he's a fisher man

Noel Fisher’s laugh  (◠‿◠✿)

Noel Fisher’s body  (◠‿◠✿)

Noel Fisher’s smile   (◠‿◠✿)

Noel Fisher’s lips  (◠‿◠✿)

Noel Fisher’s butt   (☉‿☉✿)

Noel Fisher’s hair  (◠‿◠✿)

Noel Fisher’s personality  (◠‿◠✿)

Noel Fisher y’all     (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧

Okay but

what did Fisher think about this? because we know how close they were to Magnus. so all I can imagine is Fisher not realizing what Lucretia had given them until it was too late. Fisher had to watch their friend forget everything too.

no more little wooden ducks. no more story time together. Magnus was just gone for years, basically a shell of the man Fisher knew. and when he returned, he still didn’t recognize them. I can only imagine how confused and angry Fisher was at Lucretia.

headsindreams  asked:

*breaks in* What if, when Percival dies after Grindelwald, he can't move on (because he doesn't want to yet, not because he can't), and he waits by this doorway connecting life and death. Whenever one of his people come through that door, they're somewhat happy to see him, because dying is fucking terrifying, and he's a steady presence, taking them by the hand and calmly explaining what to expect, and when they finally reach Death, they're no longer afraid.

This gave me intense “The Guardian” vibes, like whaaaaaaa? 

“There’s a legend of a man who lives beneath the sea. He is a fisher of men, the last hope of all those who have been left behind. Many survivors claim to have felt his gripping hands beneath them, pushing them up to the surface, whispering strength until help could arrive. He’s known as the guardian.”

He would DEFINITELY be there to ease them through death’s door, no doubt, but I could also see:

Grindelwald’s words haunted her.

“If you’re lucky, maybe he isn’t rigid yet.”

They spurned Tina faster. But her bones felt cold and hollow, as though she were racing toward an inevitable end. In her heart, anything was possible. But the Auror in her was certain he was dead.

That knowledge didn’t make the sight of him any easier to bear. Ashen as he was, she thought surely she had come too late. Blood haloed him in a perfect circle, as though Newt had not panicked at all, and she could feel its tacky greeting the moment she slid to her knees at his side. Her hands shook as she grabbed for him. Nails digging at his wrist and throat, searching for a beat she didn’t expect to find.

And yet… it was there. Surprising her as Newt always seemed to do.

Laughter and tears bubbled up from within her even as she called for a healer, her hands already working through the motions of fierce stabilization spells. Time stopped around the oozing wound, and slowly, color grew in Newt’s cheeks. His lashes fluttered, and with a whisper, life passed through his lips again.

He looked up at her, eyes blind for a long moment, then blinked.

“Tina?”

“Yes, Newt. I have you. I have you.”

She grabbed his hand, and that made his brows furrow. A worried frown began to weigh down her smile, only to bleed into confusion as Newt asked, “Wha– where is he?” As though someone else was supposed to be holding his hand.

Tina shook her head, eyes casting around briefly to confirm what she already knew - no one was here.

“What?”

“He was here. He was–”

“Newt, no one else is here. Just me.”

And when next he looked at her, right in the eyes, her breath halted. Because for starters, she could count on one hand how many times Newt Scamander had met her gaze, let alone held it and secondly, feverish stories from bedside visits began to rise between her ears.

“No! He was here. He was with me the whole time,” Newt urged, and Tina felt her breath still in her lungs like fog clearing from a mountain in the morning dawn. “He said he would stay with me until help arrived. Un-until you came. He said you’d come. He held my hand the whole time… He said he’d stay.”

Something like spring bloomed life into the parts of Tina she hadn’t realized had fallen dead. Hope blazing in a burst as her hands slowly fell to cup Newt’s face, thumbs brushing back his tears, stilling the frantic searching of his eyes.

“Who did you see, Newt?”

Newt swallowed, and in the earthiness of his eyes, she saw only honesty.

“Percival Graves. I- I know I never met him… but you and Theseus… he was just like you described him. It was him. He was here, Tina. I promise.”

She leaned down to brush her lips to his forehead in thanks, the tears she forbade herself to shed finally spilling like melted winter ice. Grateful she had found him. Grateful for his story. Grateful he was alive.

And grateful to the man who continued to protect them all, evidently just as bullheaded about resting in the afterlife as he had been during the brief time she had known him on earth.

She cried, but it was a happy affair, because there was a story building among the Aurors at MACUSA. First from one, then another and another. Stories from Aurors who had fallen during battle, but miraculously lived. Stories of a man who had found them and held their hands until help could arrive.

Stories of a guardian in a familiar suit, telling them to hold on just a little longer. That he would stay until help arrived. Hand tight and reassuring, voice calm and soothing. Nothing but forgiveness and conviction in his eyes.

Urging them to hang on.

And for a moment, she felt a familiar hand cup the back of her neck. Warm like sunshine through a window, and it was gone. But the feeling lingered.

Good work, Goldstein.

eighthprincessofheart  asked:

Drink me or nurse me please with phryne and jack!

went with Drink Me :)

sorry for the massive delay in writing this!!

Jack relished the smooth burn of the liquor as it slid down his throat. It was quality stuff, much better that what he kept around. It was potent for sure, but much less intoxicating than the way Phryne’s eyes met his over the rims of their respective glasses, closer to him than he allowed almost anyone else to get.

She lowered her glass, dangling it over the arm of her chair, wrist loose and fingers tight. “You look tense, Inspector. Am I making you nervous?”

Her lips were curved in a teasing smile but he knew better than to glance at that particular crimson temptation, not on a night like this when they were both high on the victory of a hard case solved, on a night when his restraint was already wavering.

“I think you make every man nervous, Miss Fisher,” he answered.

Her eyes were twinkling as she took another sip from her glass and he followed suit, hiding the way the corners of his own mouth moved upwards into a smile just for her.