quotes from fantastic beasts and where to find them (the book)
the augurey has a distinctive low and throbbing cry, which was once believed to foretell death. wizards avoided augurey nests for fear of hearing that heart-rending sound, and more than one wizard is believed to have suffered a heart attack on passing a thicket and hearing an unseen augurey wail.
the basilisk is a brilliant green serpent that may reach up to fifty feet in length. the male has a scarlet plume upon its head. it has exceptionally venomous fangs but its most dangerous means of attack is the gaze of its large yellow eyes. anyone looking directly into these will suffer instant death.
the ways of the centaur are shrouded in mystery. they are generally speaking as mistrustful of wizards as they are of muggles and indeed seem to make little differentiation between us. they five in herds ranging in size from ten to fifty members. they are reputed to be well-versed in magical healing, divination, archery, and astronomy.
the crup originated in the southeast of england. it closely resembles a jack russell terrier, except for the forked tail. the crup is almost certainly a wizard-created dog, as it is intensely loyal to wizards and ferocious towards muggles. it is a great scavenger
the erkling is an elfish creature which originated in the black forest in germany. it is larger than a gnome (three feet high on average), with a pointed face and a high-pitched cackle that is particularly entrancing to children, whom it will attempt to lure away from their guardians and eat.
the erumpent will not attack unless sorely provoked, but should it charge, the results are usually catastrophic. the erumpent’s horn can pierce everything from skin to metal, and contains a deadly fluid which will cause whatever is injected with it to explode.
like sphinxes, griffins are often employed by wizards to guard treasure. though griffins are fierce, a handful of skilled wizards have been known to befriend one.
the fwooper has long been a provider of fancy quills and also lays brilliantly patterned eggs. though at first enjoyable, fwooper song will eventually drive the listener to insanity
it does, however, have a similar slapstick sense of humour. its preferred terrain is damp and marshy, and it is often found near river banks, where it will amuse itself by pushing and tripping the unwary.
it resembles an overgrown ferret in most respects, except for the fact that it can talk. true conversation, however, is beyond the wit of the jarvey, which tends to confine itself to short (and often rude) phrases in an almost constant stream.
a small catlike creature with flecked, speckled, or spotted fur, outsize ears, and a tail like a lion’s, the kneazle is intelligent, independent, and occasionally aggressive, though if it takes a liking to a witch or wizard, it makes an excellent pet. the kneazle has an uncanny ability to detect unsavoury or suspicious characters and can be relied upon to guide its owner safely home if they are lost.
the knarl is usually mistaken for a hedgehog by muggles. the two species are indeed indistinguishable except for one important behavioural difference: if food is left out in the garden for a hedgehog, it will accept and enjoy the gift; if food is offered to a knarl, on the other hand, it will assume that the householder is attempting to lure it into a trap and will savage that householder’s garden plants or garden ornaments.
fluffy, black, and long-snouted, this burrowing creature has a predilection for anything glittery. though the niffler is gentle and even affectionate, it can be destructive to belongings and should never be kept in a house.
those wizards who have mastered the language of mermish speak of highly organised communities varying in size according to habitat, and some have elaborately constructed dwellings.
each of the runespoor’s heads serves a different purpose. the left head (as seen by the wizard facing the runespoor) is the planner. it decides where the runespoor is to go and what it is to do next. the middle head is the dreamer (runespoors may remain stationary for days at a time, lost in glorious visions and imaginings). the right head is the critic and will evaluate the efforts of the left and middle heads with a continual irritable hissing. the right head’s fangs are extremely venomous. the runespoor rarely reaches a great age, as the heads tend to attack each other. it is common to see a runespoor with the right head missing, the other two heads having banded together to bite it off.
it makes no sound until the moment of its death, at which point it lets out a long scream made up of every sound it has ever heard, regurgitated backwards.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss you, I’d be fibbing if I said I didn’t want your touch. I catch your eyes sometimes on me and I remember the rush. I loved how you changed my world, it was so fast paced and upbeat. It made society uncomfortable. Our world hurling itself into our flames. We left destruction in our paths and when we held hands the world caught flame. We were a burning hot mess of feelings, anxiety, depression and anger. But our passion was glorious. And I’m not sure if I’ll ever get a love that intense ever again. And don’t you dare walk out of my life and not notice the third degree burns on my heart. Our world was destined to fall apart.
As soon as I laid my eyes on you I knew I was a fire no one could extinguish. But you were my gasoline and, God did we feed off each other.
But now that you’re gone my world is a stop motion. Stopping and going when it pleases. But I’m so used to the next, that the now is unbearable. But I swear, I’d rather spend eternity in this now, the now where my heart is no longer a burning flame, but a cool breeze everyone finds lovely. And maybe it’s a little colder than I’m used to, but everything has changed. I can’t keep torturing myself waking up and screaming your name, I can’t keep giving myself false hope that you’ll look my way and our world will snap back into orbit. That’s not how this works. That’s not how this is supposed to be. Trust me honey I love(d) you. And I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to again. But I look at my stop motion world and accept my now, because it’s all I’ll ever have to look forward to. And I’ll pick now any day, over when we were then.
“So, Prince Fluffybuns,” the bold one in green started, reclining against the fabric, “how long till we get where we’re going?” Asriel
snorted “ A lot longer now that you’ve decided to hitch a ride on my
cape.” “What do all those markings mean?” asked the child in blue. “They’re
riddles-they give hints as to how to solve the puzzles down here;
There’s a lot of them that need to be solved in order to proceed through
this place.” “Puzzles?” Chara repeated “That sounds boring!” Asriel
tugged at his cape impatiently “Those puzzles happen to be really
important to us monsters and our history-” The child gave a loud,
exaggerated yawn cutting him off “Whatever.” Their twin spoke up “Why
are there even puzzles set here? What is their purpose?” ’To keep humans like you two out of our hair’ The prince thought irritably He
sighed. How did Mom and Dad deal with this sort of thing? He wanted
nothing more than to deposit the chatty kids at the castle and let his
parents decide what to do. After all, these two were the first humans to
ever fall into the underground.
bc im a huge sucker for paranormal tv shows, modern mchanzo au where they are ghost hunters with genji and lena. emily and zenyatta work with them too, but more editing/behind the scenes stuff for emily and zenyatta does a lot of the history research. genji tries to bang the ghosts all the time and hanzo pisses the ghosts off a lot.
angst bonus: at some point they find out that they’re being haunted themselves. turns out it’s the ghost of jesse’s late adopted father gabriel.
Summary: You’re caught in a time loop during the 11 days leading up to the RFA’s party unless you can do… what, exactly?
13+ Recommended you’ve played at least one of Zen’s, Yoosung’s, or Seven’s routes.
Ping. Behind you
on the bed, your phone lights up with a new notification. Dammit. You can’t
read it from here, but you know it’s about 1:30 in the morning. The
notification will be from Yoosung, spouting nonsense again about how he,
Jaehee, and Zen are robots programmed and brainwashed by Seven and V. So this
is it, then. All your efforts to remain friendly but emotionally distant
with Zen are ultimately worthless. You knew it as soon as the 12:30am chatroom
hadn’t shown up as it did when you spoke to Zen and reached the eleventh day,
but had still held out some small hope that maybe you were wrong…
will be at your door in a few hours, then. Time to get ready for the reset.
This Arabic workbook you’ve been studying from isn’t that great; you should get
a different one next time. There’s no need to buy the TOEIC practice books over
again… but you should probably get that English-to-Arabic dictionary again on
the next loop. It’s been helping you keep up with your English while you study
I’ve got drunk Drarry on my brain, and I don’t quite know what to do with it.
Here’s what I’m thinking: Draco has seen Harry drunk twice in his life. Once, during fifth year, in the midst of the Ministry’s play for Hogwarts. The second time, it’s at The Leaky Cauldron a year after Voldemort’s finally gone forever.
They start coming across each other more and more frequently, usually out, almost always at a pub of some sort or another.
Apparently the Weasley and Blaise are subscribed to the same gastro mag that publishes weekly articles on the best wizarding pubs and clubs (he keeps it to himself, because while the thought of watching Blaise blowing his top off over having any similarities with Weasley is hilarious, he’s saving it for when he really needs it).
They keep running into each other, and despite them being in a house of alcohol–despite watching Potter sling back lager after lager–he has yet to see him drunk outside of those two events. Draco doesn’t get it. Does Potter have some sort of Drunk Me Not spell in his arsenal? Is he impervious to the effects of ethanol? Is his tolerance level so high that he can outdrink even Hagrid?
Once, Draco tries to match his drink with Potter’s all night, and when he stands up to head to the bog, the world sloshes around him and his head is light and spinning, and his legs don’t seem quite as sturdy as he would like them to be. He’s well and truly drunk, but Potter doesn’t even look affected, and that’s unacceptable. Instead of going to the lavatory, his legs take him straight up to Potter, where he very drunkenly and mostly incoherently accuses him of being a cheat, and warns him that he’ll learn his secret if it’s the last thing he does, and promptly vomits all over Potter’s shirt.
Harry sighs, and tells the bar Draco’s done, and that he’s making sure he gets home safe. Ron, already three sheets to the wind, mutters some very explicit things about that not being all Harry wants to do.
Of course, Harry has no idea where Draco’s living these days, and as Draco is of exactly no help in this department (he presses his face against Harry’s neck and passes out like the uncooperative bugger he is), Harry makes an executive decision and ends up taking him home with the intention of forcing a glass of water down his throat and putting him to bed.
He would, if Draco wasn’t some kind of constrictor and refused to let Harry go when he tries to tuck him under the sheets and fuck off to his own room and shower. So. This is the grand lead-up to Draco prying his eyelids apart the next morning, face smooshed against, to his growing horror, Harry’s very naked chest.
It’s not like he can even blame Potter for being the secret cuddler and accosting him, because it’s very, very apparent that Draco is the one to have rolled Harry over to the very precipice of the bed where Potter wouldn’t have been able to escape him except to topple over the side, and somehow, wormed himself into Potter’s embrace.
He doesn’t even get the dignity of trying to extract himself stealthily, because Potter’s blinking blearily down at him, cocking an eyebrow as if to say “your move, mate”.
Except, he doesn’t say that. What does say is, “So, you said want to find out my secret.”
As Draco recalls, yes, he did say that, and groans in embarrassment at himself. Christ, it’s like fifth year all over again. All he can do is try to save face, so he says, “It was all part of the plan, you see. I’ve got you exactly where I want you”, and prays to whatever beings that be that Harry can’t see through the flimsy excuse.
This is, of course, barmy, and Potter’s eyebrow inches higher. Then, he’s craning his neck so his mouth is alongside Draco’s ear, and he says right into the shell of it, “And what if I’ve got you right where I want you?”
And Draco… well. Draco doesn’t quite know what to do about that, but he’s got some idea where to start.
Could I have a scenario where the Ja'far collapses from overworking himself and his s/o has to take care of until he's well again. (Fluffy if the scenario is possible)
Ja’far woke up disoriented. If he had to guess where he was based on his surroundings, he would have to answer a cloud–surrounded in over-fluffed pillows. On further examination, the ceiling tiles resembled those of the Palace, and the smell of the blanket wrapped tightly around him resembled his s/o.
He was in his room, he finally concluded after much deduction. He could have figured that out faster, but his head felt foggy. Still, he began to roll onto his side, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed with much effort. His body was fighting him, as was the mountain of pillows around him. But before his feet could even touch the ground, Ja’far’s s/o was by his side, scolding him for trying to leave bed.
They explained to him what happened–he was working too hard; he hadn’t eaten enough; he collapsed. Lucky for him, there was palace staff close on hand who quickly got help. This help was now watching over Ja’far hyper-vigilantly and refused to let him out of bed for (gasp!) an entire day.
Ja’far’s jaw nearly dropped when they announced this. An entire day, he would ask incredulously. They nodded grimly, trying to hide a self-pleased smile. Pulling Ja’far’s legs back onto the bed, his s/o pushed him into a reclined position. Not far from the bed, the smell of comfort food watched towards Ja’far’s nose and his stomach gurgled with anticipation.
Clearly, Ja’far’s body knew what Ja’far needed better than he did. His s/o followed it’s lead. They brought over a small bowl of food, starting Ja’far off small to not overwhelm his stomach. Ja’far grumbled, complaining that he needed to attend to his duties, but his s/o would’t have that.
“Drakkon and Hinahoho have agreed to see to your tasks for the day, or don’t you trust them to do a good job?” His s/o asked him, leadingly.
“A day without work…” Ja’far muttered under his breath.
“A medical necessity” His s/o replied with a nod.
“And you’ll stay here” He asked warming up to the idea.
“Of course, I am your caretaker until you are back to full health.”
Taking a bite of his food, Ja’far though over his situation once more. In bed all day, no work to do, and his s/o to keep him company.
I feel like Natasha would have a huge problem with Tony recruiting Peter. Sure, he was taken out of the fight because he could really get himself hurt, but he didn’t even know what he was up against - see his surprise at Bucky’s metal arm.
She knows what it’s like to be a child soldier and to be manipulated into fighting in conflicts she wasn’t equipped for. Peter was given a choice, but Tony basically shanghaied him into the fight - I mean, would you say no if fucking Iron Man showed up at your door? Nah. (I also imagine a scene after the fight where Natasha slams Tony up against a wall and hisses “You are not pulling that kid into our world again” and Tony doesn’t argue because he likes living, thanks)
I feel like she keeps an eye on him and makes sure he’s doing okay. Not just in fights, but in school. Peter starts taking Russian as his language elective and Natasha sneaks in through his window to help him study. They also work on hand to hand combat, but mostly Russian verb conjugations.
Eventually, Natasha is over so often that Aunt May begins setting a place for her at the table, and May sleeps better at night knowing that the scariest woman in the world is keeping an eye out for her nephew
so yeah i’ve not kept up with posting all the rest of my perlers but i made about a million Undertale perlers over the past couple months and i thought that was Pretty Important (don’t mind the unrelated mario squids)
genre: smut, little angst in the end but it’s not major
warnings: swearing, wet dreams, D/s dynamics, dirty talk, slight size kink, blowjobs, little rimming, virginity, begging, slight praising (holy jesus i’m a mess)
word count: 2982 (whoops)
a/n: huge giant thank you to holly for being the best beta ever and giving me motivation *cough cough* i honestly love her so much <3 i hope you guys like it bc this was interesting to write and yes okay bye enjoy the fic :)
Rating: T(Trigger warnings: Major character death (but without the major character actually dying, I promise!))
Crossover source: I Everlarked Captain America: The Winter Soldier because I have a Bucky problem so severe that I thought putting hijacked!Peeta in his shoes would be okay. (It really isn’t okay. But it’s written, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)
Disclaimer: I used a few lines from both Mockingjay and CA:TWS. Endless gratitude to Suzanne Collins and the Russo brothers for being creative masterminds. Endless gratitude to @papofglencoe as well for being a proofreading goddess, or just a goddess in general. Also, a part two isn’t out of the question, because while I’m terrified of adding another WiP to my queue, my penchant for making huge writing commitments might prevail. Whoops.
After the transmission cut out and everyone in Thirteen scurried to the bunkers, Katniss knew Peeta was a dead man. He’d just warned them of incoming bombers with the claws of Snow’s disciples only feet from his throat, ready to sink in. He didn’t stand a chance. Her own throat was scraped raw as she screamed in tune to the sound of explosions overhead, and she could feel those claws, too, as if they were ripping both her and Peeta apart.
“Prim,” she whimpered as her sister pressed that demonic cat to her chest and hugged her tight, “They’ll kill him. They’re going to kill him.”
“You don’t know that,” Prim said.
But when it came to Peeta, there were some things Katniss just knew. Not only things like how he took no sugar in his tea and double-knotted his shoelaces, but also things like how he’d drum his fingers against his thigh to the rhythm of the Valley Song when daydreaming, and how he baked more sourdough bread when his spirits were lifted and more focaccia when they were down, and how his heart did funky things when she said his name out loud.