#to be Theseus' bride when she was old enough

[agentwashingcat]

Hades hating Heracles but not Theseus is funny considering Theseus once broke into the underworld with his buddy Pirithous to *checks notes* kidnap Persephone so Pirithous could marry her

Thesus was rescued by Heracles but Pirithous is probably still down there, being tortured by the furies lmao

#hades supergiant #this was after the kidnapped a 9 year old Helen of Troy #yes that Helen of Troy #to be Theseus' bride when she was old enough #obviously that didn't work out cause he got stuck in the underworld for a number of years lmao #she was retrieved and went on to cause other problems lol

[writingamongther0ses]

Find the Word

I was tagged by @iced-ginger-tea, @writinglyra, @shellyscribbles, and @sharraus

chill (Bride of Loki)

She could do this. Her fingers scratched gently against the cold plastic of the desk, the chill of the white plastic cold and real. The imaginary heat prickled against her neck. Siv tapped harder against the desk.

noise (Among the Stars)

Kate made a noise of protest when the last got slid into her backpack. “Don’t worry about it.” Aunt Helen’s lips were pinched together in displeasure but she pushed a strand of hair out of Kate’s face with softness. “We’re going to hide in town. We can stock up more there.”

familiar (In the Closet)

Footsteps. Soon enough, a familiar face comes into view. It’s Paris, the prince visiting from Troy. He looks around before his eyes land on the bed and light up. Instead of power, it’s fear that makes Helen tremble. She knows that look. Theseus had that same look.

curl (Want Does Not Equal Need)

Now all they could do was glare at the blue streaks. It was a sign that their magic was coming back. Sooner or later, the past would come slamming down the door. Blu raised a hand up and yanked on one curl.

imagine (Bride of Loki)

She turned and even though the screen hid her face, he could imagine her snarl. “You are no better, Alpha One.” She pointed to the body, gesturing it so everyone’s eyes were drawn to the still corpse covered in the grey makeshift shroud. "What was her name?"

lonely (Prompt fill)

The man sighs and smiles. “Beautiful. Very lonely. They caught me up in their eyes and told me I was the first person that took their breath away.” Caroline nods, and then he taps his foot next to hers. “What about you? Why haven’t you left yet?”

lovely (3 sentence fic)

The plants are a lovely surprise when she’s studying.

lost (Among the Stars)

This was a constant issue within the mines. The ice of Khoine’s surface and the heat of the volcanoes under the ice meant the pipes were heating and cooling constantly. Even worse, based on lack of liquid, it was energy pipe. If enough was lost, they would lose money.

rough (Prompt fill)

“I want to scream at you.” they admitted and now he realized their voice was rough with tears. “My best friend died twenty years ago. I was alone.” Despite the sobs that wanted to well up, they did not cry. “I wanted to die then. Why?”

electric(al) (Bride of Loki)

He didn’t say a word back, instead turning aroun. The boy marched back towards the kitchen as she kicked and screamed, going through drawers until he found a roll of electrical tape. Siv yelped as the end was pushed onto her wrist before the rest followed, tying up her wrists, before moving down to her ankles. The moment he was done, he tossed the tape onto the table with a sigh. “There we go.”

wood (I Put a Spell On You)

This continued until the familiar sign appeared, WELCOME TO FAE! Honeysuckle was painted under it. They steered away from the main road and into a well traveled forest path. Deep into the woods they went until a familiar wood shack appeared.

pause (Bad End)

There was a pause.

darken (Heartbeat)

The void started to darken around them. Manny, however, glowed brighter.

pretend(ing) (The Devil's Waiters)

A mirror game was what the twins had called switching clothes and pretending to be each other. It had fooled everyone except their guardian. For some reason he had never explained, Old Man Pabbie had always been able to tell them apart. But he played along, pretending one twin was the other until the twins had been unable to help themselves to laughter. It had helped the two understand that, while very secure in being cisgender, clothes had no gender.

cold (Bride of Loki)

The water, like everything else on the planet, was cold.

rule(s) (Witch House)

Grimaldi nodded back. “Of course I did. I apologize, my mind is going some. Now, your room is upstairs. I had some clothes delivered when I knew you were coming, I hope you like them. Now, rules.”

pray(ing) (Bride of Loki)

Miks let out a loud, nervous laugh, eyes darting from the assistant to Mabelle. “Uh, yeah! You know me, always praying to myself!”

I'll tag, with no pressure, @mariahwritesstuff, @bardic-tales, @charlesjosephwrites, @loopyhoopywrites, and @nora-theteawriter

#tag game #Bride of Loki #Among the Stars #Bad End #Witch House #The Devil's Waiters #I Put a Spell on You #Heartbeat #writeblr #wip

[twelve-kinds-of-trouble]

The Song Of Achilles

The Song of Achilles is a warning. Of what happens when you love, of what happens when you trust, of what happens when you are prideful. Achilles, who is often painted as an untouchable hero by many historians and in general society, is seen through the lens of someone who knew him closely, enough to see his flaws; Patroclus. For some of the book, however, Patroclus doesn’t see any of Achilles’ weaknesses, not until they depart for war, which is when Patroclus learns that Achilles’ hubris might be his downfall.

The irony in this, of course, is that Achilles’ pride and dignity was Patroclus’ downfall. When Achilles refuses to fight, in order to protect his honour, Patroclus takes his place, and is killed. And Achilles realises that in a desperate grasp for the remains of his dignity, he placed his own honour over Patroclus’ life.

One particular scene in the book which reeks of irony is the ‘I’m going to be the first’ scene. I’ll remind you of it:

“Name one hero who was happy."

I considered. Heracles went mad and killed his family; Theseus lost his bride and father; Jason's children and new wife were murdered by his old; Bellerophon killed the Chimera but was crippled by the fall from Pegasus' back.

"You can't." He was sitting up now, leaning forward.

"I can't."

"I know. They never let you be famous AND happy." He lifted an eyebrow. "I'll tell you a secret."

"Tell me." I loved it when he was like this.

"I'm going to be the first." He took my palm and held it to his. "Swear it."

"Why me?"

"Because you're the reason. Swear it."

"I swear it," I said, lost in the high color of his cheeks, the flame in his eyes.

"I swear it," he echoed.

We sat like that a moment, hands touching. He grinned.

"I feel like I could eat the world raw.”

In this scene, Achilles tells Patroclus that he’s the reason Achilles will be happy and a hero. And Patroclus promises, he swears, that he will make the dream come true.

By the end of the story, Achilles is no longer the seamless portrait carved in gold that we see in history books. He is not famous or happy. He’s a fallen legend. But the people around him are blind to his short-lived misery and his failures. They refuse to see Achilles, a boy in love. Achilles, with an aching heart. Achilles, who learned the price of dignity the hard way. They see Achilles, brave soldier. They see Achilles, blessed by the gods. They see Achilles, untouchable, unbroken, unhurt.

Patroclus is, until the end, devoted to Achilles. His last thought, he states, is ‘Achilles’. While Achilles’ pride may have been the cause of his lover’s death, it is hard to ignore that Patroclus’ endless loyalty played a leading role in his death. And he dies nothing more than a medic. Achilles’ son, Pyrrhus, disregards entirely Patroclus’ meaning to his father, much like most of the Greeks did. In the end, Patroclus’ greatest opponent, Thetis, is his saving grace; the one who grants him peace.

It’s never said why, however. Why Thetis chose to grant Patroclus happiness.

One can guess.

Because she loved her son, and knew that Patroclus had died for him, was devoted to him.

Because Patroclus was made of the memories Thetis wanted to honour.

Because he was mortal and she was a goddess, and they cherished the boy who was both.

#the song of achilles #tsoa #achilles #patroclus #patrochilles #analysis #tsoa analysis

[alexseanchai]

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

[thorne93]

The Softest Fire (Part 19)

Prompt: Rosaline Vaughan had it all: fame, money, power, glory, a high status job. Until, one day, she woke up, and realized something was missing from her life.

Word Count: 5018

Warnings: trauma/ptsd

Notes: First Fantastic Beast fic! I could NOT have done this at all without @arrow-guy. They have created a counterpart to this fic, writing it from Nora Vaughan’s perspective (Rosaline’s cousin/adopted sister). Fic aesthetic done by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​.

Nora and I got ready together like old times. Sharing a vanity, laughing and falling all over each other as loud music played in the room. I let my hair fall down in nice finger waves over one side of my face. I wore striking makeup of a stark black liner and deep dark red lips. My dress was adorned with sparkles, colored in plum that went all the way to the floor. Matte stripes pulled upward, flattering my curves perfectly. The straps were medium sized, highlighting my delicate perfectly rounded shoulders. I had dark silver silk gloves coming all the way up to my biceps, matching my sterling silver necklaces and earrings. 

By the time Nora and I were done, we looked like movie stars. 

An hour before the ceremony, a knock came to Nora’s front door. I told her I would answer it while she put on her finishing touches. I raced down the stairs and pulled open the door.

“It’s about time you men got--”

When I opened the door, my eyes fell on two dashing men. Theseus stood tall in an eye catching tuxedo.

“Theseus, you look absolutely incredible,” I gushed.

“You’re looking sparkly as ever, Rosaline,” he complimented.

“Well thank you.” 

Once he stepped inside, I could properly stare at Newt who wore a black tuxedo. His hair was gelled and styled to lay on the side, rather than wild as usual. 

“Newt, you… A tux?” I questioned, a curious smile growing on my face.

“I know it’s not my usual style but Theseus insisted I treat myself to something.” 

“I think you look wonderful. It really suits you.”

“You think so?” he asked, a bit bashful.

I took my gloved hand and lifted his chin.

“Hey, I know so. You have no reason to feel insecure.” 

He nodded his head and as he did so, his gaze fell onto my body. 

“Rosaline… You… The dre-dress. You’re… uh…” he stammered, unable to find the words. 

“Do you like it?” I tried, hoping that would help him. 

He bobbed his head eagerly. “Yes, very much. It brings out your eyes. It reminds me of the scales on an occamy.”

“But an occamy is blue,” I retorted.

“But their scales are shiny, brilliant hues and you, when I look at you…” His eyes softened on my form and I couldn’t help but blush. 

“Yes?” I prompted. 

“I see the beauty of nature reflected in you,” he finally finished, bringing his gaze back up to mine. Our eyes held the gaze for a long moment and I could feel myself being pulled to him before suddenly I heard Nora’s voice right behind us on the stairs.

“Well why else would I wear a dress, Theseus?” she quipped rhetorically.

I whipped around to face them and Theseus was ahead of Nora, smirking. 

“Are we ready to go?” Nora questioned and all of us nodded. We linked arms and apparated to the wedding venue.

Weddings always astounded me, from their sheer beauty to the romance. This one was no exception. A dark stone mansion stood sheathed in ivy scaling its walls, even appearing to grow inside. Round balconies jutted out from all sides and levels of the building. The four of us walked up to a man checking names on a list. We handed him our invitations and he bowed his head while wishing us a good time. 

We found our way to an exquisite hall that was made to look more like the outdoors than in. Moss covered the ground, flowered bloomed around chairs, pillars, and tables, ivy crawled up the walls. 

“Quite the naturist isn’t she?” I wondered aloud.

“Mmm, yes,” Theseus responded, his eyes going over everything. 

We had over half an hour before the ceremony so we mingled a bit with other guests. When time grew near the ceremony to start, we took our seats and began to talk amongst ourselves. Before long Jeanette made her way down the aisle in a stunning white dress. Not one I would’ve picked but for her, it seemed absolutely perfect. 

As I watched them take their vows a sudden pang hit my heart. A pang that reminded me I would probably never have that, and the closest I got to it was with a lying murderer who tricked me. My eyes stole a glance at Newt who was staring forward. 

What I wouldn’t give to turn back the clock, to go back even as far back as Hogwarts. I would’ve asked him out then. I would’ve talked to Leta, perhaps become her friend and convinced her to do the right thing. I would’ve helped Newt with his creatures instead of years in a cold, unwavering environment. 

But I didn’t have a time turner, even if I did it wouldn’t be enough for me to right the wrongs I’d done to so many people. I thought I was protecting myself by not letting myself get close to anyone, but I was being selfish. 

I should’ve been more like Nora, where no one is a stranger, and everyone loves her. But I couldn’t imagine living through the pain of losing a loved one again. I thought it would be easier if I never got close to anyone, but it turns out, it was a lot harder to stay isolated.

I guess being a frigid witch helped in that department. 

I wasn’t warm because I didn’t want people to underestimate me. I wasn’t overtly kind because I didn’t want people to take advantage of me. I didn’t show or share my emotions because they could be used against me. I wasn’t friendly because I saw what friendship did to Newt and Leta and countless others growing up. It’s all heartache waiting to happen. 

But as I watched these two people fall madly in love again at the altar, I couldn’t help but think that all the pain, the strife, the heartache, is worth it, just to have people in your life you can count on. People who will be there for your bad days and your good. People who will lift you up when you’ve fallen, and stand beside you proudly as you win. 

People like... well people like I knew. Theseus didn’t have to let me have a room at the Ministry. Hell, they could’ve thrown me into Azkaban and threw away the key. Nora didn’t have to hunt me down. Dumbledore didn’t have to help undo the curse on me, or alert Nora, he could’ve easily gone to the Ministry and had me arrested. Newt didn’t have to forgive me or be so kind to me after all I had put him through. 

Which made me realize just how truly he must love me. I knew Tina was still around, still waiting for him, and yet, he chose me, even without me saying I chose him. He didn’t choose Tina for a consolation prize or to replace me. He held out, he wasn’t with her, because he didn’t love her. 

He’s a truly remarkable man, much like his brother, and I almost squandered it away. Most women would kill for a man as loyal, kind, brave, and smart as him. I only prayed that one day I could earn enough of his love to perhaps stand at an altar with him. 

He must’ve caught my staring because he turned to me and squeezed my hand with a smile. I returned the gesture. 

“What is it?” he whispered with a bemused look on his face.

“You’re just absolutely wonderful, that’s all,” I breathed. 

His gaze dropped as a slight laugh escaped him. 

The ceremony wrapped up and the bride and groom escaped to an unknown location while the guests were dismissed to the reception.

“That was lovely,” I remarked as we walked along. 

“It was rather pretty. Were you tearing up, cousin?” Nora teased with an elbow nudge. 

I merely laughed, dropping my head to nod. 

“Shall we make our way to our seats to eat?” Theseus asked. 

“Yes, please. I’m famished,” Newt all but begged, making me laugh as I put my arm around him. 

We walked through the amazing building out into a garden in the back that had a gazebo. Flowers were blooming and blossoming everywhere, greenery of all kind covered the ground and flowerbeds, save for a dance floor under a tent.

The meal was served, along with watching the couple dance their first dance, then when it was done, guests were welcomed onto the dance floor. 

Newt turned to me. “Rosaline, would you care to dance?”

For a split second, I wasn’t sure. I wanted to, of course, but it worried me. Finally, I said, “I would love to.” 

I took his hand and right behind us Theseus and Nora followed. We joined about fifteen other couples on the dance floor. The music was soft, slow, the perfect kind to just sway to. Newt took me in his arms and we began dancing little circles as I watched my cousin. 

They were awfully close. Theseus planted a soft kiss on Nora’s head just as she rested her head on his shoulder and they swayed. At another point, he kissed her cheek and she lit up like a Christmas tree.

Newt looked at me and I gestured with my chin towards the two of them. “How long has that been going on?” 

“A couple months, maybe? It's hard to tell, they've been spending so much time together it's all blurred together for me.”

I nodded, falling silent. I’d missed quite a lot in my absence. Those two were dating, Newt hired a replacement for me, Tina had all but moved to London…

“Things change faster than we expect, don’t they?” he asked a bit more quietly.

“Yes, they do,” I hummed with a frown. 

Newt peered at me a moment, we danced a little while longer before he said, “Rosaline?” 

I glanced up at him.

“I know you hate yourself. I know you think you caused people pain and deep down that's who you are.”

My mouth screwed to the side as I chewed my lip. “Newt, I--”

“Just listen, please?” he requested softly, but earnestly.

After a moment, I nodded. 

“But I know you, Rosaline, and that day at Hogwarts, you could've killed us. You know the unforgivable curses, yet you didn't use a single one. Deep inside, past all of Grindelwald’s spells and manipulations, you couldn't kill us. You're powerful enough to have killed us easily, and you didn't." 

“So you think just because I could and I didn’t I’m somehow a saint?” I scoffed slightly as we still swayed.

“I think your heart, no matter what circumstances you’re in, will always guide you. You’re a lot softer than you let on, or that you believe.” 

My eyes slowly slid over to meet his gaze and we held our stares for a moment, the tension suddenly thick between us. I’d wanted a moment like this for all of my life. My heart raced as my breathing halted. Before I knew it, we were slowly getting closer to each other and then--

Our lips touched. They were so soft and his were actually a little cold, but I didn’t mind one bit. As soon as he went to deepen the kiss though, a flash of stark blonde hair and heterochromia lit up behind my eyelids. The sensation reminded me greatly of Grindelwald. 

Involuntarily, I put my hands against his chest and shoved him away. When I opened my eyes, I remembered it was Newt I was kissing, not Grindelwald. He looked hurt, panicked, and confused. My face was nearly a mirror image. My expression had gone from horror, to guilt, to sorrow.

Everyone on the dancefloor was looking at us and I didn’t say a word as I fled the area. Running into the building, I found a darkened corridor to try and slow my breathing. But the breathing just got worse as a sob built in my chest. 

My first kiss with Newt and I ruined it by shoving him away. I slapped my gloved hand against the wall, the other one covering my face before I turned around and leaned against it.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Nora’s voice suddenly sounded beside me.

I shook my head, afraid to speak. She patted my shoulders. 

“What’s the matter? What happened?” 

“I… Newt and I kissed, but it only reminded me of Grindelwald so I shoved him away. I didn’t even know what was happening. Everything was fine but then all I could think about was Grindelwald’s hands all over me and…”

Nora peered at me, understanding in her eyes.

I took a deep breath, the tears finally stopping now that she was here. “Nora, I haven’t told anyone this but I’d like you to know.”

“What is it?” 

“Grindelwald… he… was my first.” 

At first, Nora was silent before I turned to see what was written on her face. I couldn’t quite tell, actually, other than some far off look. “Nora?”

She shook her head to look at me. “Rosaline, I’m so sorry.”

“Me too,” I breathed, straightening up. “I wished that was one of the memories that got washed away with the curse.” I put the heels of my hands on my forehead. 

Nora seemed to be thinking before she suddenly said, “It doesn’t have to count as your first time, if you don’t want it to.”

I scoffed, wiping my face. “How is that possible? It happened. He took my…” I couldn’t even say it. 

“Easy. You don’t give him that power.”

“You make it sound so easy,” I breathed. 

“It is… Would you like to go home and talk about it?” 

For a moment, I wanted to answer yes. But then I thought of my date, the one man I’d ever truly loved, standing on the dancefloor, having no idea what he did wong, when he did nothing wrong to begin with. That thought, made me decide against it.

“No. Not right now. Later though? I really need to go see how Newt is.” 

She bobbed her head in understanding as she walked with me back to the festivities. On our way, two men walking by stopped and looked at us. 

“Aren’t you that bird that was with Grindelwald?” the older looking one asked. 

I stiffened at his name and Nora grabbed my hand for support.

“Why, yes, I think you are! You worked for the Ministry, even ran for Minister.” He eyed me up and down. At first I thought he might say something nice like it was good to have me back or ask how I was doing. I didn’t expect the next words out of his mouth. “You are one low-life piece of trash, you know that?” he snarled. “It’s because of you the wizarding world is in shambles. Everyone knew they couldn’t trust Grindelwald, but one of our own. Someone as upstanding as you used to be joining him is just a travesty. You are everything that is wrong in this world. Corrupt--”

“That’s just about enough from you, sir!” Nora barked, interjecting. “My sister was bewitched. She didn’t join him willingly.” 

“Not the way I hear it. If she was bewitched, why did she agree to marry him? Sounds like her thirst for power never really stopped.” 

“I want nothing to do with that man, nor did I ever,” I stated firmly. 

“You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” he scoffed as he started to walk on. 

In an instant, I reeled my hand back and slugged him in the jaw, sending him to the floor. The other man looked at me in astonishment, along with Nora. 

“That might teach you to open your mouth on subjects you know nothing about!” I spat, pointing down. With my blood still boiling, I stormed off and found Newt standing to the side of the dance floor.

“Is everything alri--” Newt began.

“We’re going home,” I informed quickly, grabbing his hand. “Nora, I’m going back to your place. You don’t have to join me immediately.” Then we apparated away.

Once we were in my room in Nora’s flat, I sat on the bed, gathering my breath. 

“Rosaline, what’s… Did I do something wrong? I thought…” 

I looked up. “Newt, you did nothing wrong.” I stood and began to pace. “You did everything absolutely right. It’s just… when we kissed, I couldn’t help but be reminded of Grindelwald and I guess I snapped and panicked and I thought it was you and… And I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that kind of response.”

“Well are you alright?” 

I shook my head, waving him off. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Grindelwald and I were very… close,” I said, my voice cracking as my throat tightened. “It may take me some time to get over the horrible memories that I associate with romance. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it… It’ll just take time.” 

“That’s fine. Rosaline, I’ll wait as long as I need to. I’ve waited years, what’s a few more weeks or months?” 

A soft smile touched me as I stepped forward and took his hands in mine. 

“Truly remarkable,” I whispered before I leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I had a wonderful time today with you, despite everything. I even got to punch a man. That felt oddly refreshing.” 

He laughed as his eyebrows shot up. “You punched a man?” 

“He was saying awful things about me being from the Ministry and being with Grindelwald…” I shook my head. “That’ll teach him to speak out of turn.”

“I’d say it would, yes.” 

We grinned at each other a long moment before we heard the arrival of Nora and Theseus in the hallway. 

“If you don’t mind, I need to speak with Nora about something.”

“Of course.”

He backed away a step to apparate but then he stopped and asked, “would you come by my flat tomorrow? I’d like to have afternoon tea with you.”

“I’d love to.” 

With this, he smiled, nodded, waved, and apparated. As soon as he was gone, I poked my head out into the hallway. I waited to see if they were talking. They were, they were actually whispering.

“Am I interrupting?” 

The two of them jumped and pulled away slightly. 

“Uh, no. Are you alright?” Theseus asked. I bobbed my head. “Good. Well… I’ll leave you two to the rest of your evening. Have a good night.” He leaned down and quickly kissed Nora’s cheek before apparating back to his own flat. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, looking supportive. “If you aren’t ready…” 

“I’ll never be ready, but I’m not about to let it take me over.” 

She nodded in agreement as I held my door open, inviting her into my room where I once again sat on the bed. 

“So... how did it happen?” she asked once she got in the room and the door closed. 

“I… Honestly I don’t even know. We just started… dating? He treated me like a queen, doing everything for me, before I knew it, we were going on dates and he was kissing me goodnight. Next thing I know, he’s inviting me to move my things into his room. We stayed in bed together a few nights then one day he was in a really good mood and…” 

Nora nodded. “You know, the whole virginity thing… it isn’t the end all be all. If you felt it wasn’t what you wanted your first time to be, then it doesn’t have to be.” 

“But I was physically with him, Nora.” 

“So? You wanna know about my first time?” she asked as she plopped down next to me. 

“You had a first time?” I accused, turning to her. “How did I--Wait, was it Theseus?” 

A soft, amused expression took her over. “No, but I’m glad you think that.” 

“If not Theseus, then who?” 

“It was actually a girl at Hogwarts… She was a year ahead of me.”

“Let me guess, Slytherin?” I teased.

“Actually a Gryffindor.” 

“No kidding?” I mused. “How? Why?”

“We were friends. Good friends. We actually took each other to the Winter ball, as friends, at first, but there was something there…”

“So… what happened?” I wondered, curious. 

“We eventually made our way to the astronomy tower. It was disastrous, let me tell you,” she said with a laugh, putting her hand on my knee as she leaned towards me.

“It sounds kind of magical, and cute.”

“Cute would be one word for it. Neither of us had any clue what we were doing, but that’s the point when it comes to your first time. If everyone knew what they were doing, it wouldn’t be any fun.” 

“I’m not so sure mine was fun,” I muttered. “I feel so… dirty. I’ve had to live with this memory every day since I ‘woke up’. I have to look at Newt and relive it. If we ever got to that point, I’d have to tell him who I gave myself to.”

“Oh, Rosaline, you give yourself who you give yourself to. The whole concept of virginity is something men made up to make them feel special.”

“Really?” 

“Somewhat. If it feels special to you, then it is. But don’t let what happened to you damper what might happen with Newt.” 

“Speaking of what might happen… Have you and Theseus….?” I questioned.

“Had sex?” 

I blushed at her words, but nodded.

“No, I don't think we're quite ready for that yet. just being physically close is enough or us right now.”

“That’s really nice,” I mused, beaming softly. “I’m glad you two have found your way to each other.” 

“Me too. It’s incredible right now.” 

After a moment of chewing my lip, I asked her, “Uh, Nora?”

“Hmm?” 

“During my… time… with Grindelwald… I would feel this… odd sensation.”

“Pain?” 

“No, no,” I stated, shaking my head, blushing. “This is embarrassing.”

“Nothing is embarrassing. Go on and ask,” she encouraged. 

“When we were together, I would feel this build up then a sudden… rush? Sometimes it would blind me when it happened and I got really tired afterward. Was I having a panic attack or what was that?” I wondered. 

She threw her head back, laughing. “No, that wasn’t an attack. It’s a good thing. It’s called an orgasm.” 

“Orgasm?” I frowned at her. 

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Did you...Have you had one of those?”

“I had one my first time, with that girl in the tower. I’ve had a few by myself. They feel good, if you know what’s going on.” 

I slowly nodded. “I definitely didn’t.” 

“So you want to though, one day with Newt?” 

“One day? Nora, I’d like to do it right now,” I admitted. “I just can’t because society dictates that we must kiss at this time, then move to the next step. I’ve loved him for a long time and I’ve thought about him physically for years.”

She got a coy look on her face. “Well look at you. I never knew you were so scandalous,” she joked as she peered at me. 

“Oh come off it. You know what I mean. With as long as I’ve loved him, of course it’s natural for me to want his touch like that immediately. I just… Between the flashbacks of Grindelwald, Newt being socially awkward, and society deeming it unfit, what choice do I have?” 

She nodded her head side to side in thought. “You could always entertain the idea… yourself.”

“Myself?”

“Yes, it’s quite easy to recreate an orgasm on your own.” 

I frowned. “Why would I want to do that?” 

“To relieve stress, darling. You want Newt and right now you can’t have him. But on your own, you trust yourself, no one to please, no one to bother you. It’s just you and yourself, making you happy.” 

My gaze narrowed on the floor as I listened. 

“And that’s… okay?”

“Circe’s tits, yes, it’s okay. Why wouldn’t it be?”

I shrugged. “Don’t you have to reserve those kinds of things for your partner?” 

She shook her head, scoffing. “No. You aren’t there to make someone else feel good, even if it’s Newt. I love the kid, but you aren’t just something for him to use. You have urges too, Little Rose.” She reached up and pinched my cheek, making me laugh. 

“How do you even do that?” 

She thought for a moment. “All I’ll say is let your hand travel south, think of Newt, and see how it goes.” 

“Oh, Nora, that’s so… You aren’t serious, are you?”

“Deadly,” she said with a mischievous grin and chuckle. “What’s the worst that could happen? You think of Newt while fireworks go off in your head? Isn’t that what usually happens?” she teased. 

I bobbed my head and agreed with her. 

“On a more serious note,” she said after our giggles and smiles faded, “what are you going to do about Newt. Not the sex, but in general. You aren’t working with him, you can’t kiss him without repercussion, so do you want to move forward?” 

My body toppled backwards. 

“Of course I want to move forward. That’s all I’ve wanted for five years now.” 

“But?” 

“But what if he rejects me?”

“On what grounds?” she asked, laying beside me as she propped her head on her hand, staring down at me. 

“Anything. I’m not… I’m not like you, Nora. You’re warm, funny, brave, smart. It’s easy to see why Theseus fell for you.”

“And Newt fell for you,” she reminded.

“But what if he fell for the assistant? The quiet girl who sat with his creatures. Not the girl who ran off with the bad guy and committed crimes.” 

“You’re still the same person, you’re just a bit wiser now with a past you didn’t ask for, that’s all.”

I turned slightly more towards her. “You know, he said that he knew I had the power to kill you all, and didn’t. So that’s how he knew I was still good despite everything.” 

“He isn’t wrong,” she agreed.

“No, he isn’t. Grindelwald told me to end you all that day at Hogwarts, and I didn’t. Something made me stop.”

“It’s that heart, that heart that Newt fell for.” 

I sighed. “What if I’m not good enough though? He fell for Tina once, what’s not to say he won’t do it again? Perhaps with someone else.” 

Her gaze dropped before she spoke. “I think I should tell you something.”

“What is it?” 

“The only reason he even looked twice at Tina was because you spouted off some nonsense about not wanting to let people in. About how it would only end in heartbreak.”

“That’s because it’s true,” I snapped.

“Do you still feel that way?”

“Yes.” 

“So why move forward with Newt?”

“He’s my only exception,” I whispered before looking at her. Her face was one of admonishment, making me laugh. “Don’t give me that look. I… I still worry it’ll only end with us being hurt.”

“Sounds like a wonderful way to go through life. Ignoring all possibility of happiness, for the potential to get hurt. Sound plan, Rosaline.” 

“Mock me if you want, but we both know it’s true. Look at Theseus and Newt. They loved Leta and for what? So she could break Newt’s heart and die in front of Theseus.” 

When she said nothing, I continued. 

“Or you? How long did you watch Theseus and wish you had him? Or me and Newt, I watched him with Tina with yearning eyes.” 

“Yes, but maybe if you actually opened up and thawed that heart of yours, you might be surprised at what you find.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Real, unconditional, true love.” 

“Is that what you’ve done with Theseus? Trusted him entirely? Given yourself to him?”

“Yes,” she said confidently.

“And you aren’t worried?”

“About heartbreak?” She shook her head. “Have you ever heard the expression, ‘Tis better to have loved and lost, than to never loved at all?” 

“Yes, but--”

“Then you know, that even if heartache were to swoop in, that you’d still have your memories of you and Newt. that those memories would burn brighter and better, than any dull ache that might occur.” 

“You truly believe that?”

“I have to. Love is a risk, it’s a challenge, it’s fucking scary. But it’s worth it. Without Theseus I’m not sure how I would’ve gotten through this whole mess with you. Love can make you incredibly weak, but it can also make you incredibly strong and resilient.” 

I let her words sink into me, and I listened, wrapping my head around them. Agreeing with her. 

“Yes, but what if my sins, my demons of my past push him away?” I whispered, tears threatening.

She wrapped an arm around me. “They won’t, not if you don’t let them. You once told me to just go all in, even with Theseus engaged.”

“Well, yes that was because I wanted you to be with him. I felt you deserved him more than Leta.”

“I think you’re forgetting who you are, and who you are to Newt. Just let all of this go, and be with him. He wants you, and you want him, that’s all there really is to it.”

“You think so?” 

She took her finger tip and bopped my nose ever so gently. “I know so. Who here is older and wiser?” 

“You’re certainly older, I can see it in your gray hair,” I teased.

“You little demon!” she said before going in to tickle me. “Take it back!” 

“Never!” I boasted, laughing. 

‘I’ll tell Newt about your wild fantasies!” she threatened with laughter in her eyes.

“Okay! Okay! I take it back!” I said, surrendering. 

For the rest of the evening, the two of us lied on the bed, talking mainly girl talk. She filled me in on the bookstore. I filled her in on what my thoughts were for a future job. It really felt like old times and that is exactly what the doctor ordered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#the softest fire #newt scamander x ofc #newt scamander x oc #newt scamander fic #newt scamander

[friendlyneighborhooddolan]

Mind the Moon: part three

warnings: This story is very descriptive. Other trigger warnings are: sexual and graphic scenes, death, religion talk, descriptions of murder, alcoholism, and binge food eating.

pairing: Grayson Dolan x reader

summary: in the first two years after his girlfriend died, Grayson became a wreck, and maybe he will get himself fixed up, and maybe he won’t. Two years later, he meets Y/N.

Masterlist

RUSH

I’ve never believed that Beauty could exist in such a thing As self-destruction

Then I saw you: Dangerous beginnings Lost endings Every page breathing with bruised watercolors And scarred pencil

And I found you breathtaking.

In this chapter, the tabletops are made of gold and dust as they dance across the blood red sky. That doesn’t mean anything. Gold is not gold and blood isn’t blood and they aren’t themselves. The clouds wear their footprints as small breathing trees surround them.

Everything is same, but everything’s so different.

Look; it all happened at once: she realized she liked him the moment he started laughing at his own joke and the soft sunset painting him gold. She could only look at him, thinking about how she wanted to kiss him and hold him until he’s whole again. ‘I’d be okay with holding him my whole life,’ she thought, and caught herself mid-thought.

Blood ran to her cheeks and she hoped Grayson didn’t notice. She smiled softly at his laugh, and her feet were swinging off the tall bench they were sitting on. Grayson’s eyes softened when he looked at the girl seemingly watching the sunset. She kept quiet.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He set his hands on his lap, looking at her.

“Doesn’t matter,” she sighed out. His eyes closed, and it almost looked like he was otherworldly.

‘If we were in a fairytale,’ she thought, ‘I’d run my hands through his curls matted down with blood and mud. I wouldn’t want smooth marble castles, I would want a mortar eaten away by nature, the smell of wet moss and rotten wood, the deer he catches with his bare hands, I want kingdoms to tremble when they hear my name entwined with his. I do not want to teach him how to be a prince. I want him to teach me how to be a monster.’

His eyes suddenly opened. “Name one hero who was happy.”

“Greek?”

“Yes.”

She considered. Heracles went mad and killed his family. Theseus lost his bride; Jason’s children and new wife were murdered by his old. Bellerophon killed Chimera but was left crippled. She kept quiet.

“You can’t.” He was standing up now, leaning towards her.

“I can’t.”

“I know. They never let you be famous and happy.” He lifted a brow. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

“Tell me.” Y/N smiled, she loved when he was like this, all grins and rambles, almost as if he was delirious, almost as if he was free. Those kinds of conversations were her favorite.

“I’m going to be first.” He took her palm, holding it to his much bigger one, and Y/N swore she could feel those annoying butterflies rising up in her stomach and almost throwing them out, those beautiful monarch butterflies she loved so much. “Promise it.”

“Why me?” Confused was the only emotion Y/N felt, her brows furrowed. His thumb went to her forehead, smoothing her wrinkles out.

“Because you’re the reason. Swear it.”

“What?”

“You’re the reason I decided to be happy. Now swear it, Y/N.” “I swear it,” she said, lost in the high color of his cheeks, the flame in his eyes. “I swear it,” he echoed. They kept quiet for a moment, hands touching. He grinned like an excited child. “I feel like I could eat the world raw.” Y/N smiled softly.

She left soon, and Grayson almost asked her: “Could you love my bloody wrists and alcohol soaked lips? Could you love my scars and pains and bruises? I know you love me like this, but could you love a monster hidden in me?”

He couldn’t know Y/N’s answer. But if he did, he would’ve kissed her then and there.

Y/N went to Ethan’s house just to tell him how Grayson was doing.  

And when she told him about his promise with the biggest grin on her face, he chuckled. Y/N threw a confused look in his direction, her body tensing up in fear she said something wrong.

“You both are made for each other,” he answered her confusion.

“How do you know?”

“He talks about you like you put the stars in the sky,” he sighed out, smiling softly at the girl who helped her brother so much he couldn’t thank her enough.

“That could be one-sided, though.”

“No.” He straightened up, “No. You talk about him like he’s Icarus.”

“What about-“ and Ethan stopped her before she could finish the sentence. He knew what thoughts ran through her mind right now.

“The difference between her and you is he looked at her like she’s the prettiest girl in the world, but the way he looks at you…” He smiles, “It’s like maybe you’re magic.”

Y/N hummed. Her eyes trained on the midnight sky.

“Do you know who Petrarch is?”

“No, I really don’t,” Ethan answered.

“He’s a poet. He sang about his Laura, his beloved. She was married to another man.”

“Yeah?”

“He wrote her three hundred sonnets. But if he wrote her that many, did he love Laura or sonnets?”

Ethan looked at her, his eyes widening.

“Y/N, what do you mean, dude?”

“Just an observation, E. Gotta go, it’s almost midnight, and I have to wake up at six.”

“Y/N—“ Ethan almost said something but quickly shut up. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Sometimes, Y/N shocks herself with smart things she says and does. Other times, when she gets in the shower with her underwear on is a completely other thing.

She sighs, throwing her wet pajamas in the hamper, cursing at herself for staying up that late last night. She was researching something for her job, losing track of time, and almost screamed when she realized she had to be up in two hours.

Good thing about loving your job is feeling like you aren’t working, ever. Bad thing is never knowing when to stop.

She quickly got ready, leaving her home and waving to Ethan who was on the porch, drinking his first morning coffee.

“Good morning!” she exclaimed, getting into her car, and hurrying to work.

Ethan shook his head, smiling at the energy she had this early. He knew Grayson was the same. The old Grayson.

He hoped the guy he knew before will return.

#grayson dolan #grayson x reader #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan kiss #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan cute #ethan dolan #ethan dolan fluff #ethan dolan smut #ethan dolan kiss #ethan dolan cute #ethan dolan fic #ethan dolan angst #dolan twins fluff #dolan twins fic #dolan twins fanfic #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins angst #mdm #mind the moon

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

‘Twas the night before

(Newt and Jacob talk on the eve of Newt’s wedding. The details of this story have been taking shape in my mind for weeks, and they finally came together.)

The phonograph in Newt’s basement turned round and round, scratching out Vaudville tunes. Jacob relaxed on the leather cot with his feet propped up and a glass of scotch whiskey in hand. Newt fiddled with some equipment, calibrating and recalibrating instruments that really hadn’t needed calibration in the first place. But he was nervous, and Newt found work to be the best outlet for nervous energy.

Marguerite Farrell’s soprano voice filled the room with the lyrics of “Naughty!Naughty! Naughty!”

“I love this dame!” Jacob raised his glass to the music. When I was growing up, my folks sang songs from the Old Country. My pop brought home a phonograph about a year before the draft. They still didn’t speak much English then, so I don’t think they caught much of these words, but my ma loved the way this doll can hit the high notes.

As the song played, Newt’s ears caught the most poignant lyrics. “...You made me love you right from the start... Things you do just set me wild... I want you, I want you... What you can do with those wonderful eyes - I'm simply helpless when I'm with you - I wish I knew what to do...”

Tomorrow would be his wedding day. Tomorrow night would be his wedding night. Newt was as nervous as a long-tailed Matagot in a room full of rocking chairs.

“Sometimes music soothes the creatures when I’m performing veterinary care. The Augrey generally only sings when rain is coming, but it he also has an affinity for Jazz and will squalk along sometimes with the brass instruments.”

Jacob watched him ramble, noticing Newt’s own glass of scotch was still untouched on his desk. “Uh, Newt, this is supposed to be a bachelor party, right? Well, Theseus is stuck at work, he says, but me and you’ve got scotch and Marguerite and a plate full of paczkis I just baked this morning.”

Newt paused his nonsensical busywork and met Jacob’s gaze. “I... I don’t have prior experience with bachelor parties... and such.”

“And such, eh?” Jacob was already a bit buzzed but not too much to observe Newt glance away in thought about the ‘and such.’ “Well sit down, and let’s toast.”

Newt sank onto his wooden chair and reclined into the pillow that moulded perfectly to his lower back. He was as comfortable here as most anyplace else. He just wasn’t comfortable anywhere at all tonight, especially in his own skin.

Newt followed Jacob’s lead, picking up the glass of scotch and holding it out in front of him. Jacob clinked their glasses. “To my best friend, his bride to be, and everything you’ve been waiting for!”

Newt swallowed a large gulp, and the scotch warmed his throat. The sensation settled near his heart, buzzing a bit and decompressing him slightly. “Thanks, Jacob. This is... this is good.”

“Ain’t that the truth. And have a paczki. You’re nearly as white as as that Mr. Flamel.”

Newt did as he was told, gladly accepting the support Jacob was offering with his presence. The polish donut was a delicacy on his tongue along with the scotch.

“Pairs nicely, I say. Booze and sweets. Do you think Londoners would go for a bakery-pub combo? That’s the dream. For me and Queenie. And kids of course. She wants five. Five! Now don’t get me wrong. I’ll love making those kids with her...”

Newt shifted anxiously in his chair.

“...And I’ll love raising those kids with her. All my little Queenies and... Queenos. Queenos?” The scotch was talking now.

A grin spread over Newt’s face. “I doubt Queenie will be in favor of naming your future sons Queeno.”

Jacob slapped Newt affectionately on the shoulder, “You’re right about that. She’s got all their names picked out already. Is Tina like that too?”

“Tina?” Newt’s grin faded to a blank expression.

“Of course Tina... your bride... the woman you’re marrying... tomorrow.” As Newt’s face remained expressionless, Jacob muttered, “Have you been pouring yourself scotch when I wasn’t looking?”

“Yes, Tina. I mean, no. I mean, I don’t know. We haven’t talked much about kids — naming them or raising them or... or making them.”

Jacob suppressed a hearty laugh. “So tomorrow’s the big day. How you feelin’ about it?”

“About making kids with Tina?” Newt revealed where his thoughts lingered.

“Sure, why not!” Jacob learned long ago that when it comes to Newt, you’ve got to just go the way the conversation flows.

“What do you think I should say to her, you know... after the wedding... when we’re alone,” Newt asked the familiar question, the one he’d asked Jacob often before in a myriad of situations about what to say to Tina.

“I’d give you advice, but you know you’re just going to end up saying whatever it is that you will, and she’s gonna love it because she’s crazy about you.”

Newt blushed in this awareness. “Well, I’ve been reading up on mating rituals...”

“Mating rituals?!” Jacob interrupted, “On your wedding night, don’t say, ‘mating rituals.’ It’s sciencey....and weird.”

“Okay,” Newt conceded, more nervous than ever. He took another gulp of scotch.

“Talk with her about love. Tell her how you love her and how much you’ve been waiting to love her. And then... you know...”

“Know what exactly?” Newt asked.

“You know... then love her! Do all the things you’ve been waiting to do with her and all the things she’s been waiting to do with you.”

Newt’s face was beet red then, because there was so much he’d been wanting with Tina for so long, and the images were flooding his mind. “Well, that’s going to take longer than one night.”

Jacob laughed unapologetically this time, “You’ve got a lifetime, Pal... For all the mating rituals. ...Just don’t call it that!”

“Okay. Though not ALL mating rituals would be relevant to humans. There are certain body parts we’re lacking for full effect. No antlers for example. And only two hands a piece.”

“Antlers?!” Jacob threw up his hands. What would you do with antlers?!... Actually, never mind. I don’t want to know!”

“Two hands will be just fine. I hope,” was Newt’s subdued reply.

“Well, you have two and so does she, so that’s four hands.”

“Well, that does open up more possibilities.” The grin spread again across Newt’s face, and he settled more comfortably into his chair.

Jacob was content with the change. “This is getting to be a party, my friend. Let’s toast again.”

“Will do.” Newt raised his glass.

“To possibilities,” Jacob offered.

“To possibilities,” Newt agreed.

Marguerite finished her last song as their glasses clinked. It was time to play something new. Newt was excited for tomorrow — for all the tomorrows. Nervous, but better. ‘Love her,’ Jacob had said. That sounded simple enough. Newt knew he could do that well. Loving Tina was definitely something he was born to do.

#newt scamander #jacob kowalski #newtina #jakweenie #jaqueenie #newtina fanfiction #marguerite farrell #phonograph #fantastic beasts #tina goldstein #queenie goldstein #1920s music

[elisha-am]

#Modern AU # No Magic

"Bugger." Newt looked down at his manuscript and frowned at the pen scratch ran over half of the paper. His immediate thought was how to fix it but soon interrupted by a low bark. He turned his head and looked at the big white dog sitting beside his desk, who kept staring at him with those deep blue eyes like he missed something important. 

"What……"He heard his ringtone blaring the other side of the room. "Oh, right, that is what got me rattled, isn't it?" He stood up and ruffled the dog's head. "Good boy, Dougal, thank you for reminding me."

The dog wagged his tail and followed him to the side table where he put his phone.

"See, Dougal, it's Tina." A huge smile spread on Newt's face when he saw the caller ID. He chuckled when Dougal wiggled his butt in excitement as he mentioned his girlfriend's name. The usually calm and steady dog loved her almost as much as he did.

"Hello."

"Hey, Newt."

He had to close his eyes and held off the emotions when her voice came through. It had been nearly three months since the last time they met face to face. They had been doing this long distance relationship, with an entire ocean between them, for about a year now. They promised to call each other no matter what, even just to say hello, every day after the fight happened earlier in their relationship. It almost broke them before they really got the chance to love fully. All because of the lack of communication, and how social media could feed a small rumor and turned it into a beast.

Still, he missed the feeling of having her in his arms and her smell filling his nostrils. And, especially, those dark eyes that contained so much passion in them.

"How was your day, Tina?" He checked the clocks on the wall. Two identical clocks but showed different times. There was a photo hanging under each of them, the one on the left had Tina and him in Time Square and the right one with them, and Dougal, in front of the Big Ben; one is for New York and one for London. That's the distance between them, both time and space. 

"As usual. Caught some cases, kicked some criminal asses." 

He chuckled, remembering the time his arse got kicked by her, although it was a huge misunderstanding.

"Are you still at the station?" It was half-past six in New York, but knowing his work-driven Tina, he wouldn't be too surprised if she was still at her precinct. Before she could respond, someone in the background from her side answered his questions for her unintentionally. "Goldstein! The dinner and the file you asked for are both here……Is that Scamander? You guys really have it bad, talking on the phone all day."

"Having a private phone call here, so go away, Tolliver. And don't eat my hotdog or you will regret it for the rest of your nosy life."

"Gotcha! Hey! Scamander, come over this side of the Atlantic soon so I can drink you under the table!" Her fellow detective's voice muffled down after he heard Tina shushing the man away and the thud of the door getting shut.

"Sorry about  that." She mumbled apologetically. "A lead came in right before the shift ended,  so we decided to stay longer and push it through."

"No worries, Tina."He knew some people would take offense and get jealous about that when having a long distance relationship, that everyone was closer to her than you.  He didn't have any of that. Maybe feeling a bit insecure occasionally, he was human after all, but what he felt was quite the opposite. He only felt relief knowing that she was surrounded by people who would have her back, beside Queenie and Jacob, when he couldn't be there right away if something happened. "It's good to hear you haven't forgotten your meal," He paused, added some teasing into his voice. "Even though it's hotdog, again." Her eating habit was worse than a five-year-old child.

"I had a salad." She countered.

"That's better." He smiled when she snorted.

"Enough nagging about me, how was your day, Mr.Scamander?"

"Uneventful." He walked back to his desk and dropped into the chair. Dougal followed and also lowered himself on the ground.

"Worked on my paper all day, and then we, me and Dougal, took a walk down to Drunk Unicorn to have our dinner. And then back home to work." That pub was now their favorite place, a little establishment hid in an alley. They discovered it together when Tina visited him the time before last, while they took Dougal out for his evening walk one night and he suddenly took off chasing after a black cat which happened to be the owner's and led them to the pub. The owner took an instant fondness for Dougal and promised them they were welcomed whenever he opened. It was just another point that the food was absolutely divine.

The dog snapped his head up and let out a little woof upon hearing his name. "Ah, someone might feel a bit left out." 

"Then put me on speaker, so I can say hi." She laughed, clearly heard the dog. "You are on speaker now, Tina."He did as she said and held the phone closer to Dougal, who titled his head in confusion. 

"Hi, Dougal! Can you hear me? Yes, good boy, I hear you!" The dog answered with two barks, then he stood up, started to pace in circles and whine. " Oh, sweet boy, I miss you too. I miss you so much. " Her tone in the last sentence changed suddenly. She wasn't just talking to the dog but to him as well. The yearning in her voice mirroring the longing in his chest. It somehow made him less lonely but needed her even more."But just for three more weeks, okay? I will be meeting you guys soon in June." 

"Tina, are you saying......?" He pulled the phone back to him so fast, startled Dougal that he jumped back a few steps. 

"Yes, Captain Graves just approved my time off request earlier today. He even gave me four extra days, so I have a whole week off, starts on the 4th of June." 

His brother, Theseus, was getting married on the 6th of June. With her work, they both thought she could only have three days to spare and would have to fly over on late flight after her shift on the 4th and leave early on the morning of the 7th. It was far from enough, especially when the wedding was going to take up most of the time of her visit. And they were bound to be very busy with both of them were going to standing up with the groom and the bride. He was his brother's best man. And she was Leta's maid of honor. He recalled the shock when Tina told him about it, considering the awkward start between the women who became best friends no long after. Maybe some bonds were meant to be formed. 

"That's wonderful, Tina! " He wanted to stand up and dance." Does that mean you will stay after the wedding?"

"Of course, I will stay till the morning of the 10th."

Stay forever. Newt almost burst out, but he told himself he wouldn't do this over the phone. He quietly pulled the first drawer of his desk out, picking up the small velvet box lying await. It was a life-changing question, with one of them must move across the ocean--he didn't want to assume it'd be her, he would give her a choice -- and it had to be a life long. He put the box back.

"Then I couldn't wait to see you, love." 

A bark. "Dougal couldn't wait as well."

"Me, too." She laughed. "Okay, that's for today? " 

He knew she was as reluctant as him to hang up the phone, but he remembered that she was still in the middle of an investigation and hadn't had her dinner yet. "Yes, sadly so." 

A few moments of silence.

"I'll let you back to your case and dinner. We don't want to have you go back too late and find your hotdog had been devoured, do we?"

"Don't worry, I know who's guilty if that's the case."

They both laughed softly.

"Please don't stay at work too late, Tina."

"I will if you promise not to stay up all night on your paper as well." 

"I'm off the bed now." He was not hitting his stride on his writing today anyway. And, he thought to himself, he would rather that chance of having her in his dream than sit there till the dawn and stressed over his work.

"I love you, Tina."

"Love you, too, Newt."

————————————————

A/N: When I was editing I remembered something called FaceTime and thought about letting them having this conversation:

“Do you want to face chat?”

“No I’ve been working all day, I am a mess.”

“You are always beautiful to me, Tina ”

It was so cheesy in modern setting ( even though I think that’s something he’d say) and I couldn’t fit it into the flow but I absolutely love it ( yeah I love cheesy lines) so I leave it here as a little bonus;)

#newtina #newtina fanfic #my fic #modern au #fluff #fantastic beasts

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 42: A Very Magical Hat Trick

Blasted Cora! She never missed anything, not even when it had been decades. He had hoped that once Regina reached the King's castle, he would be able to use the mirrors as they were intended, but the witch had cast the same spell that he'd taught her once again, limiting his view. But it was of no matter. Not really. She was only supposed to be there for a short period of time before returning to their estate to make final preparations for the wedding and the move. Cora and Henry were both to come live with Regina and Leopold in the castle in only a few months, after the pair were married. According to Theseus, there were even plans to bring over the bodies in the mausoleum as Leopold was building her a very special replica to store them on his own grounds as well as a stable and an apple tree for his new bride. How very gracious of the King…

But without more of his blood Cora could not place a protection spell around the palace as she had the estate. And he hoped, more than anything, that someone would teach one of the family members his name so that he could gain access when they were back at the estate!

With all this travel, the world was full of wonderful new possibilities for getting to Regina. The future was becoming less and less of a riddle every day, or at least some parts of it were. He didn't know exactly how Prince Charming and the False Twin were one in the same and yet not. At least, he didn't know yet. But he had a spectacular idea for the mirror he'd been given as payment for that deal, and even better, he'd finally managed to track down its creator.

He'd been looking for that man ever since George had told him where he'd gotten it from. He believed in the prophecy and that things would happen as they were supposed to, but the way he saw things, it never hurt to be a little extra cautious. Having someone with the ability to turn objects into portals could be a good ally. Unfortunately, when he'd finally found him, it had been in the worst of ways.

He was dead.

But his powers had not gone to waste. The rumor was that the grandson he'd inherited in the last years of his life had been given something his grandfather had crafted, something he'd put all his abilities into before he'd died. Supposedly, it was a magical hat the boy was never without. The grandson wasn't at the funeral for the man, and trying to track him down had proved to be difficult, if not impossible. Sometimes, while trying to find him, he came up so empty-handed it was as though he did exist at all. At least not in this world. And that was enough to convince him the rumors he'd heard were true. But everyone always came home eventually, if only for a short while, and that was how he'd caught him.

Theseus was busy watching Regina so he'd employed one of his brothers to watch the house of the old man that the boy was supposedly known to return to now and again. He'd given him special instructions to summon him immediately should the boy make an appearance. He was, after all, a slippery little fish. He was difficult to catch. But one evening, he was delighted to find himself pulled away from David's pan flute lesson to the home of the old portal maker.

"He's in there," Theseus' brother informed him. For the information he held a gold coin out for the man, watched him transform, and carry it away in his foot. There was smoke rising from the chimney and candles lit inside. Indeed, the boy was home.

"I've been looking for you!" he proclaimed using magic to appear on the other side of the door. Immediately a figure by the fire stuffing something into a hatbox jumped up to look at him. "I'll take that."

A moment later, he held the hatbox in his hand and felt the magic from within radiate through his entire body. Neutral Magic, just as he'd felt with the mirror. For something so muffled it must have been an impressive piece of magic. And yet, he hadn't a clue how to work it himself. All he knew was he couldn't have the boy using the hat to run off now that he'd cornered him. And "boy" indeed! He was Regina's age! Perhaps give or take a year or so. With a bit of magic, he was able to light the remaining candles in the home so that his face glowed clearly in the dark. Yes, young indeed, with eyes covered in coal like the Milah's pirate's eyes, but he was clean-shaven, not a scratch or wrinkle on his pale skin. Square jaw, dark hair, no fear in his eyes now…he figured he hadn't long until some woman snatched him up and made a decent man out of this boy. If what he'd heard about him were true, that would be a shame. Were there any bounds to the destructiveness of love?

"Go ahead, take it!" the boy challenged with a shrug. "No one knows how to work it but me."

He laughed. "I hear your name is Jefferson, am I right?"

"It's what I go by. Who are you?"

He laughed again as he opened the box and looked at the funny hat the boy had stuffed inside.

"Top hat" the Seer whispered in his head as a vision from another world came into his mind. A man dressed in odd black and white clothes promising to pull a white rabbit out of his hat. A hat trick.

Though this was certainly not what that was for. Not that he didn't doubt it could be used for such a thing if properly directed.

"This is quite the magical trick your grandfather has left you with. Or should I say, quite the magic…hat trick! Shame it's not pointed."

"It suits my work just fine thank you very much!" Jefferson replied.

"And what kind of work might that be? Comedy? Pulling rabbits out of it?"

"My work," the boy smiled.

He let out a happy giggle at his response. Oh, he did like this boy. It was hard to pinpoint why exactly, but the little bugger had stolen his heart already.

"Oh…you are a tight-lipped one! I like that! I'm a man of my own as well!"

"Then why would one man of privacy seek out another of privacy?"

"Because…I'm interested in hiring you," he informed him.

Jefferson rolled his eyes at him and stepped forward, swiping the hat and its box out of his hands without a thought as to who he might have offended. Spunky this child was, and bold! He was impressed he hadn't yelled and hollered at him to get out of his house, which was why he'd allowed him to take the hat back. The boy had some interest in what he was doing here.

"I work for myself, not others."

Ah yes, that…he'd seen that in the few glimpses he'd caught of his business. But he also knew that everyone had a price.

"Funny thing, I thought you might say something like that so…I came prepared."

From the depths of his jacket, he pulled out a small but full drawstring bag that clanged when Jefferson caught it. After placing his hat on his head, he opened it up and upended it onto his other hand, and with a little bit of magic, what came out was five times more the gold coins than that small change purse should have been able to hold.

"Well, now…" Jefferson cleared his throat as he thumbed through the pile in his hand. "You have my attention Mister…Gold, I assume?" he muttered, raising one of the coins.

He laughed. "Catchy, but not quite right…at least not yet. Rumpelstiltskin!" he proclaimed, falling into his traditional bow. "The one, the only…Dark One."

Jefferson shrugged as he stood again, looking wholly unimpressed. "I've heard of you."

"Well, the whole land has, dearie," he commented. If nothing else, he was rather proud of the name he'd made for himself throughout the lands. It gave him hope that someone in the King's castle would tell Regina about it, but until then… "I'm the creature parents tell their children goes bump in the night, am I not?"

"I must have missed those tales," Jefferson smirked. "All I ever heard was…well…is it true you once turned a butcher into a pig?"

He snickered. "Well, I can't say I remember the specifics, but that certainly sounds like a trick of mine…though I can tell you that there is a young woman named Fern who was quite pleased with the outcome."

"Excellent," Jefferson beamed in amusement. Oh, the joys of being young and so easily entertained. Yes…this partnership had to potential to work well, even if he had a feeling he couldn't provide him with what he truly wanted.

"What…no fear?" he questioned of the boy. "None at all? Not a single little thought that if this conversation doesn't go well, it might be you who goes 'wee wee wee' all the way home?"

"Actually, I thought it was rather funny when I heard it. In addition…you said you wanted to hire me, and a pig couldn't work the magic of the hat, so I assume I'm safe. So, that brings us to the reason you're really here, which I assume isn't to talk about pigs but rather my hat," he explained with a suave smile before pulled a wooden chair that was positioned in front of the fire around to face him. He sat down, crossed one ankle over his other knee, then folded his hands across legs, and cocked his head in an interested matter.

"So…what can I do for you, Mister Rumpelstiltskin Gold."

"Oh, Sir…'Rumple' will do just fine," he commented in reply, calling forth a chair from his own castle to sit on. He enjoyed making a show of pushing his jacket tails out behind him before he sat. Different as they were, he had the very distinct feeling they were both enjoying this conversation. He was a smart young man. Jefferson knew he held power simply because he had what he wanted. But he was also powerful, far more than Jefferson was without his hat. One power to hundreds, and yet he found himself face to face with an equal.

"That hat of yours, it goes to any realm?"

"Any realm that has magic."

"Just as I thought." It was alright that he hadn't been able to take him to his son, in fact, he'd been expecting it. It was the reason why he'd tried not to allow himself to feel a lick of excitement when he'd first stood up and agreed without knowing the destination. But it was a funny thing about hope; it could jump and spark even when told not to. But now his heart was settling. Regina. He focused on Regina. On the growing resentment she had for her future step-daughter and her future step-granddaughter. That gave him hope. He hadn't expected this Hatter to be able to take him to see Baelfire, but he'd come anyway because he wanted to make him an ally. He knew there was value in him. He could certainly help him get to his son even if he couldn't take him to him.

"You looking to go somewhere?"

"Nowhere that you can take me and not at present, however…perhaps you would be willing to help me in another way."

"You have yet to state the original way."

"I seek a curse."

"Have you tried a wife?" The Hatter questioned with a suggestive smirk.

"Tried, already killed her!" he smirked back. To his benefit, Jefferson didn't flinch at his proclamation. It was one more reason to be impressed by him. "No…the curse I seek is a magical one, indeed. It's hidden somewhere…secret, probably guarded and protected."

"And you want me to find it?" Jefferson pressed.

"I want you to keep your eyes open!" he corrected. "I want you to tell me about all the lands you visit, the people you meet, the objects you encounter, and should you ever locate such a place or hear word of a curse…let me know."

The Dark Curse, he didn't like to think of it more than he needed to and hadn't in the last few years as he'd been busy making sure twins were placed properly and trying to figure out Cora's game. But the truth was he didn't like to remember the fact that it still eluded him after all these years. He'd been searching all over the Enchanted Forest and even beyond in places like Arendelle and Camelot for places of great fairy magic where the curse might be hidden and guarded, but so far he'd come up empty. Oh, there was no need to panic, not yet. Prince Charming and Snow White were still children who had never even heard the other's name. He knew there were still decades ahead of him before he had the child that would break the curse. He wouldn't need the curse tomorrow, but with Regina and Snow White's relationship evolving, it was becoming a pressing matter. He wasn't about to leave anything to chance. He needed to figure out how to make sure that curse was breakable once it transported him to the world Baelfire was in. And if that took time to arrange, he'd rather have more of it than less of it. Jefferson was a realm jumper, or at least the descendant of one who had learned to channel their power in a very different and unique way. Fairies could go between realms, if the Blue Bug had hidden that atrocity of a curse in another realm, Jefferson was the one to help him. But the boy wasn't exactly rising with excitement to the occasion.

"This could be a beautiful friendship, Hatter, but only if we let it, of course…"

With a snap of his fingers the coins that had fallen from his hands to litter the floor around him suddenly duplicated and then duplicated again and again until the entire floor was nearly covered in them. His eyes rounded at the sight of it, giving away his weakness. Riches motivated him. That could be arranged.

"Done!" Jefferson finally proclaimed.

"Wonderful!" he laughed, standing from his seat.

"Wait!" the Hatter called before he could make a move to leave. "If I find something, how do I find you?"

"Ah, well, if I'm not at home in the Dark Castle, you can always summon me by calling out my name three times! I shall come a-running! Bags a-clinking!"

Jefferson smiled as he offered his hand. "I look forward to our…friendship!"

He laughed as he took his hand and shook it. He was looking forward to it as well.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #Jefferson #Regina #The Evil Queen #Cora #Queen of Hearts #Snow White

[anniestrange]

Theseus x Leta

Our future

Leta and Theseus had get engaged. They had decided the date, June 6.

They were in the middle of the preparations. "There's still a lot of time left," they said at first, but little by little they realized that planning a wedding took too much time. They had already chosen the place of reception: a beautiful garden in a country house on the outskirts of London. They had also chosen the banquet and the cake, although this was difficult since Theseus preferred lemon cake and Leta wanted a chocolate cake. Something untraditional in a wedding.

Newt would be the best man of his brother. Leta would not have bridesmaids since she did not really have anyone to ask her for (it's fine - she had said - I would spend my time choosing her dresses and hairstyles instead of dedicating myself to more important things).

Theseus had already chosen his suit. Leta still had not decided on her dress, she leafed through magazines with wedding dresses and placed little notes on those she liked in her spare time at work and when Theseus was not around. She walked around the shops and watched the other young brides accompanied by their mothers and sisters. Leta had neither mother nor sisters. She had thought about asking Theseus' mother for help, but she was too busy taking care of her hippogriffs. Even so, she always gave her advice on how to prepare herself as she will wear shoes one size larger to avoid being hurt.

In between all the fuss Leta and Theseus had not had time to talk about what would await them in their new life together after their wedding. They had not talked about where they would live.

Where they would have a small shelter just for them.

Theseus took the lead in this. Sometimes he would tell his fiancee that he would be late from the ministry because he would have a lot of work, that she would go home and not wait for him awake. But he actually went in and out of the city to find the perfect place where he and Leta could live together. He found it several weeks later. And he decided to take Leta to meet him.

Both left early from the Ministry, Leta had advanced all her earrings with Travers because Theseus told her that he had a surprise for her.

They went out together and went to an alley to appear with greater security.

-Close your eyes- Theseus said

-but if we're going to appear! Why do you need me to close my eyes? - Leta answered skeptically

-Because I want it to be a surprise from start to finish- answered the Auror with a smile

Leta rolled her eyes and then closed them.

Theseus took her by the waist and they appeared together.

Leta felt that she was touching land and assumed that they had reached their destination. She tried to open her eyes but Theseus stopped her.

-Ah ah ah, not yet- he answered and covered her eyes with his hands

- What are you doing Scamander? - Leta replied feeling the hands of Theseus on her face.

-Relax, trust me-

They walked a little, she felt the fresh air and the soft floor and assumed that they were in the field.

They continued on their way until he stopped her and she could hear the sound of a door opening.

-By here, with care-

They entered ... Wherever they were and Theseus closed the door.

They took a few more steps and stopped.

"Well," Theseus said, "you still have your eyes closed?" -

-Yes-

He removed his hands from her face and placed himself in front of her.

-Excellent ... Well now open them -

Leta opened her eyes and ran into Theseus in front of her. He was smiling.

-surprise! -

She looked around and realized they were in the living room inside an old and destroyed country house.

-For Merlín Theseus, where ... -

-I know I know. It's a little careless but I think you and I can make it a home

-What are you ... -

-Look around here - Theseus interrupted enthusiastically - Here is the fireplace right? -

He began to move around the living room - in front of it we will put an armchair with some cushions ... Here there will be a wall and we can paint it the color you want ... Over here I open a little table with books and flowers .. And in this corner we will put a small bookcase ... The biggest one will go in the studio that is here ... You will love it - he went to the room next to the stairs. Leta followed him - here in the kitchen we will put a small table for when we have breakfast quickly - the dining room will really be over there ... Up the stairs are the rooms ... There are three ... The main one is the biggest and the two others that are smaller but have enough space. Oh! There is also a guest room below ... And here in the entrance hall there will be a coat rack where there will be coats and an umbrella ... You see?

And Leta saw it. She stared dumbfounded at her future husband. He had looked for a house for them. For their new life together. And he talked about that future and that home with so much emotion that she did not know whether to laugh or cry. So she did both.

-You're good? - Theseus asked worried. Maybe he had exceeded himself a little.

-Yeah sure. Please continue - she replied crossing her arms

-Well ... - Theseus returned to his vision. And when Leta thought that he would not have any more ideas ...

- Here in this hall we will take pictures of our children ... And we will hang them on these two walls and put some on the little tables-

Children? Did he say children?

- They will be normal photos. Children being children. Playing with their toys, painting the walls, eating the cake you told them they could not eat yet ... - Theseus stopped. Did he said children ?.

Leta and Theseus looked at each other. They had not talked about having children. A small great detail that had escaped them. They knew they wanted to have them, but never if they were going to have them. Both were damaged.

Theseus always wanted children. Have a family and play with his children. See them grow, watch them go. See their grandchildren grow. But after the war he get damaged. He continued with his little illusion but he could not help but be terrified at the thought of what he could offer as a father. A child deserves love, patience and a father who does not have war nightmares. A man damaged with a wife and also being a father .....

Leta for her part was always afraid of having children. She loved them. But the simple idea terrified her. That since it passed her brother. Leta just wanted to get rid of him for a moment ... It was just a moment ... He did not stop crying ... Just a moment ... And it ended up being the ugliest mistake of her life. If that's how it was as a sister, she could not imagine what she would be like as a mother. She would also get tired of his own son? Would she also leave him alone for not listening to him cry? A son deserves love ... Fatherly love, something she did not know. What would she offer her husband and also her son?

Both continued looking at each other. And after a moment they smiled. They wanted children, of course they wanted them. But it would not be something that would happen soon. She would not be telling Theseus that she was pregnant two months after they got married. Maybe not even after a year. This would take time. They would have to resolve themselves in order to have something to offer to little ones. It would take time, yes. But it was certain that one day, maybe not today not tomorrow or two years from now, Leta would be smiling and crying to tell Theseus that they were expecting a child. And he? He would embrace her, kiss her and even begin to speak to her bump in the midst of tears and smiles. It would be a beautiful moment.

-You said the main room was upstairs? - Leta asked pulling both of their thoughts.

-Yes, come on if you want- Answered Theseus

They both went to the stairs more, him behind her. Leta fell on the sixth step.

-yes, I also have to repair that- he said holding her

She laughed. When they reached the top Leta looked at all the rooms. Leaving the main one for the end. Leta came in and Theseus watched her from the door. Leta slowly turned around and looked around the room.

It was spacious and beautiful. It had a closer and a bathroom with a tub. There was also an old dressing table that, behind all that dirt, was certainly beautiful. Leta smiled. That was their room. The room they will share together. Where they would rest and tell how their day was. A little space just for them.

-I think I'll take care of this- Leta said - Look, here in front will be a very comfortable and bigger bed than we have in our apartment in London, there is enough space. The toilet will be moved to this side ... In the bathroom I will place some candles ... A small table next to each side of the bed, some lamps around here .. And I will see what colors we can use for the walls ... I think of a red, what do you think?

Theseus watched her with love from the door, chuckling and taking his hands out of his pockets he approached her.

-I think it would be very good- and kissed her

Leta returned the kiss with the same sweetness and passion with which he was kissing her. It was the beginning of their future together. A great and promising future.

Thus the months passed and both found the time to build the house of their dreams. They had done everything they had proposed. And in a matter of time, with a little magic and manual labor. Their home was ready to receive them at any time. They even took some of their things little by little and got to sleep there a couple of times (and many others did not necessarily sleep). Also, Theseus connected the Red Flu with his office in the ministry to move faster.

Everything was ready. Everything was perfect.

But then Paris happened ... Oh damn Paris ...

Decisions were made and futures were ripped out of hand.

After that, Theseus could not return, neither to his apartment nor to his home. Everything was for him a future that had been taken out of his hands.

I apologize for the grammatical errors English is not my native language and I am learning it. It is also my first time writing, I always have ideas but I had never written them. So I hope you like it and tell me what you think :)

#leta lestrange #theseus scamander #theseus x leta #fantastic beasts: the crimes of grindelwald #fantastic beasts #the crimes of grindelwald

[essilt]

Fic: Mnemosyne’s gift (WIP)

Autors: @katerina150 , @essilt Theseus Scamander / Leta Lestrange, Canon Het Relationship, Het, Alternate Universe, Epistolary, Drama, Romance, Family Feels Notes: BC THEY ARE OUR BBS AND JFC WE JUST CAN’T! Notes2: We’re sorry for mistakes, english isn’t our native language. Sum: Fantastic Letters and what are they hiding.

ao3 link

Chapter 4: The Corvus IV Lestrange's cunning plan

It was oddly, but they met again at the ball. Mr. Scamander and Miss Lestrange were invited to the annual Christmas Ball at the Ministry of Magic and, of course, separately.

Theseus led the Auror Department in 1925: the war hero, who was one of the first to go against the emergency legislation of Minister Archer Evermond. He returned from the mainland at the end of 1918, started from scratch under the guidance of Torquill Trevers and literally took off on the career ladder. The position and aura of heroism made his Irish appearance much more attractive in the eyes of the majority of free girls for betrothal, but Theseus was equally formally amiable with all of them. It was rumored that his heart was broken.

Leta Lestrange was a Hogwarts graduate, as well as Theseus. She once was friend to his younger brother Newt - and even for a couple of years she imagined she was in love, or maybe Newt imagined that for himself and for herself. Once she spent the whole summer at the Scamanders: communicated with the whole family and enthusiastically watched the hippogriffs. Theseus had often heard about her before: Leta Lestrange was at the tip of the tongue of a non-talkative Newt. Although the circumstances of the very first meeting could hardly have passed for auspicious, when Newt was expelled from Hogwarts, and his older brother had to push thresholds in the pose of the petitioner. Theseus never thought that he would communicate with this girl seriously. He was almost ten years older, she was from a different social circle. He went to war early, she continued her studies, learning how to do magical sciences as Muggle ones, and this was what later allowed her to work in the ministry, and not her father’s money, as many thought. Of course, they happened to cross at Trevers' department, but hardly all of these meetings could have passed for the renewal of acquaintance.

Theseus went to the reception without much inspiration: on the Christmas eve, Mrs. Scamander (Ma, as her sons called her among themselves) depressed by the blatant celibacy of both, in turn brought down her bad mood for a hopeless future, a lonely old age and other mischief from the day they were born. Newt crawled into himself, as if in a sink, and silently suffered, Theseus languidly dissuaded as just as languidly threatened not to come next Christmas, if these conversations did not stop. But Ma, having read the gossip in the Daily Prophet, where were only notes about beautiful lonely young women, went to storm with the determination of a soldier who had no other maneuvers left and who ignored the threat - especially since they never were performed.

"Do not roll your eyes, Theseus Scamander!" She always called children only by their full name being in anger. “You're worse than brother. You're almost forty. Almost forty, Theseus! Soon you will have no chance! You can expect only a twice-divorced woman or a widow with children from previous marriages!"

"Mom, are you sure that this is a suitable conversation before the ball?"

"This is always a suitable conversation!" She pursed her lips. "Theseus, I can not live forever, who will take care of you twenty years later? You think it'd be your brother who can't even take care of himself?"

Theseus thoughtfully considered a tuxedo.

“Mom, in the name of Merlin, I and Newt live our own lives a long time ago, and if I need a nurse one day — although I hope I won't get to such misery — I will just hire her. Marriage, as far as I know, is not for this."

“Of course not,” she snapped back, catching a subtle subtext. She paused and called on the other side: "Soon I will be too old to raise my grandchildren..."

"Grandchildren are for joy, mom. For everything else, you can hire a nanny."

"What can you know about this!" She let a little tragedy into her voice, and then got angry: "You measure everything with money, Theseus. Gathered all this of Muggles."

“Mom, money is convenient, after all, why not use it,” Theseus shrugged his shoulders, took the fresh issue of the Prophet from the table. "Well, and who do you offer me as a bride? Let's go through the list. The first in it turned eighteen last spring, and I, as you kindly and fairly reminded me, am almost forty..."

Mother snatched the newspaper out of his hands and threw into a corner.

"Don't clown around! You might think that there are no brides outside of this list!" Now the drowning man’s prayer sounded in her tone distinctly: “You had that girl in France... Why not marry her!"

"I am sure there is, but my work does not allow to communicate with them. With that girl, as you call her, there was a relationship that did not include the concept of marriage." He didn’t lift an eyebrow when his mother portrayed something between indignation and embarrassment, and ruthlessly added: “In the name of Merlin, mother, that time there wasn’t any relationship to marriage."

"So, you must work less!"

“And a woman who has worked all her life tells me this,” Theseus could not refrain from an ironic smile.

"It did not stop me from having two children!"

Theseus took a deep breath and folded his arms across his chest. Poor Newt is probably listening to all this.

"I do not argue." He tried to go on another truce, letting a little sincerity into the conversation: "I just didn’t meet a woman I don’t want to let go. And who'd endure me. No one likes redheads."

“Well, that is, we are to blame with your father, it was us who gave birth to you the redheads,” said Mrs. Scamander’s voice with a harsh note hinting at humility, and Theseus embraced her.

"Do not worry. If Newt and I are lucky, you will have daughters-in-law and grandchildren. You will grumble when they will overrun the house and climb where they don’t ask..."

"I will not live till that moment with such sons!"

Mrs. Scamander said this loudly enough for Newt to hear every word too.

***

Leta Lestrange was preparing to the ball alone. She received strict instructions from her father. Everything about her rebelled at the thought of what these instructions were about, but her tongue did not turn around to say "no". Corvus IV Lestrange had enough of a glance so that all the Leta's rebellious nature, who did not let anyone in Hogwarts descend, would wilt and freeze. The secret, shameful fault, about which it was impossible to make and sound, immobilized her and the overwilling glance smeared Leta at the feet of the father with a thin layer. You want to earn my trust, said this glance, you need my forgiveness, you should try and be a good girl, then I will approve of you - and Leta mentally replied: "Yes, Dad." Her father's authority was still indisputable for her.

She gathered her hair in a neat strict knot and stabbed her with sharp raven feathers. A black silk dress with a train and straps crossed at the back, studded with glass beads and sequins, was put on right on a naked body. Black velvet shoes on a tall thin heels, walking on will be almost an art. Her favorite silver snake with emerald eyes wrapped around her arm, from shoulder to wrist. The jewelry belonged to her mother - in fact, it was the only thing which Leta inherited by her mother.

***

She was late for the official start of the celebration and appeared in the ballroom when the performance had began and the frail ballerina, making the pas in her flying white robe, let go of the shawl into the air - but the performance did not interest Leta, she only looked ahead.

And it was Theseus Scamander ahead. Her Aim. Of course, they were familiar and although they didn’t really communicate for many years, moreover, Theseus was the first after precious animals that Newt could talk about incessantly: he found a thousand and one more reason to be angry with his older brother and to condemn him - and desperately admired him. So Leta, unwittingly, knew about Theseus Scamander much more than it was decently to know a young girl about a man almost ten years older; and since Newt Scamander was her the very best, the most intimate — and the only — friend, she involuntarily took from him an explosive mixture of condemnation and admiration for Theseus. They were even lucky enough to spend the whole pre-war summer together, when Mrs. Scamander invited her younger son's girlfriend to stay with them on holidays. Theseus was tall, scrawny, red-haired, freckled, just like Newt, wore a canvas shirt with rolled up sleeves and pants with suspenders, preferred to tinker with the rod and fishing line without the aid of spells, and he had an unusually ordinary girl. Nothing foreshadowed the hero of Arras, Messina, and Amiens.

Theseus was at the other end of the ballroom and noticed immediately the excitement among the guests and his reason. Silk dress to the floor, flowing gait, dark skin with an olive tinge. Densely dilated eyes with languishing and barely touched lipstick lips. At first it seemed to him that she was looking for someone, then - that it was him with Leta Lestrange met her eyes. Not for long: just a moment or two. He was amazed how lonely she seemed. Theseus did not follow her life intentionally, but he read the issues of the Daily Prophet, where were often published articles about her and all the enviable brides of the wizarding world, including Leta Lestrange, who, even crossing her twenty-five year line, did not lose ground in the top ten. He was even interested, because Leta occupied a considerable place in Newt's life - until the number of her supposed suitors reached ten. Then Theseus just stopped looking through the column about the secular life of the magical community.

She seemed relieved to see an old acquaintance.

They met with their eyes every now and then, until the performance was over, then the crowd separated them. Theseus was distracted by the conversation Minister of Magic Fowley, Leta was pulled aside by familiar witches from pureblood families. It took a good quarter of an hour and a lot of tricks and tiny steps in the direction of the Aim, before Theseus and Leta finally found themselves face to face.

“Oh, Miss Lestrange!” greeted Fowley. "How are you tonight? Do you enjoy the show?"

“This is a wonderful evening, Minister,” Leta gave Fowley a hand for the duty of the kiss and turned her gaze to his companion, nodding in recognition. Theseus tilted his head in response.

“Miss Lestrange, I regret that your father could not attend our Christmas party, but I am glad that you decorated it with your presence. Of course, you are familiar with our heroic Head Auror, Theseus Scamander, but it will not be superfluous to introduce you to each other again. Theseus, this is Leta Lestrange, the daughter of a respected friend of the Ministry."

Leta smiled radiantly.

"My father was very sorry that he could not attend, and asked me to convey to you wishes of well-being and remind you of the return visit, which was previously promised. Mr. Scamander, glad to meet you again," she gave a hand to Theseus.

How tall is he! She forgot. Or maybe in childhood it is natural that everything around is much higher. Leta had to throw her head back to look at Theseus' eyes, but he easily relieved her of the inconvenience, leaned in the old-fashioned way to kiss his hand, and did not raise it to his lips, as almost all men now did, trying to get rid of conventions.

"Mutually, Miss Lestrange."

She was so busy thinking about his height that she didn’t have time to think about his voice. Theseus detained her hand in his not longer than decency required, but Fowley did not allow the conversation to develop.

"Yes, yes, Miss Lestrange, I will definitely return the visit, would you like to accompany me and see our program?"

Leta had no choice but to agree. She wouldn't to refuse the Minister with whom her father was friends, although at that moment she wanted to stay and speak with a completely different person. Theseus was forced to accompany the wife of the Minister, a strict fair-haired lady who set off her bright charismatic husband.

The program of the evening included several more dances and a magician's nice performance, combined with drinks and light snacks. Leta was next to the Minister, realizing that Theseus Scamander was standing behind her. Directly behind. Touch me, she mentally repeated, touch me - until she realized that it was not an order, but a request. She really wanted to know how Theseus Scamander touches a woman, appreciate what is waiting for her, check with her skin whether all this chatter about a broken heart is true - although she already senses: not true... She even shifted her shoulder blades, almost feeling his fingers glide on her back. When white snow, so similar to the real one, began to fall from above and began to turn into flowers right in the air, she turned around and saw an asphodel flower in Theseus’s hands. Strong hint! Guessing how far the Head Auror could be suspected of indecency, Leta turned away as soon as she caught his return glance, and spoke to the Minister about something unimportant.

During the reception, her friends surrounded her again, without giving a minute of peace. Conversations, on-duty smiles, fake wishes of well-being, gossip, invitations to spend the weekend at someone’s estate or in the mountains, or at the springs. “And let's flight to Bulgaria!”, “Yes, yes, it’s very good there now, snow, they say, piled up, you can ski. I like to descend from the springboard "and so on and so forth. Her head ached so much that, after apologizing, Leta moved away, pretending to have a snack. She would not be reproached: the appetizers were excellent, to match the champagne. In the absence of a good cook, the current minister could not be blamed.

“Persephone plucked the asphodel flower, and the firmament of the earth opened up before her, from which the four dark as the night of horses escaped, and the underworld king Hades ruled it..."

She shuddered, turned around - and came under the spell of Theseus Scamander's smile. And, oh Merlin and the Holy God, this growth...

"Sorry, seems to me I've scared you."

"Don't worry, Mr. Scamander, I'm just surprised. Do you like ancient myths and legends? Or do you want to put my vigilance down?" hinting at the most innocuous name, Leta pointed at the flower.

Theseus laughed, and the asphodel disappeared.

“My job is, these myths not to become a reality, Miss Lestrange.”

“I hope that today you are not here to work, Mr. Scamander,” Leta smiled and took a sip of champagne. Her head was spinning slightly.

"No, today I intend to rest. Do you like ancient myths and legends?"

“Some ...” She paused, trying to get at least one suitable memory out of her: “I remembered, in my youth, I was amused by the legend that one hero went down to Hades and unsuccessfully sat down on the wrong chair. We often laughed at this with Newt."

Theseus grinned, apparently realizing what kind of legend it was. Newt once said that his brother in school was also teased by the misadventures of the great Greek hero, not always successfully, which, of course, was reflected in the number of points of his faculty.

Taking a sip of whiskey, Theseus leaned toward Leta a little closer.

“I argue that it was Newt who told you this Athenian gossip, it will be from him. And I'm not at all surprised, considering how my brother likes to laugh."

"How is he?" Leta did not retreat, only elegantly intercepted canapés from a passing by tray.

"He returns from his long journey soon. I think it will linger for a while in our area."

Damn well with his height sits a tuxedo, that's what, Leta thought - or champagne helped her think so. Newt wouldn't ever be dressed like this - noone would ever have a chance to rake him out of his beloved coat.

“Does Newt still love his outlandish animals?” Leta smiled, recalling the scary care of Scamander Jr. about his strange, but in her own way beautiful pets. “Does your mother still breed hippogriffs?”

“Yes, to both questions,” Theseus finally smiled sincerely, making his face completely transformed. Leta did not expect that his smile would make such a strong impression on her. "Newt is collecting material for his book, which he has been writing for many years, and mother is waiting for him to show another brood. And to persuade to find a more rewarding occupation..."

Talking about Newt awakened a cat named Feeling of Guilt from a lethargic sleep, and before she began to sharpen her claws about her soul, Leta changed the subject.

"Mr. Scamander, I spent a wonderful summer in your house, I still remember with tenderness."

In the eyes of Theseus it was clear that these memories are shared.

“You had lovely curls, Miss Lestrange.”

“I hated them,” Leta portrayed disgust, “and with pleasure got rid of them!”

"It does not matter. They were all the same cute."

"You are really pushing me to return them!"

“I never thought that my opinion is so important,” he smiled again, and Leta had to take a sip of champagne, because he had his throat tight.

The snake on her hand raised her head sometimes or took a more comfortable position, so as not to interfere with the freedom of the hostess's gestures. A catchy, massive jewelry, which, perhaps, would have gone as clothes. Not the most decent thought, but war wiped out the tinsel of propriety in the first place.

"Will I survive the bite of your beast, Miss Lestrange?”

She was surprised - hard to say, feigned or sincere - and opened her dark eyes.

"What beast, Mr. Scamander?"

“This one,” Theseus stroked one of the metal rings with which the serpent wrapped Leta’s shoulder with his index finger.

The snake did not move. Leta traced the movement with her gaze.

"Oh!" She slightly raised her hand. “She doesn't bite... unless I ask.”

“Warned is armed,” said Theseus in a philosophical tone. "I will try not to give you a reason."

Between her beautiful full lips flashed dazzling teeth.

“I don’t think I’d let her harm you.”

“You still haven't say whether her bite is deadly, Miss Lestrange.”

"Let the answer remain secret."

“Well,” Theseus spread his hands, “I hope that in the extreme case I won't have time to understand anything!”

"We'll see, Mr. Scamander." - Leta brought the glass of champagne to her lips again, and Theseus felt a sudden — and as clear as day — temptation to kiss her. Snake lifted her head from the hostess's wrist and winked.

Damn French women, Theseus swore to himself, no one else can so cleverly put all these women's tricks into which it is so nice to get caught.

"Is your beast trying to tell me something?"

Leta frowned severely, noticing snake's maneuvers, and she peacefully settled down, becoming just an jewelry again.

“She likes you, Mr. Scamander.”

He thought that this could be a family joke of the year: the snake-bride. Why not, in the end, the Muggle fairy tale about the Frog Prince wanders around.

"Does she have a name?"

Leta drank some more champagne, and Theseus remembered of his whiskey.

"I suggest you come up with it."

“I’m not as good at handling animals as my brother, Miss Lestrange.” He grinned. "I can not guess."

"It's just a name, Mr. Scamander." For a moment, she opened her eyes wide. Then the dark eyelashes sank again, Leta moved to him at a small step and stood up on her toes to quietly add: “You will not do anything terrible if you give it.”

Her smell was so close: an unobtrusive smell, reminiscent of languor, which comes during the summer heat, with a slightly bitter cocoa mixture. There was an eternity between the girl with pretty curls, who was visiting Scamanders' house, and an exquisite young woman at the ministerial Christmas celebration.

Some excitement passed behind their backs; the official part must have come to an end. Leta retreated to a small step. The thought that he wanted her was as clear as the thought of a kiss, but not at all sudden.

Theseus reached out to stroke the snake again.

"I'm lost. Ago? Aminta?"

"Ago," Leta thoughtfully held out “o”. - "I like it."

"And your beast?"

The snake lifted her head, shook her, and winked again, twisting around Leta's wrist.

"She flirts with me, Miss Lestrange?"

“I don’t see anything wrong, Mr. Scamander,” Letha laughed. The official tone has finally turned into a playful one. "I think many women in this ballroom would like to flirt with you."

Theseus spread his hands.

"Today they have no chance against your beast."

"It flatters her..."

Damn French women, Theseus thought again, damn French women, eternal punishment to the British for the Hundred Years War.

"And you?"

They met looks. Leta bit her lower lip - rather instinctively.

“I am a simple woman, Mr. Scamander, of flesh and blood.”

Theseus paused, looking for an answer.

"Is your beast jealous?"

“I didn't notice.”

The conversation became extremely ambiguous, the available reserve of the ability to flirt was exhausted, and in the large ballroom the invisible musicians played the fashionable Muggle Quictime Foxtrot and Charleston, and Theseus leaned old-fashioned to kiss Leta's hand again.

“Then she won't mind if I invite you to dance.”

That was a statement.

"Of course, Mr. Scamander."

"But I warn you that I am not very strong in this."

"Do not worry, I will teach you."

He tried to focus on something less provocative than, damned all the French women, she has no underwear, not even the thinnest bottom shirt, it was enough to put an arm around her waist to realize it. On how small she was: even on heels, Leta barely reached out to the top of his shoulder. On how gentle her fingers, decorated with elegant rings, are golden-brown, soft. On an unusually chiselled jaw line, especially noticeable when Leta slightly tilts her head to the side. On how softly she slips in the dance and imperceptibly guides not the most skilled partner.

On the fact that he did not want to let her go.

His smile made her heart beat faster, and Leta tried not to think about it. As for “not very strong”, Theseus Scamander, perhaps, lied: he did not stepped on her legs, he caught all her unobtrusive clues, and they had never encountered neighboring pairs.

“I've heard you were at the war, Mr. Scamander,” Leta spoke in a surprisingly calm voice, although she had almost been shaking with emotion. "What was it like?"

"I would not like to talk about it now, Miss Lestrange, I do not want to spoil the evening. Let's just say war is not an easy walk."

Someday he will tell her everything. For some reason, Leta had no doubt that this time would come. Or the champagne did not doubt - it does not matter.

“And you have scars?” Typical female curiosity pushed her to such an intimate question.

“Yes, Miss Lestrange, I have scars.”

"Will you show me them?"

Theseus did not answer, squeezed her fingers harder and put it on his shoulder, pressed with his palm. Then pulled her closer. The flashes of the wizarding photographers flickered around, and Leta thought that their pictures would be in all the columns of secular news in the morning, but she didn’t care.

By the end of the first dance, Leta understood that her father’s plan went to dust, as her own. They spoke with Theseus less and less often and over the last quarter of an hour they exchanged well if a dozen phrases. It is strange that after all the talk this evening it was so pleasant to just be silent. The third and fifth dances followed the second dance, the score lost its meaning. One of them will certainly end with the fact that they just cling to each other and will be just stay so close. Is that so easy?

"Can I take you home?" Theseus asked when the evening was almost over.

“Of course, Mr. Scamander,” she smiled, letting him put a mantle on her shoulders. Theseus himself ignored the rules and wore a coat of Muggle cut. They left together and, after passing a sufficient distance to the required point, transgressing near the pompous London house of the Lestrange family, where they always moved into the season.

Her father went away on business to the estate, leaving Leta alone to carry out his plan, which had already become her own.

“Do you want to come in, Mr. Scamander, drink some more whiskey? Father has a Muggle collection." Leta turned to Theseus, who was ready to say goodbye.

“With pleasure, Miss Lestrange.”

In the hall, Theseus helped her to take off her mantle, and left his coat and hat on a hanger. The house was quiet, dark and almost empty. The maids, probably, had already gone to bed, the house elves hid — not surprisingly, it was already past midnight, she noted. There was no dream in one eye. She lit a fire in the fireplace, a gleam played on Theseus' brown hair. He waited. Remembering the excuse that lured him here, Leta gestured to his father's study, opened a cupboard lined with pot-bellied bottles, and glanced absently at them.

"What kind of whiskey do you prefer, Mr. Scamander?"

“Miss Lestrange, I prefer not a whiskey.”

The next question literally hung in the air. Leta froze for a second and walked slowly toward Theseus. He waited, but Leta could not escape from his gaze. She raised her hands, buried her fingers in Theseus' hair, crumpled, ruffled, smeared with briolin's hands.

“I wanted to do this all evening,” she whispered, smiling at his bewilderment, “I dreamed of seeing them free.”

"And I wanted this all the evening," Theseus pulled her to him and kissed her.

Then everything happened instantly. In a split second. They kissed, as long as the air was enough, fumbled with their palms on their clothes impatiently, kissed again. Not here, she whispered, and he nodded automatically, of course, not here, though whom to peep; the thin straps of her dress, studded with glass beads, were the most important threat, because hell-take-it-easier-tear. Leta laughed silently, bared long and even teeth, whispered that the dress was worth a fortune; Theseus, close to despair, was looking for a secret "lightning", loops, buttons, and finally, gritting his teeth, he said - no more than the salary of the Head Auror. Leta laughed again and finally relented, sent his fingers to some intricate clasps, disguised by the same glass and sequins; one movement - and the dress was gone. And under it, indeed, there was only naked Leta, as smooth and soft as silk, which rolled from her as a black wave onto the carpet, and she remained standing - the continuation of this wave, dark, olive, golden, with a neat chest, a clear-cut waist and tough hips. She took her feet out of her shoes, and gracefully descended onto the carpet, as she came down from the platform, and turned out to be unexpectedly even smaller than Theseus thought. The snake flowed down from her hand, curled over the dress peacefully and covered her emerald eyes, Leta stood up on her socks for a new kiss. Her palms stained with bryoline had already spoiled the tuxedo, bow tie, vest and ruthlessly took hold of the shirt; not here, for the sake of Merlin, she repeated, there is bedroom, and Theseus hoarsely demanded: show. The dress and the tuxedo were left lying on the carpet, woven like lovers, Leta found herself in Theseus' hands, prompted the way into his ear: up, to the right, straight, the door, the next door... not the door in that sense... The handle clicked, they burst into the bedroom, dropped something on the way, Leta gasped, and they began to undress again. The shirt went to the floor, Leta took up the satin belt, then the buttons on the pants, brisk experienced fingers fluttered from one to the other...

“By all the rules, Mr. Scamander,” she purred fiercely, and Theseus sealed her mouth with a kiss, interrupting conversations and spurring on actions.

They stumbled in the dark, collapsed on the bed awkwardly, Leta gasped again; pulled Theseus to herself, let out a low, hungry moan when he thrusted into her, she wrapped her legs around his waist, eagerly moved her hips to meet, felt his back from the loins to the shoulder blades, every vertebra and every rib... Her tongue touched his cheek. The rhythm of the movements - towards, away and towards again - became more harmonious and stronger. The groans became a bit less hungry - it seemed so.

***

The snow outside the window poured more, caught the light of the lanterns outside the window, threw a small scattering of reflected light into the windows. Leta threw off the blanket when Theseus tried to cover her. She was not cold at all: burning maternal blood, even diluted by the British aristocratic, glacial, remained hot enough to warm the naked body inside. Darkness hid her, transformed her dark skin into ebony-black; Theseus did not trust his eyes - tactile memory covered many times more. And was more receptive. More precisely. All this time, there were a thin stockings on Leta; by touch they did not differ at all from her skin, it is not surprising that they went unnoticed. One garter dissolved, stocking moved to the middle of the leg. Theseus pulled him down, lay down at the foot of the bed, untied the satin ribbon, and pulled off the second, held his bare foot in his palm, stroked his ankle.

Leta giggled, wiggled her fingers.

“Ticklish,” she explained in a whisper when Theseus looked at her. "Accio wand..."

“No, that doesn't work like that,” he grinned.

"It works!" She made an angry growl. "You hinder me to concentrate!"

"On what?"

Leta did not answer. Her hairstyle was hopelessly ruined, and Theseus idly pulled the rest of the feathers out of the hair. He spread the strands on the pillows, buried his face in it. At the roots, her hair was slightly damp from sweat and smelled of not expensive perfumes or rubbing, they smelled... just as Leta, as she smells, probably after a bath. Or now, in bed.

Her wand swam into the room: a little uncertain, as if it was also blind in the dark. Then it became clear that they did not even bother to close the door when they burst into the bedroom.

“Lumos,” Leta said.

The light was faint, a little golden, warm; everything that Leta touched became warm.

“You agreed to show me your scars, Mr. Scamander.”

He grunted and fell on his back, spread his arms. Leta’s wand absentmindedly levitated in the air, while Leta herself, sitting on her heels and biting her lip with zeal, examined his body.

"Where does this one come from?" She poked at the round scar under the collarbone.

"From Amiens." Theseus stroked her knee, raised his palm higher. This was the best of all in appearance and in touch: an exciting, carved transition from hip to waist, steep, like that of an amphora, a drop from wide to narrow. "This latest bullet went diagonally, pierced a lung ... I was lucky to be right through. I stayed in the hospital for about two months or so, and then I was commissioned."

"Right through? Is the same on the back?"

Theseus nodded. Letha opened her eyes wide. Her initial playfulness diminished.

"And this one?" Her fingers held across a wide long scar, which crossed the right side and stretched under the shoulder blade.

"I do not remember. One of the first operations. She was so-so prepared. We ran out of bullets, and the bayonets and sabers went into action."

“Why didn't you ask the healers to remove?”

"It's not face." Theseus stretched and yawned.

He simplified intentionally the behavior and tone of the terrible thing he was talking about.

Leta bit her lip again. The next scar was under the ribs on the left side: uneven, ugly, as if a hook were being pulled under the skin, which fish were caught. She vaguely guessed that she left such traces.

"And this one?" Her fingers flinch when touched.

“And this one I got during the Hundred-Day Offensive. I ran into a wizard... I had to fight in a more familiar way."

“Did you carry a wand with you in battle?”

"Yeah. Behind the boot, instead of a knife. I even used it once... instead of a knife."

They met looks.

"You killed him?" Leta's voice has changed.

"Yes. Straight in the eye."

Her lips parted, but Leta changed her mind to speak. Looked away.

“Now I understand why you are the Head Auror,” she said slowly.

“Because I can kill with a wand without magic?”

Leta shook her head.

"Because you do not fluctuate."

Instead of answering, he intercepted her neck, pulled her to him. The sharp face of the pagan goddess approached the face of Theseus.

“Nox,” Leta whispered. The light turned off.

Lips, on which there was no trace of lipstick, pressed to his lips, and Theseus realized that it was equally and absolutely not enough for both of them.

***

They fell asleep in the morning and woke up, barely beginning to get light, to make love again in tacit consent. Silent, like a backwater, Leta listened to his ragged breathe, his moans and tried to keep in mind how they sounded, how the muscles tensed, when he rested on his arms, lifting himself, pushing deeper into her; she tried to memorize the relief of his lean, sinewy, bony and heavy body, the location of the scars on his back, dug her nails in it, wanting to leave her marks on him, even if short-lived, and she vowed to herself that she would never have anyone, never, and then the orgasm cleaned all the efforts, all the oaths and all the hooks to which the memories clung.

It became quite light. He had to get dressed, thank her and leave. So do all random lovers, whose names and faces aren't remembered.

Why does she think about random lovers? She should not think about them. For their sake, she never wanted to throw a bathrobe, to go downstairs, to make coffee and to fry toast without any wands...

Is it also random for Theseus? Maybe that's why everything turned out so easily?

Something must have changed in her face, because Theseus smiled, touched her lips with his fingers. The movements were relaxed, as if he didn’t care about the morning and he wasn’t going anywhere.

"I thought you like my brother."

"No, I always liked you."

He laughed, and Leta laughed hastily with him: it can always be said that tears came out of laughter.

"You are a shameless little liar!"

“Okay, okay...” She dried her eyes. “Newt and I kissed once, when we were fifteen, and after that I decided that he was too good to allow him to plunge.”

Theseus raised his eyebrows.

“So I’m not good enough?”

“No, but I thought you were smart enough not to plunge.”

"Double shameless little liar!"

Letha felt that her lips were trembling, and turned away, pulled the blanket to herself. Yes, a liar, the liar, covering all life the most terrible deception. Even her birth was just a result of deception.

Theseus' fingers slid along her back, circling the vertebrae...

"Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head, but did not dare to turn to face him.

“I have to repent of something, Mr. Scamander.”

In his silence, bewilderment was most clearly felt.

“I’m not a Muggle the confessor, Miss Lestrange, and I don’t give absolution.” He also changed the tone.

"Anyway, I have to repent." She exhaled. "Everything that happened... there, at the celebration... and here, in this bed... it happened, because my father wanted it so."

She did not turn around, and Theseus was silent. It was silent for a long time. Life passed, then another, the universe ended, and the silence all lasted and lasted.

Finally it stopped with the simplest:

"I do not understand."

She needed to hurry to explain everything, because too much time had already been lost. Otherwise, others will explain.

"He wanted to have influence on the new Head Auror. And this way, this way... this is proven. And now I repent."

At last, she had the courage to look back.

Theseus looked at her without condemnation or contempt - and, as far as she could judge, he was still not going anywhere. Her heart failed.

"I was so bad?"

It was such an unexpected question that Leta’s tears dried out.

"No!"

They exchanged a tense smiles.

"Well, you seduced me. What was the future plan?"

Leta opened her eyes, unable to believe that he took her revelations so calmly, that he simply dropped its as irrelevant. Maybe Theseus did not understand what she just confessed? No, he understood. Almighty Merlin, he interests in her and nothing else? Nothing at all?

"To get into your trust."

“Congratulations,” Theseus said seriously. He sat down, gently took Letu by the shoulders, and peace enveloped her. "You got."

#theseus scamander #leta lestrange #theseus x leta

[thisthingcalledloveisdamnation]

Dynasty chapter one

Summary : A marriage has been arranged between Newton and a beautiful pure blood named Cybele.

Word count : 1599

Warnings : arranged marriage. Underage girl.

Note : I am 2 days late… I should get the second chapter out this week, but finals are coming yknow. Cybele is around 16, almost 17 and I intend to make them wait before they do anything sexual. Wizard are considered adults at 17... but I don’t know yet, I might play with their age a bit, we’ll see.

——

“Tell me Theseus, have I ever had a voice in that matter ?” Newton grumbled, struggling to maintain eye contact with his brother.

“Since you have never put any effort into actually finding a suitable bride, no.”

Newton tried his best to respond, but only stutter came out. He couldn’t believe his father and brother had selected a bride without even consulting him in that matter. Many emotions came to him. Mostly anger and confusion. Theseus emitted a loud sigh.

“I have found a job for you a the ministry. You start next month. You will be able to provide for your bride. You can stay here as long as you need it. She will be staying with our parents until the wedding.”

Tears of anger began to quietly pour on the younger brother’s face. Theseus took a deep breath. “Listen, Newt, I…”

“No.” He took his blue coat and quickly left.

——

Cybele took the news calmly. She would meet her future husband tonight. The marriage would be next week. She had been groomed her entire life for that moment. As a pure blood, she knew she had no say in this matter. She would perpetuate the long lineage of her future husband. And another girl would marry one of her brother to perpetuate the dynasty she was from. Life would go on whether she stayed here or not.

She would have to leave to go to England and stay there forever. Most pure blood were severe and strict, specially with a bride selected only to perpetuate a pure bloodline, her future husband would probably never let her leave. Not even to see her family. Of course, she would dearly miss her siblings, but having the opportunity to build her own family made her ecstatic. Her mom always told her that having children, becoming a mother, was the best thing a women could get in her entire life, and she believed it.

“When are we leaving ?” She simply asked.

“As soon as you are ready. Pack a small suitcase and we will be on our way.”

It took her an hour to get ready and fifteen minutes to pack the stuff she needed. She was ready to meet him and hopefully he wouldn’t be upset about how she looked at that moment. First impressions were important for her and most probably were for him too, the other pure blood she knew tended to be superficial. That’s why she was now dressed with her prettiest dress. A black and brown dress with lace all over that hugged her curves in the right places. Cybele had also put a bit of fard a joue on her cheeks, a bit of rouge on her lips, and perfume on her neck and in her hair.

——

The floo network got them to a city near london and apparition closed the gap to an old manor that was more or less a hundred years old. It reminded her a bit of the BeauxBatons Castle.

She started walking and then suddenly stopped. She looked at her parents.

“What is his name ? I don’t recall anyone telling me.”

“Newton Artemis Fido Scamander” her mother whispered softly. Cybele’s eye went wide, she had heard of that family. A small yet renowned family that got their bits of fame in the Great War.

Her father took her arm and gently pulled her toward the door. She held her breath from the moment her father knocked on the large wooden door until a tall man answered. She sighed in relief. It wasn’t him, but his father. Both patriarch exchanged a hand shake and a quick presentation before they entered the house. It was lavishly decorated, but she had no time to admire the interior design as she was rushed trough the house. They entered the dining room.

“Please sit ! We were about to have supper, surely we have a place for the three of you.”

As they all sat around the table, five house-elves appeared and placed various meals in front of them. As they all served themselves and began to talk, Cybele barely touched any food. She was lost in her thoughts. When will he arrive ? What would happen then ? Would he accept her ? Or even just tolerate her ? She had prepared herself so carefully for him and yet he was nowhere to be found. Maybe he was avoiding her. It was only when they stopped the small-talking to finalise small aspect of the contract that she came back to reality.

“Since she hasn’t yet finished attending school, we want her to have a personal tutor. She only has one year left before finishing school, her education cannot go to waste. She still has our name and will soon share yours, she cannot drop out and bring shame to both our family.”

“ Yes of course. Theseus, Newton’s older brother, is an auror at the minister of magic, surely he can teach her enough to pass the wand test easily. You see, Newton is more of an expert in creature than anything else. But since we are talking about education, what formation as she had in taking care of a home ?”

“Her mother has been thoroughly training her to take care of a House and whoever might be in it, whether it be guests, a husband or children.”

“And about children, is she capable of bearing them ? How is her health ?”

She shifted in her seat. They were talking about her without any consideration, sometimes analysing her with a swift glance.

“She has bled many times. The doctors we consulted did not see any problem with her health or any reason as to why she would not be able to bear children. Now , if she unable to be pregnant for a reason doctors did not see, we could accept a divorce, if your family provide a small living pension for her. We all know that pure-blood family are getting rarer with every generations that passes. We need to protect that.”

——

She woke up early the next morning. They had placed her in her fiancee’s old bedroom and she liked it. She really liked being smoothly woken up by the sun coming through the large window. She got up from the huge bed and began what would be the first exploration of her new environment. It didn’t take long before she discovered an old chest in the back of the one of the closet, hidden beneath many boxes of clothes. A quick use of her wand allowed her to unlock it. What was inside amazed her : many books about magical creature were hidden there, along with drawing and annotations she supposed Newton was the creator of. At the bottom of it, she discovered many newspaper article with again the same subject.

Two hours later while she was deep in the reading of the notes her fiancee had left behind, she heard movement in the rest of the house. The exploration would have to wait since her host were probably waking up.

“ Father ! Mother !”

She heard the loud thump of someone climbing the stair as fast as he could. She quickly got everything back in the chest then back in the closet and jumped into the bed. She hid under the heavy blanket and waited for what would happen next. She heard the sound of a door opening.

“Hello son, said his father, are you finally here to meet your fiancee ? She is sleeping in your room at the moment. We should go down stairs, we do not want wake her up just yet.”

That’s the moment she decided to get out of bed. She shyly opened the door, still in her night gown. Looking at the ground, she bashfully smiled.

“It’s alright, I’m not asleep anymore Mr. Scamander.”

Newton’s eyes laid on her, she could feel it. He was analysing her as best she could, trying to describe her too. He couldn’t quite decide if her hair was a pale brown or a dark blond. He could see she had a face with delicate features, a rare sight amongst pure blood, but he couldn’t see her eyes. Not that he minded, of course, he always had trouble making eye contact. Especially with girls. Her night gown did not let him see any of the rest. He got out of his bubble when his father sighted.

“Newt, this is Cybele. Cybele, this is my son Newton. We will let you get dressed up, meet us in thirty minutes for breakfast. Follow me son.”

She returned in her room. The foul odor of alcool had turned her stomach upside down.

——

Newton got in his father’s office and sat down on one of the chair while his father sat at his desk.

“Father, I-“

“I don’t want to hear your complains. You are to marry that girl next week.”

“I’m su-suposed to leave tomorrow, I-I have to explore the world, Father ! Can’t it wait a-another year ?”

“No we can’t. She has an excellent pedigree and she will be gone if we wait any longer, you know that.”

Newton’s eyes were stuck on the floor again. He knew he would loose this fight of will, he was in no state of mind to fight them right now.

“Now, put your worry aside, and come eat with us. And make an effort to talk to her. But first, you need to change. You reek of alcohol. Wait for her to get out of your room, then go.”

#fantastic beats and where to find them #newt scamander #newton scamander #newt x ofc #newt x cybele #fanfiction #arranged marriage au

[zyzzyva1936-blog-blog]

“Lemma the Librarian - Possession With Intent”

Published: March 17, 2018

http://www.mcstories.com/LemmaTheLibrarian/index.html

Another paywalled one skipped, “the Di-Lemma Dilemma”, in which the party returns to Iason and Iola’s hometown and discovers that strange things are afoot*! It’s pretty good, although it suffers from a kinda fuzzy villain and a complete lack of embarrassing childhood stories. Like Lemma, I demand to hear about 6-year-old Iason defending the village from frogs and trees and a particularly scary-looking rock! ;)

Our actual story today is Possession With Intent, and it has one of the absolute highpoints of the series: specifically, Lemma and Peri’s conversation about the invention of the pyramid, which is one of the most Terry Pratchett things I’ve read that wasn’t actually Pratchett: and not in a crude copy sort of way, but legitimately hitting the same vein of lightly absurdist humour**. If you’ve read Terry Pratchett, you know that’s high praise; if you haven’t, stop wasting your time reading “porn reviews” on “the internet” and read the best damn humourist since Wodehouse died. Do it! Now! Right, sorry, the actual story. This one suffers even worse than “Di-Lemma” from the fuzziness of its villain - it was never clear to me at all if Peri was accidentally responsible, deliberately doing this, or just a victim like everyone else. But the conflict is pretty great despite all that - Lemma, Iason, and Iola all fighting being possessed by restless dead*** in different ways: Iason with his usual heavy-duty Will Save, Iola the same but failing more and also with an edge of trauma from the whole Brinksmoor business, Lemma, inevitably, by folding completely (although she’s getting better at justifying it to herself****). The character relations - both the “real” party and the ghosts - are complicated but explicated very clearly, and it makes things a lot more interesting than the usual “Lemma & co vs cartoon villain.” The resolution is also great - the story helps you forget that Lemma is a pretty damn powerful sorceress, and when she gets a moment of clarity to remember that she wraps the whole thing up right away. With less fire than might have been expected! Less fire immediately, at any rate. She casts at least one spell before opening up with the fireballs, what more do you want from her?

There’s a couple of bits tied into the main arc: as I said, we get Lemma being a sub but also becoming better at justifying it against her dawning realization that she should recover the books and Do Good in general - and, push come to shove, she decides to go for helping free the people at the Project rather than sink into self-gratifying submission. We’re reminded of Iola’s trauma, and she also notices that Lemma has the hots for Iason something bad (Lemma’s response is, as always, blanket denial of everything). 

And, Lemma uses the ghosts to pass along a message to someone she doesn’t identify to the reader in preparation the ominous spectre of the last two books. From here on out, no more episodic adventures, it’s all tying plots off and blowing things up... 

*Turns out to be sexy mind control. I know, I was shocked and surprised too. **The name of Lemma’s book this time is a more direct Pratchett shoutout. Ironically, this story doesn’t remind of of Pyramids at all, since Pratchett makes fun of ancient Egypt from an extremely different direction in that one.

***We’re in ancient Egypt. Everything is about death.

****Slight snark aside, the bit where Lemma and the courtesan are aligning are definitely pretty excellent. It’s the first time that I recall that Lemma really explains what she gets out of being a sub besides “plot-relevant magical orgasms” and it is just exactly correct. How @midorikonton wrote that and din’t realize she was a sub is beyond me. ;P (Well, ok, as she says, it’s because it was welded to other sex-and-gender stuff she didn’t have an epiphany about until later. It’s still a great description.)

When The Fuck Are We? 🤷

“The Di-Lemma Dilemma” is set in Iason and Iola’s hometown of Iardanos, and if you try to argue that this is the actual Greek village of Iardanos, and not Iolcus, the mythological Jason’s hometown, I will fight you to the death.

So: Iolcus. On the coast of Magnesia, about halfway up the eastern side of Peninsular Greece. Conveniently enough, most of Greek mythology is set in a vaguely-defined Mycenaean mishmash, so calling this 1200 BCE is as good as any other date*. When Jason was a child, his father the king was overthrown by his uncle Pelias (although in a feud/coup kinda thing rather than a Hamlet dealie), and Jason was bundled off to hiding. When he reached manhood, he returned to Iolcus to reclaim his throne, which Pelias agreed to... as long as Jason proved his worth by journeying to Colchis, on the far eastern shore of the Black Sea, and returning with the Golden Fleece**. Jason was surprisingly agreeable to this challenge, and assembled a dream team of mythological Greek heroes, including Hercules, Orpheus, and Theseus, and a ship called the Argo, and set off.

Jason and the Argonauts had many adventures getting there and back, including a fight with the most beautiful stop-motion animation skeletons you ever did see, but in Colchis successfully got their hands on the Golden Fleece. In this Jason was helped - ok, basically handheld through it - by Medea, sorceress, interesting female character, and (thanks to Aphrodite) Jason’s mind-controlled love slave***.

Medea is hard-core, man: she kills her own brother to cover their escape from Colchis, and when they get back to Iolcus murders the hell out of Pelias too. Jason, having gotten all he wanted, promptly spurns Medea for some other woman, and so Medea kills her as well, and leaves Greece for good. (She has other adventures afterwards, usually resolved by magical killin’, because ancient fanfiction writers knew this character was solid gold.) Jason, for being an ungrateful little shit, gets a particularly great death: he has a nap under the shade of the beached Argo, and a piece falls off and crushes him.

Iason doesn’t line up all that well with Jason beyond the general outlines of “mythological hero” - he’s way less of a self-centred jerk, to start - but Lemma’s not the worst imaginable match for Medea. They’re both foreigner sorceresses, with a somewhat itchier trigger finger than is probably good for them, and have episodic adventures all over the world. If I were her family, I’d think carefully before eating her Thanksgiving potluck, is all I’m saying.

I’ve totally blasted through all my history space here; we’ll, uh, we’ll get to Egypt Khemeth next time around. :/ ;)

*Not that timelining Greek mythology is a task for the timid, even compared to timelining Lemma. Look at who the bride in the Apple of Discord story is, then try to work out how old Achilles is during the Trojan War. Yeah.

**This is traditionally depicted as what it sounds like, a sheepskin made of solid gold. But there’s a probable origin for it that’s kinda interesting: the Caucasus mountains have gold deposits, which, since everyone likes gold, have been exploited since prehistory. One way to get gold out of rivers, much more efficient than the steryotypical prospector swirling pan business, is to weir the stream with sheepskin: the grease in the wool traps particulate matter, and after a few days or weeks you collect them, toss ‘em all in your smelter, and burn off everything but the gold. Hence, golden fleece.

***I’d usually describe it a little differently than that - since “Aphrodite made ____ fall in love” is usually just the Greek poetic way of saying “____ fell in love” - but in the context of this review series it’s obviously going to be sexy mind control all the way. ;) The guy who does the litbrick comic had a similar joke, though I can’t find the exact link now:

SAPPHO: Oh Great Aphrodite! I’m in love with Erinna, but she doesn’t love me back!

APHRODITE: Don’t worry, I’ll make her love you, whether she wants to or not.

SAPPHO: Wait, what?

APHRODITE snaps her fingers. ERINNA (glassy-eyed): Oh Sappho. I love you. So much. Please have sex. With me. Now. SAPPHO: Augh! This is awful!  APHRODITE: Spurn my gifts, do you? No matter, I can fix that too.

APHRODITE snaps her fingers.

SAPPHO (glassy-eyed): Oh Erinna. I love you. So much. Please have sex. With me. Now.

APHRODITE looks smug. ATHENA sticks her head in from the edge of the panel.

ATHENA: What the fuck is wrong with you?!

~

Next time: the party goes east and I go into the deep past. 

#Lemma Reviews

[inkstainedfanfics]

Let Him Go

Request: "I feel like we ask for this a lot but please you have to do a part 2 of missed shots or i might just die" + other sweet requests!

Word Count: 2,716

Pairing: None

Part 1   |   Drabble

Tag List: @dont-give-a-bother @heneed-somemilk @caseoffics @wefracturedmotivation @ladyredmayne @stevette60 @myrtus-amongst-the-stars

Requests are currently open! Feel free to send one in

You slip inside with a group of men you’ve never seen before. Thankfully, they assume you’re a friend of a friend of a friend that they’ve just never met. The alcohol they drank on the way may have helped a little, too. You can smell it on their breaths as the men laugh at some obscene joke.

What crude people. Judging by their accents, they must be some of Tina’s friends. You huff out a breath as you slide along the wall away from them and try to tune out their thoughts.

Strings of twinkling lights hang from the ceiling, draping down to the guests’ heads, remaining just high enough to be out of reach of any mischievous teenager. Tables covered in white cloths dot the small area of the room that isn’t a dance floor. Vases with red roses sit in the center of the tables, the only pop of color in the room aside from the matching walls and black chairs. A band plays a simple swing song near the front of the room, right next to the empty dance floor. People filter in from outside, entering the already warm reception room.

You approach the bar near the back of the room and order a glass of iced water for now. You may need the courage of alcohol later, but you need a clear mind for a little while. Taking the drink with a thanks, you wander over to rose colored wall. Leaning against it, you watch people wander in, laughing and talking with one another, enjoying the day. You sip your drink and count the amount of people you know.

Only about ten people, not that that surprises you. Most of the guests seem to be New Yorkers. Whenever one of the people you know ventures close to the bar, you bow your head and busy yourself with adjusting your dress or fixing the roses in the vase near you. No one approaches you, to your relief.

Not until a man, for whatever reason, approaches you, stepping in front of you when you look at the hem of your dress and tug it down.

“Hi.”

You glance up at him, sighing. Raising you head, you paste a smile on your face. “Hello.”

He extends his free hand. “I’m Edward.”

Taking his hand, you introduce yourself. You note his firm grasp.

“We haven’t met before, have we?”

“I don’t believe we have.”

He leans a shoulder against the wall. “I didn’t think so. I would have remembered such a beautiful woman.”

You roll your eyes and stare at your drink. Just the type of guy you’d wanted to avoid.

“So, how do you know the couple?”

“I’m an old friend.”

“Bride or groom?”

“Neither.”

“Really?” His deep voice breaks through the soft swing music in the background. “How’s that possible?”

“Circumstances.”

“All right, I get it. You don’t want to talk about it. So, what’d you think of the ceremony?”

“It was nice.” A lie. You hadn’t gone.

“Did you like the candles? I thought they were a nice touch.”

“They were just lovely.” You shake your drink, trying to break the ice up, only half listening to Edward.

He laughs. “I knew I didn’t see you there.”

Blushing, you look up. “What?”

“You’re lying! If you’d been there, you would have known there was not a single candle in the entire church.”

You scowl. “Fine. I wasn’t at the wedding. Happy you figured it out, Mr. detective?”

He laughs again. “So, you’re a wedding crasher, then?”

You purse your lips. “No, I was invited.”

“But you only came to the party?” He lifts his glass toward you. “That’s my kind of woman.”

“Listen, Edward, I’m just here to see someone, then I’m going.”

“Who? Tina?”

“No.”

“Oh, are you in love with the groom? Is that it?”

You fight the urge to scream. This man is impossible. “I’m not in love with Newt.”

“You’re blushing. Merlin’s beard, is there anything you say that’s honest?”

“Why are you even here?”

“The free beer.”

You shake your head and peer around him. Newt and Tina still haven’t arrived, but Mrs. Scamander stands near the door. She’ll stop you if you try to leave. Gritting your teeth, you face Edward again, shifting so his broad shoulders block you from Mrs. Scamander’s view.

“You’re not from New York or London, are you?”

A cocky grin spreads across his face. “What gave it away?”

“The stupid way you talk.”

“Stupid? I find most women call it charming.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t pronounce anything correctly.”

“On the contrary, I think it’s you that can’t pronounce anything.”

Rubbing your temple, you give in. “Where are you from?”

“Scotland, proudly.” He winks at you.

You allow yourself to dig in his head. He’s telling the truth. “What’s a guy from Scotland doing at a New York wedding?”

“I was invited, same as you.”

“How do you know Tina?”

“Tina? Never met her. I’m here for Newt.”

You frown and try to peer into his thoughts for answers. “I’ve known Newt since I was little. I know you’re not one of his friends.”

“No, not one of his friends. One of his brother’s, though. Theseus didn’t think he could make it through the night without someone to match him drink for drink.”

You gesture to the drink in his hand. “You’re getting a headstart?”

“He’s a lightweight. If I didn’t start first, I wouldn’t get to have any fun.”

Taking another sip of water, you eye him. He may be right. Theseus isn’t small by any means, but next to Edward, he might look it. Edward’s tux sits snug across his chest, hugging his obviously muscled arms. He’s tall, too. Tall enough to force you to lift your chin to meet his ocean blue eyes, a perfect complement to his chestnut brown hair. He could be attractive, you suppose, to some women. Though most may be turned away by the thick scar starting at his hairline and winding down between his eyebrows, over his straight nose, and ending in the middle of his left cheek.

“Like what you see?”

You glower at him. “I wasn’t admiring you.”

“Right… Because you’re in love with Newt.”

Damn it. If a stranger can tell, everyone you know will be able to, including Theseus and Newt.

“Tragic story, that is.”

You hold your glare an extra second before changing the subject. “How do you know Theseus?”

“Met him in the war.”

“Is that where that scar came from?” You jab your chin toward his forehead.

He lifts his hand to the tip of the scar. “It is indeed. You know, most would consider it impolite to ask about that.”

You shrug. “It’s not like you’ve been very polite to me.”

The room erupts into a sudden clapping. You peer around Edward.

Tina enters first. Her dress is beautiful, flowing and covered in beads, sleeveless, but with a draping pearl necklace that dips to her stomach. Her shy smile radiates warmth and elation, and even from so far away, you find it hard to tune out her thoughts. So before Newt even makes it through the crowd of guests waiting to congratulate him, you’re hit with a picture of his smile the way Tina sees it.

Edward reaches for you as you stumble back. He takes your glass and sets it on the table while you lean against the wall, back fully pressed against it. Newt, your Newt, hers in her mind.

He is, you suppose, but you don’t want to think it.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you focus on Edward’s alarmed thoughts. He’s closer, making it easy to dig into his mind, shuffle through the stories hidden in there. You don’t go anywhere that seems too personal, just try to read about how his last few days have been.

You don’t even realize Edward has left you and returned until he tugs on your arm. “I got a chair. You look like you need to sit.”

You want to protest but realize from his thoughts of you that you’re deathly pale. “Tell me a story.” You breathe out as you sit. Anything to get him thinking.

“A story?”

“Yes. A story.”

“Let’s see. One time, I met this beautiful woman. Just gorgeous. Problem is, I haven’t always been the charmer I am now, and when I met her, I couldn’t speak. Just tripped some noise right out of my mouth.”

You can see her as he talks: a long-legged woman with maple colored eyes and the sweetest smile. You pick the image apart, try to count the freckles crossing her nose, estimate her shoe size, debate what color her hair is as Edward tells the story.

“By the time I knew what to say, she had gone and left the building. Never saw her again. Biggest regret of my life.”

You lean your head against the wall and open your eyes. “That can’t be true.”

“It is. After that, I went to the war and learned that if I wanted something, I should probably go after it.”

“So you haven’t regretted one thing in the last eleven years?”

“Not a thing. You should try it.”

You sigh as Tina’s thoughts grow distant and disappear. The couple’s first dance came and went as Edward told his story, and now the dance floor is full of other couples or parents with their kids. Edward follows your eyes.

“Would you care to dance?”

A red head bobs through the crowd. “I – I don’t think I can.”

Edward’s voice softens. “He’s married.”

Tears threaten to fill your eyes and your voice squeaks. “I know.” You clear your throat. “I know he is. I haven’t seen him in a year, though. I loved him for so long, but we were best friends first. Best friends and I just walked away from him.”

“Did you say something you regret?”

You watch Newt smile and take Tina’s hands. “Yes.”

“Then you need to say something to him. Apologize.”

You turn your attention back to Edward, meeting his intense gaze. “I can’t. What if he doesn’t care about me anymore?”

“At least you’ll know.”

“I could ruin his wedding.”

“Or you could make it better. You think some part of him doesn’t miss you if you were such good friends?”

“I don’t know.” You play with a jewel on your dress.

Edward watches you for another moment with a tilted head then stands. “I know just what you need. Wait here.”

You let him walk away, turning your attention to Newt. He dances with Tina, turning to speak with others when they tap on his shoulder or approach him, laughing when some of Tina’s friends drag her away to dance with them. He scans the crowd on the dance floor and you allow yourself, for one moment, to dig into his mind.

The tears make their way into your eyes. He’s looking for you. Pulling out of his thoughts, you close your eyes and try to control your breathing. He does miss you.

Edward shoves two tiny glasses into your hands and sits. “Here. Courage.”

You blink away the tears and look up at him. “Excuse me?”

“Liquid courage for you. Take a couple shots and you can do anything.”

“Are you serious?”

“Completely. Now drink and go talk to lover boy over there.”

You hesitate, eyes darting between the drinks and Newt.

“Come on, now. We haven’t got all day. I’d still like a dance once this is all over with.”

You wait one more moment, meeting Edward’s blue eyes, wondering why he thinks he gets a dance, but then you grab the drinks and gulp them down, reveling in the burn on your throat.

“There you go. Now go talk to him. Get your best friend back.”

You stand, breathing in. I can do this.

Weaving through the tables, you avoid Theseus and Mrs. Scamander. At the edge of the dance floor, you pause, finding Newt. He’s in the middle, surrounded by Tina’s family. He could probably use a friendly face.

You look back one last time. Edward smiles at you, nodding. You have to do this. You shove your way through the crowd, not giving yourself a minute to consider how very poorly this could turn out.

You stare at his back, at the piece of lint in the middle of his black jacket. Summoning up every ounce of courage, you lift your hand and tap on his shoulder.

The smile drifts from his face when he turns. Your own wobbles.

Newt stares at you before his lips twitch at the corners. “You didn’t RSVP.”

“Sorry,” you just want to hug him, “I got a little caught up running from eye-eating doxies.”

“Nasty little buggers. I thought we’d trapped them all in the top drawer of your dresser.”

You laugh shakily. “We missed a couple.”

Newt’s lips finally curve into a whole grin. “I guess we’ll have to watch the doors.” He glances around before extending a hand. “I think I’m supposed to invite you to dance.”

“I hope you’ve improved since the mini-ball you hosted in the Hufflepuff common room.”

Newt grimaces, “Oh Merlin, I hope so too or I’ve just made a complete fool of myself in front of Tina’s friends.”

He takes one of your hands in his and places the other on your hip, swaying along to the beat. The two of you dance in silence for a minute, listening to the conversations of others around you. As you spin, you notice Newt glance at Tina. The worry in his eyes melts away, his shoulders loosen, and you know he can’t help the smile that stretches over his face.

He’s happy. He’s so happy. You watch him mouth three words to her, and you know he means them.

His smile dims a little when he looks back at you, and the worry returns to his eyes

“Are you here for good?” It’s a nervous question, one you know means a lot to him.

You look at him, look at the best friend you’ve known for over 20 years, who you grew up with, told everything to, fell in love with, and, now, as you close your eyes and let out a deep breath, fall out of love with.

You open your eyes back up and smile at him. “I’m here for as long as you’ll have me.”

Newt’s smile grows slowly, but it ends up filling his face. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m sorry. I had to sort some stuff out on my own. Well, almost on my own.” You glance back at the tables. Edward leans against one now, speaking with Theseus. When he sees you looking, he winks.

Newt notices the gesture. “You know him?”

“A little.”

As the song slows to an end, Edward says something to Theseus and starts your way. You look toward Newt. “Do I look okay?”

He smiles his crinkly smile. “You look even better than you did when I first met you and you were covered in mud.” You roll your eyes and start to move away as someone else nears him, but before he lets go of your hand, he grows serious and meets your eyes. “Thank you for coming back.”

“Anything for you.. I’m sorry for leaving in the first place.”

“My mother’s going to be elated. She absolutely adored you.” Giving you a half smile at his joke, he glances at Edward. “He likes to travel. Don’t let him whisk you too far away.”

“Like you did? You are, after all, the reason I’ve seen ten different countries.”

Newt looks back at you, sly twinkle in his eye. “Yes, but I trust myself to keep you safe.”

You step back, shaking your head in fake exasperation. “You can’t get protective now.”

“I’ll try not to.” Newt promises, but his smile tells you otherwise.

You’re so glad you have your best friend back.

Edward taps you shoulder a moment later and holds out a hand when you turn. “May I finally have a dance?”

Smiling, you place your hand in his. “I suppose. As a sort of thanks.”

You only promised him one dance, but as the night wears on, you find yourself spending it next to him.

#Newt Scamander #newt Scamander x reader #newt Scamander imagine #newt Scamander one shot #fbawtft #fluff #requested #sequel #omg I loved writing this #Esp. Edward #my own character #adore him #I hope you all love him to #So this isn't exactly a happy ending with Newt #but that wasn't possible #sooooooo #I hope you like it!

[thorne93]

The Softest Fire (Part 14)

Prompt: Rosaline Vaughan had it all: fame, money, power, glory, a high status job. Until, one day, she woke up, and realized something was missing from her life.

Word Count: 2710

Warnings: fighting, violence, wounds, torture, abuse

Notes: First Fantastic Beast fic! I could NOT have done this at all without @arrow-guy. They have created a counterpart to this fic, writing it from Nora Vaughan’s perspective (Rosaline’s cousin/adopted sister). Fic aesthetic done by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​.

The next morning, bright and early, I left the castle, alone. This time, I didn't mind. I had plans that would require me to travel without a companion. Gellert may not want answers or retaliation for the spy in our ranks, but I felt like we did. 

I made my way to a shop in town. The shop was known for custom items. 

“What can I do for you, miss?” a gray haired man asked from behind the counter. 

“I need a portkey, to Hogsmeade in London, immediately,” I informed, my tone serious and dire. “Thank you,” I tacked on with a silky smooth smile. 

“Alright. There will be an extra charge for a rush order,” he said slowly, as if that would deter me.

“I can manage any extra fee,” I confirmed.

He nodded and went away to the back to grab an item. “Will any item do?” he called up front.

“Yes! The smaller the better though!”

After five minutes, he returned with a glass orb, nothing special about it. It was a small, clear orb, small enough to slip into a purse. 

“This do ya?” 

“Perfect.” 

He charmed it and handed it to me, ringing it up. The price was heftier than expected, but I needed to do this. I left as just as the sun had finished rising over the horizon. I knew Gellert said I didn’t need to do more, but this felt right. At the very least, I could get Albus Dumbledore to listen to me. I could throw him our pitch. A man of his talents, his wisdom, he would be all we needed to unlock this world. 

He and I got along famously when I was a student, often providing me private study lessons, mainly because the material in class was so far behind me. He taught me advanced lessons and we became friends, I felt. Perhaps he would listen to me. 

I arrived at Hogsmeade and made haste to get to the entrance of the school. Once I landed there, I breathed in the air, remembering how much I loved it here. I walked up the steep hill to the entrance, greeted by a groundskeeper who asked what my business was. He clearly didn’t recognize me, because he didn’t say my name. I wondered if this was a good thing. Once I told him I was here to see Professor Dumbledore, he gave me a suspicious look but let me by. I bobbed my head and walked past him and up the stairs to the last office I knew Dumbledore to keep. 

I was in luck when I found his classroom empty, and him behind the desk. 

“Professor?” I softly said, my voice almost going childlike. Funny how old habits are hard to kick. I was a grown woman now, about to be a bride, and here I was, speaking to Professor Dumbledore as if he still held some power over my head. 

His back was to me when I opened the door. He was speaking softly before he stopped quickly. “Yes?” he asked before turning around. When he did, though, his eyes went wide before a soft smile pulled at his lips. “Rosaline Vaughan, is that you?” he questioned before standing to round the desk. 

I fully entered the room, closing the door behind me as I did so. “It’s me,” I assured with a grin. I wasn’t here on bad terms, contrary to what it might’ve looked like on the outside. Yes, a spy was sent to us. Yes, Dumbledore betrayed Gellert, but something in me kept me from being furious with him. He was as old a friend as any of mine, and this was nothing more than a causal social call. 

“You… you’re all grown up,” he stated with mystified eyes. 

I nodded. 

“Well, to what do I owe this pleasure?” he questioned quickly, still grinning, warmth radiating off of him. 

“I thought I would just… come and see you,” I half lied, feeling bad for it. “Actually,” I began again, already correcting it, “I know about Joshua, the spy,” I admitted.

He bobbed his head, his jaw opening to speak but then he snapped it shut. 

“It was clever. I’m afraid Gellert was a bit privy to it, though,” I informed, no malice or threat in my voice. 

“So you’re here to… what? Exact revenge?” 

“I take it you know about the engagement?” I wondered. 

At this, he turned and began slowly walking back to his desk. I followed. 

“I do,” he admitted. “I can honestly say I’m surprised. You and Grindelwald… He’s older than you. He’s my age,” he stated, as if I didn’t know. He reached his desk, leaning on it, his hands gripping the edges.

“Yes, I know,” I responded with a gentle smile. 

“I’m not your father, I can’t and won’t judge you for your choice of companion. But I must admit I was shocked when I read the announcement in the paper.” 

I laughed lightly. Of course he would. “I… I don’t know what to say except I love him and he shows me care and concern that most people have failed at.” 

“A word of advice?” he suddenly offered, leaning forward a bit, peering at me. 

I bobbed my head. 

“He does that. He targets weak spots for people, and nurtures them. I know you’re smart. Clever. I know you would see past any sort of manipulation.” 

My throat became tight as I peered at him. 

“However, if this is real, then I wish you all the happiness in the world,” he assured with a star-studded smile. 

“Thank you.”

“Is it just you then? Grindelwald isn’t with you?”

I shook my head. “No, no he isn’t. He doesn’t even know I’m here. I wanted to see you on my own.” 

“Why is that?”

“Well, for one, to discuss why you sent a snitch our way. Secondly, to discuss you joining us.” 

His eyes blew wide as he leaned farther forward, a disbelieving laugh escaping him. 

“You can’t be serious. Me? Join Grindelwald?” 

I peered at him, my expression entirely serious. “Why not?” I went to lean on the desk beside him. “Come on, Professor. With your wisdom, your power, your talent… Next to Gellert and I, we will rule this world.” 

“Is that what you’re after now? When I taught you, all you wanted to do was make the world a better place. Did he change that?” 

“I still do want to make the world a better place,” I retorted, my voice hard. 

“By killing hundreds of our own kind?” he remarked incredulously. 

“We want peace, that’s all. We don’t want to hurt wizards, witches, or muggles. You don’t understand what he wants. You’ve been misinformed,” I tried with my usual sugary voice.

He shoved off the table. “Rosaline, I know him. I know him better than anyone else in the world. He is using you. He is manipulating you. What Gellert Grindelwald wants and what I want are two vastly different things.” 

“Don’t you want to come out of hiding?” I implored. “Instead of being holed up inside this school? You could be so much more. You are so much more. You possess greatness, and you’re squandering it.” 

“Is that how you felt when you left the Ministry?” he fired at me.

“You kept tabs on me?” 

“Of course. My brightest student? The only one who could out-duel me? Why wouldn’t I?”

“Afraid I’d turn dark?”

“No, I wanted to see how you would take your power and make this world better. When you were running for office, I was proud of you.” 

“And when I left?” 

A subdued smile came over his face before he looked down at the floor, then back up at me. “Even prouder. I heard you went to work with Newt, to help with his creatures. I knew you would do splendidly.” 

I couldn’t help the blush that rose to my cheeks. “Thank you, Professor. That means a great deal to me,” I admitted. “But I take it from your distaste for our cause, that you won’t be joining us?” 

With his hands in his pockets, he peered up at me. “No, Rosaline, I can’t.” 

“Are you sure though?” I stressed. “Imagine a world where we are rightfully at the top of the food chain, where we belong, where you belong. You, out of everyone should know the frustration of hiding.” 

“It does not bother me one bit to live where muggles don’t know we exist. It’s easier this way, Rosaline, you know that. You know if we became common knowledge it would be utter chaos.” 

“Would it though?” I challenged. “Think about if we got the muggles… in their place, so to speak.” 

“Rosaline--” 

At that moment, the door flew open, where Gellert stormed in, his dark coat flying around him. He was flanked by two people -- Vinda and Abernathy. His face was the fiercest, most dangerous I’d ever seen. His stormy eyes found mine quickly and a boulder of guilt formed in my gut. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded in a chilled tone.

I was too scared to answer. I knew how this looked, and I knew it looked bad.

“Answer me, Rosaline!” he barked and I complied.

“I came to see Dumbledore to talk to him about the spy and about recruiting him.” 

His eyes flashed from mine to the man behind me. “You will do no such thing,” he ordered and my head hung. 

“Yes, Gellert,” I acquiesced in a hushed tone. 

Gellert made his way over to me quickly, grabbing my upper arm roughly. “You will never leave the castle unattended again. Is that understood? I had no idea where you were, if you were hurt. You had me worried sick.” With that, he tugged on my arm, making me stumble forward to keep up with his long strides.

“Grindelwald, don’t hurt her! We were only talking!” Dumbledore called after him, taking a few strides forward, readying himself to protect me.

“I will deal with you when I’m done with her,” he called over his shoulder. “I can’t believe I find you here, consorting with my enemy, our enemy, after he sent a spy--”

“I was trying to find out about the spy,” I informed as he pulled me along. “I wasn’t here to betray you, my beloved, I swear. I was just talking with him.” 

“You expect me to believe that, after the conversation we had two nights ago?” he challenged lightly once he stopped, standing near Vinda and Abernathy. “You could’ve very well risked our entire--” 

Out of nowhere, a group of people barged into the room. Nora, Newt, Theseus, Tina, and two other aurors I did not recognize. 

“Nora?” I breathed in shock as I stared at her. 

Her eyes went straight to me, and Gellert’s hand on my arm. He immediately let me go and then smirked. Nora’s eyes flashed with fury, drawing her wand. Before I could think, my wand was out like a reflex. She shot a jinx at Gellert and I deflected it. Her expression morphed into utter shock. 

“Rosaline, I don’t want to hurt you. Come with us,” she encouraged, glancing to Gellert beside me. 

“No,” I said defiantly, lifting my chin as I stood my ground. “I’m staying here.” 

“You don’t want to stay here. I don’t know what he’s done to you but the Rosaline I know would never be with a man like him,” she urged. 

Gellert smiled at my side, speaking to my cousin. “You see, Ms. Vaughan? Rosaline chooses us. Now, can’t you respect that choice?”

As if someone lit a fuse in her, she snapped, trying to throw a spell towards Gellert but I moved in front of him protectively, deflecting the spell. My veins were lit with fire, my face a mask of beautiful rage. 

In the blink of an eye, I lifted my wand again and tried to stun her but she deflected it. She shot a slicing spell back at me, but I dodged it. Three more shots flew between us before she suddenly retrained her sights. 

Gellert smirked from behind me, pulling my long blonde locks behind my shoulder as he bent down slightly, his lips pressed to my ear. His eyes were locked forward on my opponents when he said, “End them.” 

I nodded, understanding the command completely, and I unleashed an onslaught of spells and charms within seconds. I disarmed the unknown men first, knocking their wands across the room. My sights were now set on Tina, throwing an “Expulso” her way quickly, sending her flying into the brick wall. She fell to the floor in a moaning heap. For some reason, this gave me immense pleasure. 

Theseus and Newt tried to throw a paralytic and expelliarmus charm my way, but I danced effortlessly away from them before sending Everte Statum at Theseus. He fell back and gripped his chest, pain lancing through him. 

Now it was down to Nora and Newt. 

The entire time, Gellert and my friends watched on in adoration, not lifting a finger to help, because I didn’t need it. 

“What’s the matter, Scamander?” Gellert began to tease Newt. “You had the power to reveal me, but not to attack the woman whose heart you broke?” 

Newt said nothing, his wand drawn. He seemed torn, unsure what to say or do. 

“I let you live last time, this time your outcome won’t be as fortunate,” he informed as he took a step around me and raised his wand. My gut involuntarily lurched as I watched him inflict a Crucio curse on him. Newt fell to the floor immediately, screaming from agony. I couldn’t watch. For the life of me, I didn’t know why. What could I possibly feel for this man that would make me unable to watch?

“Grindelwald, that’s enough!” Dumbledore shouted as he raced forward and stood in front of Gellert. “Stop it! You’ll kill him!” He shoved his hands in his chest, breaking the focus and his spell. 

“They’ve stopped me for the last time, Albus,” he informed darkly, getting nose to nose with Dumbledore. 

As if I were in a daze, I didn’t notice how Vinda and Abernathy tried to fight Nora, Theseus, and Tina who had all recovered from their wounds. Newt was still on the floor, gasping for air. My eyes only watched Gellert who was speaking in hushed, angry tones to Dumbledore. Magic, spells, jinxes flew across the classroom, lighting it up before suddenly I looked up and I was surrounded. I raised my wand, still in a daze, moving automatically, without thought. That was my downfall, because Nora disarmed me, rather easily. I’d never been disarmed during a duel. 

Nora threw a Confundo charm at Vinda and Abernathy, making them stop their onslaught completely. 

“Go! Go now!” Dumbledore pressed. “Get to my office!” 

My arms were being grabbed by Theseus and Newt to be forced into the office. Nora slammed the door behind all of us and locked it before we heard shouting. I heard Gellert trying to spell the door open, and suddenly I snapped out of whatever I was doing.

“What the… Let me go!” I screamed, fighting them. I went to aim my wand, only to find my wand was no longer in my hand. My frenzied eyes searched the room, and saw Tina had it. I clawed and fought my two captors. “Gellert!” I screamed as loud as my voice would go. “Unhand me!” I shouted, fighting until Nora finally turned and charmed me. 

“Immobulus,” she firmly stated.

My body and mouth instantly stopped moving, but inside I was still thrashing around in my head. 

Nora looked to the fireplace and inspected it. Meanwhile outside, the shouts and the attempts at the door had seemed to stop, making me worry for Gellert.

“It’s connected to the floo network,” she informed. 

“Do we use that?” Theseus questioned.

“What choice do we have?”

“Right.” 

With that, Nora charmed me once more with “Mobilicorpus” and she put me in the fireplace next to her. She grabbed my hand, and said her address loud and clear, and we were off, down the floo network.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#the softest fire #newt scamander x ofc #newt scamander fic #newt scamander #newt scamander x oc

[utterlypure]

A story for Ariadne

You were born on the isle of Crete in ancient times, in a year when your people still danced in honor of the bull. But for you, there would always be a dark secret behind that dance—

Your trouble must have started with your name. Your parents named your sisters sensible things for princesses: Phaedra, the shining one; Xenodike, justice for the stranger. But you they dared call Ariadne, and what mortal woman can live up to such a divine epithet? "The most holy" — you were born a mere girl. "The totally chaste" — like all women, you were fated to marry someday.

Were you old enough to know what it meant when the beast was born into the world? Surely you were old enough, as time passed, to recognize the shame that Minotaur brought to your family, to your people. What could you do then? You did the most you could possibly have done, princess: you stepped up among your siblings to claim responsibility for tending him.

From the court artificer you learned the secrets of the Minotaur's prison, the labyrinth built to contain him; from your people you learned the sacred dances through that terrifying place; from within yourself you drew the magic to empower them. There in the court of Knossos, you danced to keep the bull sane and contained by the foreign sacrifices to him. For centuries the bards would remember your performances; someday, the singers of the Iliad would recall your mysterious dancing grounds in the designs on the shield of Achilles.

And in your dance alone, you knew you were whole and holy, just as your name claimed.

But you grew older, and your innocence began to fade. You knew what you danced for, and you knew how much blood was shed. You knew your twirling steps through the labyrinth fell to the beat of death. And what mortal girl could live with that? Still you danced, but your heart wept.

When you were a young woman grown, then, a hero came to the island, bright of face and full of hope like the proper servant of the gods he was. He was the prince of a city across the sea, full of sunlight and olive trees, with no dark secret at its center, and he came to put an end to the beast you danced for and save his own people in the process. You loved him desperately.

So for this prince you betrayed your name: you profaned the holy bonds of family and gave him the secrets of the labyrinth which let him kill your brother, the Minotaur; you gave him a magic thread which led him safely to the beast. You betrayed your name twice: in your heart you desired this Theseus, and you planned to throw away your pure maidenhood with him and become his wife.

He slew the beast and he took you away.

But mortal men always make mistakes, and Theseus made the mistake of stopping his ship at the little island beyond the port of Heraklion, Dia; that little island known to be holy to the Nysan god, he of the bull and the vine. You were both tired, though. Perhaps he simply couldn't have known.

And as you slept there on the shores of that isle, exhausted from your adventure, Theseus looked upon you and saw who you really were and where you really belonged. The gods to whom he was loyal whispered dire threats in his ears of what would come if he took you away from your sacred home. So with their blessing, he fled, and he left you there—

When you woke, you saw his ship departing, and you were alone. You raged then in the surf; you yelled curses after him as you saw your love sailing away. You had betrayed your name once for him, but you hadn't even had the chance to consummate it.

Dionysos stole you then. He came to you, dancing as you once had with the joy of his love for you, and so the bull-god offered to take you home as his bride.

You saw in him terror and beauty, and you saw you could love him more than you ever loved a mortal prince, if you let yourself.

In the darkness of Dia, you turned your face away from him, and you did not listen to his pleas.

At last he offered you a gift: a holy crown of laurels, shining as bright as the stars, and he swore to lift you to the sky with its power. He swore to make you a queen among the gods, where you belonged.

So you let him place the crown upon your head, and you let him raise you up to the stars, where you could dance with him for ages to come.

No two ancient sources tell the same story of Ariadne. This is not uncommon; the concept of a single overarching religious canon is a relatively new concept in the West. Some Classical poets attempted to popularize pan-Hellenic versions of myths, but they were not authoritative.

The above is my version of Ariadne’s story in the Homeric through Classical eras — the one that has come down to us from the Greeks. Most of my actual sources are collected here on Theoi.com, but my reasoning for assembling them the way I did bears further discussion.

A number of my ideas come from Károly Kerényi’s (also called Karl or Carl, if you’re looking him up on Amazon) section on Ariadne in his book Dionysos: Archetypal Image of Indestructible Life. I don’t take all of his conclusions as gospel, especially given that the author died in 1973 and therefore sadly missed almost half a century of research and discussion, but he had a useful habit of explaining his sources and logic such that readers could follow along and draw their own conclusions as necessary. Combine that with the fact that he is one of the very few Dionysian scholars who even gave Ariadne serious consideration, and he’s an invaluable source to me. The aforementioned book itself was the first major study of Dionysos that I read, and I highly recommend it to devotees willing to slog through somewhat dry mid-twentieth-century academic text and step lightly around some questionable inferences.

Now to address my story.

You stepped up among your siblings to claim responsibility for tending him. There is no direct historical evidence for the idea that Ariadne was specifically the caretaker of the Minotaur, but of all the children of Minos and Pasiphae, she is the one whose name comes up most in connection with her half-brother and his dwelling-place the labyrinth. As I make a point of trying to give agency to Ariadne where the original texts do not, I made this her decision.

The court artificer. A number of elements in this tale are attributed to one “Daidalos,” often identified as a singular culture hero by that name. However, Kerényi devotes some verbiage to discussing how this name originated in a pan-Hellenic title rather than one man’s name. It is likely that the name’s use in Crete predates the concept of Daidalos as a single trickster-hero. To keep the focus of this story on Ariadne, I’ve identified him simply as a fixture of the Knossian court.

The biggest change I’ve made to the common tale was to add Ariadne’s past as a performer of sacred dances. This is, again, an idea I borrowed first from Kerényi, but which I feel suits Ariadne very well. Its usage here in specific may be traced to a single line in the Iliad, as mentioned in the story, where the labyrinthine design on the shield of Achilles is compared to “the dancing grounds Daidalos made for Ariadne.” On its face, this is slender evidence for quite a significant addition. But given the persistent association of Dionysos and the women around him with ecstatic ritual dance, I consider it an important part of Ariadne’s story that should be restored here. I will talk more about the significance of dance to Ariadne and the “Dionysian women” in another post. It’s quite a daunting subject.

The choice to characterize Theseus as a loyal “servant of the gods” comes from another source entirely: Morris Silver’s Taking Ancient Mythology Economically, which mentions that the earliest Linear B appearances of the name Te-se-u describe its bearer as a servant of the gods. The text goes on to speculate that this meant he was a hired worker of some kind, but in later sources, he was definitely a prince, and that’s important to this story, so I kept that part.

It’s common to suggest that Ariadne, like her cousin Medea, was compelled by a goddess to love and assist the heroic prince who came to her land, but I haven’t found many good sources on that. In any case it doesn’t fit with my version of the story, where she falls in love with him because he represents freedom from the darkness of her duties in the labyrinth.

So for this prince you betrayed your name. I have discussed Ariadne’s name before, both in this story and in earlier posts. It’s interesting to note that despite being named as the ultimate holy virgin goddess, she persistently betrays that expectation.

That little island known to be holy to the Nysan god. The earliest sources for the story of Ariadne place her death — and therefore, as I have discussed, her meeting with Dionysos — on Dia, not Naxos. It was probably transferred to Naxos to fit better with later holy sites of the Dionysian cult. I name Dia as a holy island here, rather than just some random bit of rock, for two reasons:

Its name. Dia is transparently a geographical version of the very persistent root Dios, which simply means “god” or “the divine.”

Being the place where Dionysos married Ariadne would probably have conferred some divinity upon the little island anyway, as well as an association with the god himself.

Incidentally, Dia today is an uninhabited national park accessible by boat.

So with their blessing, he fled. The stories do not agree on why Theseus abandoned Ariadne; many don’t even give a reason. But some of the stories say the gods commanded him to, and multiple pieces of ancient art show him being spirited away from the sleeping Ariadne by gods or a god. I take from this the implication that the gods believed Ariadne already “belonged” to another, more powerful entity than Theseus, and as their loyal servant in this story, Theseus would have accepted that judgment.

You had betrayed your name once for him, but you hadn't even had the chance to consummate it. When the Odyssey refers to the story of Theseus and Ariadne, explaining that she was struck down by Artemis on Dia rather than abandoned by her prince, the text notes that Theseus “had no joy of” Ariadne before her death.

Despite the violent undertones to the language casually used by the ancients of Dionysos taking Ariadne as a bride (see my earlier post on the matter), those sources that actually go into the marriage in detail tend to describe him making advances on Ariadne but leaving the decision to reciprocate up to her. The texts repeatedly focus on the presence of the crown of laurels, which Dionysos would later place among the constellations as Corona Borealis to symbolize Ariadne and his love for her, as a bride-gift. It is my final touch in this retelling to cast the crown and the power it represented as the object that swayed Ariadne’s heart — she would return to the home she’d fled from, but only if she could go back with the power of a queen and a goddess.

#Greek mythology #Ariadne #Dionysos #Theseus #Retellings #Original Writing