So is the new Fantastic Beasts movie worth watching?

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@inkstainedfanfics
So is the new Fantastic Beasts movie worth watching?
A friend posted a link to this picrew and I quite liked it so I thought I would share it here ^_^
https://picrew.me/image_maker/43383
Tags: @anodyne-sunflower @a-heart-of-gold-titanium-alloy @whenpushkincomestoshove @sinisterbug @evilnekohilda
Yours are so cute!!! Thanks for the tag, this was fun.
Tagging @jackdawsonsgrl @swan-of-sunrise @ruxiecat121 @rckrbelle
I love these!
Tagging: @fakepunkjacketliar @inkstainedfanfics @irlus
This is the first time I’ve done one of these. If you love doing these, consider yourself tagged!
The proper ending for Dean Winchester would have Dean and Sam drinking beer while leaning on the hood of the car, recalling their hunts and how much has changed since Dean showed up and dragged Sam back into hunting. Dean admits he couldn’t be certain Sam would join, then breaks up the seriousness of the moment by making a corny joke. Sam rolls his eyes and finishes his beer then pats Dean on the back. Dean finishes his beer then hands Sam the empty bottle. Wishes him well with life and the coming kid. Another bad joke, but then Dean heads to the driver’s side. He watches Sam walk up to the house, wave on the porch, then head inside.
Dean gets in the Impala. Cas is in the passenger seat. Asks Dean if he’s really ready to leave. Dean starts the Impala. Puts his sunglasses on and cranks the radio. Says something cheesy about how they’ve got another monster to hunt and it’s not going to wait for them.
Cut outside the car. The tire kicks dirt and gravel. From the porch, Sam and his wife wave. The Impala spits a dust cloud in the air, revving, then shoots forward. It hits the highway with a squeal, then there’s nothing before it except the rising sun and open road. The end guitar solo and verse of Don’t Fear the Reaper or Carry on Wayward Son blares from the speakers and echoes through the countryside. We watch as the Impala fades into the distance, camera lingering on it until the iconic license plate is no longer distinct.
Fade to black. Credits. Etc.
Just...Dean and someone he cares about and the Impala and the open road. That’s how the story began. That’s how the story should’ve ended.
omg!!! welcome back lol hope youre doing well and are healthy!!!
Hi! I am. I’ve just been busy working lately. Also, working on some original writing. And planning a wedding since I got engaged a couple of months ago. Been busy, but I’ve been really hoping to get back here and write whenever I have the chance. This week should be pretty light in terms of responsibilities, so I’m hoping to get some stuff posted on here. Definitely want to have something up for Halloween this year!
I hope you’re doing well as well!!
- M
hmmm really want to write Theseus angst rn....
Cinnamon Latte
Request: Hey there! May I request something for the au trope prompt? Cedric Diggory + coffee shop!au + strangers to lovers + 23: “you know that your book is upside down, right?” I’m a hoe for both Cedric Diggory and coffee shop au’s😭
Word Count: 2,983
Pairing: Cedric x Reader
Requested by: @badass-dora-milaje
He first comes in on a Monday, frazzled, blond hair messy and stuck to his forehead from the rain outside. He’s cute, you decide, as he stands in front of your register, looking up to the menu board with a hopeless look.
“Need some help?” You ask, setting aside the dishes you’d been cleaning. You’re alone in the store, one of your first shifts by yourself since you started working here a month ago, and you’re intent on making a good impression. Alone means you get complete control of the music, and it’s not like the store ever gets super busy after the morning rush, anyway, so you have plenty of time to read between orders. And in this small town you’ve only just moved to, people’s orders are predictable, meaning you can have most of them ready to go by the time they come flying through the doors.
But this guy is new, and he sure looks like it as he looks to you with pink cheeks, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m a little lost.”
“You look like it. What do you like?” You ask as you dry your hands.
“Ummm, water?”
You laugh. “You can’t come into a coffee shop and leave with just water. Come on, there must be something you’ll like. How about a cinnamon latte?”
He shrugs, still utterly hopeless, but you take that as a yes.
“Great! That’ll be two sixty-five.”
As he counts out his change, you start making the latte. It’s one of the simpler drinks to make here, which is only half the reason you chose to recommend it. As you do, thunder rumbles outside, and you dare a glance back at the guy at the counter. He’s clad in a sweater and jeans, no jacket. Isn’t he cold? While late fall isn’t necessarily freezing here, it’s certainly not wonderfully warm, especially in a rainstorm.
“Do you,” he asks as he sets the last coin on the counter, “live around here?”
“I’m new here, actually. Just moved here a couple months back. What about you?”
“I grew up here.”
“No kidding? It’s a nice enough town. Or, what I’ve seen of it, at least.”
“What do you mean?”
You shrug. “I just haven’t really gotten out to see much of it yet.”
He leans against the counter, head cocked to the side as he watches you put the whipped cream atop the coffee. “Why not?”
Keep reading
Cinnamon Latte
Request: Hey there! May I request something for the au trope prompt? Cedric Diggory + coffee shop!au + strangers to lovers + 23: “you know that your book is upside down, right?” I’m a hoe for both Cedric Diggory and coffee shop au’s😭
Word Count: 2,983
Pairing: Cedric x Reader
Requested by: @badass-dora-milaje
He first comes in on a Monday, frazzled, blond hair messy and stuck to his forehead from the rain outside. He’s cute, you decide, as he stands in front of your register, looking up to the menu board with a hopeless look.
“Need some help?” You ask, setting aside the dishes you’d been cleaning. You’re alone in the store, one of your first shifts by yourself since you started working here a month ago, and you’re intent on making a good impression. Alone means you get complete control of the music, and it’s not like the store ever gets super busy after the morning rush, anyway, so you have plenty of time to read between orders. And in this small town you’ve only just moved to, people’s orders are predictable, meaning you can have most of them ready to go by the time they come flying through the doors.
But this guy is new, and he sure looks like it as he looks to you with pink cheeks, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m a little lost.”
“You look like it. What do you like?” You ask as you dry your hands.
“Ummm, water?”
You laugh. “You can’t come into a coffee shop and leave with just water. Come on, there must be something you’ll like. How about a cinnamon latte?”
He shrugs, still utterly hopeless, but you take that as a yes.
“Great! That’ll be two sixty-five.”
As he counts out his change, you start making the latte. It’s one of the simpler drinks to make here, which is only half the reason you chose to recommend it. As you do, thunder rumbles outside, and you dare a glance back at the guy at the counter. He’s clad in a sweater and jeans, no jacket. Isn’t he cold? While late fall isn’t necessarily freezing here, it’s certainly not wonderfully warm, especially in a rainstorm.
“Do you,” he asks as he sets the last coin on the counter, “live around here?”
“I’m new here, actually. Just moved here a couple months back. What about you?”
“I grew up here.”
“No kidding? It’s a nice enough town. Or, what I’ve seen of it, at least.”
“What do you mean?”
You shrug. “I just haven’t really gotten out to see much of it yet.”
He leans against the counter, head cocked to the side as he watches you put the whipped cream atop the coffee. “Why not?”
for the au + trope + prompt game could you do remus lupin, unrequited love and “don’t you want to know how i feel?”, it’s totally okay if you aren’t feeling it, sorry if this bothers you :)
Crickets chirp around you, a loud chorus, but not quite loud enough to drown out Remus’s soft chuckle in the dark.
“There’s no way that was you.”
“It was, I swear it,” you say, laughing with him. The stars hang in the night sky above you, having long since replaced the sun in the sky. Though it’d been a hindrance earlier, you’re now glad you’d brought the extra blanket out. It must be three or four in the morning by now, since even James and Sirius seem to have turned in, the lights to the cabin having flickered off hours ago.
“Remus,” you say, a smile on your lips. Tonight is the night. Or day, technically. Whatever.
He’s next to you, arm pressed against your own. It had been his idea to invite you along with the guys, to a friend of a friend of James’s. And it’s been wonderful. Perhaps the best summer break you’ve ever had. Two weeks out in the countryside with some of your closest friends. What else could you ask for?
Well, there’s one thing. Or, rather, person, but you wouldn’t dare. Except…except tonight has been wonderful, and you’re drunk on exhaustion, your words heavy with it, eyes half-closed, chest thrumming with this light contentment that your sleepiness only heightens. You blink slowly and smile to yourself. Yes, tonight is the night.
“Hmm?” He hums, voice low.
You turn to look at him. Under the light of the stars, he’s a shadow, but you can picture the outline of his features, the crease between his eyebrows, that smile that’s always half-formed when he’s looking at you.
“You’re my best friend, you know that?” You reach for his hand, fumbling for it in the dark. After a moment, Remus reaches over, clutches your hand in his own. It’s warm, a nice ward against the cool of the night.
“Am I?”
“Mmhmm.” Eyes closed, heart slow and steady. You suck in a deep breath. It’s a perfect night. “And…and you’re something else, too.”
A beat. Then, “Oh?”
“Yeah. Want to know what?” Your smile grows as you look back to the stars. What a story this will make someday. Under the stars, hand-in-hand. Happy. More than happy. Just…perfect.
Remus clears his throat. “I don’t—I don’t know.”
“What?” You laugh, but Remus doesn’t join in.
“I mean, I don’t know that I—that I want to know. Um, what you’re talking about.”
Your cheeks warm, chest tightening, that light feeling quickly flitting away. “What?” You ask again, voice quieter this time, and Remus’s hand goes limp in your own.
“I don’t want to know how you feel,” he says quietly, and around you, the world crumbles.
“But—you don’t know what I’m going to say.”
A moment of silence. Remus shifts, rolling the slightest from you, and your heart pounds in your chest.
He knows. Merlin’s beard, he knows.
You open and close your mouth, over and over, but what is there to say? He knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. What is there to say?
“I’m sorry. I should go,” he finally says.
“But, you don’t—” your sentence trails off, lost to confusion, to hurt. He doesn’t love you too? Then what about all these late nights? What about the days you’ve spent next to one another, reading books and talking and joking around? What about everything between the two of you? If it wasn’t love to him, then what was it?
Tears sting your eyes, and the exhaustion previously weighing down your eyelids has vanished. You’re left, sharply awake, as Remus takes his hand from yours, stands, and turns away.
“Thanks for, um…” you can see him rub the back of his neck, and can already picture him wincing, uncertain of what to say. “I…bye.”
“Remus,” you say, his name a mere breath, hardly audible over the crickets.
He pauses, stops, as though you have more to say and he’s willing to listen, but you have nothing. Has it all been in your head? Have you truly been so silly? So foolish?
“I’m…sorry?” He ends it like a question, like he doesn’t know if it’s the right thing to say. Is it? You don’t know as you sit up. He shoves his hands in his pockets without looking to you, marches away, to the lights of the house. Shoulders to his ears, your best friend disappears into the house, and your heart drops as you fall back onto the blanket, clutching the side of it to your chest, praying you’ll dam the hurt coursing through you before you fall apart.
@cedricisnotonfire
au + trope + prompt game
here’s a fun drabble game since i was on the hunt for one and decided i should just make my own instead.
send in a character, an au, a trope, and a prompt, and i’ll write a little drabble based on it!!
au:
roommates!au
hogwarts!au
spy!au
mafia!au
ceo!au
coffee shop!au
bookstore!au
college!au
camp!au
high school!au
travel!au
babysitter!au
soulmates!au
parent!au
sports!au (name the sport)
supernatural!au (specify)
band!au
celebrity!au
trope:
friends to lovers
enemies to lovers
meet cute
meet messy
unrequited love
fake dating
childhood friends
exes
strangers to lovers
prompt:
“are you sure this is legal?”
“fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck this shit. fuck.”
“i don’t even think i want to know.”
“you said so, didn’t you?”
“you have the emotional capacity of a brick.”
“what is that?”
“you had no idea, did you?”
“wait, wait. say that again. please.”
“why are you awake so late?”
“you know i’ll do anything for you.”
“i know that it’s the thought that counts but this doesn’t even look like you thought about it.”
“is that the best you can do?”
“it’s been so long since we did this.”
“okay, maybe i’m crazy but did i just hear you say that out loud?”
“i’m rambling again, aren’t i?”
“my hands are really dry. sorry about that.”
“hold your fire!”
“this can’t be real. i feel like i’m having a fever dream.”
“suck on that.”
“it’s just so hard not to fall in love with you.”
“for the last time, please stop trying to airdrop me.”
“did you hack into my hotspot?”
“you know that your book is upside-down, right?”
“alexa, play wonderwall.”
“i know this looks bad, but i swear, it’s not.”
“sometimes, i sit in bed and wonder what would happen if things were different.”
“that was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend.”
“do you ever feel like you’re far away no matter where you are?”
“hold on.”
“need any help with that?”
“you never saw me.”
“shut up for a second, will you?”
“now what?”
“i don’t even know why we’re doing this.”
“don’t tell me you spent actual money on that.”
“i let you mooch off of my netflix and this is how you repay me?”
“don’t you want to know how i feel?”
“i think i would rather eat expired spam.”
“you confuse me.”
“if you’re happy, then so am i.”
Send 1, 2, or all 3 of these with a character for a drabble!
“I don’t know why you’re still mad at me.”
“Oh, really? Is it that much of a mystery?”
Dean rocks the motel’s cheap chair back, setting one foot on the desk so he can balance the chair on its back legs. “You’re alive, aren’t you?”
Is that the hint of a smirk on his lips? And heaven help you, does he actually sound proud of himself for this? You lean forward on the corner of the bed. “Dean,” you say, elbows on knees, staring at him in disbelief, hoping to impart some sense into him, “you pushed me off a building. A very tall building.”
“I saved your life!”
“At the very high risk of killing me. Let’s not let that detail slide.”
“Hey, you survived.”
“You pushed me into a dumpster! Who knows what could’ve been in there. And it took me hours to get the smell of trash out of my hair.”
Dean shrugs, grinning. “I thought it was cool. Kinda Clint Eastwood.”
You groan and roll your eyes.
“What?” He asks, letting the chair thump to the ground so he can reach his bag of chips.
“Next time,” you say as you fall back onto the bed, “if it’s a choice between a demon or a dumpster, I’ll take the demon.”
Drabble Night
Been a while, but I’m back. Wrote a novel and a script and a half, and read most of the Red Rising series, but since I’ve got time now, I want to get back to writing here. Haven’t had much insp. for Fantastic Beasts, but if y’all want, send in requests for anybody from any fandom. I’ll do a drabble night tonight.
Hope everyone’s doing well, and if not, let’s try to find some comfort in some stories for tonight
Ethereal Skies
Summary: Waiting for a comet to scorch the skies, you and your best friend, Theseus, spend a night in a hammock outside, closer than you’ve ever been before.
Word Count: 3,364
Pairing: Theseus x Reader
You have friends, you have best friends, and then you have Theseus, your dearest friend of the past seven years, the one friend who knows everything there is to know about you just like you know everything there is to know about him. The two of you are inseparable, which is why you’re currently sitting on the top step of his family’s small back porch, watching him tug a rope around the squat trunk of an ancient, towering oak.
“Need some help there, Mr. Lumberjack?” You call out, half-teasing as you remain perched on the sun-warmed steps, a cool glass of lemonade pinched between your fingers, yellow and gold in the gentle rays of the slowly setting sun.
Theseus squints at you from across the yard, pausing his work for a moment to watch you raise an eyebrow and sip the sweet lemonade, the sugar light on your tongue.
His cheeks are a deep red, the consequence of demanding to do this himself rather than utilize magic, even though the May weather insists on being stuffy and overbearing. But despite his obvious discomfort, a wry smile graces his face. “Help would be appreciated, but I’d hate to be the first to make you stand and put some work into something.”
You tilt your head, crossing your legs at the knee. “Well, you do know what they say about princesses.”
Keep reading
Ethereal Skies
Summary: Waiting for a comet to scorch the skies, you and your best friend, Theseus, spend a night in a hammock outside, closer than you’ve ever been before.
Word Count: 3,364
Pairing: Theseus x Reader
You have friends, you have best friends, and then you have Theseus, your dearest friend of the past seven years, the one friend who knows everything there is to know about you just like you know everything there is to know about him. The two of you are inseparable, which is why you’re currently sitting on the top step of his family’s small back porch, watching him tug a rope around the squat trunk of an ancient, towering oak.
“Need some help there, Mr. Lumberjack?” You call out, half-teasing as you remain perched on the sun-warmed steps, a cool glass of lemonade pinched between your fingers, yellow and gold in the gentle rays of the slowly setting sun.
Theseus squints at you from across the yard, pausing his work for a moment to watch you raise an eyebrow and sip the sweet lemonade, the sugar light on your tongue.
His cheeks are a deep red, the consequence of demanding to do this himself rather than utilize magic, even though the May weather insists on being stuffy and overbearing. But despite his obvious discomfort, a wry smile graces his face. “Help would be appreciated, but I’d hate to be the first to make you stand and put some work into something.”
You tilt your head, crossing your legs at the knee. “Well, you do know what they say about princesses.”
Editing the end of a fluffy Theseus fic. Should be out within the hour
Ohhhh!!! I saw that you write for hphm so how about hogwarts!au, friends to lovers and "you had no idea, did you?" for charlie weasley maybe if you're down?? I'd love you no matter what you do. Or legit anything with charlie weasley because I'm weak for him. ((And if the reader is hufflepuff I'd feel loved omg))
“Are you sure you’re supposed to use that much water?”
Charlies looks up at you from on the opposite side of the table, where he’s as good as performing surgery to keep your plan alive. His cheek is smudged with dirt, and red hair curls over his forehead, but he simply shrugs, says “No,” and returns to what he’s doing.
“Reassuring,” you say, but don’t push him on the subject any longer. It’s not as though you could do any better. In fact, it’s not likely he could do anything worse to your plant, which clings to life only by some miracle.
“Have you asked Sprout about this?”
You sigh and plop down onto a stool, catching your chin in your hand. “Yes, but you know how she can be with Hufflepuffs. Independence and problem solving and all that jazz. You’d think she’d count my opening some cursed vaults as problem solving but no, it’s all about this stupid greenhouse.”
Charlie raises an eyebrow as he prods at a particularly brown leaf, covering it with some liquid. “Stupid greenhouse?”
“Fine, not stupid,” you say with a heavy sigh. “But frustrating.”
“Well, it would help if you didn’t overwater your plants.”
“What?”
He nods and straightens. “Looks like you’ve just overwatered it. Give it a few weeks with less water, and it should live. Probably.”
“Probably?”
Charlie nods.
You shrug. Better than whatever you could’ve decided, you suppose. “Thanks, Charlie. I mean, really. I’d be in so much trouble without you. Sprout would’ve made me redo the lesson.”
Charlie shrugs as he stands, wiping dirt from his hands. “Of course. It’s easy to do this for someone like you.”
“Someone like me?”
“Yeah. You know. Someone I fancy.” And though his cheeks tinge red, he says it casually, as though he’s merely discussing the color of your hair.
You blink at this. “Someone you what?”
Charlie looks up at you with a patient gaze. “That I fancy.”
“You…do?”
His patience twists into minor amusement. “You really had no idea, did you?”
You shake your head, mouth dry, heart beating hard. He fancies you? You?
“Well, I do.” He pauses, then, looks back at the plant then back to you before shyly saying, “Do you think you might, you know, feel the same?”
Heat burns your cheeks and the world seems hazy, like this is all some dream, though whether this is shock or just the greenhouse, you can’t be sure. Still, you manage a nod. “I think so, yeah. I mean, not think. I know, but not weird or anything. I just…” You take a deep breath. “Uh, yeah, I do. Fancy you, I mean.”
Charlie’s tomato-red face is blessed with a giant grin. “Cool,” he says. Then, again, “Cool.”
You nod, cheeks blazing now. Finally, you gesture toward your plant. “So it’s going to live?”
“Probably. Want to get some lunch?”
You sigh a deep breath. A moment of normality. “Absolutely.”
“Great,” he says with a grin, and he steps around to your side. And though it seems he might be trying, he can’t stop smiling the whole walk.
How do I admit I still love you when I’m the reason you don’t love me
Song: Dancing on My Own, Calum Scott
He stands on the balcony, drink in hand, glass doors closed behind him. Stars hang above, bright and bold, but they fail to draw his attention tonight.
You twirl through a dance step inside, spinning, grinning, laughing, and he remembers when you told him dancing simply wasn’t your interest. It seems that has changed, now, as you stare up at Thomas with a look Theseus has never been on the receiving end of.
Theseus takes another sip of his wine, third glass. Dry, bitter. He grips the glass in his hand, elbows on the railings as he leans against it, watching you spin inside. The glass cracks, and he must remind himself to loosen his grip lest the glass shatter and he bleed and you find him and look at him with that concern that sends his heart into flames and you take his hand and bring forth that memory he’s taken so long to bury.
He curses as Thomas gathers you into his arms, hands splayed across your back, your smile mirroring his as you let him lift you through the next step of the dance.
Theseus turns, tosses the glass. It spirals through the air, over the edge of the balcony, down, down, down.
It shatters against the stones below. He looks at the splinters, his heart pounding in his chest.
The music swells, even through the closed doors, and Theseus squeezes his eyes shut, trying to drive out the thought of you falling in love with another.
The chill of winter bites at him, but he pays it no mind as he rests his elbows against the cold stone of the railing, clasps his hand, listens to the sea crashing some ways away, eyes still shut. A chill bites through the thick fabric of his jacket, freezing his forearms, but he simply leans there; he isn’t sure how long he remains. It seems an eternity; it seems no time at all.
In the end, it does not matter, for the door opens, and then there is a hand on his bicep, warm, and he burns as he always does when you touch him.
“You okay?”
Update
So that spam of messages done, I just wanted to respond to all of the kind messages I’ve received and kept to read on bad days as well as all the sequel requests I couldn’t get back on right away bc I’m horrible at electronic communication. I hope to never get that far behind again, but I’m also realistic, so know that if you ever do send me a sweet message and I don’t respond, chances are, I’ve read it, screamed, forced my boyfriend to read it, then returned to it a million times. And that I’ll respond to it within at least a year and half (Now? A week. Hopefully).
As I said in some of the responses, I’ve got 3 big creative projects going on right now. So writing for this blog has taken a backseat. One is a full 50,000 word (though it’s going to be much longer) novel; one is a very rough draft of a horror script; and one is a dramatic script about a father and his son. On top of that, I have one other semester-long project for a publishing class, and I got a job, so I’ve been very busy. Once I’m graduated, though, I should be free to return to this blog, since I’ll have many more free hours to work w/out classes getting in the way.
While I want to do something special for December, I’m not positive I’ll have a chance to return to this blog until around mid-December. I’ve got a lot of your requests at some point in the writing process. My fave rn is one for Charlie Weasley, so that’ll probably come out first. But otherwise, it’ll really be whatever I can finish first. Then I have some other ideas for fun things I want to do once I’m established on this blog again, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, I suppose.
But that’s my update. I hope the end of 2019 is treating all of you really well. I’ll be lurking, and maybe hopefully post at least one story in the near future. Until then, feel free to send messages or come fangirl w/me about the scriptwriter I think I’ve somehow gotten a crush on??? It’s honestly ridiculous. Hope y’all are doing well!!
- M