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aethelar · 7 years ago

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Yo- what about Newt being the protective one of Theseus? I mean, everyone is drooling over the war hero and eye catcher Theseus but no one knows of stormy winter nights when he is doubling in pain over the table because cold weather stirs his old wounds, or early mornings when he is sweating bullets and screaming during nightmares, or New Year celebrations he tries to avoid because fireworks remind him of explosions too much... Except for Newt. Newt is always there, an unmovable rock, a

root in the ground, steadying Theseus amidst the storm. Newt is a ray of sunshine and smell of flowers in the dark room, he is the herbal tea and chocolate warming the body and banishing the cold, he is the soft voice guiding Theseus out of his feverish dreams. No one pays much attention to Theseus’s younger awkward brother but they don’t know that he is the one keeping Theseus alive. And when Grindelwald attacks a Ministry of Magic reception and Theseus is caught in the middle, it is Newt who stands tall and shields him from the spells, and it is Newts patronus that guides Theseus out. IDK i have lots of Theseus-Newt feels but it goes both ways- Theseus is very protective of his sunshine noodle of a brother, and Newt is very protective of PTSD-suffering Theseus.

Can I just say this is perfect and I love it. I have very little experience of PTSD so I wouldn’t know how to write Theseus to do it justice, but please consider:

Theseus’ first girlfriend was called Kate and Newt, in theory, has nothing against her. She’s a year younger than him, generally happy, smiles a lot, and Theseus is so delighted to have any relationship at all that he trips over himself to give her anything she could possibly ask for.

Newt is wary of that last part because Theseus gives pieces of himself away with never a thought for what it costs him. He gives and gives and never expects anything back and one day he’s going to run out if Newt isn’t there to watch out for him, but for now, for his first crush and his first love, Newt will allow it.

He allows it up until Theseus graduates and Kate is left at Hogwarts for one last year; he allows it until he can see Theseus stretched thin between his training and his work and Kate still expects to be front and centre in his life and have on permanent call if she needs him; he allows it until Theseus begs off drinks at the pub and stops going to quidditch matches because she doesn’t like it when I’m out without her; he allows it until Kate accuses Theseus of seeing someone else behind her back because she feels he’s never there for her when she needs him anymore despite Theseus running himself to the bone to try and keep her happy.

“Perhaps if you didn’t have four breakdowns a week about how Lizzie’s prettier than you,” Newt remarks idly, shamelessly eavesdropping on their private conversation. “I mean, it’s not like he’s got his own things to worry about that actually matter or anything.”

“Newt,�� Theseus growls, “Piss the fuck off.”

Newt shrugs, still infuriatingly casual in the way that only younger brothers can be, and saunters out. “Just saying,” he says as he goes.

“Well don’t.”

She and Theseus break up three weeks later. Theseus is, outwardly, devastated - but Newt’s better at reading him than that and he can see the way Theseus settles, focuses on his studies and relaxes without the stress of a relationship gone sour.

“No need to thank me,” he says, swanning past and stealing the last bite of Theseus’ sandwich.

“Pain in the ass!” Theseus calls after him, and that’s the first one.

The second one is called Paul. He seems nice - he’s a warder, and Newt doesn’t hesitate to pick his brains for all the runic knowledge he can find. He claims to be doing it to test Paul’s patience, and Paul actually seems to hold up pretty well. He also makes a decent cup of tea which is one up on Kate, and when Theseus comes home late Paul’s already got started on dinner, so that’s excellent too.

Then Paul has the audacity, the absolute fucking audacity to get sent on assignment to Wales and fall in love with the son of a client and that’s it, his heart is getting carved out with a rusty spoon, Newt is on the war path and he knows no bounds because how dare

“Newt,” Theseus says tiredly, interrupting Newt’s progressively more high pitched rant. “It’s sweet of you, but I’m fine.”

“Shut up,” is Newt’s eloquent retort. He piles another slice of chocolate cake on Theseus’ plate and replaces his cold cup of tea with a fresh one, because broken hearts require chocolate and tea and vengeance. “If I ever see him again I’ll trample him with a hippogriff for you.”

“It’s probably a good thing then that he’s moved to Wales,” Theseus says drily. He wilts under Newt’s aggressively caring attention and dutifully eats his cake.

“Hippogriffs fly,” is Newt’s only answer. “I’m sure Mum won’t mind.”

“Newt, no.”

Newt grumbles and contents himself instead with setting the timer on the oven for the next batch of cake.

Number three is a nameless douche of a one night stand that drops Theseus the next morning, then swings round again two months later because his wife is out of town again so does Theseus want to pick up where they left off?

Theseus spirals himself into a small ball of agony about accidental adultery and Newt force feeds him hazlenut dacqouise and loudly discusses the several ways - several ways Theseus, take your pick, Newt is more than happy to do multiple if you feel like it - that he could commit murder and get away with.

“You can’t just kill my exes,” Theseus protests, but it lacks his usual conviction.

“I’m not killing your ex,” Newt says hotly. “I’m cleansing the earth of scum, that’s what I’m doing. Will you at least tell me where he lives so I can release a swarm of doxies in his bathroom?”

Theseus laughs wetly and doesn’t tell Newt, because he’s not entirely sure if his brother will go through with it or not.

Number four is called Ameena, and for a while there, for a good couple of years Theseus thinks she could be the one. She’s studying to be a lawyer and she’s quick and funny and makes Theseus laugh; she also stays up with him until three in the morning debating world problems and how they’re going to solve them when Theseus runs the auror department and she runs the legal side. She’s never less than sweetness and light to Newt and, though she and Theseus have the odd argument, she never hesitates to say sorry after and buys him a dozen red roses each time to make up.

She’s almost suspiciously perfect, in fact. Newt goes to her graduation and sits in the back with Theseus and squints at her, trying to find her flaws. It’s not until she’s moved from college to job that he spots it - and even then it’s a frustrating one, because Ameena’s flaw is that she works too hard.

“Being a lawyer is a demanding job,” Theseus points out, setting both bowls of pasta on the table.

“Yes,” Newt says, awkwardly balancing two glasses, a fistful of cutlery and a bag of grated cheese in his arms, “But so is being a girlfriend and I just think you matter too.”

Theseus rolls his eyes and rescues the cheese. “Do you want me to start whining at her that she comes home too late and doesn’t spend enough time with me? I love her, and part of that is supporting what she wants to do as much as she supports me.”

Newt carefully doesn’t point out that from where he’s standing Theseus is doing a lot more of the supporting. It’s not like being an auror is an easy job or anything.

“Besides,” Theseus adds. “If Ameena didn’t work late we wouldn’t have brother-nights so often and then what would you do with your time?”

“I have a social life!” Newt sputters. “I totally have things to do!”

Theseus raises an eyebrow and Newt makes dramatic, over the top hand gestures to illustrate how very busy and in demand he is at all points in time (lies, all of it lies) and Newt resolves to try to be nicer to Ameena, because if Theseus loves her this much then she can’t be all bad. Newt is probably just being overprotective.

When Theseus firecalls him at two in the morning it takes Newt a second try before his bleary sleep fogged mind can process.

“She left,” Theseus repeats. “She said - she said it was for the best, she said she didn’t have time for a relationship and it wasn’t fair to me, she, she said -” his voice breaks and he stops, and Newt physically pushes his head back into the fire so he can crawl through and provide emergency hug.

“Rusty spoons,” he promises darkly, patting Theseus on the back and staring murderously into space.

“Newt, no,” Theseus protests. “What if I tried harder, what if - we were talking about kids, what if I promised I didn’t want kids, maybe that’s what it was.”

Newt snorts and hugs tighter. “You so totally want kids,” he says. And Theseus should so totally have kids, because Theseus is the perfect kind of person who’s made to play tiny games of cricket and run a barbecue in socks and sandals and embarrass his family with really bad jokes. Theseus has been handling his wild younger brother all his life, he’s had two and half decades of practice at this whole parenting thing and Newt won’t let him give up his dream for someone else. He won’t.

“But -” Theseus starts and Newt holds a hand over his mouth to stop him.

“It’s the shock talking,” he declares. Theseus makes wide, heart-broken eyes at him and Newt relents. “If you still want to win her back in a week then maybe we can win her back for you but for now, you are going to sit here and I am going to make brownies and then we’re going to watch a film and eat ice cream. Understand?”

Theseus nods miserably.

“You can’t always tell me what to do, you know,” he says when Newt removes his hand.

Newt rolls his eyes at that and goes to pull out the baking pans. “I’m your younger brother,” he says. “It’s what I’m for.”

#missisjoker #newt scamander #theseus scamander #sibling relationship #i know i usually write theseus as dark #but #think how much fun siblings are #because you know newt would be a mad little shit of a younger brother #and theseus would be long suffering and responsible #and it is therefore newt's sacred DUTY to help theseus break the rules #and it's theseus' sacred DUTY to make sure newt doesn't get into too much trouble #and just #there is a lot of potential here for fluff #that's all i'm saying #my writing

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samwisethewitch · 5 years ago

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Pathworking and Astral Travel

In spirit work, we often connect with the spirits that have crossed over and are present in the physical world. However, there are also ways to cross over into the spirit world and connect with spirits in their home environment.

Pathworking

As I mentioned in a previous post, a pathworking is a specific type of meditation where you go on a psychic journey, but are still anchored to your physical body. It’s sort of like dipping your toes into the spirit world.

There are two important elements to a pathworking: a clear entrance/exit point and a way to retrace your steps. Pathworking journeys are typically cyclical — there is both a journey out and a return where you go back the way you came. This makes it easier to fully return your consciousness to your body, and failing to do so can cause you to feel disoriented upon the return.

Your entry/exit point can be absolutely anything, but common examples include a door, a gateway, a tree (or sometimes The World Tree), a cave/tunnel, or a natural landmark like a beach or mountaintop. What’s important is that it’s recognizable and easy to find your way back to.

If you want to try pathworking, make a rough “road map” of your journey beforehand. This doesn’t have to be super specific, but it should contain the following: a goal for the pathworking (such as to connect with a certain spirit), an entry/exit point, and a general idea for the route you’re going to take. If you’re worried about getting lost, author Thea Sabin recommends using “the Theseus trick.” Like in the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur, you can tie a golden thread or rope to your entry point and the other end to your astral body. If you get lost, you can follow the thread back.

Pathworking is fairly beginner friendly, and I highly, highly, highly recommend starting with pathworking and becoming comfortable with this method before trying astral travel. Even for more advanced witches, pathworking is often a better option than astral travel because it’s less involved and requires a little bit less effort. I personally prefer pathworking for most situations.

Performing a Pathworking

Before you begin, establish a clear goal for your pathworking and write out a rough “road map.” At the very least, you should know what your purpose is, where your entry point is, and how to find your way back.

Begin in a dark, quiet room. Cleanse the room by burning incense, diffusing or spraying essential oils, or using a ritual broom to sweep out old energy.

Find a comfortable place to sit or lie down and begin meditating. You may want to play meditation music, practice breathing techniques, or use some other method to help you reach a meditative state.

Once you reach a meditative state (you should know what this feels like if you have experience with meditation), see yourself standing at your entry point. This is your entrance to the astral realm.

Set out on your pathworking.

When you are ready to leave the astral realm, you will need to find your way back to your entry point. Once you reach your entry point, it should be fairly easy to return to your body.

Once you’re fully present in your physical body, use your favorite method to ground yourself.

Write down everything you experienced during your pathworking in a journal.

Astral Travel

If pathworking is dipping your toes into the spirit world, astral travel is diving in the deep end. Also called spirit flight and hedge riding, astral travel includes actually sending your soul/consciousness out of your body and into the spirit world. As you might guess, this is more complicated and requires more effort than pathworking. For this reason, astral travel is not beginner-friendly. If you are completely new to meditation, witchcraft, and spirit work, it’s best to learn to pathwork before you attempt astral travel.

A word of warning: you may want to avoid astral travel at times when you’re in a very vulnerable or volatile emotional state. Some days you just aren’t up for it, and that’s okay. On those days, a pathworking or another form of spirit work may be a better option.

Triggering Spirit Flight

In astral travel, a trigger of some kind is used to help disconnect the soul from the physical body. Common triggers include drumming, special music, shaking a rattle, chanting, and dancing.

You can find shamanic drumming tracks on YouTube that can help you achieve astral travel. If you find that repetitive motion helps you trance out, you may look into getting a small drum or rattle to play.

Animal Guides

In many cultures, those who travel into the spirit world do so with the guidance and protection of an animal spirit. From the Norse fylgja, to the shamanic power animal, to the witch’s familiar, history is full of examples of these types of guides.

Before you begin astral travel, do a pathworking to meet your animal guide. It’s important to note that you aren’t choosing an animal guide — only meeting one that has always been with you. Your guide may be an animal that you like or identify with, or it may not. When I first began experimenting with astral travel, my guide was a coyote — an animal I had never identified with before, but who I learned was deeply connected to my inner self.

It’s important to always have your animal guide with you when going on astral journeys, as they are an important source of protection and power. They may also literally guide you to the things you need to see and the spirits you need to meet.

Flying Ointments

Historical accounts describe witches using “flying ointment” to help them achieve spirit flight. These traditional flying ointments contained toxic and/or hallucinogenic plants like belladonna, datura, henbane, mandrake, and opium poppies. For obvious reasons, most modern witches do not use these herbs.

Please do not try to create your own flying ointment with poisonous plants. If you’re a true traditionalist and feel like you just have to try a historically accurate flying ointment, Bane Folk Apothecary sells several. Bane Folk is run by Sarah Anne Lawless, a kickass witch who knows her stuff and produces safe, medicinal products inspired by traditional flying ointment formulas. I am usually very pro-DIY, especially when it comes to witchcraft, but this is one case where it really is best to defer to a professional.

To create a modern, non-toxic flying ointment: heat eight ounces (or one cup) of poppy seed oil over low heat on the stove. Once the oil is warm, add 2 ounces (or 1/4 cup) of beeswax into the oil. (Use carnauba wax for a vegan alternative.) Take the mixture off the heat, and allow it to cool off a bit. Once it has cooled (but before it’s begun to solidify), add nine drops each of mugwort essential oil, star anise essential oil, and peppermint essential oil. Pour the mixture into a mason jar and seal tightly. To extend your ointment’s shelf life, add a few drops of Vitamin E oil and store in the refrigerator. If you don’t have access to essential oils or prefer a more traditional method, you can buy dry herbs and infuse them into your oil instead — to do this, crush up 2.5 ounces (or 1/3 cup) each of dried mugwort, star anise, and peppermint and add them to a mason jar; add enough oil to the jar to cover the herbs completely, with about an inch of oil above them; seal the jar and place it in a sunny window for 2-3 weeks to infuse; and finally, strain the herbs out of the oil with a mesh sieve or a cheesecloth. You can then add your Vitamin E oil and beeswax to create an ointment.

This modern recipe does not contain hallucinogens, but it does contain plants that are commonly used in magic to increase psychic abilities and aid in astral travel. You can say an incantation over this ointment while making it to add some extra magical potency. Applying the flying ointment can also become a sort of ritual that prepares you for spirit flight by helping you slip into a more spiritual head space.

Performing Astral Travel/Spirit Flight

Before you begin, know why you are journeying to the spirit world. You should always have a clear goal for your astral journeys.

Begin in a dark, quiet room. Cleanse the room by burning incense (mugwort incense aids in astral travel), diffusing or spraying essential oils, or using a ritual broom to sweep out old energy.

Use your favorite method to ground yourself.

If you are choosing to use a flying ointment, rub it on your skin now.

Hold a protective item in one of your hands. I like physical items for protection during spirit flight, because they can ground you and help you find your way back to your body. Examples of protective items include a sprig of rue, a piece of iron, or a protective crystal like black tourmaline. If you ever feel scared or uncomfortable during your journey, you can bring this object into the astral realm to protect you. It will also keep your body safe while your consciousness is occupied.

Start up your trigger, whether this is drumming, rattling, dancing, etc.

Allow yourself to drift into a trance state, and then to disconnect from your body.

Call your animal guide to you.

Set out on your journey in the spirit world.

When you are ready, feel yourself returning to your physical body. Allow yourself to come back slowly — don’t rush it.

Ground yourself. One good way to ground after astral travel is by eating a snack.

Write down your experiences in a journal.

Resources:

Wicca for Beginners by Thea Sabin

Southern Cunning: Folkloric Witchcraft in the American South by Aaron Oberon

Hedge Riding by Harmonia Saille

“How to Make Herb-Infused Oils for Culinary & Body Care Use” and “How to Make Herbal Salves” from the Mountain Rose Herbs blog

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ff7-has-taken-me-over · 3 years ago

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I just wanna write a thing based on Asterius x Zagreus and I’m feeling angsty so meh. So Asterius and Zagreus hold a secret relationship of sorts (not really. The only one in the dark about it is Theseus because neither are too keen on telling him)

But what if the words that Thesus usually spouts kind of hits a little too deep for Zagreus. Like he says something on how Zag had to make up his god parents because his reals ones never wanted him or something (that seems a bit too harsh for Theseus to say but at the same time I feel like it fits)

And Asterius doesn’t say anything because he figures this will be just like usual. The king says something and the short one will reply with something just as witty like usual. But Zag doesn’t do that. He doesn’t say a word and that makes the bull look over to find all those emotions that are usually so hidden out in the open and plain on his face.

Zag’s fucking hurt. He’s hurt and suddenly so very doubtful of his relationships with the people in his life. He damn near looks like he’s going to cry and Theseus makes it worse by mocking him for his woes, going on about he’s been caught out in his lies and doesn’t want to admit to it.

Asterius can see the way the prince, his prince, wilts and curls in on himself with each new word to leave the king’s mouth. For the first time in a very long time Asterius feels nothing but rage toward Theseus. The sight of someone who he’s come to know as a very gentle, kind and caring godling being reduced to this is enough to turn him into that mindless creature he was while trapped in that labyrinth.

“Theseus…” The word is rumbled out with his usual calm demeanour, though this time there is an edge of anger to it. The utterance of his name makes the champion stop mid sentence, though not because of the emotion in his voice - Theseus never was good at reading them - but more because this was the first time the bull had ever said it.

When the champion looks over Asterius isn’t even looking at him, too focused on the daemon in front of them, “You go too far.”

Theseus is offended to say the least. How could his dear friend Asterius say such a thing when regarding the lying fool. His friend knows it to be true so how could he deny it so?

When the champion goes to speak again Asterius grunts and glares at him, “Not another word Theseus. You have gone too far this time.”

Theseus being the stubborn, determined idiot that he is simply glares back and speaks anyway, “How can you stand up for this fiend?! You know my words to be true! He is nothing more than a lying fool who wishes to be of some importance because his parents-”

The Bull of Minos snorts, holding his axe up in his usual battle ready stance, though this time against his own partner and companion. The sight is enough to stop Theseus dead in his tracks, hurt and betrayal shining bright in his eyes as he finally registers the anger there.

Zagreus is no less shocked about it, confused as well but that’s not important in this moment, “Asterius mate, it’s of no matter to me.”

The bull knows Zagreus is lying, already working to cover up the hurt the words invoked to keep him and Theseus from fighting. The knowledge honestly hurts him a bit but the anger surging through him is burning it too quickly to matter.

Theseus suddenly turns on Zagreus, unbridled rage and bloodlust flowing through as he points and accusing spear tip at him, “You. This is all your fault! Poisoning my dear friends thoughts with lies!”

Zagreus tries to backpedal but he’s too close to be out of range of Thesus’ attack, the spear piercing through him in one fell swoop and killing him. He doesn’t even have a death defiance this time, having used his last one two chambers ago.

The last thing Zag hears before the Styx takes him is a beastly roar and Theseus’ frantic voice begging for something. There’s also the vague thought that Zagreus should probably talk to his Minotaur lover about all this next time he comes through before he actually dies.

#hades game #Asterius #Theseus #Zagreus #Asterius x Zagreus #hurt Zagreus #angry asterius #Asterius and Theseus friendship #angst-ish #prompt #fic prompt #fic idea #Theseus’ usual ramblings #but it goes too far #probs some inaccuracy

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dumbledore-and-grindelwald · 3 years ago

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Thank you for the attention you showered on Bunty. I've run into so many viewer complaints that "oh the movie was overstuffed with irrelevant characters, the plot would work without Bunty/Yusuf/Theseus etc" but as you said all these characters are intentionally added to act as foils and drive home themes. While you could argue that yes, the actual plots in the FB series can get kind of confusing and handwave-y, they are always very very clear in terms of underlying emotional themes.

I get the criticism about the movie being overstuffed. The characters are not irrelevant, but they needed more time to develop. From BTS of SoD we've glimpsed 3 deleted scenes and all 3 would have developed characters and created significantly smoother transitions for their decisions.

Then again many of the fans who complain about lacking development wanted more beasts than we got in CoG. I mean, I like seeing Newt around creatures as much as the next person and seeing his little dance as he tried to handle creatures that are not friendly no matter what he does was different to what we've seen before. But at the same time it was comic relief and a direct answer to those who wanted more beasts. To me that was too much screen-time that could have been used more productively. Frankly, I don't get why the production and WB don't just decide to let the movies hit 3 hours. The story needs it and it's not like the audience wouldn't be down for it.

Back to the writing, I do believe that all the characters in SoD develop in smaller or bigger ways, but as you said they act as foils and drive home themes. Contrary to popular belief, that's not a bad think. It gives us a lot of nuance. The emotional impact SoD had on me was more than I've experienced with any HP movie and in par with the feelings that some of my favorite parts of the books caused me.

It's also important to keep in mind that these aren't standalones. Newt, Jacob, Tina, Queenie and Credence had gotten much more development than Dumbledore in the previous movies. In CoG, Leta and Yusuf too were developed more than Albus. It's natural that they would take a bit of a backseat at some point so that he can slowly turn into the person he is by the time the final duel happens. HP was told in 7 books. Let's recall that all the heavy-lifting for Voldemort, Snape and Dumbledore's stories was done in the last 3 books. Until then they hadn't developed THAT much if you think about it, but they had in small ways and they were never static.

As for the plot being confusing, I think that remains to be seen. HP had the benefit of a lot of space to develop. Moreover, the majority of the books had a very clear structure: Each showed the span of a school-year and ended up with a confrontation (usually with Voldemort) while the main plot focused on a whodunit-kind of theme: Who wants the Philosopher's Stone? Who opened the Chamber of Secrets? Why is the Dark' Lord's returning sevant? Who put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire? This structure breaks with OoTP, which is when the war unoficially starts.

FB opens up the Wizarding World. The characters are not confined in limited locations and building towards the Global Wizarding War necessitates shifts between different countries and the wizards living there that are bound to be more confusing. The first movie was clear-cut. The second has some loose threads that could amount to nothing... or they could be important. Not knowing until the moment you know is part of watching an on-going series. In SoD, I think that the plot is consciously written in a way that ultimately addresses certain machiavellian aspects that Dumbledore's plans tend to have. It was a bit confusing the first time I watched because there was a lot to process, but upon the rewatch so many things fall into place and make sense. I still think this movie will age well.

#fantastic beasts #the secrets of dumbledore #asks #harry potter

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silverynight · 4 years ago

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A strange promise

Newt certainly doesn't think too much about it when he finds his ex-professor in that dark alley at night; sometimes the magizoologist has to buy certain ingredients or food for his creatures and since keeping magical beasts is still illegal in most of the countries, he has to go to places where dark wizards buy their stuff.

He's still trying to get the woman to accept his money (for some reason she's always insisting on giving him everything for free) when a hand slides a couple of galleon on the counter.

"It's on me."

The woman nods, looking a little bit intimidated by the figure behind the magizoologist; Newt turns around immediately, ready to argue with the stranger when he recognizes those blue eyes.

"Professor Dumbledore!" He beams, prompting the other man to blush. There's a curious sparkle in those beautiful blue eyes of his.

"Please, Newt... You're no longer my student, just call me Albus," he grins, taking the magizoologist gently by the arm and walking him outside the store. "Let me buy you a drink."

They talk about Hogwarts, what it was when Newt was there, but it seems like Albus is not really interested in the past, he wants to talk about the present and the future.

"Promise you'll pay me a visit soon," Albus smiles, touching Newt's cheek. "Allow me to return the favor, I can follow you anywhere and stay with you a couple of days while you study new creatures."

Since Newt would like Albus to be his friend, he doesn't hesitate to promise that. At the moment he doesn't think too much about the way the wizard leans closer or how often he stares at him like he wants to learn his features by heart.

***

The first time Grindelwald appears just in time to help with a problem he got himself in, Newt doesn't think there's a connection with his visits to Albus or the fact that his ex-professor is constantly writing to him asking where he is at the time.

No, he's just in shock because the dark lord is taking all the mooncalves with him and grabbing Newt's arm in time for all of them to escape together. Grindelwald doesn't hurt him, instead, he makes sure Newt's alright before nodding in his direction and apparating away.

The second time Grindelwald helps him, he gets hurt and Newt can't just leave him there bleeding so he patches him up.

And that's when he sees him vulnerability and his kindness: like any other human being. It's easier to think of him just as the dark lord who deserves to be imprisoned, like Theseus often says, but Newt can't think about Grindelwald that way anymore.

"Your arm will be as good as new in a couple of days," Newt mumbles as a gentle smile quirks the corner of his lips.

However, his grin is quickly replaced by an expression of surprise when Grindelwald leans closer and touches his chin softly, his fingers brushing gently the freckles he finds on his creamy skin.

"He was right. He always is."

"What did you say?" Newt whispers, confused. Although he notices he is not afraid of the dark lord at all, even though he knows what he's capable of.

A playful smirk appears on Grindelwald's face as a spark lights up his mismatched eyes.

"You're truly beautiful."

Newt blushes, but doesn't have the time to say anything because the dark lord disappears again.

***

The first time Newt thinks there's something more than meets the eye is on Valentine's day; Albus pays him a visit and he arrives with a bouquet of forget-me-nots and invitation to dinner.

A date.

With his heart jumping inside his chest, Newt accepts the invitation; they have a great time and Albus kisses him until they're both gasping for air.

He doesn't think about Grindelwald until he finds another bouquet of flowers, dark roses, when he gets back home.

Even though he's not sure he sent them, but something about them makes him wonder...

Newt puts the bouquets together and he moves to take Dougal in his arms, even the demiguise seems intrigued by the situation.

Perhaps there IS a connection.

***

He's convinced something's going on when poachers start disappearing all over the world and a month later Albus finally agrees to become Minister of magic.

Theseus worries about that all the time; he doesn't like Newt dating him, but Newt has never payed too much attention to his complaints since his brother has never liked any of his suitors.

"He has too much power now," he comments with concern usually before urging Newt to break up with him.

Newt stops thinking about it when the Ministry adds a few laws to protect magical creatures; people in England start seeking information on beasts after the new Minister is seen anywhere he goes with his lovely phoenix beside him. Also, the news about the things that are happening help Newt's book to become a success.

Grindelwald... Gellert (as he asks Newt to call him) keeps appearing whenever Newt goes and the magizoologist has never told anyone, not even Albus, although he has the feeling that he wouldn't get mad about it.

Newt even has the silly idea that he wouldn't even mind if he found out Newt likes Gellert a little bit too much.

***

It's February 14 again when Newt wakes up in Albus's house, he feels weak and hurt and is not sure if he's dreaming the other person in the room or not.

"They didn't suffer enough, Albus. But I had no time, look at what they did to our Newton!"

"The important thing now is that you brought him back home, Gellert."

Newt's eyes finally blink back open and the two men pacing around the room rush towards him.

He's not afraid of any of them, even now that he just found out the truth.

"Are you alright, Liebling?" Gellert kneels next to the bed and takes one of his hand in his.

He looks so vulnerable, so worried...

"Where are my babies?"

"Here," Albus points at case at the other side of the bed and Newt sighs with relief. "All safe and sound."

The magizoologist looks up at the two men in front of him and remembers he was almost killed trying to save a wampus.

"The wampus?"

"I already patched him up and fed him, my darling," Albus says and Newt realizes in that moment, with a mixture of shock and pleasure that those two wizards would do anything for him.

It's a scary thought.

"You've been working together this whole time," Newt mumbles as Gellert gets closer to kiss him on the forehead.

"We've been taking care of you," Grindelwald says.

"I know," Newt mumbles with a fond smile on his face.

Theseus would probably be horrified if he saw him.

"We want a better world for you, my love," Albus assures him, sitting on the bed at his other side.

"I don't want muggles to su–"

"I won't–We won't hurt them, Liebling. I promise," Gellert's voice is sweet and gentle, he presses his lips against Newt's temple.

"Will you stay with us, Newt? Will you live with us?"

"Will you be ours?"

Looking up at Albus and Gellert, Newt finds himself nodding; it's too late to pretend he doesn't love them both already. It's always been them.

"I promise," he whispers, before falling asleep.

When he wakes up, he's in the middle of them; he's never felt better.

They get married in secret, on a Valentine's day. Newt and Albus have to make a party in front of friends and family; neither of them mention Gellert, but when they get back home, their beloved is already waiting for them.

***

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#grindelmandore #albus dumbledore #gellert grindelwald #newt scamander #fantastic beasts #fbtcog #fbawtft

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readingbookelf · 4 years ago

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Need You - Theseus Scamander

Summary: You’re having a bad week, but Theseus is too busy with work.

Pairing: wife!reader x husband!Theseus Scamander

My Writing | Join my taglist

Being married to Theseus wasn’t always easy. He often drowned himself in work, forgetting you were at home still waiting for him. Your week was far from splendid. Because the school year was about to start in a couple of days, the shop you worked at was being stormed by students for all their books. Your boss was going at you because apparently you were working too slow and you did everything wrong, even though you had been working there for a couple of years now.

You were aching for Theseus, you wanted to talk to him so bad. Just vent about work and he would use his brain filled with logic to help you deal with it. He was too absorbed in one of his cases probably. It has happened before but he usually gave you a warning when he would be spending most of his time at work. You were obviously bumped that he hadn’t given you a heads up.

That’s why you are currently sitting on the couch with a book in hand, waiting for your husband to come home. You wanted to talk to him, see why he was so busy and didn’t give you a heads up. From the start, you knew it would be a miracle if you would be able to stay awake until he was home. Needless to say, you were already fast asleep by the time he finally arrived.

Theseus knew he had been very distant, occupied, but most of all absent in your home. He was very surprised to find the lights still on. Surely, you were already asleep, it was one in the morning after all. He found you sleeping on the couch, book still in your hand. You must’ve been waiting for him. Now, that is something he hadn’t expected. It had happened before that he was engrossed with one of his cases so he would spent most of his time at work. He thought you knew the same thing was happening here. There was no reason for you to stay awake.

Using his Auror-status, he owled your boss that you won’t be coming into work tomorrow. He picked you up in bridal style and carefully walked towards your bedroom. You were a light sleeper so his chances of not disturbing you were very slim.

“Theseus?” you mumbled, clearly still half asleep.

“Yes, love, I’m home.”

“We need to talk. I tried to stay awake.”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“No, we won’t. I want to talk now before you disappear again.”

That stung, he didn’t know it was troubling you that much. He gives you a nod as to say ‘continue’.

“I know you work a lot of cases and they make you work late, but it’s never been like this. I felt so alone, you were never here. Well not when I was awake anyway. I couldn’t talk to you. I didn’t know how you were doing, hell I don’t even know what you were doing. Normally, you give me a heads up or you at least try to make it home by midnight, but you didn’t. what if something had happened? How would I have known? I had a really shitty week and I needed you. You might not need me as much as I do you, but I still need my husband by my side.”

Guilt filled his eyes. He knew the days before the school year were the toughest one’s for you and he wasn’t there for you. It’s just, his case was time sensitive so he couldn’t have taken it easy. He forgot to take in account how you would feel.

“Love, I’m really sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t think my actions through, but I should have. It wasn’t my intention to make you feel alone. This case was very sensitive, you know? I couldn’t take it easy, I had to close it fast.”

“How would I have known that? You haven’t talked to me in days, Theseus. Besides every case is time sensitive to you. You could’ve just said something, I would’ve understood. Everything is better than just leaving me in the dark.”

“I know, love, and I apologize. But I missed you too. It does take it’s toll on me when I can’t talk with you or even just enjoy life with you,” he said while taking you in his arms.

“Just don’t do it, next time.”

“I won’t. You don’t have to go into work tomorrow and neither do I. What do you say about spending the whole day in bed?”

“I’d love to, Theseus.”

#theseus scamander #theseus x reader #theseus scamander imagine #Theseus Scamander x reader #fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts x reader #fantastic beasts imagine

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xmalereader · 4 years ago

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Theseus Scamander X Male Reader X Brother! Thomas Shelby

|| Masterlist ||

Summary: Reader is secretly dating Theseus Scamander a man that neither of his families or brothers know about so what happens when Thomas finds out that is little brother is seeing a man that is a little older than him? Let alone a wizard that is hiding from society? How will the reader explain to his family that Theseus is a wizard and how will he explain to Theseus that his family is a poplular gang known in both London and Birmingham?

Warnings: language, slight angst, some fluff, Theseus being a good boyfriend, Thomas being protective, some crossover between the peaky blinders and the wizarding world, newt being a cinnamon roll!

“Were have you been?”

Y/n gasps in surpise as he turns around to see is older brother, Thomas, sitting at the table with a cigar between his lips. It was was midnight and the room was dark, only one candle was lit and somehow it wasn’t enough light to see the rest of the room. “What?” Y/n stutters out nervously, Latelty he’s been sneaking out to see his boyfriend, who by the way lived in London and it was rare for him to visit due to his work keeping him busy.

“Y/n, its late and dark and dangerous, so—“ Thomas stands up from his chair and puts out his cigar in the ashtray that was nest to the candle. “Where were you?” He asks again, his tone being serious this time as he eyes y/n.

Y/n was consider as the baby of the family even though he wasn’t the youngest one, he was actually a few years older than Finn and somehow they still treated him like a baby and his family and brothers were very protective of him. They saw y/n as the innocent type since he wasn’t the one to into his brothers business or to be around whores. No, he wasn’t any of that becuase he was a gentlemen and kind to others, he never smoked or drank neither did he fancy women, he wouldn’t bat an eye at any of them. Something his brother didn’t know about yet.

“I was with a friend, they were visiting town and we decided to catch up by going to the bar.” He mumbles out, trying to lie his way through this one but he already knows that his brother can see right through him. Feeling Thomas’ eyes on him causing him to frown a little. “Who was this friend?” He questions as y/n glares at his older brother. “Why should I tell you? So, that you can look him up and scare him off just like you did to the rest of my friends that you’ve met?” He shot back with crossed arms.

He couldn’t allow his brother to know about his secret. “He can be dangerous.”

Y/n scoffs at Thomas and opens his mouth to say something back to him but quickly stops himself. “Wait...did you say ‘he’?” He questions as he noticed thomas’ lips pull up into a small smirk, causing his own eyes to widen in realization. “You’re not a good liar, y/n.”

“Where you spying on me?!” He hisses out in silence, not wanting to wake up the rest of his family as he clenched his hands into fists. “Not spying, I just happened to see you with a man, you looked rather happy leaving his palce.” Said Thomas as he approaches y/n. “So, tell me who was this man?”

Y/n looks away, he’s kept this secret hidden for two years and he always thought that he was going to make it a little longer but turns out that his time is up. Thomas now knows the truth and before he knows it he’ll be scaring him off too and he’ll end up alone again just how his brothers wanted.

Looking away from his older brother he gives in.

“His name is Theseus and we’ve known each other for two years and he was visiting today. We haven’t seen each other is days and he took the day off from work to come and see me...he’s a really nice guy but knowing you and the others you wouldn’t approve.” He mumbles out, glancing up to see Thomas’ face. He was expecting to see a hint of disappointment or disgust now that his secret was out but he wasn’t able to read his brother. He didn’t know what he was thinking and it was slowly freaking him out.

“Last name.”

Y/n lets out a sigh through his nose, looking down as he quietly answers. “Scamander.”

With that his older brother steps away and walks past him, heading towards the door and without saying anything else he leaves the flat. Hearing the door shut behind him causes him to break down. Knowing that this was officially the end of his relationship.

The next morning he was sitting at the dinning table, eating his aunt Polly’s breakfast as he silently stares out the window. His brother hasn’t returned yet and he was expecting him to come back with a smile on his face but instead he gets a grumpy set of brothers that walk through the door. Thomas slamming it closed as y/n looks over to see his brothers walk over to him, standing around the table as the towered over him. This causes y/n to shrink back in his seat as Polly stares at the others with a confused look.

“The man you were with last night, who was he?” Tommy asks as he stands over y/n with a harsh glare. “I—“

“Theseus Scamander, who is he?!” He shouts this time, causing y/n to flinch as he stares at his older brother and then over to the rest of them. He studies his brothers, taking them in one by one as he suddenly puts the puzzle pieces together, causing him to grin widely. “You didn’t find anything did you?” He challenges his brothers, knowing that it wasn’t making them any happier.

Y/n can only giggle at the realization, not only could his brothers not find out about Theseus but also becuase they don’t know that his boyfriend isnt really from around here.

“Y/n this is serious!” Her hears thomas say but continued laughing.

“What’s going on here?” Said Polly as she steps up to glare at the boys who only gave her a simple glance. Thomas was the first to start explaining their small situation. “Little y/n, here has been seeing someone—“

“A women?”

“No, a man.” Said Thomas. “A man that we can’t figure out, we’ve tried looking into his files but nothing came up and I even sent out my men to search for someone that went by the name Theseus Scamander and we came back with nothing.” He hisses out as Polly takes in the information and frowns. “Thomas this is your brother, you should know that he too can be a good liar.”

This causes y/n to cough. “Actually Polly, I didn’t lie. I told Thomas who he was and his real name, what’s funny is that he can’t seem to find him anywhere.” He slowly stands up from his seat and collects his plates. “And you’ll never find out who he is.” He says the last part darkly as he puts his dirty dishes away and heads up the stairs towards his room, ignoring his brothers calls as he slams his door shut behind him.

He leans back against the door and lets out a deep sigh before pushing himself off, heading towards the window he slides it open and sticks his house out. “Lucy.” He whispers out as he looks around the roof top and grumbles. “Lucy!” He calls out again and gets a hoot in response, causing him to look up to see the white owl standing at the edge of the roof top. Y/n chuckles and extends his arm out, causing the owl to fly down and land softly on his arm as y/n moves back inside the room. “I have a letter for you to send to Theseus.” He sets the owl at his desk and pulls out an envelope.

Good thing he was able to write this letter last night, explaining everything about his family and brothers. Theseus knew that he was a muggle and promised to keep his secret about him being a wizard, he told him a bit about his family but he feels like he hasn’t exactly told him everything so, last night he took his time to write down a huge explanation about his family and he hopes that he doesn’t loose Theseus over this but yet again his family is a gang and they are known for their name.

“Here,” he hands the sealed up letter to Lucy who chirps in return to takes the letter. He helps carry her back outside as he sighs, “be safe.” He adds before watching Lucy fly off into the air. He leans against his window seal as he watches Lucy grow smaller each time to got farther away. “Now, we wait.” He tells himself as he closes the window and curtains. Instead of going back downstairs to face his family he decides to stay locked indoors, not really in the mood to see anyone right now. So, instead he lies in bed and waits for Theseus to respond back.

“Thee, you got another letter.”

Theseus looks up to see his little brother standing by the doorway of his office, holding a letter in hand as he approaches slowly. “Who’s it from?” He asks as Newt sets it down on his desk where Theseus picks it up and checks to see who it is from, Turing it around he sees the name written in nice hand writing and in cursive.

Y/n Shelby

“Its from y/n.” Said thesues with a small smile on his face.

“Must be important, y/n doesn’t usually write.” Newt said, causing worry to hit Theseus. His brother was right, y/n rarely wrote and seeing a letter come in today after seeing each other just yesterday could mean anything.

He gives newt a glance and opens up the envelope, pulling out the letter as he unfolds it and leans back in his seat, reading it silently as newt sits by the fire, drinking some tea with Pickett standing on the table, trying to steal some biscuits from his plate but of course Newt wasn’t allow that.

Theseus on the other hand was reading his lovers letter;

Dear, Thesues

You’re probably asking yourself as too why I am writing since I rarely send you anything, only during urgent times like that last time when our anniversary hit and I sent you a last minute gift by owl. I was actually a little worried, how can such a small creature carry something so big without dropping it? But, of course you always tell me that it involves magic so I let it be and just continued on with sending you stuff, but made sure that they were small items. But anyways, your probably wondering what this letter is for, well you see...I’ve told you about my brothers and how overprotective they can be and last night while you were visiting my older Thomas saw us leaving the hotel last night and he wasn’t too happy about it.

I’m not saying that he doesn’t accepts us—to be honest I don’t even know if he approves or not but he spent all night looking through government files about your family and turns out that he didn’t find anything due to you living someplace else with your own magically government and I was actually happy that he didn’t find more about you but I can’t help but be worried for us.

Theseus, you’ve told me about your family and your world and I feel like I should tell you who my family really is and you see, my family are the Shelbys, we are known as London’s most dangerous people and my family deals with alcohol and horse racing. I’m not really involved with it since I wish to have a normal life but knowing my brothers they won’t allow me to be happy, too afraid that something bad will happen to me. If you’ll like you can try to look my family up and I promise you that you won’ t find anything good about them and I understand if you want to stop seeing each other, I don’t want to expose your world to mine and ill allow you erase my memories so that you can feel safer.

I didn’t want to keep any secrets anymore but now I’m afraid of losing you, but I understand that your wizarding community comes first. Their safety comes first and I dont want to be the one to expose your world. So please, think about what your going to say so that I can be prepared for what’s to come.

Love, Y/n Shelby

Theseus sets the letter down, leaning back in his chair as he takes in the information that y/n had given him. “Thee?” He looks over to see his brother standing next to him with a small smile. “I know its none of my business but, I think you should write back to him...he’s a good man and a good friend.” He said softly as Theseus looks away. He and y/n have been together for two years and they always told each other everything so he knew why y/n would fear his family, afraid of them finding out about him being a wizard, being a powerful human being that can do anything.

Knowing more about y/n’s family did upset him but he loved him with all his heart, for the first time in his life he was actually happy. He’s always wanted to come back home with y/n waiting for him so that the two could kiss and share the same bed. He knows that the ministry can be busy but he always makes time for his loved ones. So, no matter how bad y/n’s family is he isn’t going to let this destroy his happiness.

“You’re right, newt.”

“I am?” He says a little baffled as Theseus chuckles at his brother.

He sits up and grabs some parchment and a quill. “For once you are newt,” he leans forward to starts writing his response.

“Is he nice?”

“Yes.”

“...how old is he?”

Y/n rolls his eyes in annoyance as he sets the paper down. “Aunt Polly I’ve told you before, I’m not saying anything else that’ll only upset you more.” He states out. Its been two weeks since he’s sent Theseus that letter and so far he thinks that their relationship has ended, jus the Thomas wanted all along. “Besides, Thomas scared him off so their is nothing to know about him.” He pushes himself off the couch and makes his way towards his aunts kitchen. He’s been staying with her for the last couple of days, not wanting to face his brothers until he apologizes for what he did but he doubts that his brother would apologize.

“I just want to know who this man was that you were seeing for the last two years.” Said Polly as she sits on the dinning table, giving him a small grin as she says. “I want to know the man that made my nephew happy.” Y/n silently makes himself a cup of tea, avoiding his aunts stare as he bites his lip. “He was a perfect man and a kind lover.”

“Oh.”

He blushes. “He’s also a hard worker, its only him and his brother Newt; his father died in the war and his mother died from an illness leaving the two on their own...he’s the oldest so he watches over his little brother—kind of like thomas.” He shrugs a bit as he sets some water to heat up. “He’s different, he’s not like the other men that I’ve met before; he doesn’t think with his cock.” This causes his aunt to laugh out, bringing a small smile. “Theseus was just—perfect.” His smile soon disappears into a sad one. “And now its all gone, thanks to Thomas.” He turns back to the boiling water, removing it from the stove and pouring some into his teacup.

His aunt watches him as she leans back in her chair. “thomas can be a little overprotective.”

“A little?”

“Alright, a lot! But, y/n you are the baby in the family.”

“Funny how I am the baby when I am ten years older than Finn.” He responds back with a frown on his face.

“What I’m trying to say is; you’re different from everyone else. You don’t go around causing trouble and you wish to be normal, darling you don’t even drink nor smoke I’d say, your barely a Shelby at all.” She explains as he sits across from her. “Thomas doesn’t want you going down the same path as him or the rest of your brothers, which is why he wants to protect you.” Y/n sighs at Polly, listening to her explanation as he stares down at the tea.

“Well you should all know that I’m not a baby anymore, I can take care of myself and I don’t need you all to be spying on me! What I am doing shouldn’t concern you if you know that I’m not like my brothers then maybe you should stop looking out for me...I mean, focus on what is happening with our deals and relationships with other gangs. For all we know, tommy could be getting shot at without us knowin and yet you all worry about me.” He huffs, taking a large drink of his tea. Burning his tongue a little as he cringes in pain.

Polly frowns. “We do this becuase we love you, y/n and we want you to be happy but also we want to make sure that you don’t get hurt while you are alone! Your brothers almost got killed by Solomons last night!” She blurts out as y/n looks away. “If you want me to be safe than let me go.” He says, causing his aunt to gap at him in shock. “Ada has tried to live normal and that didn’t work but I have a chance to be normal if you let me go.”

Polly sighs as she reaches over to takes one of his hands into hers, holding it tight as she slowly nods. “I think you should leave too...if that makes you happy than go.” She gives him a reassuring smile as y/n smiles back. “I’ll help you, we can get you a ticket to London and I’ll make sure to give you some money.”

“I won’t be needing money where I want to go.” He adds in as his aunt raises a brow, causing him chuckle. “Trust me, I know where I want to go.”

Before his aunt could say anything they are cut off by a small tapping on the window. This causes y/n to look over and see Lucy perched upon at the window with a letter in her beak.

“Lucy.” He breaths out, quickly he stumbles out of his chair and heads towards the window. Pushing the window open he allows Lucy in who flies in and finds a cozy spot next to the fire place.

“What the bloody hell is that thing doing here?” He hears Polly say but he ignores her and takes the letter from Lucy who only squeaks in return.

He stares at the envelope, seeing the Scamander heirloom on the front and seeing his name on the back.

Nervously he rips open the envelope and pulls out the letter. Too afraid to see what he says he looks over to his aunt, not knowing what to say.

“This lover of yours must be rich if he can have an owl sending you letters.”

He chuckles at his aunts statement before looking back down the folded up letter. Taking his time he unfolds the letter and reads the black ink writing.

I want to meet your family

Y/n’s eyes widen, “what is it?” Polly asks as he licks his lips. “He—he wants to meet you all.”

“Brave man.”

Y/n nods in return as he looks back at the letter and looks below to see extra writing.

I’ll be Visiting on Thursday, meet at the same spot as usual and don’t be late.

“Thursday, Thursday—“ y/n looks around frantically and picks up the newspaper that he was reading this morning.

Checking the date his eyes widen as it read; October 7th, 1927

He looks over at the calendar to see that the 7th was in fact a Thursday, which meant that Theseus will be arriving today.

Pacing around anxiously by the tunnels he starts to think about what was going to happen today. His aunt had called in everyone for a family meeting and explained to them that Theseus was going to visiting, wanting to meet his family.

Y/n was actually afraid about this, he didn’t know if this was actually a good idea at all and he knows it!

“Y/n.”

He froze in spot and looks up to see Theseus standing at the end of the tunnel.

“Theseus...” he breaths out as he slowly steps forward.

Theseus was making his way towards him as he frantically tried to explain. “I’m sorry thee, I didn’t expect my brother to find out and I know your upset because I lied to you and I just—“ he is cut off by Theseus cupping his face and pulling him into a deep kiss.

Y/n gasps as he stands still, not knowing what to do as Theseus pulls away softly and leans his forehead against his. “I’m not upset or angry I’m just—“ he sighs deeply. “I’m actually nervous.”

Y/n rasies his brows in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” He says back as the two chuckle at each other.

“All my life I’ve been looking for someone who’d love me for who I am, I don’t care if your a muggle and your family are all gangsters. All I want is to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to come home everyday to you and be able to sleep on the same bed.” He strokes y/n cheek with his thumb as he smirks. “So, once this is over we are leaving to London and I want to get married.”

Y/n eyes widen. “M—married? Theseus that isn’t allowed here.”

“No, it’s not. But where I’m from it’s legal, a muggle and a wizard can get married as long as your society doesn’t know then will be fine.” He explains, looking down at y/n to see him smiling with tears in his eyes. “Then let’s get married.” He whispers back, leaning up to give Theseus a kiss.

“This is him?” Arthur points at Theseus, scoffing as he looks at him up and down. “Scamander, funny name ain’t it?”

“Arthur.” Both y/n and Polly say at the same time which comes to shock the brothers.

Arthur can only grumble as he stares at the others with a disapproving look, Arthur was always disapproving of everything.

The rest of the brothers stayed silent, until Finn was the first to step up. He walks over to Theseus and extends his hand out to shake, “I’m Finn, the baby of the family but they don’t really treat me as one since y/n took that spotlight from me.” Y/n shakes his head and chuckles.

Theseus gives Finn a smile and shakes his hand. “Theseus, your brother doesn’t talk much about me for reasons but he does speak highly about you.”

“Really?” Finn grins at y/n who rolls his eyes. “Alright, we get if your the best brother.” He murmurs out as Finn giggles and lets go of Theseus hand.

John was up next, introducing himself as well as the two shake hands. “Names John, I used to share beds with y/n each time he had a nightmare but from the looks of it you seemed to have stolen my job.” He smirks at the two as y/n blushes deeply. “John!”

Theseus laughs. “To be honest we haven’t shared a bed together, I’ve been busy working in London that we only have enough time to have dinner together.” He explains, this shocks the brothers a little bit.

They know that y/n doesn’t ‘sleep’ around with anyone but they all expected him to be sleeping with Theseus by now since they’ve been together for two years, but once this information came out. Now they know that their brother must be really innocent!

Ada is the third one to greet Theseus, instead of shaking his hand she immediately hugs him, catching Theseus by surprise but of course he hugs back. Y/n grins and leans close, “He’s a hugger.”

“I can tell.” Ada laughs out as she pulls away and gives him a small pat on the shoulder. “I might say; you’ve got a handsome one, you said he has a brother right?” She teases out.

Theseus smiles. “Yes, Newt but unfortunately my brother is actually engaged.” Ada pouts, “Well it was worth a try, he must be a very handsome man as well, maybe a gentleman too.”

“Oh believe me, he’s something.” Both y/n and Theseus say.

They continued on with meeting everyone properly. Theseus seems to get along more with his aunt Polly and Ada, he tries to speaks to his brothers and of course arthur is still not amused but he too tries to get to know Theseus.

So far, everyone is happy to know who his mysterious man was. All but Thomas, he’s been sitting by the corner watching Theseus carefully.

Tommy was going to be the hardest to get aporoval from since he was seen as the higher upper. Whatever choice Tommy made was the choice that everyone had to either agree or disagree too.

“Tommy.”

Y/n calls out for his brother who’s gaze slowly turns to him. He was nervous and fidgety, “I know you hate the idea of me being with a man but, can you at least talk to him or get to know him?” He pleads out.

“It’s not the idea of you dating men, what bothers me is that your growing too fast.” This catches y/n off guard.

“Tommy I’m not a child anymore, I’m twenty eight and I know how to take care of myself. Theseus has done nothing to make me feel uncomfortable and he’s patient too.” He sits next to his brother, looking over to Theseus as he bites his lip nervously.

“Theseus proposed to me.”

Thomas’ eyes widen.

“I’ll be leaving tonight to live with him.”

“Y/n—“

“Before you say anything, hear me out!” Y/n turns to face his brother properly. “I know what you and the others think about me and I know that you want me to have a normal life and far away from all this and that is what I’m doing. I’m leaving to London Tommy, to a place where no one knows me—a place to restart, so I need you to let me go.” He explains to his brother. “I promise to visit whenever I can, Theseus isn’t someone who’ll keep me locked up. He knows his precious my family is to me and he won’t ever do something to keep me from seeing you all.”

Thomas Can tell that his brother was being serious about this, about leaving and starting a new life. He’s always watched over him, watching him grow throughout the years only to see him leave.

He looks over to Theseus who was speaking to their aunt and brothers, getting along just fine before turning back to y/n, giving him one of his rare smiles. “Go, go and get married and live a normal happy life.”

Y/n smiles widely and leans over to hug Thomas who also hugs back. “Thank you.” Said y/n as he pulls away from his older brother.

Thomas chuckles and stands up. “Right then, let go meet your fiancé and see if he fits too my satisfaction.” Y/n laughs, “I think you’ll like thee very much, he reminds me a bit of you.” He adds before watching his brother head over to Theseus. Giving him a proper greeting as y/n leans back against the wall with a smile on his face.

This was his family and home but it was time to move on and to restart once again.

#male reader #peaky blidners imagine #peaky blinders x male reader #thomas shelby x male reader #thomas shelby #theseus x male reader #theseus scamander x male reader #ftawtft #crossover

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timmytimwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Once Upon A Time...

A/N: Hi! I know I haven’t uploaded anything in a long while, BUT I’ve kept myself busy with writing. I know I had requests I haven’t uploaded yet, and that’s because I’m working on it. Recently, I started watching the Fantastic Beast film series and fell head over heels in love with Theseus Scamander. So, here’s a little mini-series.

As usual, all my Y/N’s are black. Period. If you want a white Y/N, refer to the other gazillion fanfics that fail to be inclusive to black women :) with that out the way, enjoy!

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None, just heartbreak :(

Once upon a time, it was Y/N Y/L/N and Theseus Scamander against the world. Having spent nearly their entire life together, nearly everyone expected them to end up together. Hell, even they expected to end up together. And, they almost did. Y/N loved him more than she loved life itself. Theseus did not.

Once upon a time, Y/N was prepared to spend the rest of her life with Theseus. But their fairytale romance didn’t end in a happily ever after.

The small gang had run out of places to hide. Wherever they want, Grindelwald’s supporters seemed to find – and try to kill – them. They had exhausted every hiding spot in the entire continent of Europe, it seemed.

“We can’t just keep running.” Tina fumed after nearly escaping yet another attack. They trudged through the alleys of London. Try as they might, it was hard to stay inconspicuous with such a large group. If it were just Newt, Tina, and Jacob running it’d be easier – but, their ranks had been joined by Yusuf Kama, Nagini, and Theseus Scamander.

“We have to leave Europe. We can’t keep hiding out like animals.” Yusuf said.

“We could always go back to New York?” Jacob halfheartedly suggested. After losing Queenie, everything Jacob did was halfhearted. It was as if Queenie took his very essence with her when she left.

“No, New York would be too obvious. They know who we are, so they must know where we live.” Tina interjected, just as halfheartedly. She had lost her sister to an evil she couldn’t find. All she could do was run; run away from her sister.

Newt noticed her sadness and took her hand in his, offering her a small smile. Theseus watched his little brother and Tina hold hands, which only reminded him of what he had lost: Leta Lestrange.

Theseus’ bitter thoughts were interrupted by his brother. “New York may be too obvious but going to America isn’t such a bad idea…” Newt’s voice trailed off and he tentatively glanced at his older brother, who was lost in his own world.

“Theseus…” Newt softly said. He let go of Tina’s petite hand and walked over to his brother, putting a soft hand on his broad shoulders.

“What?” Theseus saw everyone now looking at him, and he wondered if he missed something important when he was lost in his own head. “Did I miss something?”

Newt took a deep breath. He knew this wasn’t going to end well. “I know a place we can hideout. In America. But you’re not going to like it…”

The day was September 18th, 1927.

The crisp autumn brisk bristled past Y/N as she swiftly walked through a nearly empty park. It was nearly 8AM and, though nearly everyone else in Washington DC was asleep, Y/N Y/L/N had made a point of waking up at 5 in the morning for the sole purpose of getting fresh baked goods from Maryland.

See, her favorite bakery was nearly an hour-long drive from her home and the goods always ran out fast. It had taken her weeks to devise a working and precise plan, but she had finally done it. Now, it was just this eerie park that separated where she parked her car and her apartment that delayed her breakfast.

“If the bread gets cold… after all my hard work… so help me Merlin…” she huffed, hastening her paste. Finally, she found herself in front of her apartment – a stout yet charming brown shoe-box shaped building that was snuggled between what seemed like a billion other buildings that fit the same description. Lucky for her, Y/N lived on the ground floor and only had to climb the front steps and insert her key.

“Home sweet home.” She thought to herself, setting the bag of baked goods on a nearby table. She shrugged off her light coat, lamenting if the food was worth not sleeping in. Lord knows when she may get another opportunity; with the rise of Grindelwald, her work at the ministry had nearly quadrupled.

But it kept her busy. It distracted her from everything ailing her life; how war was imminent, worrying for her family’s safety, worrying for her own safety, worrying for…him.

As much as it pained her, she kept close tabs on him. Whenever a European Auror turned up dead because of Grindelwald or one of his followers, she prayed it wasn’t him. Y/N had never been a religious person; she believed in magic, but that was it. To this day, it still puzzled her how the man who had completely crushed her heart made her believe in the unbelievable.

She shook her head. “Stop thinking about him.” She muttered to herself, taking a deep breath. “Lord knows he’s not thinking about you. Lord knows he was never thinking about you…” She tossed her coat onto the couch, making a mental note to put it away later.

For now, she needed the only thing that would drive him out of her mind: food. Through her heartbreak and depression, there was only one constant in her mind. The one thing that drove her out of bed nearly every day. The one thing that didn’t attempt to get her to “talk about it” or “put herself out there.” The one thing that she loved more than…

“Theseus!”

Lo and behold, standing right there in her petite kitchen was Theseus Scamander. The man who had obliviated her heart.

She nearly fell back in shock, never expecting to see his face again. After all these years… he still looked the same. His eyes were still dark with slight speckles on gold. His auburn hair still had those unruly curls that he hated and often unsuccessfully tried to gel back, but Y/N always loved. Most of her favorite memories with him included him cuddling up to her while she played with his hair.

She narrowed her eyes and peered closer at him, taking in everything that had changed. Yes, he had certainly aged, but he looked thoroughly exhausted. He had bags under his eyes, and small vanishing wounds riddled his body. He looked tired. Defeated. She had never seen that look in him.

He looked like she did when he left her. Heartbroken.

“So sorry to intrude like this, Y/N” his brother, Newt, interjected. Y/N only then realized that there were other people present.

“What the hell is going on?”

Newt provided a quick summarization of what the group had gone through the past couple of days: the fight during Grindelwald’s assembly, Queenie’s betrayal, Credence switching sides, and Leta’s death. At that last comment, Y/N’s eyes instinctively darted to Theseus, who kept his trained on the ground. As a matter of what, he was trying desperately hard to avoid eye contact.

“We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t desperate, Y/N.” Newt said. The Scamander’s and Y/N had a long and complicated history, and Newt hated having to impose this on his old friend. He didn’t like the idea of involving her in an already volatile situation.

Y/N, on the other hand, wouldn’t hear a word otherwise. “Of course, you’re all welcome to stay. I wish you’d come earlier and save yourselves the trouble of running around London seeking refuge.”

Newt gratefully nodded, taking Tina’s hand in his. “Don’t worry, I still remember my way around your flat.” At that, he and his... girlfriend(?) apparated away – probably to another room to get some privacy.

Now Y/N was left alone with a group of people she didn’t know. Well, she knew Theseus – once upon a time – but not as well as she thought she did, obviously.

“Alright, then. Are any of you hurt? Hungry? I’ve got baked goods from the best place in the country.” Y/N pushed further into the kitchen, clutching her bag of baked goods with her. Brushing past Theseus, she caught a sniff of the most comforting and familiar smell she knew. In fact, it was the exact same smell of her Amortentia potion. “I’ve got about a dozen bagels and some doughnuts. Oh, and cookies too. You might be wondering why I have so much food, after all, I’m just one person. And that’s a very funny question…” Y/N blabbered away. As if talking would fill the awkward space.

Because if she fell silent, she’d have to become more aware of her surroundings. That would mean looking at Theseus. Maybe even talking to him. And it would, ultimately, lead to her reliving every wonderfully painful memory she ever shared with him.

“Y/N…? Now, where have I heard that name before?” Jacob asked.

“Maybe from Newt? We went to Hogwarts together for about three years, after all.”

“Only three? Isn’t wizarding school for seven years, or something like that?”

“Yes, but I started school at Uagadou. It’s the wizarding school in Africa – I’m from Senegal, by the way, don’t let the English accent fool you- but then I transferred to Hogwarts in my fourth year…” Y/N trailed off, not fully wanting to finish the story as it didn’t paint her in the best light.

“…After she transfigured into a panther and attacked a kid for teasing her brothers.” Theseus finished. Y/N’s head snapped up, sending her Y/H/C locks flying in disarray, and stared at him. He was still tentatively looking at the ground, but his face held a knowing smile. “And then just a year after starting at Hogwarts, she did the exact same thing to another student.” He slowly raised his head. With his eyes partially hidden behind his disheveled auburn curls, it seemed as if he was staring into her naked soul.

“Magnolia Harper,” Y/N recalled, “She bloody deserved it too.”

“And what exactly did the poor girl do to warrant an animal attack?” Nagini whispered, her head cocked to the side in curiosity.

Y/N could feel the temperature in her cheeks rising by the second. At that times like this, she was glad her melanin complexion made it difficult for anyone tell she was blushing. The entire story was bloody embarrassing, especially given the situation everything was in right now. She chewed on the bottom of her lip, trying to piece together exactly how to phrase her answer.

Luckily, Theseus came to the rescue. “There was a rumor that she was planning on asking me to the Yule Ball and Y/N got insanely jealous. Pounced on her during Dumbledore’s practice dueling sessions and nearly clawed her entire face off.”

“Oh, so you two were an item. How sweet, young love.” Nagini mulled, smiling at the two. Yusuf stood beside her, solemnly nodding his head.

The pair looked down, the nostalgic smiles slipping from their faces. All the dissipating anger Y/N harbored suddenly came bubbling to the surface, remembering Theseus’ betrayal like a fresh wound. Theseus, on the other hand, felt the guilt and grief wash over him like a Tsunami.

“Not exactly. It turns out I was worried about the wrong girl…”

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dreamsclock · 4 years ago

Note

"Which part of me wasn't enough?"

Dream and Technoblade if you will! I enjoy your writing a lot. My heart aches in tandem with the funky words you put down and I thank you for that

oh, this was an interesting one !! these two sure do have a dynamic whdmdn - tysm for this, and for being so sweet !!

prompt: “what part of me wasn’t enough?”

characters: dream, technoblade, (mentions) tommy

warnings: pandora’s box themes (solitary confinement, mental health issues, bad living conditions), reflections on villainy, war, murder, etc

[ send me dream smp character / characters and/or a prompt from this list and i’ll write you a drabble !! ]

Techno only visits Dream once in prison. Once is more than enough for both of them.

Dream takes longer than usual to register his presence — or maybe he’s doing it for dramatics, God knows both of them are theatrical enough for that to be a possibility. Techno crosses the bridge to the cell in brisk strides, ignoring the lava and the way his skin prickles at the sight of the cramped cell. Jesus, he thinks, Jesus, this place is the worst.

He doesn’t feel sorry for Dream, though, because he knows if he hadn’t ended up here, Dream would have stuck him in there instead; he’s not an idiot, he knows he’s too strong and too much of a threat to let loose.

Still. Techno thinks it’s only human for him to feel just the slightest inch of gritty sympathy. If Dream hadn’t cracked long ago, he’d be worrying for the guy’s mental health.

As it is, Dream seems terribly affected by the prison anyway. Eyes dull, glazed over with defeat and loneliness, his formidable rival looks far less godlike than he once had. He barely moves his head in Techno’s direction, letting his gaze flicker to him, before dropping. Techno moves his own gaze away; out of respect, maybe, out of pity, less likely - out of disgust from seeing how far Dream has fallen, most likely. There’s silence for a long moment, too long.

“Do I dare call you a Greek tragedy?” Techno muses to break it, watching Dream’s face tighten into something resembling anger. “Or have you learned your lesson yet?”

Dream doesn’t speak, but he does open his mouth. No sound comes out. Techno waits expectantly for the reply he knows is coming.

“...I don’t understand what went wrong,” Dream rasps, and Jesus, don’t they give him any water? He sounds like he’s swallowed glass. How long has it been since he’s spoken? Regardless, this is the most honest he’s heard Dream in years, so he stays quiet, attentive, listening. “I don’t understand. What part of me wasn’t enough?”

Techno knows exactly what he means, but rolls his eyes anyway. “You’re so dramatic,” he mutters, before raising his voice, “you made a lot of rookie errors, Dream. You got angry. You got cocky. And for someone who claimed not to care about anyone or anything, you sure cared about keeping Tommy alive, didn’t you?”

Dream stiffens, damningly struggling for a response that doesn’t highlight his feelings. Because Techno knows he cares about Tommy - or at least about Tommy’s role in his stupid story, the hero role, the Theseus, the good to his evil. Dream’s a storyteller, he knows the script, and knows how to keep the story going as long as Tommy is alive.

He cares, oh so much. It’s funny, because he’s ended up in prison trying to prove otherwise.

“But by far your biggest mistake,” he continues, and Dream’s eyes finally snap to him, dark, unfathomable, “was believing so much in the story that you forgot that this is real life.” Techno smiles, shaking his head. “I love Greek myths, Dream, but you loved them just a little too much. There’s no such thing as heroes and villains in real life, you know. TommyInnit isn’t a hero. And you damned yourself by thinking he’d act like one and charge recklessly into a situation without a backup plan.”

His smile turns very briefly proud, thinking of the wide eyed delight when he’d gifted Tommy his stupid turtle-shell helmet.

“Believe me. I taught him a few tricks while he was under my wing.”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Dream says, a puppet on a broken string, and Techno chuckles.

“No,” he agrees, “ it wasn’t. But it did, and maybe when you accept that, you’ll learn something valuable about this whole thing.”

#mcyt #dream smp #dreamwastaken #dream #dream smp fic #technoblade #tommy innit #tommy #tommyinnit #> my writing !!#> my asks !!

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honey-dewey · 4 years ago

Text

Loving You is a Losing Game

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/Reader

Word Count: 2,602

Warnings: Gore, loss of limbs/appendages, medical procedures, implied experimentation, big Reader whump, Marcus is depressed, this is 99% angst, I’m sorry in advance, I promise it has a happy ending.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Two weeks before he was going to propose to you, you disappeared from Marcus’s life. With no idea where you went or who took you from him, Marcus devotes himself to finding you, even if it costs him his life. Meanwhile, you’re struggling to keep alive in a cell, wishing you had your hero by your side. What must you lose to reunite with Marcus?

A/N: An anon asked me to write some Reader whump with Marcus after I posted my Marcus whump, and boy oh boy did I deliver! I hope this satisfies you, anon, because I’m oddly proud of it.

Every second that passed was agonizing. Marcus was pacing up and down and up and down, waiting for Miracle Guy to return from his mission. To see if they’d caught sight of you.

You’d been gone from him for six months now. You’d missed his birthday, and Missy’s, and even your own. He’d been planning to ask you on your birthday, the ring heavy in his pocket even now. But you’d been taken, kidnapped by an unnamed threat that hadn’t shown itself again. He had been inconsolable for weeks, but dragged himself to work on the hope that one day there would be news. And today was that day. Or at least, he hoped it was.

“Marcus.”

Marcus looked up. Miracle Guy stood in front of him, worried, holding a piece of paper. A photograph. He surged forward, moved by instinct and instinct alone.

“It’s all we could find,” Miracle Guy said softly, handing over the photo. “They did DNA tests. It’s theirs.”

The photograph wavered dangerously as Marcus took in the contents. Three fingers, bloodied at the ends, lay on the pavement, the blood long since dried up into the ground. They were old.

“Marcus? Are you okay?”

Marcus shook his head. They had you. They’d injured you. They had no fear of hurting you. Would they kill you?

He looked up, vision blurry with tears and anger. “They’ll pay for this.”

Marcus didn’t rest for days. He was fueled only by coffee, anger, determination, and fear. Even Missy, who had mourned your loss as much as he had, was worried for him. He was killing himself to find you.

Finally, he found a lead.

Well, technically someone else found it. A smashed VHS tape found near the fingers. It took Tech-No days to fix it properly, but when he did, no one liked what they heard.

There was no image on the tape. The camera had been angled towards the blank wall, the faded patterns of bricks grey and fuzzy. The sounds though. Oh god the sounds.

It started with suppressed sobs. Marcus clenched his fists, trying not to scream. That was you, sobbing, shuddering breaths so full of fear. Heavy footsteps entered the room, and your breathing picked up, racing quickly to full panic mode.

“No, please,” you begged, voice thin and weak. “Please!” You sounded desperate, and there were rough sounds, the sounds of skin on stone. A sliding noise, like metal on fabric, and then a sound so loud and shocking that everyone in the room jumped.

You screamed, high and bloodcurdling. Frenzy entered your voice as you shrieked and shrieked and shrieked. Marcus was frozen, the complete terror and pain you were conveying with a single noise making him incapable of movement. He vaguely registered someone throwing up behind him, but all he could focus on was your continued screaming.

Finally, the tape stopped, cutting off one of your screams. Tech-No stepped forward, a bit paler than he’d been before he showed the tape. “Given recent evidence, we can safely assume that tape was of them removing three of (Y/N)’s fingers.”

Whoever had thrown up heaved again, the sick splattering sounds tame in comparison to what everyone else had just heard.

Marcus was the first to speak. “We’re finding them. Right now.”

———

You had lost all sense of day and night, and your only indicator of time was when your single meal arrived. A metal tray shoved under a flap in the thick metal door. Your food was typically meager and rotten, but you ate like a man starved. Mostly because in the beginning you had been.

As you crawled towards the tray, the chains binding your thick leather collar to the wall clinking, you tried your best to keep the weight off your left hand. Two weeks ago, the cruel men who’d kidnapped you had cut three of your fingers off and left you with nothing to fix the bleeding stumps. You’d eventually resorted to ripping up a pant leg to bind your hand and staunch the bleeding.

Today’s meal was a few bites of stale bread and a quarter serving of stone cold soup. You kept pace in eating, knowing that scarfing it all down would result in vomiting. And in the first months, it had. Your cell still stank from how much you’d thrown up in there, but it was buried among the other smells. Not that you could even smell it now.

You drank half the water they gave you, and used the other half to wash out your hand. It was the first major injury they’d given you, and you’d tried to take care of you. Despite your tending and the daily washings out, the hand was swollen and red, the site of the injury a sick sort of yellow with spots that were actually turning brown. It was burning hot to the touch and oozed something that reeked, even in the disgusting cell. You’d be lucky if you’d be able to keep the hand. Hell, you’d be lucky to keep the whole arm at this point.

“I’ll be lucky if I don’t die here,” you said bitterly to yourself, ripping another long strip of fabric off your discarded pants with your teeth and slowly wrapping up your hand, biting back tears. The only fingers left were your index and thumb, and they didn’t look good.

When your body succumbed to exhaustion, you curled up on the threadbare mattress and used the single moth bitten blanket to preserve body heat. Sleep was easy and dreamless now, and you often woke at the smallest of sounds. Like the man walking past your cell every so often, maybe every half hour? You wished you had a watch. You wished you had many things. Shivering beneath your blanket, you curled closer into the corner and wished for Marcus.

Marcus was not there when your eyes opened. You woke up to the harsh scrape of the door opening and two men grabbing you to drag you out. You kicked and screamed, but it did nothing. The men were stronger than you, and in your starved state, you were too weak to do much more than flail.

A rough scrap of fabric was tied around your face, killing your vision. A second one followed quickly, sitting uncomfortably between your lips and silencing your voice. Your feet didn’t want to carry you, so the men did it for you, carting around your dead weight as if it were nothing.

Just as suddenly as they’d lifted you, the men put you down, and you whined as harsh lights filled your eyes when the blindfold was removed. You were at the start of a long white hallway, branches of the hall snaking out and around. Had they put you in a maze?

A harsh jolt around your ankle sent you shrieking, kicking your feet to attempt to dislodge the heavy ankle bracelet you wore. It didn’t move, and a sharper stab raced up your leg as you danced around like you were possessed.

Finally, you started to run, racing down pristine white corridors and working yourself dizzy. You unwrapped your hand, hoping the dripping blood and pus would help guide you, like a gory version of Theseus’s yarn. But all it did was confuse you until every hallway was filled with smeared bodily fluids and you had no way to turn.

You had no idea how long you were in the maze. Hours? Days? Time was irrelevant here. Whenever you tried to stop, to rest or to find reprieve from the stabbing pain in your feet, the ankle bracelet would shock you harder and harder until you moved again. The blinding lights never dimmed, and finally, finally, your body gave out.

The anklet shocked you once, twice, three times and then yet again for good measure. All you did was twitch, lying exhausted on the floor, the world underneath you spinning like an out of control carousel. “Marcus,” you croaked, your dying voice a harsh scrape in your throat. You hadn’t had water in hours, was it hours? Spots swam through your vision as two people in white coats came to collect you, putting your limp body on a stretcher and wheeling you away. You were tossed into a cell, this one whiter and lighter than your last one. You had no time to investigate the new room as one person, the woman, poured water down your throat while the other shackled you to the wall again. The woman checked your vitals and wrote down some numbers while the man used white bandages and soft gauze pads to cover the ruin of your left hand. You weren’t coherent enough to tell if he’d put any disinfectant on the wound, but you could guess that he didn’t. No one here was that kind to you.

“Rest,” the woman said, putting a hand on your head in what you assumed was her idea of comfort. “We’ll try it again later.”

You couldn’t even argue as your body shut down, plunging you into the darkness of your dreamless sleep.

When you woke, it was not to the scientists or the bad men. It was to faint gunfire and a large figure bursting into your new cell. You scrambled upright, immediately tossing your hands up to protect your face, knees hugged to your chest to make yourself small and heavy. But no blows came, no rough hands touched your skin. Only soft shuffled footsteps and labored breathing. Braving a peak, you saw a man silhouetted by light, the familiar outline of katanas over the person’s shoulders breaking your heart.

“Marcus,” you said weakly, uncurling. As your eyes adjusted and the door slowly began to close, you were able to take Marcus in fully. He looked a wreck, exhaustion written all over his face and a broken expression twisting his usually kind features. He fell to his knees, and you crawled forward to meet him, throwing yourself into his arms and letting yourself be wracked by sobs for the first time in months. Your malnourished and anemic body shook violently, but you had never felt more steady, cradled in Marcus’s embrace.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Marcus breathed, voice unsure and wavering.

You shook your head. You had no words, no ability to speak right now. Instead, you just pressed yourself tighter to him, tears ruining his shirt. You could barely register Marcus cutting through your collar and discarding it on the floor.

Marcus stood, cradling your broken body to his chest. He carried you out, past other heroes who all fell silent at your current condition. Marcus lay you down on a stretcher once you were outside and rode with you to the hospital, holding your unruined hand the entire time. You focused only on his grip, grounding yourself to it. You would be okay as long as Marcus Moreno was holding your hand.

The next few days were very fuzzy. You were in and out of an operating room, usually asleep and always drugged. After so long in pain, the gentle numbness of not being hurt was worrying. You had been right, half of your left arm had been too badly damaged to salvage. Below your left elbow now lay nothing, no hand to hold and no fingers to squeeze. Marcus held your right hand instead, pressing kisses into your palm and slowly running his thumb over your knuckles while he read.

Aside from the arm, your injuries had been few and far between. A couple scrapes that needed disinfectant, a broken rib that had healed incorrectly and needed surgery, and the rubbed raw skin of your neck that had been healed. You’d slowly begun to gain weight again, no longer skin and bones. Your hair, which had been greasy and matted, had been shorn off and was now regrowing. Your body had finally begun to rework its circadian rhythm, your sleeps lining up with the rise and fall of the sun.

Marcus took a breath beside you, his thumb absently circling over your index knuckle as he read. He’d been touching you in some way ever since you’d been found. Gentle hands touching yours while he watched TV, shoulders pressed together when he told you about Missy, the softest of kisses against your temples when your head hurt. You smiled, turning to Marcus and blinking slowly. He’d been working for weeks to restore your smile, and now you had it back, albeit shaky and nervous.

“What’s that look for?” Marcus asked, turning to you, one corner of his mouth rising slightly in amusement.

Your grin only grew. “You,” you said. “I love you.”

Marcus leaned forward, turning so he was fully facing you. “The day you were taken,” he said softly, taking your right hand in both of his. “I was so scared. It was two weeks before your birthday, remember? And I had been bursting with joy, because we were going to spend the evening together, just you and me.”

“Marcus,” you interrupted quietly. “What are you saying?”

“Hush dear, indulge me,” Marcus insisted, moving one hand to trace his knuckles across the curve of your cheekbone. “That night, on your birthday, I was going to ask you something. Something that would’ve changed our lives forever. I’d spent months planning, making sure the night would be perfect, and then the universe stole you from me.”

You sighed, wishing you could cup Marcus’s face in your hands. Instead, you settled on resting your only hand on his right shoulder. He put his hand against yours, the warmth seeping into your skin. “Now,” he continued. “I wish I could ask you as easily as I had wanted to. This has all brought to light how precious you are to me. How much you make me happy. Darling, my light and my love, I want to be beside you forever, and I want you at my side. We will stumble, that I’m sure of, and there will be days where we will hate the very ground the other walks upon. But I’m willing to risk the fleeting bad for the abundant good.” He reached into his pocket and produced a slender ring made of twisted silver and shining gemstones. “Will you marry me?”

You had no words. Looking at Marcus, who was so sincerely pouring his heart out, you felt some kind of shame that you had no response except shock. Not shock that he was proposing, because you two had briefly talked about marriage. No, you were shocked at his emotion. His heart wrenching tone. The look of worry on his face as you sat there, silent.

It took a minute, but you finally managed to compose yourself long enough for a very strangled sounding “Yes.”

Marcus’s face brightened as you nodded, both of you tearing up. “Here,” he said, sliding the ring onto your ring finger. “It’s beautiful.”

You smiled, pulling Marcus close and hugging him as tight as you possibly could. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Marcus breathed, embracing you as firmly as you had him. “I’m so glad I get to say that to you again.”

The pair of you spent the rest of the day pressed against each other, Marcus getting into your bed with you as you drifted in and out of sleep. While he watched some horribly violent fantasy TV show, you dozed against his shoulder, the gentle hug of the ring on your finger a constant reminder that no matter what threats came your way, you would always have Marcus.

#we can be heroes #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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frunbuns · 4 years ago

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You’ve Been Hurting For a Long Time

Some days, when he sees someone on the street that looks just a little too like Graves, that makes his blood run cold. He’s quick to apparate home then, trembling hands trying desperately to open the front door until he remembers that the door is locked, and he’ll pull out his wand and wordlessly unlock it, slamming the door shut behind him. He stumbles into the flat, breathing so fast he feels light-headed. That he might pass out right then and there.

And the panicked feeling of; “This is it. He’s going to die. He’s going to die. He’s going to—”

Newt rides it out on the floor of his empty London flat, with only Pickett as company who chirps at him with concern, unable to do much to help him.

Read on Ao3

It’s a testament to how lonely he really is that he doesn’t even notice it until he’s alone again. New York had been an adventure he’d not forget any time soon. He’d spent a little under two weeks in the city, and yet it had made a larger impact on him than any place he’d ever been. And he had been all over the world.

As the boat had made its way to London Newt spent his time taking care of the creatures in his case. He’d kept himself busy as the journey had dragged on.

Theseus greets him at the docks. He welcomes him home with a tight hug and a pat on the back. He takes him home and they eat dinner together. He wants Newt to be his best man at his and Leta’s wedding. He tells him he’s proud of him and wishes him good luck on the book. Then he leaves for the night.

And suddenly Newt is alone again.

He gets to work on his book, looking through his countless notebooks full of scribbles and messily written notes. Months and months worth of research. He spends hours upon hours every day.

When he’s not writing he takes care of his creatures. Feeding them, treating their injuries, and studying them.

At night, when every time he closes his eyes all he sees are the malicious eyes of Percival Graves as Newt writhes pathetically down on the train tracks - every part of his body screaming in pain - he stares up at the white ceiling of his bedroom. Heart pounding in his chest.

It’s when it’s pitch black outside and the silence in his flat is so quiet his ears almost start ringing that he feels it the most. The pressure pushing down at his chest, making it hard to breathe. The ache in his heart. The one that doesn’t ever quite go away, but had lessened in New York - and then gets even worse at nights like these.

The crippling loneliness.

Suddenly his creatures aren’t quite enough. It’s not quite the same, and now that he’s had it, losing it had been so hard.

He falls asleep after what feels like an eternity, and wakes up the next morning with the sun shining in through his curtains, and dry tear-tracks on his face. He doesn’t dwell on it for long. He has a basement full of magical creatures that needs taking care of.

He puts it in a small box and stores it away for later. (But later doesn’t come. It never does.)

Theseus talks to him at the Ministry. Asks him how the book is coming along and makes all kinds of small talk that Newt hates. He invites him to have dinner with him and Leta, but Newt declines.

Every time.

(When he gets home again, to his quiet, empty flat, he wonders why he did it. He never has a good answer. He can’t even remember why he started saying no in the first place.)

Sometimes, when Theseus is talking to him - about the most casual of things - he’ll zone out. The world around him disappears entirely as he stares blankly forward, a faraway look. Theseus will stop talking, and when he comes to again he hears the snapping of fingers, and he sees Theseus’ concerned face in front of him.

They never talk about it, but the older Scamander brother gives him worried glances at him from time to time. Like he wants to say something, but isn’t sure how - or even if he should.

Part of him wishes he would. (Just push a little harder. Prod a little more. And maybe then Newt would finally break apart and tell him everything.)

(“Newt,” her voice rings out from the other side of the door. “Why don’t you come out? You’ve been holed up in your room for days.”

Newt stares at the floor, lips pressed into a thin line. He’s sat against the wall next to the door, knees drawn up to his chest. Around him, his bedroom is an untidy mess, more so than usually. The curtains are drawn, blocking most of the sunlight out.

Leta sighs. “We’re worried about you.”

Newt looks up then, eyeing the door. “We?” he asks, voice hoarse and quiet after so long of not using it.

“Yes, we,” she says. “Theseus is your brother, and I’m your friend. Of course we worry about you.”

Newt lets out a shuddering breath, blinking away the stinging sensation in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but he’s sure if he did his voice would crack.

He hears Leta sigh. “Just… We care about you, Newt. I don't know what happened in New York, but it must have been bad. We just want to be there for you.”)

And the panicked feeling of; “This is it. He’s going to die. He’s going to die. He’s going to—”

Newt rides it out on the floor of his empty London flat, with only Pickett as company who chirps at him with concern, unable to do much to help him.

(Logically, he knows that Grindelwald is locked away at MACUSA. That there’s no way he could be in London of all places. Especially not disguised as Graves again. That would be foolish of him.)

Newt can only describe it as if he's swimming in deep, freezing water, barely able to keep his head above the surface. He gasps for air that never quite reaches his lungs, unable to call for help. And just when he thinks he might have found his footing, a new wave rolls over him, pulling him back under.

At times he's worried his body might give out to the exhaustion, and he'll succumb to the dark depths of the sea where no one can help him. (Or maybe he’s already there and he just can’t tell.)

—

It gets better after he receives the first letter from Tina. It says so little, but so much at the same time. He’s quick to write her back. It makes the feeling of loneliness - the loneliness that’s taken such hold of him that it never quite leaves - lessen slightly.

It’s like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He smiles for what feels like the first time in forever. It feels good. He’s not quite so alone anymore. Tina is his friend. (The water doesn’t feel quite so bottomless now.)

He wants to go back to New York, but it's rather difficult when he's got an International Travel Ban hanging over his head. He tries to appeal it multiple times, but he's never successful, even with Theseus' help and influence.

—

He sees Tina’s picture in the paper. Pride swells in his chest, warming his entire being. His heart flutters in his chest when he looks at it. MACUSA is lucky to have her with them.

He’s disappointed to see that the picture doesn’t give the full effect as seeing her in person does. He cuts it out anyway, and keeps it in his case where he can see it. (He’ll see her again in person, he tells himself.)

Theseus does his best to talk to him. (He’s insistent on dinner, even though he knows Newt won’t accept. It’s almost as if he’s on autopilot.) It almost feels like he’s walking on glass around Newt at times, but it still doesn’t mean they get along all the time. They argue. Usually about Aurors. It never gets too heated - Theseus always seems to know when to stop - but it can sour his mood for the rest of the day. (Newt actively avoids him the next day.)

He finishes the book, and he sends it to his publisher. It’s not too long until it’s out. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Theseus and Leta come with him to the book signing at Flourish and Blotts. Leta doesn't seem to be angry with him for not coming to dinner, but Newt has never been good at reading people. Still, it’s a bit of a relief that they’re there. (Theseus has always been a people pleaser, and he basks in the attention as Newt practically cowers behind the desk.)

He meets Bunty, an enthusiastic woman who shares a love for beasts only rivaled with his own. He decides he quite likes her, and she’s more than willing to become his assistant and help him take care of the creatures he has. With the book money Newt finds he can afford it, and decides to hire her.

The rest of the day goes by in a jiffy, and before he knows it he’s back in his quiet, empty flat. But it’s not as bad as before. (It’s as if the water is getting shallower.)

He waits for Tina’s next letter. He’s ecstatic to hear from her again. Even if he can’t keep his promise and deliver the book to her in person. Still, he keeps a copy for her hidden away for when he eventually can.

Tina’s letter never comes.

The weeks drag on, but not as much as an owl pecks at his window.

(She must have finally had enough of him, he thinks. He must have annoyed her too much. Written something he shouldn’t have. Said something wrong, like he always seem to do.)

(Maybe Newt Scamander just wasn’t meant to have friends after all…)

Still, he holds out hope for her. That it isn’t like that. That it’s not his fault. Something else just got in the way. But the emptiness in his heart, that had ever so slowly started to heal again, grows. (The water around him rises.)

Life goes on. He still can’t get his travel ban appealed. Bunty is nice company when she comes, but it’s just as lonely in his flat when she leaves again. It’s better than it was though, and it eventually fades a little into the background. Never quite forgotten, but never fully present either.

It gets easier to breathe, he finds. The rainy days of England don't seem as bleak and dreary anymore. It gets better. (It’s not quite as empty anymore.)

Paris happens. Leta dies, and Queenie joins Grindelwald. And all the things he thought he had left behind in New York comes rushing back. Just when he thought he might be healing.

It feels like he’s drowning all over again. The waves crash into him with more force than ever and Newt can’t breathe. It feels like there are ankors tied to him, or that he’s suddenly forgotten how to swim.

It’s easy to shit himself in. Isolate from the rest of the world. From everything and everyone. He doesn’t leave his flat. He skips meals. Some days he sleeps the day away and others he doesn’t sleep at all. He stays away when Bunty comes. He never quite knows when the next time he’s going to burst into tears or have a panic attack might be - and he doesn’t want Bunty’s concern - so he doesn’t take any chances.

(It should have been him.)

Newt is not used to being angry so when he first notices it, he’s scared. He finds that he’s angry at Grindelwald. At the Ministry. At Queenie. At everyone, even himself.

He’s not himself anymore, and he’s not sure if he ever will be again. (He will, but it will take time.)

At night he dreams of Grindelwald and Graves. He tosses and turns until he wakes with a yell on his lips. The nightmares are bad. Sometimes it’s just Grindelwald, other times they involve his Tina, and Jacob, and Queenie, and Theseus. Other nights the nightmares don’t even have anything to do with Paris or New York.

But some nights the dreams are pleasant. About him and Leta. Sometimes at Hogwarts. Sometimes not. He misses her.

(“You should come out,” she says, then after a pause, “I know you’re listening, Newt. You should talk to him.”

Newt closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall.

“I know you’re hurting… but so is he. He needs you just as much as you need him right now. You don’t have to go through this alone, Newt.”

He looks at the door separating them.

“You’re the most important people in my life, and I hate to see you suffering like this. Just—” She pauses for a second. “Just let us in, Newt. Please.”

A beat.

“I love you, you know.”

Newt stands up. He takes a shaky breath and goes to the door. He swallows thickly, hand hovering over the door handle. Leta remains silent, as if she’s expectantly waiting for him.

He opens the door.

And then he wakes up.)

Time goes on.

—

The cold winter air dances around him. Newt buries himself further into the coat. His shoulders are stiff as he walks the streets. Pickett chirps softly from his breast pocket.

He stops in front of Theseus’ door. He finds himself hesitating. This is the first time he’s been outside - properly outside - in weeks. It had all been on a whim. He hadn’t planned on going out today, and now he finds that he regrets it.

He had gotten a quick look in the mirror as he threw on his coat and scarf. He’s a mess. Messy hair, dark circles under his eyes, ghostly pale skin, and sunken cheeks. He had barely recognised himself where he stood. Surely Theseus can wait another day. He can come back sometime else, when he’s not so disheveled.

Pickett chirps at him and Newt shakes his head.

‘Worrying means you suffer twice,’ he tells himself. A motto he hasn’t lived by in a while now. Something he hasn’t thought about in ages.

With a shaking hand he moves to ring the buzzer.

The door opens.

Newt gasps, breath hitching in the back of his throat as he jumps back in surprise.

“Newt—?” Theseus looks equally surprised to see him there, looking him down with wide eyes.

The older Scamander doesn’t look much better than Newt. He’s pale too, his normally pale freckles a stark contrast to his light skin. His hair is disheveled, like his, and he’s not wearing a suit like he usually does. It takes Newt by surprise.

They stare at each other in silence.

Then theseus clears his throat, looking him directly in the eyes. Newt wants to look away, but finds himself unable to. “Newt, what are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in weeks—”

Newt opens his mouth to answer, but he chokes over the sound, a wet sob passes through his lips. He blinks away tears. “I— I’m—”

Theseus sighs sadly. “Oh Newt,” he says softly before he pulls Newt into his arms. He rubs his back soothingly as the younger Scamander sobs into his shoulder, gasping for breath between each one as his body shakes as they rack his body. “I know, I know.”

“I’m— I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I—”

“It’s alright, Newt,” Theseus murmurs to him. “You’ve been hurting for a long time.”

They stand there for a while, taking comfort in each other’s presence, until Newt’s sobs subside to shuddering breaths and sniffles.

“I miss her.”

Theseus swallows thickly. “Me too,” he replies, voice thick with emotion and eyes filled with unshed tears. “Me too.”

The ocean splashes at his feat, but it’s alright. Newt knows how to swim now.

#fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts the crimes of grindelwald #fbawtft #fbtcog #newt scamander #theseus scamander #leta lestrange #tina goldstein #gellert grindelwald #percival graves #fics #my fics #mine #scamander brothers

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literameera · 4 years ago

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White Sails

2433 words

The oceans going to swallow him whole some day and only then could he die happy.

Caspian already gave his soul to the sea, his first great love. Initially I was excited for him and how he got to live out his dreams. He’d write to me about his exploits, I’d gasp and laugh when appropriate, as if he can see, and finally when the stories ended, I’d write to say that I’ve been living the same way: wake up, work, eat, sleep and mostly anticipate. He’d tease that I live like a widow refusing to believe her husband's dead, wasting away staring out the window, hoping for him to someday return to her. Like the ship of Theseus every time he left a part of him had been replaced, how long has he been a man I couldn't recognise, a ghost wearing my lover’s skin.

Only the wooden planks stepped on by Theseus himself belong to the original ship, the rest are imposters high off the glory of His name. Your skin cells regenerate every twenty-seven days – and it’s been longer than that since my hands held his, the wind already swept all memories of my words from his mind. He can only belong to one and she’s infinitely larger than me. To him, her cold embrace feels like coming home. It’s selfish – I’d remind myself – selfish to want to steal what makes him happy all because I feel lonely, he’s loved the ocean long before he’s loved me, and he will long after. I can only hope she’s kind when she does finally take him. I’ve heard that saltwater burns your lungs and that a body only sinks for a moment and as it fills with water it floats to the top, I don’t want them to find his body, he wouldn’t want them to either. I hope his clothes weigh him down and 80% becomes all of him, that he sinks to Atlantis and the sun never feels him again, we don’t deserve it.

But then he comes home, the wind in his hair, salt clinging to his skin and horribly chapped lips, he kisses me hello and I get a taste of what he feels. He tells me he’s missed the warm water from the shower while I wash his locks, that his land legs haven’t grown back yet so can I hold on just a little tighter ‘to make sure I don’t fall of course’. I tell him our neighbours' gossip and he laugh and gasps when appropriate and says that he’s missed the shop at the end of the street, in the morning he’ll grab groceries and those chocolates he’s loved since he was a kid, and some things never change. When it’s quiet and we lull we watch the sun set, sitting on a linoleum countertop in the kitchen, he glows orange in its light and tells me he’s missed me.

When a whale dies its body sinks to the benthic zone, there where there’s no sun, no blood, no heat, no me, or him the oceans creatures eat on its flesh, their entire life's sustenance reliant on an animal they’ve never seen alive and blobfish get their namesake feature from the rapid shift in pressure, they essentially burst while being pulled up by fishermen. The universe is kept spinning by forces we don’t know and can’t name and one day the sun could burst, and we wouldn’t know until 8 minutes later when its light should touch us and won’t. But it did that day, the light travelled through a solar system to shine on him, and shine on me, and that’s how we met. It was fate. Eight years later it’s still fate when Caspian wakes up beside me, his skin a warm brown, like the terracotta pots he brings back to accommodate my ever-growing garden, and his tousled hair a sun-bleached orange, the roots betray their natural umber colour (the same as the eyes he was currently hiding behind tired palms), men like him are born out of stardust, and they can’t help but to replicate its heat. He’s looking at me now, his warm hands place a stray strand of my own umber hair behind my ear and pauses on my cheek, my bronze skin a slight contrast to his, brown eyes reflecting brown.

‘Let’s go over the plan, alright Leya?’ He breaks the silence, ‘we’ll lock up, give the keys to Theo and Honora, they promised to water our plants and dust the place while we’re gone, we pick up your jumper from the market –Eilidh promised it’ll be done by then- and then it’s me, you and wherever you can land your finger on a map.’

‘Yeah, I can’t wait. Me, you and The Caspian’ the smile I give him falters and my bottom lip trembles. He frowns.

It was my idea to come with him, I was tired of being alone and he was tired of forgetting synonyms of vast for his letters home, I knew he exhausted all the ways to say I love you when he started to transcript theology to me:

‘They believe that next to Christ, that’s what they call him, there was a man that lived in sin, two in fact but only one of them matters. They don’t know anything about this man, not even his name, except for his last words. And they were that of forgiveness and salvation. A man whose entire history is left out of the book that chronicles it. We know nothing of his home, his family, his life, not even his crimes, but we know that he loved and was loved in return. I don’t believe a lick of it but by God these people are good storytellers.’

I did want to go. Maybe the second I see the flickering reflected crescent moon on the ocean waves I’d decide I never wanted to leave, that the past 25 years of living and four years waiting can all be justified by that one experience. But I also couldn’t just leave. He was the one with adventures and loose ties and sea salt, and I’m the one that waits. The diligent partner with a cup of tea and open arms for him, who were we if not that? Who am I without anticipation and loneliness? For years, my life was contingent on feeling and watching a ticking clock, and now I just get to be free? It doesn’t sound real. It doesn’t sound fair on the woman I used to be, the one still waiting. He knows how I feel, he must, from the furrow of an eyebrow I know he’s got me pegged.

‘Remember the night before I left- the first time that is- and I kept going over lists, obligations and checking everything twice, I even meal prepped your food for months in advance. And you told me everything will still be here when I get back...’ He pauses to hold my face in both hands, brown eyes locked on brown eyes to make sure I was listening, ‘everything will still be here when we get back. If you don’t want to go that’s fine, we won’t, I’ll spend the next six months right here with you, and every day after that if you want me to. I’m tired of you being alone. But if you do want to go... We lock up, see the world and come back, it’s that easy.’ With that he kisses my temple -the most delicate part of the head – and climbs out of bed.

Honora and Theo promised to give all the leftover perishable foods to the family around the corner, they have seven kids and not enough to feed them all. They also ensured once a week every plant will be watered, all letters brought in, and the surfaces periodically dusted. The jumper Eilidh had made was beautiful, she told us wool is preferable when wet because it resists water and keeps you warm. She made it green, in case I miss the trees, and Caspian paid her double. I had hoped the air would be electric, brimming with something, as if it knew I’m leaving this time too. Everything was the same, same as it's always been and same as it always will. And I won’t be, I’ll go out there, replace my ships planks and come back me, but not wholly or maybe as more, and if Caspian’s with me the whole time who would notice the change, all of my red strings connect back to his.

It was half a day's journey to the port, and I felt it all. At some point my head was pulled to rest on his shoulder and every time the sun shone particularly bright he held a hand over my eyes to shield them. When we were close to enough to the sea to smell it, the briny tang light in the air, he came into himself, as if he swallowed sunlight, and grinned.

I hate this. Caspian told me I will at first, I haven’t got the familial love he has. A runaway father that was only 19 when he met his future wife at the port. The family was forcibly moved to a landlocked town when opportunities dimmed and Caspian's childhood was spending every holiday possible making the hours long treks to the beach, with just enough time to wiggle his toes in the sand and swallow lungsful of water when learning to swim, and when he was older it was learning how to sail with his father. Finally, it’d get too cold to continue so his mother would swaddle him in towels and place him on her lap, until he eventually grew too big for her, together they’d watch the sun set. He told me once that it was like the water was just a mirror and everything radiated pink and orange and golden hues until finally... darkness, and there was twice as many stars as usual. Then they’d go home and count down till the next summer. His love was intergenerational, it’ll grow on you, trust me. But it won’t, I hate this. I feel sick & disoriented, it’s too loud and quiet at the same time. Like when people move from a bustling city, heavy in smog and movement, to a quaint village, and there they find the crickets and pollen too much to bear. There was none of the sounds I was accustomed to and all too many of ones I wasn’t. I can’t even swim.

How did we plan for weeks and not think that I would need to know how to swim?

Caspian had finished prepping the sails and letting us go in the wind's direction, promising he’ll take us as far East as he can find – and then carry on. He had tried to explain all the terms to me, but words like ‘jib’ and ‘hull’ and ‘tiller’ easily slipped out of my mind like water. Instead, I stood by the helm and just watched him work, focusing on the beads of sweat running down his forehead and pushing supper down as far deep as it goes, as to not ruin this for him. When he had finished, he gave me the tour, showing me the saloon, where to cook, where to rest, where to pray, how to store in such a small space and when I was overwhelmingly exhausted from the information swimming in my head, he grabbed some pillows and blankets and led me back to the cockpit. There he prepped everything like it was our bed at home and laid down, gently pulling me down with him, our knees were bent awkwardly, and we were closer together than usual. That’s when I understood When I was younger my mother would bring me to visit her friends and after the initial gasps and hugs and ‘my how you’ve grown!’ they would largely ignore me to talk to each other. One of her friends, Mariam, had a baby boy that would sleep in a wooden bassinet pushed to the wall closest to where I was sitting, when he did stir, they’d finally address me again and tell me to rock him slightly, let him be lulled back to rest. Here, we were lightly rocked side to side by Poseidon himself and entire galaxies shining down on us, like a sleeping baby in a bassinet. I didn’t know there could be so many stars and still such a vast darkness. Caspian told me about the constellations he knows and the ones he’s made up, his own mythologies mapped out above us. And when I was too tired to listen, eyes drooping and his words bleeding into each other he tenderly held my elbow to help me up, shifting so I could rest my weight on him, and walked me to the bed, trying as best he could to push my dead weight into the cramped space. Leaving only for a moment to bring the pillows back in, before climbing into bed besides me.

The next morning, we stopped on still waters, and he taught me how to swim. In the afternoons, after I showed him my grandmothers' recipes for the cold, he tried to teach me more sailing terms and by the evening I’d read to him under the dimming light, I’d have to stop after a moment, too nauseous to read the words. It was a routine we near perfected in a month. I could tell he was happy; he was drowning in it. Shockingly, I was too, a saloon that smelled like garlic and spice, secured down potted herbs, dry storage spaces filled to the brim with my books, and his slow breaths when I should be asleep, was enough. On days the wind was too bad to pause he’d make me use the knots he taught me and shout what I need to do if we tip over, the exhilaration was more than anything I’d ever known.

Resources would run low, and he’d dock in the port of a country I'd never heard of, a culture unfamiliar and language unknown. With limited communication and lots of points & smiles we’d buy what we need and when our food was restocked, I’d ask to stay a few days more. We’d integrate ourselves in the local community and learn how to say ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ and plan to return in the holiday season. We’d make pocket communities across the world and relish in hot water and write letters to the people back home.

#tw religious themes #tw death mention #tw drowning #writing #writers #writers on tumbr #prose #writeblr #studyblr #white sails #ask to tag

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alexseanchai · 4 years ago

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Fanfic 2020 in Review

I got tagged by @kasienda @noirshitsuji and @marvelousmsmol and I am tagging whoever wants to play!

1) List of fics completed this year in the order they were finished:

*filters own works to complete and updated in 2020*

1 - 20 of 57 Works by AlexSeanchai

nope. *adds filter to include only works of at least 1000 words*

unless otherwise indicated, these are all Miraculous Ladybug:

“don’t bake it lying down”, post-reveal Marichat vs Felix Graham de Vanily

“veracity”, canon divergence from “Ladybug” featuring Mister Bug and Verity Queen (so also Marichat, I guess)

“(no request is too extreme, if) your heart is in your dream”, in which Hawkmoth wins, for the thirty seconds or so before Emilie saves Ladybug and Chat Noir’s lives

“tell me you love me and make me believe it”, in which trans girl Chatonne Noire ropes Ladybug into helping plan her civilian self’s escape slash social transition

“kingmaker, oathbreaker”, in which Hawkmoth wins and Emilie watches her son remove himself from the family

“stay and let me watch you break it down” (Twelve Dancing Princesses), a modern setting

“set a course for winds of fortune”, in which trans girl Chatonne Noire has already escaped and Gabriel and Nathalie are trying to bring Gabriel’s son home

“we ground love in a hopeless place”, in which post-reveal Marinette’s attempt to remain resolutely not in love with her partner dissolves like sugar in coffee when they start a pun war

“ring the bells that still can ring”, in which Alya is deeply confused about why Adrien and Marinette are planning a wedding when last night both were single

“burning wishes at both ends (the cold wind and long loud wail remix)”, in which Gabriel made a monkey’s paw wish and Emilie makes another

“words cannot espresso”, in which Marinette’s OC roommate is justifiably worried for Marinette’s safety, and meanwhile Adrien takes care of Marinette

“the compromise of truth” (the chronologically second-earliest part posted to date of nine lives, snake’s eyes), in which Adrien tells his friends how he won some freedom and respect from his father

“At The Present Time”, the Ladrien/Ladynoir marriage proposal follow-up to @art-deco-shrimp‘s “Your Presents Required”

“j'ai rêvé (so I don't have to dream alone)”, in which the events of canon must just have been a series of dream sequences, Marinette and Adrien both think, until they both arrive at Chloe’s Halloween masquerade dressed as themselves from the dreams

2) Number of words written:

ahahaha no. I am not counting all my scattered fic drafts and trying to figure out what I did and didn’t write in 2020. I refuse.

AO3 says I posted 162K in 2020. it is counting all of keeps you guessing (like any real love), which (a) I started posting in 2019 (b) is co-written by @galahadwilder; it is counting all of my meta snippets collection, much of which was written in 2019; it is counting the Vimeo passwords for my vids. but I probably cleared 150K by a safe margin.

3) Your most popular fic:

“veracity” has a four-digit kudos count, wow, when’d that happen? this is also the 2020 work with the most hits and the most bookmarks, but “tell me you love me” has four-thirds as many comments as its nearest competitor.

4) Your personal fav:

“cannot break us, not with a thousand swords”, no question about it. this is the one in which Ladybug proposes marriage to Chat Noir via Princess Bride meme on Tumblr. (if you intend to download the work or otherwise to consume it with creator style off, you want the accessible version instead of the primary version.)

5) Your fav scene:

aaaaaaaaa

—okay so this is cheating and I know it, since Uncertain Humors (the one where Marinette/Adrien is both Orpheus/Eurydice and Theseus/Ariadne) is nowhere near finished, never mind posted (maybe I'll get “Sanguine” done to post on my birthday?)

but it is still my favorite of the year. as you might guess from that description of the story, this scene has content notes for character death:

Hell is a maze. Marinette walks.

This acrid passage has little to see but damp stone, seeming blood-stained in the dim carmine light. At about the height of her heart, the faintly glowing thread cuts through the not-clammy air; it ought to be pulsing at the same rate as the heart it's bound to. She might be able to see her own reflection if she looked down at the open sewage pipe, or at one of the puddles that now and again she splashes through, dampening the canvas of her shoes. She might see reflected what's behind her.

She remembers Mme. Mendeleiev lecturing on human physiology. In healthy humans old enough to have learned how, urination is a voluntary action: one may not know which muscles one tenses and relaxes in order to do so, and probably isn't paying attention to those details when one is doing, but one has conscious control over whether one does. Usually. Stress and anxiety mean some people are unable to relax the relevant sphincter muscle and others are unable to stop themselves. It's voluntary for cats, too: it's one way they mark their territories. Cat-boys have other ways.

There is a moment in every human life when all one's muscles relax at once. Some Parisians have had several such moments.

The thread is braided with itself around her left fourth finger, rows of tiny red half-hitch knots, and falls loosely over the back of her hand to loop twice around her wrist. She holds it wrapped between the fingers of her right hand to keep it at a constant tension, as though knitting with this insubstantial thread, so fragile for something two (two dozen, two million) lives hang from—too thin to sew with, no thicker than one strand of his hair. As she walks, she winds it around and around and around her wrist.

Between her ring finger and her right hand, it loops twice.

Marinette's shoe lands in a puddle she didn't see. The rainwater splashes soundlessly onto her bare ankle and on the stone.

(With cat-like tread, upon our prey we steal— It's a very loud song.)

She walks on.

6) A fic or scene that challenged you:

where the firelight fades, no contest. this is the second story I’ve ever been able to stick with more than a couple hundred words past the 20K mark, but it’s easily the twentieth novel-length I’ve begun. (though also, you know that kedreeva post? well, 90K later, I’m less than 15K from completing this 10K fic! I think.) and I have been learning so much about long-form fiction.

there has also been a lot of weeping and tearing my hair. case in point: I just trashed the chapter 15 draft because I figured out the reason it wasn’t going anywhere! I can probably keep the first few hundred words of that draft without any editing, and another few hundred with some revision...

7) A line of writing you’re proud of:

from “j'ai rêvé (so I don't have to dream alone)”:

Everything about their partnership is fragments of sentences in the dream diary Adrien writes in ultraviolet pen. Disjointed flickers of thought even when examined under the black light he hides in the snack cabinet under packets of Super Yoyo sandwich cookies and bags of cheesy Monster Munch potato chips and boxes of petit écolier butter cookies (chocolat noir)—none of which explains the gym-socks smell. All fleeting incoherent flashes, invisible between the mundane lines of La Modification shelved at his bedside between Leroux and Dumas. None of it is solid. Adrien has more proof his room's haunted.

okay let me break this down for you!

* Adrien started a dream diary to make sense of the memories

* in invisible ink, in a book that (according to Wikipedia) is thematically appropriate and won’t (if Gabriel sees it) look like anything other than Adrien developing an interest in French literature

* shelved between Phantom of the Opera and The Three Musketeers

* look I didn’t come up with the name “black light”

* or “chocolat noir” for what English speakers call “dark chocolate”, or “petit écolier” (that is, “little schoolboy”) for that sort of butter cookie

* also not my fault that “chocolat noir” sounds remarkably like “Chat Noir”, which, attentive readers may have noticed, is not a name that appears in the story after the header and before Miraculous Cure

* I found the website of a store in Boston, Massachusetts that caters to French expats, and the yo-yo cookies and the monster chips were right there in the photos, y’all

* the snack stash and the black light live in the cabinet where, in canon, the Camembert lives; yes, that cheese smells in the real world like gym socks

* this story’s akuma was not able to affect anything but squishy human memory: nobody affected remembers anything about Ladybug or Chat Noir or Hawkmoth, not in any solid way, not even when they read news articles about the subject, and this includes Marinette and Adrien not being able to see or hear or remember their own kwamis—but you know what Adrien’s Insta post about his poltergeist and Adrien’s Insta post with the floating sock don’t show and don’t explicitly refer to?

* I love this paragraph so much (my housemates may have been lovingly mocking me over it)

8) A comment that touched you:

there are people (y’all know who you are) who said y’all are studying my style. I ded of blush.

9) Something that inspired your writing:

by volume of fic drafts that can be blamed on any particular person, the winner is probably @norakwami

10) Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc):

so that longest-story-ever-written record I set in 2007 with the 89.5K story that, till where the firelight fades, was the only story I’d gotten much past 20K?

I broke that fucking record!

and then I deleted the draft of firelight chapter 15 😭

11) Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

I’m starting work on a fantasy novel, a Sleeping Beauty retelling in which I explore (among other things) the economic consequences of the king’s ordering all the spinning wheels burned, and I want to make significant progress on that. and I want to not make my hands any worse; I kind of need those!

(breaking news alert: bodies fucking suck. so does giving yourself repetitive stress injuries in doing one and a half to two people’s worth of work for an organization that was never ever going to pay you more than one person’s worth of pay.)

#by alexseanchai #miraculous ladybug #tag game

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