeping the fire alight had been the hardest job. Claire burrowed under the sheets, curling herself into a small ball as she tried to contain her body heat. By the second night, though, she’d nearly used all of her available fuel, and the winter evenings were slowly creeping in.

Her hands, bloodied and raw from her almost constant banging on the closed door, throbbed as she placed the last of the firewood on the ever dwindling fire. Merely ashes now, the bright embers burst into flame as the dry wood hit them.

Still, she did not cease. Day and night she would climb the stairs and pound for as long as she was able, desperate for anybody to hear her pleas. As the days passed, Claire grew even more eager to be rescued.

Her belly rumbled as she turned over and crawled from under her plaid tent. Sifting through her remaining supplies, she dug out some stale bread and began to pick away at it, unable to build any enthusiasm for eating. She’d no meat remaining, having consumed that before it went bad. Along with the bread, she had some dry cheese left but not much. Claire couldn’t bring herself to even remember the lush Sunday dinners she used to inhale before the war years took hold, her body too deprived of a good meal.

‘Please, Jamie…’ she begged, internally, glancing up at her small window as she did so, ‘where are you?’

The days flew by. A week must have passed, Claire thought. Locked away in her dungeon, she had nothing but time to contemplate her fate. The malicious nature of the prank to which she’d been subjected, was making its harsh realities known.

Obviously the perpetrator felt no remorse. Nobody was coming for her, Claire finally accepted.

Taking a peek at the now empty table, her blunt blade shone in the failing candlelight. The moon glinted through the window to the side and Claire had a distinctly bleak thought. Anything was worth a shot, she reasoned, tiredly, grabbing the knife and making an indent in her flesh that was deep enough to cause a substantial wound. She stood, precariously, on the narrow table, reaching up to etch a short message on the filthy windowpane.

She knew it wasn’t an incredibly visible window from the outside. In fact it was one of the least accessible. Mostly hidden from view when the various traders came and set up in the courtyard, selling their various wares to the castle inhabitants. But it was her last hope of rescue.


Murtagh paced the courtyard waiting for his godson, his patience wearing thin with each passing moment.

“Where are ye, Jamie lad?” He barked, startling one of the young stable lads.

“Calm yerself, Murtagh.” Jamie called, as he finally appeared from beside the gatehouse. “Any word?” He asked, hopefully.

Murtagh shook his head, his eyes closing briefly as he imparted what little news he had.

“Nay.” He brushed his hand through his bushy beard, “I’m trying my best, but getting ye this pardon isna the easiest thing, aye?”

“I ken it well, but thank ye, nonetheless, for trying.”

“Ye ken I’ll do all I can, Jamie.” Sighing, Murtagh moved the subject onto something else, not wanting to dwell on the sad topic of the price on Jamie’s head. “Have ye given up yer foolish task yet?”

Jamie glanced towards the tiny window of the surgery, his heart heavy.

“No,” he began, his eyes narrowing as he caught the glimmer of something strange coating the inside of the thin glass.

“Rupert said she was fine…” his voice trailed off as he began to walk towards the walls of the castle, eager to see what it was.

Murtagh, perplexed by Jamie’s odd behaviour, sloped behind, following closely.

Ah Dhia! It’s a message.” Murtagh whispered, bending over to get a closer look.

One simple word stood in jagged red print, sending a bolt of terror through the two men.

‘HELP’ it read, a blurred cry for assistance, scrawled on the dirty pane.

“How long has it been since ye last saw her, Jamie?” Murtagh questioned, raising his voice only slightly. It was obvious, now, that something was amiss.

“Christ, Murtagh.”

Murtagh stood, shocked at hearing his godson take the Lord’s name in vain.

“Over a week now, I’m sure! Do ye think…?” He began to ask, but Murtagh was already away, half way into the castle. By the time Jamie had caught up to him, he was almost through the great hall.

“She will ha’ run out of wood by now, if she didna run out of food first. Do ye have any keys?” Murtagh asked, stomping down the corridor towards the stairs that led down, under Castle Leoch.

“Of course no’! Where would I get any? Dougal doesna trust just anyone wi’ them.”

“Ach, weel. We’ve no’ got time to find any, either. Brute force will just have to do, aye?”

Reaching their intended destination, the men could clearly see that the door had been locked. A thick padlock hung menacingly through the usually empty bolthole.

“Shite!” Murtagh cursed, “whoever planned this did too good a job.”

“Aye, we’ll ne’er get through it wi’out the key.” Jamie returned, shock coursing through him at the sight.

“What about the other entrance?” The men chirped, simultaneously.

Both turned and rushed back through the internal recesses of the castle and back towards the outer walls.

“Ye may need to grab something, I doubt this will be easy, Jamie, but hopefully we can tear through the thinner wood, aye?”

Jamie, thanking God for Murtagh’s quick witted ingenuity, dashed off towards Hughie and his supply of blacksmith tools.

“Nay time for askin’, Hughie. I need yer axe!” He yelled, gripping the large, heavyset tool by the handle as he whipped in and out of the wee rickety shed. “I’ll bring it back, it’s an emergency.”

The lock on the internal door wasn’t nearly as challenging as the one on the main door, but it would still require some work.

“Dinna hold back! Smash it.” Jamie called, passing the axe to Murtagh and stepping back to avoid the spray of chippings that began to fly the moment Murtagh gouged into the moist panels. Luckily for them, it was half rotten and gone with damp, meaning the wood simple splintered away, easily, in large chunks.

Spurred into action by the fast nature of their task, Jamie lurched forward, pulling the last of the shattered door away as Murtagh placed down the axe and the pair rushed down the darkened passageway. Both were equally terrified, neither knowing what they would find in the temporary surgery.

As he entered the room, Jamie saw the thin blankets move, the small ball shuddering in the lingering cold of the room. Making his way over, as quickly as he was able, Jamie’s wame flopped as he pulled back the half-frozen tartan.

There, in the middle of the mattress, was Claire. Huddled in a tiny ball, Jamie could see the shallow intake of her breath as she struggled to stay warm. Keen to shield her from the chill in the air, Jamie wrapped himself around her and brought her into his lap. Meanwhile, Murtagh stalked in and out of the room, gathering kindling and larger bundles of wood to re-start the fire.

“Claire,” he whispered, bending down to speak directly into her ear. He knew she couldn’t hear, but she’d feel his lips against her icy skin –he hoped. “Sorcha, come to for me, aye? It’s Jamie. Yer safe now. Let me warm ye, but you have to wake.”

Jerking as she pulled her eyes open, Claire looked up at him, a film of sleep coating her vision. A smile broke across her shivering lips as she nodded, curling her fingers around the cosy heat of his woolen coat.

Kissing her lightly on the temple, Jamie finally began to calm a little as he felt her begin to thaw. “That’s it, mo nighean. Dinna fret. Yer in safe hands now.”


He’d moved Claire to the stables, to sleep with him. Until he’d figured out who’d locked her away he wasn’t willing to risk her safety, especially when she was so vulnerable down in the basement of the castle. He had smartened up his pallet, bringing along a thicker tartan blanket and some small pillows. One thing she wouldn’t be was cold and uncomfortable.

Come nightfall, he’d pointed to her new accommodations with an embarrassed smile upon his face. “I’ve made ye somewhere t’ sleep, Claire. Ye willna be harmed here, I promise ye. I thought wi’ me close by, nobody will dare come close. It willna be forever, aye? Just until we ken yer safe to go back.”

Claire ran her finger along the outer length of his hand as she padded over to the cot in the corner. It sat, innocently, at the end of an empty stall, straw packed in underneath it. She held tight to the wooden beam that separated her temporary bedroom from the braying mare next door and sighed.

Turning back to face him, she smiled softly as she swished the loose straw beneath her bare toes.

(*And where will you sleep, mister?*)

Jamie cocked his head to the side, unconsciously his hand rose, rubbing softly over his heart. He hadn’t understood, Claire realised, but he’d sensed something.

Mimicking him, she tapped twice. Just above her left breast.

(*Must you always be my white knight, Jamie?*)

Shrugging his shoulders, Jamie took one step backwards, meaning to bid her goodnight and curl up in his own (new) bed. But his feet seemed stuck to the floor. He still hadn’t really grasped what she was saying to him, but he felt as if he understood her, deep down.

“I should bid ye goodnight, Claire.”

She nodded, her eyes running the length of him as her finger ran up and down the rough unvarnished wood.

He took one more step backwards, hand still hovering over his heart.

(*Goodnight, Jamie. But I wish you didn’t have to take yourself away from me.*)

With his lack of sign language knowhow, she knew she was free to say whatever was on her mind, without having to explain herself.

She was right; but he *had* comprehended her ‘goodnight’.

“Aye, mistress. Goodnight.”

Taking that as his cue, he finally turned and climbed the ladder up into the rafters of the stables.

His cot wasn’t nearly as well put together as Claire’s. He’d spent all afternoon collecting items for her, he’d neglected to think about himself. Curling himself under his kilt, he tried to arrange the rough plaid in a way that it didn’t dig into his side and rested his head in the crook of his arm. It wasn’t long before he’d drifted off into a light sleep, his dreams invaded by the silent beauty who dozed below.


The pallet he’d so very generously made up for her was better than the cot in the old surgery up at the castle. Yet she couldn’t sleep. The beams above her would creak. She couldn’t hear them, of course, but she felt the vibrations as they rumbled through the walls and along the floor.

Jamie was restless, and that thought kept her awake.

It was well into the wee hours of the morning when she finally, half dazed, crept up the ragged looking ladder.

He looked so peaceful. Facing away from her, his back towards the entrance of the tiny loft space. He couldn’t have stood up in here, the beams hanging down way to low. The thought made her chuckle. She must have made some sort of noise, because he shifted and unwound his legs before settling back to sleep once more.

Unable to resist, she crawled between him and the wall, gently moving his arm so that it wrapped around her waist.

Jamie held her close, the warmth of her small figure seeping through the thin layer of his shirt as she settled herself. Soft wisps of her flyaway hair tickled his nose, and he twisted himself closer so as to bury himself further into her locks.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he realised that she wasn’t merely a figment of his imagination. Before he could tear himself away, she lifted her head and captured his lips against hers.

She was soft, warm and pliable and wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

His body responded to hers, his hips rocking as she slipped her leg around his waist. Her hands weaved through his hair, holding him close as she nipped at his lower lip. Slipping her tongue from her mouth, she licked and tasted as much of him as she was able.

Jamie, his sense of gentlemanly honour rearing its head, went to pull back, shaking his head as he attempted to do so. But Claire had a fierce grip, and instead she kissed her way along his jaw, her fingers tracing delicate patterns over his flushed skin.

Opening her eyes, she looked up at him, her pupils dilated, her breath coming thick and fast as she pulled his plaid loose and wrapped it around them both. Her lips, stained bright red from their amorous activities, tingled as she collected herself. Jamie couldn’t stop staring at her, his chest rising and falling more evenly now.

“Ye couldna sleep, lass?” He whispered into the dark, well aware that she might not see him, but needing to say *something*.

Claire nodded, placing one last kiss over his lips before tucking herself against his side and falling quickly into slumber.

“I suppose one night willna hurt.” He mumbled, his arms locking around Claire, close to his chest as he joined her in sleep.


Claire woke alone, the thick blanket from her cot wrapped tightly around her. Her fingers reached out to trace the place where he’d lain with her. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to remain beneath him, alone. The thought warmed her from the inside out and she smiled as she rose and dusted the straw from her shift.

It didn’t matter that she’d have to start the evening off alone, she’d continue to sneak up and join him. She let the tips of her fingers linger over her lips, still feeling the ghost of his mouth against hers.

Whoever had sought to do away with her, they’d only succeeded in bringing them closer together, and for that, she was thankful.

"I love you...Goodbye"

A/N: After watching the episode Barry’s attempt at sacrificing himself became more about a lame ‘team’ moment than it was about him actually doing anything. For the sake of this drabble, however, I’m going to pretend as if Guggenheim and Co. spent as half as much effort building the supsense about Barry’s fate as they did making sure they had the spacing right on their big superhero group shot. 

**First few lines of dialogue are lifted from the episode**


“This isn’t up for debate…it’s not even a close call.“ Barry says firmly as he takes in the group standing before him, “turn myself over to the Dominators and the leave the rest of the world alone. It’s simple.”

“No, it’s not simple.” Felicity snaps.

“Barry, it doesn’t matter what you’ve done,” Diggle adds calmly, “you can’t do this.”

Barry smiled slightly before saying, “It’s been an honor to know all of you, to fight along side you. Now it’s up to you to keep our world safe.”

He nodded his head slightly in deference to the band of superhero misfits he helped to gather in a bid to save the world. He gave one last small salute before turning on his heel and marching resolutely towards the doors of the hangar.  His steps only faltered slightly when he heard Oliver yell out, “I’m not going to let you do this Barry!”. He appreciated the sentiment but he had to do what he had to do. He couldn’t stand any more blood on his hands, he already had enough to last him a lifetime.

Once he stepped outside the doors he thought that fresh air would be a relief from the stuffiness of the hangar but instead it felt as an elephant suddenly sat on his chest. His confident stride slowed and the full gravity of what he was about to do hit him like a sledgehammer. Best case scenario he was turning himself over to aliens that would keep him captive millions of miles away from everyone and everything he loved. Worst case scenario they would kill him. No, torture him relentlessly and then kill him. Either way he was screwed and life as he knew it was over, but as terrifying as that was he knew it was the right thing to do. He was saving the world…he was saving her.

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Name: My true disaster

Author: Aya-Fay

Fandom: Fantastic Beasts and where to find them

Pairing: Percival Graves x Reader

Theme: Percival Graves gets jealous. SMUT.

Tagging: @seninjakitey@umbrellas-and-tallymarks@oswald-cobblepot-is-my-addiction@elvirateaqueen13@queencobblefreezestuff@myregardstothereader​  @rawrcoptergaming​  @seaweedredandbrown@fantasticbeastsimagines@ohlookfanfiction@hirainhisrain@waywardtimemachinejellyfish@this-is-a-unique-username@socktrollqueen@eli-cya@n-octicolor@fairylightsandfandoms@kazezakura@animeo2l

Originally posted by liebemagneto

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“Snow Day” (Suga Fluff)

Originally posted by sugaglos

Title: Snow Day

Featuring : Suga (BTS) x Reader

POV: 2nd

Summary: You and Suga share a peaceful winter morning.

Requested by anon! If you’d like a winter/Christmas scenario, go here!


When you stirred awake, the morning sun was basking through the thin white curtains and bathing the room in its rays, though it still felt freezing in comparison to the heat under your blankets. You blinked, staring at the window until you could make out snowfall through the crack in the curtains, a soft, billowy kind of snow.

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marriage au snippet

Marinette wakes up to Adrien reaching over, turning off the alarm on his phone.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

His chest brushes against her shoulder, his weight pressing her down into the mattress. She stills, breathless in the intimacy of her partner crawling over her. Her heartbeat quickens and she’s positive he can see it bounce from under her skin, all her nerves aware that he’s right next to her.

philsp.com

March 25th, 1948 issue

cover by Charles Wood

Pete Kuhlhoff, “The Shooter’s Corner"

William Chamberlain, “Story About a Cat"

John E. Kelly, “Flash Flood"

Irwin J. Weill, “Curioddities"

Caddo Cameron, “Your Bones in the Brush” (Part 2 of 4)

George C. Appell, “Men Who Wouldn’t Die!: Three Times Out"

Edward Parrish Ware, “Too Much Water"

H. Fredric Young, “Bush Rookie"

Kerry O’Neil, “A Turn Over for Tony"

Gene Van, “The Letter of Deception"

Berton E. Cook, “Homeward Bound with Death"

Seattle Mystery Bookshop 

Sleepless

(The stress of these next couple episodes motivated me.  Have some Post-Twilight Ezra angst with Big Brother Zeb.)

He raised his head from the pillow, blinking groggily.  Above the steady hum of the Ghost’s ventilation system, his ears could pick up restless shifting, shuffling, and murmuring from the upper bunk.  The mattress creaked softly as its occupant tossed and turned.

“Karabast,” Zeb muttered.  "Not again.“

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Snowflakes- Joker X Reader X Harley

Snowflakes- Joker X Reader X Harley

Summery- Being awoken in the middle of the night and seeing the first snowfall of the season.

Warnings- None, Cuteness and Fluff <3

The night was so quiet, the only sounds in the room were the sounds of breathing from your lovers and you. The sheets warm and soft against your skin, the blankets covering you providing more warmth. You cuddled more to the Joker’s chest as Harley gently pulled your hips more to her. You gave a quiet giggle in your sleepy state and turned over, wrapping your arms around Harley, her arms engulfing you and she nuzzled her head to the curve of your neck. You didn’t know how long it had been till you heard your name being whispered, feeling gentle pecks against your face and a cold breeze coming through the room. You blink your eyes open a little to see the perky blonde sitting beside you smiling.

“Wakey wakey, Pumpkin” she coos, her lips pecking your cheeks. You giggle at her happiness.

“I’m sleepy though” you say sleepily and wrap your arms around her waist and lay your head on her lap. You here her chuckle quietly and feel her fingers brush through your H/C locks. Another cool breeze comes through the room and you cuddle more to your companion. “It’s cold”

“Pumpkin, please, it’s pretty outside” she begs. You let out a small whine and reach behind you for J for help but not finding him. “He’s outside already” Harley tells you making you pout. You rub your eyes a little and blink up at her. She pecks your lips and you smile, a blush coming to your cheeks. Your eyes go to the balcony of the penthouse and your eyes light up seeing the little white specks falling from the sky all around the city. Joker leaning against the railing looking out at the city being blanketed in white. You begin to get up from bed, slipping on a pair of pink fuzzy slippers and taking Harley’s hand, both of you going out to the balcony. The air freezing but also waking you up more. You look around the area and go to J, resting your head on his shoulder and giving a small kiss to his cheek. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close against him making you giggle. Harley wrapping her arms around your other side. You closed your eyes, breathing in the air, once again falling asleep. You felt a kiss on your cheek and you could tell it was from Harley. You smiled a little, arms  tighten a little more around Joker. His eyes fell on your small form beside him, He looked to Harley, nodding slightly. He lifted you up into his arms, You wrapped your legs around him, holding onto him like a small child would. Harley turned her back to the city and followed inside, closing the doors to let the warmth surround you three. She looked to J laying you in your spot and he climbed in next to you, covering you with the blankets. She smiled and walked over, climbing in next to him. You and Harley both wrapping your arms around him. You nuzzle your head to the curve of his neck and once again letting sleep overtake you.

4

Why I was planing off so much Yosegi the other day. Trimmed out perimeter of a bunch of boxes for a custom order.

Since the order is for seven boxes and the Jatoba board was wide enough for a pair per length, made an extra. Decided to get fancy with the top. Also, the close up shows off how the 0.15mm thick Yosegi can easily follow the rounded-over dovetail corners.

Also had the chance to do an experiment I’d been thinking about. Can I decorate a panel with a gentle round-over on the edges, including the corners where the round-overs met. Turns out, yes. Must say, I learned so nice tricks in Hakone with Mr Ishikawa.

I see small boxes with sliding lids in the future…

And just a closeup of the Rosewood lid lifts. First time making them. I like them with the Yosegi trim.

Forgive the self-promotion, just want to let folks know I love doing custom work. I enjoy to help people figure out just what they want and make it for them. Always feel free to drop me a message and we can discuss possibilities.

angelina-von-sweetz-514  asked:

How would the Main 3 react to if their female S/O turned into a guy over night?

Viktor

  • he’s the most calm about it, but even then he’s still pretty panicked
  • it doesn’t bother him that his girlfriend is now a guy (in the sexuality sense), but like. wow. how did that even happen
  • tries to lighten the situation with jokes and witty comments while thinking about solutions to their problem

Yuri K.

  • is freaking out. there’s no way this could actually happen in real life, so he tries to make himself snap out of whatever dream or hallucination he must be having
  • he has to accept the reality of it all, and feels bad because his s/o must be having a much harder time than he is
  • comes up with as many rational questions and answers as he can, but nothing makes any sense
  • resorts to comforting his s/o and calming everyone down

Yuri P.

  • he doesn’t believe it at first. he thinks someone’s pulling a prank on him, and gets very annoyed and irritated
  • when his s/o proves that it’s really them, his brain short-circuits
  • “hUH?!?!”
  • a lot of fretting and chaos. he does everything he can think of to undo the change (mostly things he’s seen on t.v. and heard in stories, because what else could he possibly do?)
Chapter 3: Capture

You found yourself ludicrously chasing after Newt as Newt went after the niffler around a jewelry store. Crashing into display cabinets, shattering cases, and turning over cupboards. Even the chandelier was not spared as Newt swung from it in a vain attempt to grab the niffler that had jumped atop it. You tried to repair things as you went, worrying that other people walking around might suddenly see this and call the police.  You saw Jacob, holding on to Newt’s suitcase, look worriedly and uncomfortably around, knowing that this was thoroughly illegal and would mean bad business if someone noticed.

To no avail.

As the niffler raced outside the store, its pouch filled with shiny diamonds, Newt whipped his wand and muttered a charm that sent the niffler hurtling towards him, jewelry flying all over the place. You ran after him outside amidst the shattered glass and wood, sending spells this way and that in an effort to keep the jewelry off all three of you, lest you accidentally steal any of them; Jacob was using the suitcase to block the jewelry from hitting his own face. You cursed under your breath as you see a police car turning around the corner and stopping right in front the jewelry store. As you reached Newt, who was shaking the last bits of jewelry from the niffler (the niffler looked thoroughly miffed of being rid of its treasure), you grab his waist and Jacob’s arm and disapparate.

Your feet touch grass and you, Newt, and Jacob tumble in a heap of legs and arms down a gentle slope in Central Park. You land on your back, the wind knocked out of you. You whimpered as you tried to sit up, massaging your back. Instinctively, your hand went to your coat pocket (wand was still there, thankfully) and you brushed a hand through your now tangled hair, clearing away the leaves matted in it. Luckily, the slope was gentle enough that it didn’t do too much damage—in your panic and haste, you hadn’t really gotten a clear vision of where exactly you wanted to end up in Central Park, and so it had gotten in the way of your apparating. You were just happy you hadn’t splinched anyone. Nearby, Jacob stirred, groaning as pushed Newt’s suitcase off of himself and slowly standing up. Newt himself was on his stomach, pushing himself up into a sitting position, niffler still in his hand.

“Once again, paws off what doesn’t belong to you,” Newt gently scolded the niffler, its beady black eyes looking ever so innocently at Newt.

“Are we in Central Park?” Newt looked to you. You nod.

 Newt gets the suitcase from Jacob, puts the niffler in (gently and still smiling softly at it), and takes out headgear and what looks like a body vest. He hands these over to Jacob.

“Why do I need these?” Jacob takes the gear, bewildered.

“Because your head is susceptible to breakage under immense force,” Newt stated simply.

“You’ll thank him later,” you laughed, patting the confused No-Maj’s back. Newt suddenly turns and you gasped as the erumpent came into view, its horn pulsating. Jacob’s face registered shock, and his mouth hung open.

Newt then takes a small vial from his suitcase and, as if wearing cologne, dabs some of its liquid contents on his wrists and neck. He then handed the bottle over to Jacob. Newt then and gave a loud screech, calling the erumpent’s attention. Upon noticing Newt (you learned later on that he had put on essence of male erumpent), she slowly lumbered over. Newt walked slowly away from the both of you, drawing the erumpent away. He then put down the suitcase after moving some meters away and screeched again. Bending forward slightly, he slammed his right foot down in front of him, then slid it back.

The erumpent looked at him cautiously.

Newt then turned away from the erumpent and started oscillating his backside. The erumpent slowly began coming closer, as if entranced. Newt slowly picked up his suitcase, all the while continuing to lure the erumpent to himself.

“What is he doing?” Jacob whispers, half in awe and half in amusement.

“The erumpent mating dance. Never knew anyone who bothered to learn it though,” you replied in a half bemused, half impressed tone.

“What do we need to do?”

“Make sure the erumpent gets in the suitcase. That’s why you’re wearing all that gear,” you replied. Jacob gulped at this, and as he stepped back in hesitation, he accidentally stumbled on a protruding rock and fell on his back. The vial he was holding flew out of his hand and drenched him in the same essence Newt had put on himself.

The erumpent, startled by the noise, took a whiff of the air and smelled Jacob. Its large eyes fixed themselves on a new target as it stopped moving towards Newt and started running towards Jacob!

With a scream, Jacob began running as well. A new chase ensued.

You were knocked off your feet when the erumpent ran past you. Falling flat on your backside once again, you make to stand up when Newt rushes over, holding his hand out to help you. You take his hand as he pulls you up.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, but we better hurry if we want Jacob to be alright, too!”

You both ran in the direction that Jacob and the erumpent went, and saw Jacob, up a tree near the frozen lake, looking terrified, and the erumpent getting ready to butt the tree with its massive horn. The erumpent built up speed as it charged at the tree, and shoved its horn into the trunk, causing it to smolder and break.

With a crack, the tree splintered, causing Jacob to fall flailing onto the ice. The erumpent charged for him again, as Jacob clumsily ran and slipped around the lake.

As Jacob slid across the ice, the erumpent began sliding as well, after tripping over its feet. Newt immediately opened his suitcase and did a running slide towards the erumpent.

With much effort, Newt managed to push (or pull?) the erumpent back into the case before it could touch the terrified No-Maj. Jacob’s chest was heaving, and Newt looked pale and sweaty under the moonlight. After a few tense moments, both cracked a smile and relaxed their tense bodies on the ice. You slowly make your way to them on the ice.

“Good work, you two! Now we just need to figure out where the demiguise and occamy are,” you pat them both on the back. Newt gave a small smile, walked over to the bridge, and underneath it, opened his suitcase and went in to make sure the niffler and erumpent were okay. You and Jacob followed suit in case he needed any help.

The suitcase snapped itself shut.


—-

Tina, having realized you weren’t in your apartment (she had gone to talk to you about a plan of action to catch the creatures on the loose), went looking for the three of you. She was worried about the three of you, but also found herself feeling slightly hurt that you had left without letting her or Queenie know. You would always tell her when you would have a mission, and for you to not have told her that you would try to catch the beasts on the loose with Newt that night made Tina feel left out. 

Newt.

Tina also found herself thinking of Newt. Tina had never really given love much thought—it was her and Queenie for the past few years, and of course, friends and colleagues at work such as you. She had grown up independent, and had learned not to rely on others unless really needed. It was the first time she had taken notice of someone after quite some time (it was even embarrassing, as his first sight of her was of her with mustard on her upper lip). Deep down, she knew that Newt was a good person, who meant no harm with the magical creatures in his suitcase. 

At the same time, Tina knew she had to bring the creatures on the loose to the MACUSA’s attention. Goodness knows how many were on the loose, and what were on the loose. The beasts could break the Statute of Secrecy! Tina knew that this wasn’t time to start fraternizing with someone who could possibly have dangerous magical creatures; he was someone she barely knew.

And (Y/N), (Y/N)’d get caught up in this, too, Tina realized.

Tina shook her head. It was for the greater good. This wasn’t out of hurt feelings–this was for the safety of the wizarding world!

Luckily for her, after some searching (she saw some baffled police cordoning off a destroyed jewelry shop), she was able to trace your whereabouts to Central Park, and after finding the suitcase snapped shut, she knew you would all probably be inside.  Conflicted, but at the same time telling herself that her loyalty lay with the good of the wizarding community and the MACUSA, Tina picked the suitcase up and started walking towards the MACUSA headquarters. 

 Silently, she hoped she was doing the right thing.

—–

Tagging @studyforthreehands​ :)

Part 2: Here

Love from a Distance (Swiss Hot Chocolate)

Hey guys, Em here.
So 1) some of you may know this is the second most (maybe third, I haven’t checked) stressed point in Jo’s life: corrections season. So if you could send all your love and support her way that would be awesome.
2) In the spirit of holiday giving, I wrote, heh, a few things for her and Shannon. This is one of those things. Enjoy!


Steph looks kind of miserable when her face comes up on his phone, subdued and sad. “How bad?”

“Foot fracture,” she answers. “Three weeks.” 

He makes a sympathetic noise and feels his stomach turn over. “Do you still have chocolate from my parents?” 

She eyes him a bit skeptically. “Your dad just sent me a new batch. Why?”

Roman thinks for a moment, debating. “How long can you be on your feet?” 

“Uh. On and off. I have a boot?” 

“I want you to make something for me,” he says, and leans back on the couch.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Telling Harry you're pregnant on Christmas morning!!! Feeling his arm wrap around your stomach while you're still in bed, and you smiling a bit before turning over and whispering in his ear as he's still half asleep. "You know, I love our Christmases, but it's going to be even more lovely when the baby's here." And his eyes snap open as he stares at you. "You mean?" You nod and he sits up, a grin already spreading across his face. "Love, you're too good to me, a baby for Christmas?" 1/2

2/2 He’d lift you into his lap and lift your shirt, rubbing his ringed fingers across your stomach gently, his eyes full of wonder. “I’m gonna be a dad?” And you just hug him as he starts to cry, running your hands through his curls soothingly, because he can’t believe he’ll have his own baby soon, that you loved him enough to give him that gift. Then he’s kissing you and you’re smiling too hard to kiss back properly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he’d whisper. Christmas was perfect now.

And his happiness along with the baby is your own sort of gift, cause maybe you’d been kind of talking about it and he’d been trying not to be too eager. Cause he’s made it clear that he wants a baby, and he knows that you know what he wants, so he’s not gonna harass you for it. Pressuring you will do no good, and he doesn’t want you to feel trapped – you’ll figure it out in your own time, but you know he really wants it from the way his face lights up every time he sees an advert with a baby in it. It takes everything in you to hold out for those few weeks when you first find out, but the look on his face had definitely been well worth it. 

5

Episode 2.8

           I didn’t want to admit it…

           Scotti was right about everything. About needing the job, about how broke I was… When I said there wasn’t a lot left in the Piggy, I was putting it mildly, and the fact that I’d even consider leaving this job after I’d miraculously landed it in the first place was ridiculous. But that was my whimsy talking, and my whimsy often spoke the loudest.

           Maybe it was for that reason that I went to work looking to turn over a new leaf. They say you can’t target weight loss, but if I had to choose where to cut the fat I knew I would have to make things work with Chelle. That meant pleasing her in a lot of different ways (no, not those kinds of ways), but I guess a little bit of ass-kissing wasn’t uncalled for. I found a window of opportunity on Thursday afternoon. I overheard Chelle talking with one of the sports columnists about some “office meeting”.

           Office meeting? I hadn’t heard of one, or gotten an email.

           “Hey guys,” I said, sliding up next to them. I gave Chelle an earnest smile, noting the way her steely eyes assessed me like some bird of prey. I figured she was calculating how best to irk me, but I wasn’t going to give her the chance today. “Did you say something about an office meeting? They must have left me off the listserv again.”

           Chelle stared at me for a moment, and it should have set off some red flags, but I was doing this whole “giving her the benefit of the doubt” thing, so I waited patiently for the sinister smile to spread across those cherry lips. “Oh, I’m sorry Laney. I hadn’t gotten around to inviting you, yet. I’m just having a little get-together on Friday evening. Nothing big, just a few work friends. You should come.”

           My eyes widened a little. “O-Oh, really? I mean, yeah! That sounds really great. Should I bring anything or—”

           “No, no,” she said easily. “It’s just a small thing, really. I want to keep it casual. Just a Friday night at my place.”

           Typically, that would sound pretty awful, but I really wanted Chelle and I to be on better terms. Our work relationship was one thing, but our personal relationship was an utter mess.

           “Awesome, okay, I’ll definitely be there.”

           “Great. I’ll email you the details.”

           I smiled. Hey, maybe things are looking up, after all?

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