thedogbard

okay, first of all, heya, and i'm "thedogbard" or "N". I'm socially awkward irl, someone who pretends to be an introvert to disguise my loneliness, and someone who is really good at random living-life shit and not so good at anything specific (like maths) (ugh).

i originally made a tumblr account to promote my fanfic magnum opus. so here it is:

But firstly I'd like to specify that I do NOT support JKR. I have owned the books for years, and before I got tumblr, in Sep 2025, I didn't actually know what she was doing. Almost all of the fanfic I've written was before that. Writing fanfic does not give the franchise profit, but it might give the author or reader a bit of happiness. Anyway, I'm trying not to write anything else for the HP/FB fandoms now, and I'm steering well clear of the HP show. I don't judge you if you're an HP fan as long as you don't support JKR, so please extend me the same courtesy.

Nothing Like This

https://archiveofourown.org/works/71726416?view_full_work=true

December 1993. Newt Scamander appears in Hogwarts, clutching a battered suitcase, claiming to have just been duelling Grindelwald alongside Dumbledore - who’s now aged by sixty years.

Lord Voldemort is on the rise. Dementors surround the school. A Muggleborn Slytherin witch is fighting to find a place in the Wizarding World.

And, well, Newt’s just sort of there.

Fully completed: a Newt Scamander x original female character story, spanning the events of the HP books. Posted weekly on ao3, quotev, fanfic.net, and wattpad.

Hmm, okayyyy

the two top bits are like two of those yellow blobby minions hanging off a...shard of celery?

And two caterpillars are getting married underneath

while crabs serenade them from the sides

They can be from any genre of any media (movies, shows, books, comics, games, etc.) (OCs count, too, if you like). All that matters is that they are bear-coded, and you like them!

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

To be painted by Allan Tierney was all the cachet of beauty a woman could desire. […] Allan Tierney’s eyes lighted up.

Hmm-mm.

“I’ve had a caller,” said Barney the next afternoon, when Valancy had returned from another flower quest.

Side-note - it’s nice that they’re not joined at the hip and go out for their separate tramps around the woods.

“Allan Tierney. He wants to paint you, Moonlight.”

“Me!” Valancy dropped her basket and her arbutus. “You’re laughing at me, Barney.”

“I’m not. That’s what Tierney came for. To ask my permission to paint my wife - as the Spirit of Muskoka, or something like that.”

How did Tierney even find out who Valancy was?? I mean, I know it would’ve been easy enough, but still, he must have had to do a bit of digging.

“Beautiful women,” finished Barney. “Q.E.D., Mistress Barney Snaith is a beautiful woman.”

There is so much triumph in this, like he’s finally managed to get a point across that he’s been trying to prove to her for months. (Another one of my headcanons. You’re welcome.)

“...Oh, I’ve seen her - she’s a stunner - but you’d never catch Allan Tierney wanting to paint her. In the horrible but expressive slang phrase, she keeps all her goods in the shop-window.”

I. LOVE. Barney. Ohmygod. It’s stuff like this that makes him real and not some sort of fictionalised perfect dream-mystery-rescuer-hero-husband thing.

“...Tierney said something about the curve of your cheek as you booked back over your shoulder. You know I’ve often told you it was distracting. And he’s quite batty about your eyes. If I wasn’t absolutely sure it was solely professional - he’s really a crabbed old bachelor, you know - I’d be jealous.”

Hmm, you’d be jealous, huh, Barney? And also hey, here’s another headcanon - Tierney is gay. Whatcha think?

“I couldn’t tell him that. I didn’t know what you wanted.”

Good, good.

“...So even if you had wanted to be painted, Moonlight, your tyrannous husband would not have permitted it.”

Bad, bad. But honestly I think that if Valancy had really really wanted to be painted, Barney would’ve let her.

“Tierney was a bit squiffy.”

Oh Barney, you priceless idiot. I think this was/is the first time I’ve ever seen the word ‘squiffy’ in a book.

Valancy never flinched from the plain word. No ‘passing away’ for her.

Personal anecdote time: I’ve spoken to at least two people who simply cannot understand the word ‘death’. Or ‘died’. I was trying to tell one old lady that my dog had died, and I had to repeat ‘no, she’s died’ six times before I gave up and said ‘she’s passed away’ and she heard me first time.

They didn’t talk much, but Valancy had a curious sense of oneness. She knew that she couldn’t have felt that if he hadn’t liked her.

I know that feeling. Sort of.

“You nice little thing,” said Barney suddenly. “Oh, you nice little thing! Sometimes I feel you’re too nice to be real - that I’m just dreaming you.”

I remember reading this for the first time and immediately picturing it and all the what-ifs-fanfic-potentials in my head.

“Why can’t I die now - this very minute - when I am so happy!” thought Valancy.

Okay, yeah, but girl, imagine if you had just pegged it right there and then. That might’ve really ruined Barney’s day.

But now, sitting here beside Barney, with her hand in his, a sudden realisation came to her.

They were DEFINITELY already holding hands before he said that. Which means they maybe walked through the woods hand-in-hand. Which is way too romantic for this early on a Sunday morning.

“I’d rather be miserable in heaven remembering him than happy forgetting him. And I’ll always remember through all eternity - that he really, really liked me.”