Mail

Dec. 21st, 2026 07:55 pm
somethingwild: (Default)
All mail/e-mail can be left for Newt Scamander at #9B Candlewood Apartments here.

Phone

Dec. 21st, 2026 07:23 pm
somethingwild: (Default)
"Merlin's Beard, is this thing on? How am I supposed to use this? Is this some kind of Portkey? Why does it flash like so-"

Please leave a message after the beep. [A distinct beeping noise]

All phone conversations/owls/text messages for Newt Scamander can be left here.
somethingwild: (Running in circles)
It has been, precisely, four days since Newt entered that bloody cabin in the woods. Not that he's counting, of course.

In some ways, he does actually enjoy being a merperson; he hasn't gotten the chance to swim like this in years, without purpose, and it gives him the chance to explore what lives beneath this pond in the woods. (No kelpies, thank Merlin.) But even with all his exploring, the pond is still a pond; there is only so far he can go. After four days, he might have gone a bit mad if not for the various hikers he's managed to startle by jumping suddenly from the water into the air.

Of course, as amusing as such a pass time proves to be, it's not without its consequences. People, teenagers, mostly, trying to take selfies with him. People asking if they can touch his tail.

Still, he also does his part to warn people away from the candy cabin in the woods. Even as much as people exhaust him, he doesn't want to see anyone else suffer the consequences of such curiosity, if he can help it.

This afternoon proves fairly quiet, thankfully. Newt swims and tries not to think about his creatures, about he hasn't gotten to see them with his own eyes for so long now. He knows they're in good hands; knows they'll be taken care of. But still.

His head emerges from the surface of the water as Newt makes his way over to bask in the shadow of a tree he rather likes, hanging over the edge of the water. He wonders what Tina, Queenie, and Jacob would make of all of this; he manages a smile as he drifts into a series of daydreams, not paying attention to anyone who might approach.
somethingwild: (Running in circles)
Newt, being an experienced Magizoologist, ought to excercise more caution in his life, particularly in a city with flying monkey bats and murderous children's toys. But no, as always, he tends to just barely look before he leaps, throwing caution, for the most part, to the wind.

Out in the countryside exploring, as usual, he finds himself facing a cabin that appears to be made entirely out of candy, or so it seems.

"Fascinating," he murmurs to himself, just before he makes his way inside. Peppermint overwhelms his sense of smell, and bits of the graham cracker walls seem to be crumbling before his very eyes. But the lack of anyone living inside catches his attention most of all. Curious, he thinks. He doesn't know the Darrow countryside, not in the way that he knows the countryside of his own Britain, but he is beginning to become familiar with certain areas. He's fairly certain this cabin didn't exist a few days ago.

But then again, he thinks, as he finishes up his exploration of the cabin and makes his way outside, this is Darrow. Strange structures made out of candy suddenly popping up into existence is low on the list of bizarre happenings for this city.

Lost in thought, Newt doesn't make much of the way sea salt seems to suddenly creep into his sense of smell. Nor does he stop to consider the way the world suddenly blurs at the corners of his vision. He makes to head back towards the city and winds up falling on his face. Or, rather, flails.

"Merlin's beard!" He exclaims into the dirt, finding himself suddenly without a shirt. Or legs, for that matter. He tries to pick himself up, only to find that he can't; the thud that comes from his fish tail hitting the ground seems to echo resoundly around him.

Startled, Newt sets his suitcase aside as he struggles to keep himself steady, turning his head to get a better look at what has just happened to him.

"Oh, bugger," he says, fascinated by his sudden transformation but also concerned. Lucky that he convinced Pickett to stay with the other Bowtruckles today, he supposes. He lets out a sigh. This ought to teach him not to go into strange cabins. But also, he really needs to find a body of water, he thinks.

[OOC: Newt's fairy tale plot has started! I think I will have his experience last at least a week. He is living out The Little Mermaid, a combination of the Disney version and the darker one from Hans Christian Anderson. As he is without a shirt, all of his scars from handling creatures, as well as recent ones on his chest from his battle with Grindlewald, are visible and on display. A good time to meet him, if slightly awkward. ST/LT welcome, and this post will be linked for July reqs. Open until this says otherwise!
somethingwild: (Awkward as a Hippogriff)
Newt hears rumors that a magical school exists in Darrow while out on one of his adventures; he is, in fact, in the middle of chasing after what he thinks might be a new variation of a Fwooper up a tree when he catches wind of the conversation below him. Curious, he abandons his pursuit, jumping down from the branch he's perched on. He shakes off the flakes of bark from his sleeves, takes care to roll both of them up, as the warmth of the weather has certainly increased.

He wonders what a magical school inside the realm of Darrow must look like. Is it a castle, like Hogwarts? Does it have its own giant squid or Forbidden Forest? Most importantly, are they perhaps looking to hire teachers?

He winds himself up with the various possibilities, his pace a bit jumpy in excitement. He garners odd looks his way for his gait, but, as ever, such attention blows right over his head. Still, he decides to stop at an outdoor vendor for an ice cream cone to gather his thoughts. Before he can do anything rash.

He obtains his treat with relative ease; mint chocolate chip in a waffle cone. He starts eating as he walks away, and as he does so, he nearly runs into the nearest person.

"Pardon me," he says hastily. "So sorry."

And then he glances up, realizes that he recognizes the person in question. His eyes widen. "We've met before, haven't we? At Magnus' place?"
somethingwild: (Magizoologist)
Since the Billywig incident earlier in the month, Newt has tried his best to keep a low profile. He's added charms to prevent such a slip up from happening again, as well as tied an extra piece of rope around his suitcase for good measure. It isn't a perfect solution, but it will have to do for now.

He keeps to himself as best he can, exploring out in the countryside. He's avoided the ocean lately, after discovering Moana's disappearance from Darrow. It hurts, losing a friend so abruptly, and he's throwing himself into his work and his creatures once more. He keeps busy and tries to go without human contact to the best of his abilities.

Yet, despite being a skilled wizard and magizoologist, Newt is still only human. He still ventures into the city, seeking out different adventures, in spite of himself.

Today, he's grabbed a tea to go from his favorite cafe before heading into a small, quaint bookstore stocked entirely with Muggle volumes. He means to grab a novel for when he needs to observe the Mooncalves and their mating patterns this afternoon, so he squeezes between shelves and people, seeking out something new.

He accidentally brushes his shoulder against another customer in the process. "Merlin, I'm so sorry," he says, turning to face the person with an apologetic expression on his face. One that quickly gives way to recognition and then delight. "Padme? It's been awhile."
somethingwild: (Such a Hufflepuff)
Newt keeps meaning to explore more of Darrow's wilderness. But mostly he's kept to exploring the city of Darrow itself and the beaches leading to the ocean, even as much as he wants to see more. So one quiet, Sunday afternoon, he makes plans. The weather, while not completely, comfortably warm just yet, is still warmer than it has been, with the snow melting so that bits of green poke out here and there among the brown and white. It feels as good a time as any to start studying the woods in the countryside, see if he can't find any sorts of magical creatures that might prove native to Darrow in the process.

From their conversations, he knows that Merry has been doing plenty of exploring herself, and he assumes that she knows the wooded areas of Darrow more thoroughly than himself. And they've discussed exploring together before, too. So he asks her to meet him by the edge of the woods for an afternoon adventure.

They might not see anything at all, but Newt's okay with that possibility, as he is still bound to see areas of Darrow he hasn't yet had the chance to get to know. Knowing they could be awhile, he has his case with him in hand, with supplies for hiking near the top where he can easily reach them.

Now, he's just waiting for Merry, not minding the waiting at all as various melodies of bird song catch at his ears. Grey and cloudy though it may be, he thinks it will be a beautiful day.
somethingwild: (Newt and Case)
Newt's flat here in Darrow, like his flat back home in England, remains mostly sparsely furnished and decorated. He hasn't added much beyond what came with the apartment, beyond a new, warmer comforter for his bed, and additional pillows for both the bed and the sofa in the living room. So he flashes an apologetic smile at Valkyrie as he lets her in, knowing he has much work to do to make the place feel like home.

"A work in progress, as you can see," he tells her. "Can I get you anything to eat or drink? I can put a kettle on, down in the case, if you'd like. My trusty traveling kettle hasn't steered me wrong yet."

He shows her into the apartment before locking the door with his wand, letting Pickett climb onto his shoulder as he shrugs off his coat.

"And might I take your coat, as well?" He offers. "The suitcase is just through this door, in my bedroom."
somethingwild: (Delighted)
The party, as the night goes on, seems to swell with noise and glitter, unfurling explosively like his Swooping Evil. Newt, with a strong Muggle drink called a Grape Gatsby in his system, feels as though he's unwound himself, his limbs light and his spirit carefree in a way that reminds him of that night on the rooftop, by the pigeon coop, just before everything went to hell, in a manner of speaking.

But there's no risk of hell here. Not with Biffy beside him, debonair and charming in that outfit of his that grows increasingly rakish by each passing minute. Newt feels his skin warm; feels the flush as it starts to bloom beneath his freckles. He keeps letting his gaze linger longer than is strictly necessary; he feels hot all over, and not from the press of crowds around him. Nervously, he keeps running his hand through his ruffled hair.

He's tempted to dive into his suitcase and hide, wait for this fever to pass. But that would be rude, for one. And Newt can't quite bring himself to part from Biffy's company.

"So," he says, rocking on the heels of his feet a bit. "This feels like the start of a joke, doesn't it? Or a story? A werewolf and a magizoologist walk into a bar..."
somethingwild: (Magizoologist)
Newt likes to come to the beach when he can. He's always found something so tranquil about the waves crashing against the shore; about the loudness and the quiet all at once. And especially now, this time of year, when the winds blow and the temperatures are too cold for crowds. He appreciates the beach as a place to think; to ponder.

This day, he comes to the beach by way of the boardwalk, suitcase in hand, on a mission. He wants to see what he can make of what makes up Darrow's beach - to see if he can uncover any minute, magical creatures and study their habitats. At the very least, he wants to come to a better understanding of the place in which he's now stuck; he is thoroughly impressed, at least, at all the different components to Darrow, from the inner city to the beach, from the beach to the countryside.

Pickett peeks out of his top pocket as he makes his way across the beach, moving slowly so as to examine the sand at his feet. His wand is in his belt loop, at the ready should he have need of it. It is a cold day, especially on the shore, but the sun shines bright above him.

Newt is so focused on searching for creatures, he doesn't realize that he isn't alone until comes across another shadow. He glances up to find the young girl he'd helped the other month.

"Oh, hello again! Moana, isn't it?" He says. From his coat pocket, Pickett cheerfully waves.
somethingwild: (Bugger)
Newt, for lack of a Ministry and lack of any place whatsoever that could publish his book in Darrow, has a good deal amount of free time on his hands. He knows he ought to seek employment of some sort, even if he is rather rubbish at Muggle tasks and assignments. He doesn't think he could work in a non-magical capacity, anyway.

Lacking a job at the moment, Newt finds himself seeking out what interesting places in Darrow that he can. When he hears talk that Graymark Books contains several magical volumes, he makes his way there, suitcase in hand, as always, to seek out the truth of these rumors (or chase down, really).

He opens the door and his suitcase rustles. He glances down sharply; the rustling ceases.

"Good," he mutters at the suitcase, drawing several, suspicious looks, as he makes his way toward a row of books. "That's the last thing I need, you getting out."

He glances up to begin purusing titles when the suitcase rustles again. This time, he isn't quick enough as he looks down; the Niffler is all but entirely out of the case.

"Merlin!" He exclaims, trying to whisper while reaching down and catching the creature around the middle, before he can cause any trouble. "No, don't even think about it! There is nothing shiny here for you!"

When he glances up, Newt realizes there is a young child, a young boy, watching him and the Niffler.

"Oh, er. Hello there," he says, grinning awkwardly. Even the Niffler stops struggling to get a look at the boy.
somethingwild: (Magizoologist)
Newt, though still utterly baffled by Darrow and all of its modernity, has settled into something of a pattern within the city. He wakes, from his usual spot, slumped over at the desk inside his shed in the suitcase, and he takes care of his creatures. He takes special care to make sure that they are all comfortable, spending more time with the Occamies and Dougal, who still prove anxious at the change in scenery. He also takes care to bring the Niffler something shiny as often as he can, dreading the day he finds his way out of his case. (He's resigned himself to the fact that it is only a matter of time before it happens.)

Then, though he loathes to, he pulls himself out of his suitcase, shutting it tight and tying it with rope. He casts a locking spell on it, just in case.

He dresses himself, still in the style that he's accustomed to (he will never try to understand, nor keep up with, Muggle fashion), and he washes up, before wolfing down a quick breakfast - usually a pastry, of some sort, and a cup of coffee.

Then the worrying sets in. He needs to find a job, but is utterly unqualified for any sort of Muggle work. He wishes anyone else from back home were here with him, particularly Tina Goldstein. With her calm mind and amazing ability to assess a situation, she would be most welcome to Newt now. As well as for other reasons, but he pushes those thoughts beneath the surface nearly as fast as they come. He's not the only wizard of his sort in the city, but Newt feels alone, regardless. He doesn't know what he's done to upset either James or Sirius, but the guilt of doing so settles in quite nicely with the guilt of failing to save Credence. It makes his stomach tighten, and he has to close his eyes to clear his mind.

Especially since, this morning, he has a particular mission. He's nearly out of shiny things for the Niffler, which is a tragedy, of course. So Newt finishes his morning routine, and he grabs his suitcase.

He hurries out of the door, walking swiftly out of his apartment, and makes his way down the street. He walks for a good half-hour before he finds what he's looking for - a type of shop known as a thrift store, full of old and used wares. The idea of it delights him in and of itself, but he's found that these thrift stores are especially good for finding cheap, shiny things for the Niffler. He takes a breath, pushes out the thoughts edging at the surface of his mind, and makes his way inside.
somethingwild: (Awkward as a Hippogriff)
Newt has only been in Darrow for little over a few days now. His mind is still whirling, trying to catch up with everything he's learned about his new home so far. He dislikes immensely that he cannot leave; he cannot travel home, nor to any other country where he might like to visit, to continue his research and his work. He finds himself restless, not entirely trusting in a city that provides him a place to live and money to help pay for it. Such grand acts of kindness, Newt has found, do not come without their own sort of costs.

But he supposes he has to make due with his situation. He doesn't like it, but he's found himself in greater predicaments before; New York, for instance, where he'd nearly been executed for the convenience of Grindlewald's plan.

Small favors, he supposes.

So he supposes he ought to try and settle, as much as he ever settles. The afternoon is warmer than he expects, as he heads out, suitcase in hand. Pickett chippers curiously from his top coat pocket, peeking out every once and awhile as Newt makes his way further into the city. He needs to buy supplies; food, mostly. And some clothes.

He's distracted by the first bookstore that he comes across, strewn with posters advertising the latest releases. Newt's eyes widen, taking it all in. This particular store seems to specialize in magic; there are crystals and wands stranger than any he's ever seen sitting in the window. Newt opens the door, making his way inside.

The space seems especially small, as Newt nearly trips over a nearby shopper. Pickett lets out an indignant squeak.

"Merlin, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there," he apologizes to the man he's just bumped into.
somethingwild: (Newt and Case)
Darrow, like New York, proves rather an odd city. Especially given all the advances in Muggle technology and fashion, to say the least. Newt finds himself fascinated, and keen to find out more. After all, given that he cannot currently Apparate out of this city, what else can he do?

And he does need to do something, else his thoughts will return to Credence and that terrible night. To Grindlewald, who, thankfully, does not seem to be anywhere near this city. Small blessings, he supposes.

Newt walks throughout the city, observing to the best of his abilities. In a way, people watching really isn't much different than studying fantastical creatures; there just generally happens to be more of them at any given time.

He's stopped to purchase a coffee first, a Muggle drink he finds he quite likes. He holds his suitcase, still tied tightly, in the other as he walks. Given the chilliness of the weather, holding onto both provides a warmth that doesn't require his wand, which he appreciates. He doesn't know if there is any sort of governing magical body in Darrow, but he's not keen to find out. (And now he thinks of Tina, with a pain in his heart that he does his best to brush below the surface.)

He's moving slowly on the sidewalk when he nearly collides with a young woman, whose bright hair reminds him somewhat of Queenie, with significantly less curls.

"Oh, pardon me," he says, apologetic as he moves the hand with the coffee, nearly spilling over, away from the young woman to avoid any sort of damage. "I wasn't paying attention. I hope I didn't spill my drink on you?"
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