#Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

[apicelladonna]

Peak tragic old yaoi right here to be by the window and pining for your ex husband.

[overheard-at-hogwarts]

Grindelwald: You're gay, right? ...I mean, like, openly gay? Dumbledore: Uh, I'm not "openly" anything, and "gay" doesn't begin to cover it.

[cherry-pop-elf]

My Roommate Is A Wiz With Animals

Newt x Muggle!Reader

SUM: You were returning home from work, when you stumbled across the strangest little animal. You couldn’t just abandon them. Even tho they are kinda funky. Animals deserve love and shelter, and that seems to win you quite the lost and found reward

Warnings: So much dang fluff, animal smuggling, Teddy shenanigans, Newt accidentally being really good at manipulation, reader is naive enough for plot purposes, MIGHT be a multi part series. Might…..Ok it will be shoosh

“Ugh I swear those shifts are getting longer and longer.” You would groan with your neck rolling around. Just trying to get your joints stretched. Was rather late in the evening. You had to cover for someone. Curse you for actually being a good human and helping someone out! Eh over time is over time at least.

You were still a bit nervous to head home so late. The sun was setting, and it casted the New York sky scrapers were casting such eerie shadows across the world. There was a beauty in it, but also it’s terrifying. Terrifying to be out late in the city night.

Had you picking up the pace.

As you tried to hurry home, before the street lights kicked on, you would hear the trash cans banging together. Made your heart stop, as you instinctively turned to look at the noise.

Didn’t seem like a person at least, so that gave you some calm. Still, could be a wild dog. Not that you hated dogs or anything, but street dogs are built to survive the streets for a reason.

You couldn’t help but stare, and wait, to see what would come out. Maybe it’s a kitten? A puppy? Ok now that you were cycling through the concept of a poor lost animal in the streets of the city that never sleeps had your heart ache.

Call you dumb, but you went to peak.

Was met with quite a surprise.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were looking at. It was some weird looking platypus mixed with a mole. Maybe it’s a sister species to platypi? It’s not unheard of that the rich and powerful have exotic animals. That there’s a black market for them. Maybe this poor baby escaped.

“You poor thing. New York and scraps isn’t meant for you.” You would Cooe at it, as the little creature looked up at you. Looking scared honestly. Would even reach its little arms out to you. How that made your heart explode from the utter cuteness.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. Come here baby.” You would lift up the strange creature, and opened your jacket to tuck them closer to your chest. Help them warm up from the cold streets.

They would snuggle into your chest, as they felt a little safer. Grabbed at your top even. Didn’t want to end up back to the streets again. Like hell you would.

With a baby to take care of you made your quick walk into a proper jog. A rather good motivation to help you speed up on your way home. You had a tiny little thing to care for. One that needed a bath and some food. Shit, what would it eat? Maybe you’ll leave a variety of foods out and whatever they go for first could be what they like? You’ll worry about it later. Now was to get home.

Into the apartment complex you went, up the elevator, and you were home. Made sure all your locks on your door were clicked, and you would soon drop your things off.

“You poor thing. Let’s get you cleaned up, and feed you. How’s that sound?” You swore they were nodding at you. Seeming to comprehend what you were telling them very well. Maybe it’s an exotic pet thing? Or you are tired. Probably tired.

Into the bathroom you went. You ran a warm bath for them, and kept it shallow. Didn’t quite know what to do, so you just set them down in the warm water. Didn’t really have animal safe soap, so just water and a rag will do.

Have the cutest little noises at the gentle scrubs. Poor thing was filthy. Must have been on the streets for a while. Broke your heart. Such a brave little solider. Able to handle out there for as long as they did.

“Let’s dry you off and feed you.” You would lift the little thing up, and made sure they got nice and dry. Get all that grime off them. Certainly seemed alot happier now, so you guess you did a really good job.

Once you stepped out of the bathroom you heard knocking at your door. Who’s going to be contacting you this late? Let alone you in general? Had you cautious. You first found a strange animal, and now someone was knocking at your door? That didn’t equal good.

“Don’t make a noise. I’ll be right back.” You whispered, as you quickly took them to your room. Plopped right on your bed, and you closed the door.

You would wrap yourself in a bath robe, since you had changed into your sleep wear, and peeped through the peep hole.

The sight sure was strange.

There on the other side had to be the embodiment of sunshine. Had this curious attire of blue and browns, a suit case in one hand, and a stick in the other? Why does this fluffy haired guy have a stick with him? Maybe you just couldn’t see properly from the peep hole.

“Who’s at the door?!” You called, and you watched those big sparkling eyes light up. Excited that someone was home.

“Ah yes! Uh you don’t know me but you have something of mine! A sweet little thing. His name is Teddy! He’s mine. My Ni-Uh. Mine. Just mine!” He called back, as you were confused. How did he know you had something?

“One moment!” You figured you would see if he was right. You would quickly return to your bedroom, seeing the animal still on your bed, and called out.

“Come here Teddy-!”

And like that he was running right over you. Quick to jump into your arms.

Ok, maybe this guy had some truth. Still, you had questions.

You would return to the door, only to see that all the locks on the door were undone. Had you so horribly confused. There was a number of locks in a variety of styles there. No way you forgot to lock them all. Could you?

That’s when the door opened, and the man stepped in. The way Teddy seemed to squeak for the strangers attention. Hands reaching out like a toddler who wanted their mother. Was just so human. Seemed like Teddy really loved this stranger.

So, you didn’t refuse.

“OH TEDDY I WAS SO WORRIED-!” He sounded ready to sob, as he held Teddy close. Tears in the corner of his eyes as Teddy held the man’s face. Giving his cheek plenty of Nuzzles.

“You seem suspiciously clean for running around out there. Did you wash him? Did you take care of him-?” He spoke with such enthusiasm. Was like he might burst into confetti.

“Uh yeah. I just saw him hiding by some trash cans and I just couldn’t leave him behind. He wasn’t aggressive in the slightest either. Poor Teddy was cold, and just alone. I was actually about to try and feed him even.”

You were soon yanked into a rather tight hug. Felt like he might squeeze you lifeless. Teddy made sure to crawl over his daddy’s shoulder to avoid being crushed. Just snuggled away into his neck. Happy to be back.

“Oh you are truly a gift. Oh I don’t know how I can ever repay such kindness and warmth you’ve given him. Oh he’s my everything really. He gets into trouble often, sure, but he’s mine.” He explained, before finally letting you go. Little cheek kisses were given from Teddy, and the man would happily nuzzle into them. Was so clear that this wasn’t some poacher or animal smuggler. That made you feel better.

“So uh. Who are you exactly?”

That had his ears a soft pink, and a shy laugh left him.

“Oh blimey. Pardon me. The name is Newt. Newt Scamander. I’m Ma…I uh mean a Zoologist. I travel around the world studying animals, rescuing those that I can, and just loving nature. The pay isn’t that great but it’s worth it.” He would offer you a hand, and you would shake it in return. Telling him your name as well. And your own career.

“So kinda like a nomad. Does that mean you don’t have a place to stay?” You questioned, as he seemed to avoid your eyes for a moment. As if either to embarrassed to admit it, or trying to quickly come up with a lie.

“Well um. You see…I was currently trying to get a room for myself, but someone had to go running off. Can’t really blame him though. He adores shiny things. I should have been more careful. I know he has a weakness to things that shimmer and sparkle. It was all on me.” He would admit, as you had to respect that he was taking accountability.

“I mean. One night can’t hurt, right?” You couldn’t help it. This guy seemed to not be native here in the slightest. Said he’s a world traveler, sure, but it seems he’s not used to a concrete jungle. Wasn’t dressed for it, and sure didn’t seem like he was prepared at all. Did he really just only have that suit case with him? To travel the world? Something seemed….Off.

“Oh no no. You’ve already done so much. You’ve protected my baby. I can’t be asking you more-“ He tried to persuade you away, but your curiosity was to peaked. This guy was weird. Didn’t give any bad vibes kinda weird. Just….So peculiar.

“It’s one night really. You must have been hunting Teddy for hours. You didn’t get a chance to find a room, and it’s super late now. I can’t just throw you into the streets. One night. Just one.” You tried to logically explain, only to get another near back breaking hug.

“Oh I’ll never be able to repay your kindness. Oh your heart is so full. No wonder Teddy trusted you. Teddy has always been a brilliant judge of character. He knew you were a good person. No way would he let a stranger just hold him, let alone wash him. Oh thank you-!” You could feel the tears of relief in your shoulder, and all you could do was rub his back. Letting him breathe.

So that was how you ended up with a stranger living on your couch. Well, can’t say stranger given you knew his name now. Still! Most people would call you insane for doing such a thing.

Maybe you were.

But hey! Insane people have the most fun!

Besides, he’s pretty damn cute. Cute to see him snuggled into the couch, with Teddy under his arm, and his suitcase slid under the couch. Made sure to stay out of sight. You figured it was full of valuable paper work.

Did make you wonder though.

Where the hell did those pajamas he was wearing come from then? Did he just have them in that case and papers?

He was just full of to many questions to ignore.

He’s a stranger, but you just had to learn more.

Learn what made that man tick.

[dovesdreaming]

A home full of magic

Summary: You and newt share a quiet life together after all your adventures. You are both surrounded by magical creatures, tending to them in your cozy home. The life you had built with newt was one full of love, warmth and a dash of magic. This is a snippet into the days you share together.

Masterlist

Warnings: none

-

The sun filtered gently through the curtains of your small, cozy home as you stirred awake, feeling the warmth of the blankets around you and the familiar weight of Newt's arm draped across your waist. The early morning light bathed the room in a soft, golden glow, and for a moment, you simply lay there, enjoying the peacefulness that had become such a cherished part of your life.

You could hear the faint rustling of leaves from the trees outside and the distant chirping of birds, but it was the quiet hum of magic that truly made this place feel like home. It was the sound of creatures stirring in their habitats, of enchanted objects quietly working their spells, and of Newt’s steady breathing beside you, a constant reminder that you were never alone. As if sensing you were awake, Newt shifted slightly, his arm tightening around you in a gentle, unconscious embrace. You smiled to yourself, turning to face him. His eyes were still closed, his hair tousled and falling into his face, making him look even more boyish and endearing. You resisted the urge to brush the strands aside, not wanting to disturb his sleep. Instead, you took a moment to simply watch him, your heart swelling with love. How had you gotten so lucky? This was a man who had seen the wonders and dangers of the world, who had faced down the most fearsome creatures with bravery and compassion. And yet, here he was, in this quiet moment, looking so serene, so content.

But as much as you loved these peaceful mornings, you knew that the creatures in your care wouldn’t wait forever. So, with a soft sigh, you carefully slipped out of Newt’s grasp, trying not to wake him. As you swung your feet to the floor, a soft, curious chirp caught your attention. You turned to see a small Bowtruckle peeking out from the pocket of Newt’s coat, which was draped over a nearby chair. “Good morning, Pickett” you whispered, reaching out to let the little creature crawl onto your hand. He nuzzled your fingers affectionately, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re up early” Newt’s groggy voice mumbled from the bed, and you looked over to see him blinking sleepily at you. “I didn’t mean to wake you” you said apologetically, though your smile widened as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “It’s alright” he replied, his voice still heavy with sleep. He stretched, letting out a contented sigh, before his gaze settled on you with a soft, affectionate smile. “But I’m glad you did”. You couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest at his words. Even after all this time, he still had a way of making your heart flutter with just a look.

“Come on” you said, holding out your hand to him, Pickett still clinging to your fingers. “Let’s check on the creatures before breakfast”. Newt’s eyes lit up at the mention of the creatures, and he was out of bed in an instant, his enthusiasm as boundless as ever. You chuckled at his eagerness, following him as he practically bounded out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the main area of your home, which served as both a living space and a sanctuary for the various magical creatures under your care. The room was filled with the soft glow of morning light, illuminating the various habitats and enclosures scattered around the space. A soft cooing sound greeted you as you entered, and you looked over to see a baby Niffler poking its head out of its nest, its beady eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Good morning, little one” Newt murmured as he approached the Niffler, reaching out to gently scratch behind its ear. The creature leaned into his touch, its tiny nose twitching as it sniffed at the air. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. This was the life you had always dreamed of. One filled with love, magic, and the simple joys of caring for the creatures that you and Newt both adored.

As Newt continued to check on the various creatures, you busied yourself with preparing breakfast, the aroma of fresh bread and eggs filling the air. It wasn’t long before Newt joined you, his cheeks flushed with excitement as he recounted a small breakthrough he’d had with one of the more temperamental creatures. You listened with rapt attention, your heart swelling with affection as he animatedly described the creature’s behavior. Even after all this time, his passion for his work never ceased to amaze you. It was one of the many things you loved about him. His boundless curiosity, his gentle heart, and the way he saw beauty in even the most misunderstood creatures.

After breakfast, the two of you spent the day tending to the creatures together, your movements synchronized from years of working side by side. Whether it was feeding the baby Niffler or gently coaxing a stubborn Mooncalf out of hiding, every task felt like a shared act of love, a bond that grew stronger with each passing day.

As the afternoon sun began to dip low in the sky, casting long shadows across the room, you found yourself sitting on the floor with Newt, your back resting against his as you both enjoyed a moment of quiet. The creatures had been fed, their habitats cleaned, and now they were settling down for the evening, the soft sounds of their contentment filling the air. You felt Newt shift slightly behind you, and a moment later, his hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with your own. You squeezed his hand gently, leaning your head back to rest against his shoulder. “This is nice” you murmured, closing your eyes as you soaked in the warmth of the moment. “Mm” Newt agreed, his voice a soft rumble in your ear. “It really is”.

You sat like that for a while, simply enjoying the feeling of being close to each other. There was no need for words. Everything you wanted to say was conveyed through the simple touch of his hand, the steady beat of his heart against your back. Eventually, as the sky outside began to darken, you reluctantly pulled away, knowing that there were still a few tasks left to complete before the day was done. But as you moved to stand, Newt caught your hand, pulling you back down beside him. “Stay” he whispered, his eyes soft and earnest as they met yours. You hesitated for only a moment before nodding, a smile tugging at your lips as you settled back down beside him. Newt wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as the two of you watched the stars begin to twinkle in the night sky outside the window. As the first stars appeared, you felt a sense of contentment settle over you, a feeling that you were exactly where you were meant to be. Here, in this little corner of the world, surrounded by magic and love, you had found your home. And as you sat there in Newt’s arms, the warmth of his embrace filling you with a sense of peace, you knew that you wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

This was your happily ever after. An ordinary, magical life with Newt and his creatures. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

Thank you for reading!

[oncasette]

FANGTASIA. send in a character from my guide + one of the prompts below for a drabble!

OK LAST ONE I PROMISE. but you know I had to send in a theseus request so … theseus + "You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!" teehee 😋

'𝗖𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗥𝗘 𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗔 𝗠𝗔𝗡 (𝗜𝗧'𝗦 𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗗𝗢)

theseus scamander x fem!reader

summary: 1.7k

“I can hear you sulking over there. C’mon,” you urge as you watch him out of your periphery. He closed his eyes before he exhaled slowly. Deeply, forcing all of the air out of his lungs in the hopes that his foul mood would exit with it. He didn’t want to be like this. He didn’t want to hate your secretary, to be the possessive guy that never let his partner speak to another man, but it was starting to eat away at him. It was a lot easier to lose you when he didn’t fully have you, yet.

or the one where theseus can't stand your secretary.

warnings: none that i can think of, semi-possessive theseus?

masterlist 

He was just your secretary. That’s what you keep telling yourself. And Theseus. All he does is your filing and allow people entry into your office. And bring you your morning coffee without you needing to ask for it, with the exact amount of cream and sugar you take without you ever having told him in the past. 

Of course, this was just him being excellent at his job, it was why you’d kept him on for so long. There was a quick turnover rate for secretaries at the ministry. A year or two, at most, before they were either fired by their respective bosses or they left to pursue a field they were actually passionate about. But not Richard. No, you’d been working with Richard for the better part of five years. Long before you’d ever met your now boyfriend–if you could even call him that, only having been on a dozen or so dates at this point. Not that the question hadn’t been on the tip of his tongue since the first time you batted your eyelashes at him. 

That didn’t stop Theseus from clenching his jaw every morning when he stopped by to say hello only to find your secretary to have abandoned his post outside your office in favor of holing up in your loveseat and carrying on with whatever annoyingly dull topic of conversation he’d chosen to occupy your time with. It didn’t stop him from rolling his eyes at the way his hand lingered over yours as he dropped off the accounts you needed that afternoon during your lunch break, little more than a glance cast askew at him as he sat beside you. It didn’t stop him from biting his tongue so hard it bled each time you brought Richard up in the evenings when he walked you out of the building.

No, it didn’t matter how long you’d worked with the man. Theseus knew a crush when he saw one. 

“What’s wrong, love? You’ve been tense all day,” you say, gently placing a hand onto his shoulder. He’d been sitting in your office for a little over an hour, his work day having already drawn to a close but you’d had to finish up a last minute assignment your boss had thrown on your desk fifteen minutes before you were supposed to leave. Theseus hadn’t minded waiting.

“Nothing,” he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Richard had been especially irritating that day. He’d barely had five minutes alone with you before you’d forced your secretary to go home once the clock hit six. 

“I can hear you sulking over there. C’mon,” you urge as you watch him out of your periphery. He closed his eyes before he exhaled slowly. Deeply, forcing all of the air out of his lungs in the hopes that his foul mood would exit with it. He didn’t want to be like this. He didn’t want to hate your secretary, to be the possessive guy that never let his partner speak to another man, but it was starting to eat away at him. It was a lot easier to lose you when he didn’t fully have you, yet.

“It’s nothing, lovely. Promise,” he says. At the very least, having this time with you was beginning to dull the headache that had formed earlier in the day. He thinks it started when Richard had once again waltzed into your office during your lunch hour with the hopes of taking you out to the bakery a couple blocks away. 

“Okay,” you drawl, eyebrows drawn together. 

It’s then that Theseus notices the parchment stuck to your desk lamp. It was a charmed doodle, one that poorly illustrated a man with smoke shooting out of his ears sitting at a desk played on a loop. To keep you company while you work - Rich. Of course.

“You ready?” you ask, shuffling around documents and files on your desk to deal with on Monday when you return before grabbing your bag off the ground and slipping your coat on. You circle around the furniture in your office to stand in front of Theseus. He ran a firm hand across his brow bone as he stood to meet you. He leans forward to place a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth as he nods. 

It’s hard to ignore how stiff he’s become.

“Are we still good for dinner at yours tonight?” you ask. 

“Of course,” he hums. He wasn’t going to let this ruin the one of the few evenings a week he got to spend with you. Or, at least, he was going to try to not let it ruin it. 

Once he was sure you’d both collected the remainders of your belongings, he takes your hand in his to apparate the two of you to his flat. Since you weren’t going back to your place, he didn’t feel the need to walk the two of you all the way across the ministry just to disapparate from there. He only did that to spend a couple extra minutes with you, anyway. 

It’s only the second time you’ve been to his place, but the short wave of nausea prevents you from feeling too overwhelmingly nervous about it. You set your bag beside the door before you move to the kitchen to sit and let the urge to vomit begin to dissipate. Theseus smooths a palm over down your arm as he slides up behind you. 

He leans down to whisper in your ear. His nose brushes against your cheek. “Can I get you anything?”

“Maybe a penny…” you trail off.

“A penny?” he huffs amused.

“For your thoughts,” you say.

“I told you it was nothing.”

“Darling, I know something’s wrong. I want to help if I can,” you say, tilting your head back enough to look at his face. He bends again to kiss your forehead. It’s tender, sweet. Nearly domestic. 

“It’s just work stress, I guess,” he says. He wasn’t technically lying. 

“I’m sorry,” you hum, bringing a hand up to smooth across his cheek for a second. “Do you want to talk about it? It might help if you get some of it off your chest.”

“I wouldn’t want to burden you, love,” he says as he begins to move away from your chair. He meanders around the small kitchen as he starts to gather the things he needs to cook dinner. You hardly notice as he charms the cutting board to dice vegetables for him. 

“It wouldn’t be a burden. Richie’s always telling me about the kinds of things that bother him at the office,” you say. Theseus’ jaw clenches. With his suit coat already having been slung across the couch in the living room, he’s quick to roll his button-down sleeves up to his elbows. 

“Fucking Richard,” he mutters. It’s so quiet you almost miss it. Your brows raise. He runs a palm over his jaw, resisting the urge to bite down on one of his fingers. 

“This is about him?”

“What?” he asks as he turns away from you to grab noodles from his pantry. The first time he’d asked about Richard had been harmless. A one-off question at the end of your evening when he’d been walking you back to your flat. A question you’d answered simply. He’s just your secretary. Then he’d asked again. A second and a third time. 

“This. Your… mood. It’s about him, isn’t it?” you ask. You’re attempting to sound understanding, but you know there’s an edge to your tone. He doesn’t elicit an answer. “I thought I told you he wasn’t anything to worry about. He works for me.”

“I know,” he grumbles. 

“Then what’s this about, hm?” you ask, standing from your chair and moving into his space. 

“It’s just.” He’s cracking, slightly. He hates that he’s allowed himself to get affected by something so trivial. “He’s always there.”

“You’ve got yourself in a fit because my secretary comes into my office during work hours?”

“It’s the way he is around you, you know? He’s always around, always touching or trying to touch. You should see the way he looks at you,” he huffs. The box in his hand drops onto the counter suddenly, his hands following as he pushes his weight against them. 

“Thes-” you start. 

“You think I like being like this? You think it’s something I want? To be so angry and aggravated about something that I can’t control? That you can’t control?” he asks. “Everytime he touches you I want to rip his fucking hands off.”

You step behind him, winding your arms around his middle until he’s stood straight again. His hands find yours and interweave between your fingers. 

“It’s not you,” he sighs. “Well, I mean, it is you. I don’t see how there isn’t a single man left in the world not wrapped tight around your finger.”

You press a kiss between his collarbones. He relaxes into your hold. 

“I don’t want Richard,” you say.

“I know.”

“I want you.”

“I want you, too, darling.”

“But I also want you to talk to me,” you say as you urge him to turn to face you with a tap of your fingers against his torso. “I’ll talk to him. I can’t say I haven’t noticed him being a little closer to me than some of the other secretaries have been with their bosses, because I have. So, I’ll talk to him. But, I need you to talk to me, too.”

His forehead falls forward until it’s pressed against yours. 

You continue, “I need you to tell me when stuff like this bothers you. You can’t just be all angry at the world and do nothing about it and expect it all to change. Okay?”

“I can do that,” he hums. 

“Good,” you nod. 

“Good.”

“You also need to remember that I’m a grown-up and I can handle myself, too, right? Just because another man may or may not have his eyes on me doesn’t mean I’m going to go running off into the sunset with him,” you say. A soft laugh rumbles in his chest, his eyes crinkling with a soft smile at the sides. 

“Alright,” he says. 

“Now,” you say. “What’s for dinner?”

[iridecsense]

nepenthe - m.

⊰ 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴                   𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳                       𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 ⊱

             ──── ⋅ ⍤ ⋅⊰⋅∘ 〄 ∘⋅⊱⋅ ⍤ ⋅ ────

⤷ summary: Proceeding the encounter with Grindelwald in Paris, Newt goes seaward on a secret mission for Dumbledore when his ship is caught in a storm...

✧ word count: 4.2k ✧ pairing: newt scamander | siren!reader ✧ genre: romance, slow burn, angst, adventure ✧ warnings: depictions of death and trauma ✧ author’s note:  New chapter whooo! You're finally in it! Feel free to comment or send me feedback via my ask box, I love hearing from you all. That being said, I hope you enjoy!

             ──── ⋅ ⍤ ⋅⊰⋅∘ 〄 ∘⋅⊱⋅ ⍤ ⋅ ────

If he had to guess, Newt would say drowning is possibly the worst way to die. Granted, he hadn’t had much experience with dying. He’d had close calls, to be sure. He’s stared down the jowls and talons of many beasts in his lifetime and felt the quickening of his heart inside his chest. He’s felt the pain of teeth sinking into his skin, claws slicing at his flesh, and venoms burning through his nervous system. But a near death experience, he realized, is something he never truly ventured. That is, until now. 

With new knowledge found, he’d prefer the killing toxins of a nundu, the quick burn of dragonfyre, the fangs of an acromantula, or the eyes of a basilisk. Now, even the instant death of the killing curse seemed a mercy. Anything else would be a sweeter fate than the constant, petty, futile fight for air. Drowning is slow. That’s the issue of it. After a while, you catch yourself thinking, ‘When is it going to end?’  It gives you time to beg for death. To yearn it. To embrace it with gospel like praise. 

Drowning is the silent, sadomasochistic master of death, relishing in the domination of its suffering slave. It watches as you strangle yourself, doing everything you can to keep air in your lungs. Your own body betrays you, convulsing, trying its hardest to save you, but simultaneously killing you in its instinctual attempts to get oxygen back into your body. You feel it all. Water rushing down your throat and into your lungs. The spasming coughs that mean to expel it all out but only incite more gulps—in through your nose, your mouth, even your ears—you begin to fill up full of the stuff. Everything suddenly feels so tight, as if you’ll explode. It’s excruciating. All the while, you’re still fighting to swim up, to break your head through the surface and take that painful but liberating breath of air. It isn’t until the cells in your brain start to die that you feel a sense of peace. You stop struggling. You lose consciousness. Suddenly, there is no pain, and you feel glad…ecstatic even, because the whole affair is over. You can die now.  

The only thing worse than drowning was, perhaps, the surviving of it. A sharp, painful breath is what woke Newt from his death-like slumber. It was a feeling akin to a thousand needles poking his lungs and chest from the inside out. Water sputtered from his mouth, and he turned on his side to reject the contents of his stomach: salt water, algae, and stomach acid. The regurgitated seawater burned his already raw throat and nose. Tears spilled from his eyes from all the varying sensations of pain: from his swollen throat, his bruised lungs, and fractured bones, to the ringing in his head, and his clogged eardrums. Newt’s fingers ran over the earth beneath him. Rocks. Hard, wet rocks and pebbled sand slipped between his slender digits. Blinding light scorched his mossy irises as he pried back his heavy eyelids. 

It took several blinks and more effort than he expected to keep his eyes open and focused. All around him, there were rocks—thousands of them, weathered and worn, stretching toward towering, jagged stone formations that enclosed the shoreline. Above, the sky was a vast, cloudless blue. Waves crashed against his legs and lower back, drenching him.

His body felt heavy as lead. Each attempt he made at moving was harder than the last. He writhed about for a while, pain shooting up his sides and shoulder. The rocks beneath him dug into his flesh, grinding against his torso and knees as he managed to crawl forward a couple feet onto dryer rock. The pathetic act summoned an intense ringing in his ears and a throbbing ache at his temples. His frustrated groans ebbed into wheezing breaths, and tears welled in his eyes. It even hurt to cry. He felt humbled in this moment. Infantile. Like a newborn—unable to stand, unable to walk—easily overwhelmed and frustrated by the limpness of its body and the uncomfortable awareness that, despite being content in a floating edge of nothingness, it is now forced to live and breathe as a sentient being in an unfathomable world. Thus, amidst his solemn mournful cries, he had the fleeting surmise that he did indeed die in those waters, and, like the phoenix, was resurrected—reborn as something else. Someone different. Of one thing he was for certain: whatever pulled him from the sea did not save the same man who fell into it. 

“Newt!”

Distant, muffled, calls of his name sent a wave of relief washing over his catatonic frame. Newt closed his eyes in silent gratitude, blinking away more tears that slipped over the bridge of his nose and the swell of his freckled cheeks. 

“Newt!” Jacob’s desperate drawl drew in closer. 

Newt wanted to yell back, to call Jacob to him, but when he opened his mouth to speak, only a weak, gravelly, aspirated garble came out. The act alone strained his throat, and he winced at the foul ache. He could just make out the sound of heavy footsteps, thumping and shifting loose sediment. 

“Newt!” Their pace quickened, heading straight for him. Jacob called Newt’s name in beholden affection as he dropped to his side and pulled him into his lap. 

“Hey, buddy. Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay,” Jacob coddled, as though saying it multiple times would somehow make it true. 

Jacob propped Newt up, tightly holding onto his arm. The act caused another wave of nausea, and Newt spewed more seawater from his stomach. He went into another violent coughing fit, and in an attempt to help and ease his overworking lungs, Jacob slapped Newt’s bruised and battered back with a firm hand. Newt recoiled from Jacob’s touch, and his face scrunched in pain. His raspy yell sent Jacob’s hand flying high above his head. 

“What—what, did that hurt?” Jacob nervously sputtered. 

Newt motioned weakly for Jacob to lift up his shirt, and he obliged. Carefully, Jacob unclipped Newt’s suspenders and pulled up his dress shirt and undershirt that were still tightly tucked into his trousers to reveal his bare back. 

“Oh my God…” The woeful expression escaped Jacob’s mouth before he could stop it. 

The expanse of Newt’s back was covered in fresh violet bruises in varying shades. The greater portion of it was on his left side, encompassing his ribs. It spread to his spine and crossed to his right shoulder blade. Jacob pulled Newt’s shirt back down. 

“I don’t know what to do,” muttered Jacob. He sat for a moment, intently looking over Newt, who was still composing himself. Then, his face lit up, and he looked at the briefcase sitting a foot away on his left. “I got your case!” 

He grabbed the case and set it up in front of Newt. “I held on tight to this baby the whole night. Your seahorse brought me here—he’s in there, too! I made sure to get him back in. You got stuff in here, don’t ya? Magic stuff that’ll fix you up?” Newt nodded weakly. “I knew it,” Jacob clapped. “C’mon, let’s get you up.” 

Jacob hooked an arm around Newt’s waist and pulled him up to his feet. He lifted Newt with surprising ease, despite him being nearly dead weight. Jacob was strong enough to keep him stable as they stepped down the case. What would usually be a ladder had become a set of rickety stairs. The magic of Newt’s case never ceased to amaze. Once inside, Jacob sat Newt on the cot. He looked around the shed, still in disarray from the events of the night before.

“Alright, uh…” He turned to the work bench, recalling the many times Newt had pulled mysterious herbs, vials, and salves from it to heal any ailments he had. “There’s gotta be something in here, right?” He looked at Newt. 

Newt was using his left hand to unbutton his shirt. Shrugging it off his shoulders, he looked up at Jacob and then his workbench. He gestured to a drawer that was slightly ajar. Jacob followed his gaze and opened it. Inside was a notebook, some empty vials, and a skeletal-looking bottle. Jacob frowned and held the bottle up for Newt. Newt held his hand out to take it. He placed the bottle between his legs and used his left hand to pull the top off. A foul stench permeated from the bottle, and Newt hesitated bringing it to his mouth. With a quick swig, he drank the rancid potion, letting it burn his already sore throat on its way down.

It didn’t take long for him to feel it take effect. Particularly, he felt the effect in his chest and ribs. Whatever fractures or breaks he had would be healed by morning, though he would not enjoy the process. It was a consistent scraping feeling under his skin, which grew more irritating and painful the more he focused on it. He handed the Skele-Gro bottle back to Jacob for him to put away. He looked at his right shoulder to see the protruding bone poking at his skin. Newt had dislocated his shoulder before when a graphorn hand bunted him several feet onto hard ground. He knew a spell to set it back in place—but his wand. He was missing his wand. 

The faint memory of his wand sinking into the depths of the sea crossed his mind, and an aching feeling bubbled in his stomach and chest. A wizard’s wand is an extension of his self, and though wands could break and change allegiance, and new wands could be acquired, losing your wand felt similar to losing a limb. Without it, he was virtually powerless. A spell was of no use to him now. Newt never wished he had the talent for wandless magic more than he did in this moment. It would make what he was about to do much easier.

Straightening his back, Newt carefully raised his dislocated arm and outstretched it in front of him. He breathed deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying not to focus on the pain. With his other hand, he grabbed his wrist tight. Jacob watched him closely, his face screwed up in a tight grimace. In one swift motion, Newt gave a sharp tug to his dislocated shoulder. A disgusting popping sound grated against Jacob’s ears as he watched Newt’s shoulder twist and pop back into place. Newt’s jaw clenched, and he tucked his right arm into his chest, doubling over from the sudden adjustment. 

“Jeez...” Jacob sighed and moved to sit by Newt’s side. Taking Newt’s dress shirt, Jacob fashioned a makeshift sling, tying the sleeves together over Newt’s left shoulder and nestling his arm inside its hammock. 

“Thank you, Jacob,” Newt’s gravely voice managed to push out. 

“Don’t thank me,” Jacob dismissed. “I should be thanking you. You saved my life.”

The right corner of Newt’s lips twitched upwards into a timid ghost of a smirk. “Well, actually, it was the kelpie.”

“Newt,” Jacob cuts in, serious. Newt faltered as he met Jacob’s woeful eyes. 

“I thought you died,” He frets. “I watched the ship split in half. It went up in flames—and the screams. So many people…I should have stayed with you, I should’ve helped!”

Newt shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t have that.”

“But I could have—“

“There is nothing you could have done,” Newt tried to comfort. “We were outnumbered.”

The air between them grew heavy as unwelcome memories of the night resurfaced. Jacob sighed and muttered a small habitual prayer for lives lost. Newt, upon finding the strength, sat up and walked to his workbench. His foot stepped on something fragile—glass—and it broke under his weight. Lifting his foot, he looked down and saw the cracked portrait of Leta smiling up at him. He carefully bent down and picked up the broken picture frame. He put it flat on the workbench to deal with later. He winced when a particular sharp pain shot up his ribcage, tightly gripping the edge of the bench counter. 

“Maybe you should lie down,” Jacob suggested. 

Newt shook his head. “No. The faster we get to the seer, the better.” He took a vial of green liquid from a rack and downed it like a shot of fire whiskey. His pains subsided quickly, much of it numbing while more severe pains dulled to a manageable ache. He told Jacob they would leave the case once he checked on all his creatures, ensuring each one wasn’t hurt, especially the kelpie. Jacob, deciding it was useless to argue, nodded and stayed in the shack while Newt gathered a pail and his wand on his way out. 

                                     ⁎ ⊹                                   ⁂ ˚ ✧ ⁂                                     ⊹ ＊ 

Much to Newt’s relief, most of his creatures weren’t harmed. Some were more anxious than usual, others seemed completely unbothered. Some enclosures were in disarray, but Newt manually repaired them to the best of his ability. The kelpie seemed happy to see him when he walked to the edge of its enclosure. It had sustained some minor injuries but nothing worth causing worry. After ensuring each creature was fed and cared for, Newt returned to Jacob in the shack. When he entered, a once-sleeping Jacob startled awake.

“Sorry,” Newt croaked out. 

Every time Newt spoke, Jacob had to keep himself from cringing. The gravelly nature of his voice sounded painful, and he couldn’t help but sympathize. He cleared his throat and sat up in the cot, explaining that he wasn’t asleep, only resting his eyes. Newt fished around inside a nearby cupboard for clean, non-seasoaked clothes. He tossed some to Jacob, who had lost his suitcase to the sea. 

“Uh, I don’t think these’ll fit,” said Jacob. 

“They will,” Newt assured, picking an outfit for himself. 

As they dressed, Jacob marveled at how the clothes Newt had shared with him slipped over his larger frame with ease, adjusting to his size. Newt stared at himself in the mirror attached to the cupboard door. He stood half-naked, intently taking in the strange reflection. His slender frame was painted black, purple, blue, and yellow-green. His hollowed eyes stared emotionless back at him, accompanied by dark grey circles. Any warm color that had given his skin a healthy, youthful glow had disappeared, and he looked almost ghoulish. Newt looked away from the mirror and continued to clothe himself in a simple white quarter-sleeve cotton shirt with a deep open collar. He wore brown slacks attached to matching suspenders. He found a long sliver of blue fabric on a shelf, perhaps an underused cravat he forgot about. It worked well enough to fashion into a sling.

Once finished, he turned to Jacob. “Ready?”

Jacob finished tucking his tie and nodded. Wordlessly, they both stalked up the case stairs and opened the hatch. Again, they stepped back onto the beach. It was late afternoon, from what Newt could tell by the sky. The tide had begun rolling in, and the edge of the sea was much closer than it once was. Turning his back to the sea, Newt studied the surrounding land. Rocky and steep, the beach they stood on was a cove sloping beneath a vegetated mountainside. A direct path etched upward to the mountaintop. There seemed to be no visible signs of human life, which silently worried Newt. The cooling sea breeze rippled his shirt and caressed his hot skin. 

“We should walk up to the top of the mountain,” said Newt. Jacob looked up the steep mountainside and deflated. The Mediterranean summer sun already had sweat beading at his hairline; a hike up a rocky mountain was a dreadful thought. 

“If we’re lucky, we will find a village or someone to give us directions,” Newt continued as he collected his case. 

“Luck and us ain’t exactly friends, though, are we?” Jacob grumbled aside. 

“Perhaps not.”

Jacob looked out to the sea. From where he stood, he found it hard to believe the enticing, calm, blue waters in front of him were the same waters he watched swallow a steamboat full of people. “You don’t think they’ll be coming after us again?” He frowned. 

Newt thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. Not for a while, at least. For now, they have every right to believe we’re dead. Though I’m sure once they realize we are not, they’ll be back for the relic.”

“What relic?” Jacob asked. 

“I don’t know. But clearly it is something they do not want me to have—something they don’t want Dumbledore to have. Inevitably, I must have it, whatever it is.” Newt turned to Jacob almost excitedly. “He reacted too quickly. He must have had a vision of me with this relic and got scared.”

Jacob scoffed. “Grindelwald scared?”

“That’s the only explanation that makes sense. Whatever relic Grindelwald thinks I have must be a threat. Why else would he prematurely send his acolytes? This seer Dumbledore is bread-crumbing us to must know something about it.” 

“I guess so. I just don’t understand why Dumbledore couldn’t tell you straight out—JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?”

The men’s eyes set upon the half-submerged figure bobbing far out in the water. The sun hung low behind it, covering its face in shadow, but it was unmistakable by the soft slope of its neck and shoulders and the outline of long, wet hair, that it was a woman. 

“Could she be a survivor?” Jacob wondered. “HELLO! MISS ARE YOU OKAY?” 

The woman’s figure stayed silent and still, aside from the periodic rise and fall of waves rolling into her. Jacob continued calling out to her, hoping to get a response. Newt, however, only stared, brows slightly furrowed. He couldn’t see their features, and yet, he could feel it: the unmistakable bore of eyes on him. It was unnerving. A shiver tickled down his neck and spine, and his heart skipped every other beat. 

“Jacob,” said Newt distantly. Jacob stopped calling out and turned to Newt, whose eyes were fixed on the bobbing woman, as if in a trance. “She’s not a survivor.”

Jacob looked back to the strange figure in the sea. He frowned, eyes squinting to get a better look. Newt stepped closer to the shoreline, and almost in tandem, the shadowy woman swam backward. Newt stopped immediately, not wanting to scare her off. He thought he imagined it. That it was one last hallucination before his consciousness slipped away. It was shameful how easily he accepted such a lame excuse. He never gave it a second thought until now. The feeling of arms hooking underneath his and pulling him through the water. The faint shimmering detail of a large iridescent fish tail swishing between his limp legs. It had been real. Not often is Newt astonished by the many inexplicable wonders of the world, having traversed it well, but this was something so entirely mystical, something so intangible, he felt weightless and overcome. 

Newt slowly and gently placed his case on the ground. Using the tactics he often utilized with beasts, he held up his unbound hand in a non-threatening manner and crouched his large frame to appear smaller and less threatening. “I mean no harm,” he called out to her. Jacob watched his friend curiously but kept from interrupting. He, too, mimicked Newt’s behavior and bent over in a crouched manner. 

The figure stared at them for a moment longer, silently wading in the water. “Lower your head,” Newt instructed his friend beside him. Nodding, Jacob bowed his head along with Newt, staring at the rocky shore beneath them. The tide inched closer to the tips of their shoes as waves crashed over the slippery rocks. They silently waited—for what, they were unsure, but they stayed crouched over for so long their leg and core muscles stared to burn. Newt stayed hovering, unyielding despite the increasing burning pain and soreness of his injuries. Only the sound of wind and sea lapping at the shore and nearby rock accompanied the occasional seagull squawk. 

“How long we gotta stand here like this?” Jacob strained after a while. 

A sinking feeling rose in Newt’s chest. Was she still there bobbing in the waves? Did she swim away when they weren’t looking? The thought grieved him. Slowly, Newt lifted his head, expecting to see nothing but empty, open sea. His soft, sudden gasp caused Jacob to finally lift his head. When he did, he yelped, jumping and falling back hard onto the hard ground. He stared wordlessly in disbelief and fear, whereas Newt stood firm, still bowed before the daunting figure before them. 

Less than a foot in front of them, laid upon the rocks of the shallow sea edge, was a beautiful woman with long, drenched locks that hung around her face and stuck to her glistening skin. She had the most tantalizing eyes, decorated with long, thick lashes that watched them with both child-like curiosity and wary uncertainty. Her focus seemed to predominately be on Newt, who was now the closest to her. She was naked. Her bare breasts were partially covered by her hair. The most striking detail of her was not her beauty, nor her apparent nakedness, but rather the fact that instead of bare hips, legs, and feet, she possessed a thick, lengthy, fish-like tail. The unblemished skin of her back and waist seamlessly transitioned into milky-white scales. Along the backside of her tail were spiked anterior and posterior dorsal fins and finlets. At her hips, flowing pectoral fins, and at her tail’s end, a large, matching, biconcave, lunate fluke. In the sun, her scales shimmered hues of purple, green, orange, and blue, like an iridescent pearl. She was, for a lack of better words, stunning. 

Her eyes locked with Newt’s, unrelenting in their piercing gaze. He could feel himself growing nervous, almost bashful. Her neatly kept brows knit closer together as she tilted her head to the side, seemingly studying him as he was studying her. 

“Can you speak?” He asked softly, so as to not startle her. 

She stared blankly at him with no hint of understanding. Newt hesitated, then took a cautious step forward. The moment he moved, she recoiled, pushing herself further into the water. “I’m sorry!” Newt blurted out, freezing in place. 

The magnificent creature stilled, and her eyes locked on him. She was practically predicting his every move. Wordlessly, she clutched something at her chest. Newt hadn’t noticed it before, but around her torso was a woven work of kelp and an old fishing net. After giving one last look, she broke their gaze to look down at her side where the strap of her intwined kelp and net turned into a deep pocket. It functioned exactly like a satchel, and from it, she pulled out a wooden square picture frame and placed it at his feet. Tina. 

His eyes flew up to see her eyeing him expectingly. Without a word, she reached into the satchel again and pulled out a long, pointed stick, placing it beside Tina’s picture. His wand. She found his wand! Newt’s heart jumped excitedly in his chest. A wave of gratitude rushed over him, easing the sinking feeling he felt in the pit of his stomach. When he met the creature's eyes, his words escaped him. Such a radiant creature should not exist, and yet, there she was, staring doe-eyed and querying. 

Every detail of her fascinated and beguiled, as is the nature of such an entity. He found himself savoring the image of her, from the arch of her brow to the curve of her lips. The way her hair framed her face and how the shadows contoured her cheekbones. He scanned the whole of her, committing to her memory. His gaze glossed over the curve of her shoulders, noting the smoothness of her skin, when he noticed the one and only blemish that scathed the crook of her neck and left shoulder. Burns, by the look of them. The exposed pink of her flesh and blisters that presumably continued to her shoulder were undoubtedly painful, though she showed no signs of it. Without a second thought, Newt reached his hand to push her hair out of the way so he could examine it further, but the moment his fingertips brushed her lustrous locks, she reeled back into the sea. 

“Wait! I’m sorry!” He called after her, but she moved with such agility and speed; she was already diving her head back under the water. Her tail flicked over the surface until she reached deeper waters; her shining, shimmering tail flapped one last time before disappearing beneath the waves. 

The two men left ashore remained dumbfounded, staring distantly at the open waters. Jacob, who hadn’t dared to speak from the moment the creature crawled onto shore, was the one to break their awestricken silence. 

“You saw what I saw, right?”

Newt nodded. “Yes,” he said faintly.

A sudden exclaiming laugh burst from Jacob that quickly turned into a joyous fit of laughter. “I can’t believe it!” He shouted as he stumbled to his feet. “That was amazing! Did you see her? She was beautiful, oh my god! Newt, did we really just see a—”

“A siren.” Newt’s eyes stared longingly at the sea, the lilt of pure astonishment inflecting his tone. “She’s a siren.”

[wisteria-lodge]

I've seen a theory floating around that the Fantastic Beasts film was repurposed from a scrapped Doctor Who movie script and I was curious for your take.

In the early 2010s, there were plans for a Doctor Who film to expand the franchise, offering a fresh entry point new fans with focuse on courting an American audience. David Yates was in talks to direct or produce, and the Eleventh Doctor’s planned encounter with the Master was saved for the movie. However, the project fell apart due to Matt Smith’s early departure, Steven Moffat’s workload (Doctor Who, Sherlock, & Tintin), and declining interest from the BBC. Instead, Doctor Who marked its 50th anniversary with a feature-length special.

Enter Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Despite being credited as the sole writer, J.K. Rowling had no screenwriting experience. At the time, she was focused on her detective novels, while Yates played a major role in Fantastic Beasts’ unusually fast development. The film’s protagonist—a quirky, pacifist British traveler with a bigger-on-the-inside case, a love for strange creatures, and two companions—closely resembles Doctor Who. The villain even has a transformed face.

It seems likely that Yates repurposed the abandoned Doctor Who script, handing it to Rowling to rework as a Harry Potter spinoff. While the first Fantastic Beasts had some structure, the sequels—written solely by Rowling—were poorly received, probably due to her lack of screenwriting experience.

Obviously there is no way to know for sure, but this theory honestly holds up for me. The dates line up. The studio politics line up. David Yates is there both times. According to Karen Gillian, Johnny Depp was attached to the Doctor Who movie - and if he *stayed* attached as it was retooled into Fantastic Beasts, that would help explain what is easily the most baffling casting decision in the whole franchise. Even people who liked Fantastic Beasts thought Johnny Depp was a bizarre Grindelwald. It is so obviously a role that wants a Colin Farrell or a Mads Mikkelsen.

Jacob is also SUCH a Doctor Who companion - normal guy, dead end job, swept away into magical adventures. He's really not a very JKR-ish character because... well... she doesn't write sympathetic muggles. Her muggle characters are villains, ridiculous (or both.) Or else exist totally off-page. Her most sympathetic muggle character is probably Frank Bryce - who is bad tempered, crotchety, and not very interesting. This is honestly kind of a structural problem: if your villain's main point is "wizards are better than muggles," I think you'd want to prove him wrong by writing muggle characters who don't suck.

But Doctor Who loves a normie protagonist who teaches the Doctor an important lesson about community, or responsibility, or love. That is 100% Jacob. There are also elements of Fantastic Beasts 1 that feel... pretty tonally off for a Harry Potter movie? I'm thinking specifically of the Death Cell execution room. That whole scene - the way it's designed and shot - it's all extremely horror movie. That's fine for Doctor Who, which has always had horror DNA. But Harry Potter doesn't. It also doesn't really make sense as a sanctioned government execution room, it makes sense as the sort of creepy, uncanny trap the Master would put the Doctor in. If Universal developed cool/expensive assets for Doctor Who, I think it's totally possible that they would be motivated to recycle them into Fantastic Beasts.

It also explains why Fantastic Beasts 2 (which would have been JKR's original work) immediately un-does a lot of the plot elements from Fantastic Beasts 1. The bittersweet moment of Jacob losing the memories of his adventure, but keeping his unlocked creativity and hope, that's such a Doctor Who ending. So is that moral-quandary moment of 'is there a way to stop this monster, who is both an danger to others and an innocent, without destroying it.' But in Fantastic Beasts 2, within the first ten minutes Jacob has his memory back and we hear that Credence is fine. Also... Jacob gets a wand in Fantastic Beasts 3. And it's not a "real wand" or whatever... but like, if the series continued, it was going to do something. (Because JKR doesn't like writing muggle protagonists.)

I will also say that in Fantastic Beasts 1 - information is delivered visually, film language is better understood, it has a good sense of its own scope. It's a filmmaker's movie, while Fantastic Beasts 2 is a writer's movie. It's got a million characters, tons of scenes of characters in a room or hallway just *talking* to each other (which is less interesting to watch than it is to read.) Important plot beats are delivered through monologs or extended flashback sequences. The pacing is much, much worse. The action sequences are much more confusing.

Okay. Fantastic Beasts 1 could have been made out of assets originally developed for Doctor Who, and by some of the same creative team. Yeah. I see it.

[bobby-the-queer-artist]

[moondustinfj]

Harry: You dated the 2nd darkest wizard in history who lead a fanatical revolution aganist muggles???

Dumbledore: Well, he wasn't the 2nd darkest wizard in history who lead a fanatical revolution aganist muggles when I met him!

[souptastical]

do you think ilvermony has to send out letters to American parents to tell them not to let their kids bring guns to school

[ironkoalastrawberry]

Harry's Mood on naming his second child: Well, I'll name him Albus so he'll fall in love with a strange, intelligent blond boy and they'll destroy the world together, and I'll name him Severus so he'll fall in love with his only friend and be unpopular and bullied and given stupid nicknames and be good at potions, and I'll give him my last name and my father's and my ancestors' last name so he'll be dumb and brave and selfless and stubborn and adventurous and kind and naive and gullible.

The best combination

[dmitri-smerdyakov]

JK Rowling is being a Holocaust denier now…makes sense now why in Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, she wrote the villain as evil for wanting to prevent the Second World War - and by default the Holocaust - from happening 💀

[that-damn-virgo]

— Dumbledore & Grindelwald.

credits: @ blossomfully // @ oddishblossom

[lost-in-records]

he’s so cute i’m actually losing it

[oncasette]

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂. send in a character + a scenario for a blurb + 𝗨𝗠𝗕𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗔

annnddd another one just for fun lolzies. theseus + the prompt “that’s the sixth time you’ve complimented me today.”

"you smell good," you hum as you dig your face further into your fiancé's lap. his feet were propped up on the coffee table in front of the couch, one hand splayed wide to keep the small paperback open in front of his face while the other toyed with the lacy hem of your slip where it rested at the tops of your thighs. your nose edged along the waistband of his bottoms and the warm cotton he'd pulled out of the dryer barely a half hour ago.

"darling, are you feeling alright?" he asks as he tabs his book and drops it onto the other end of the couch beside your feet.

"fine, love. just happy," you say. "why?"

"well that's just the sixth time you've complimented me today," he chuckles. his hand smooths out over your skin and you can feel the heat seeping into your bones.

"i can't compliment my betrothed?"

"your betrothed, huh?" he asks as he taps on your hip to get you to sit up. his grip tightens as he helps to situate over his thighs so that you're straddling him.

"mhm," you buzz. "you can't take it back now, either. i've got a ring to prove it."

"is that right?" he leans forward until your noses are touching.

"that's right," you say. he pecks your lips once, twice, before he's kissing you fully. his head tilts and his tongue breaches the gap between your lips.

"mrs. scamander has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" he asks once he's pulled away. his fingers come up to brush back the hair that's fallen into your face. nodding, you press forward to reconnect your lips.

[chocfrog-enjoyer]

The sillies :>