#whilst i think this gives me SO much more credence than it does (it gives me nearly nothing) i also think i am right. and im fuckin stubbor

[notcatherinemorland]

i have promised myself that if i use my current, perfectly lovely oil pastels with discipline and consistency then i'm allowed to shill out for the Fancy Ones which i have coveted since bloody 2016 when i discovered they existed. unfortunately! i have made myself unwilling to use my normal pastels due to knowing whatever i do could be *better* in 5 weeks time but whatever i do in 5 weeks time won't be nearly as good if i don't start using the normal pastels right now. anyway. sisyphus and his boulder are looking chipper as anything on the other hill over there.

#me meta #PETTIEST PROBLEMS KNOWN TO MAN. anyway im a priss about art materials whats new #i. look. i basically lived with oil pastels under my nails for 2 years as a teen #whilst i think this gives me SO much more credence than it does (it gives me nearly nothing) i also think i am right. and im fuckin stubbor #but no for real for real i have legitimate reasons. my sketchbook paper is all purpose cartridge 140gsm. #and its wayyy too porous and light to actually blend the fuckers. they absorb into the page like there's a fuckin drought. #there's no delicacy afforded on this paper bc it's so thirsty... there's no such thing as layering here. its disgustange #i have some black card that im currently enchanted with which is 220gsm and is just. chefkiss. so fun for this. it's like oil paint. #im terrified on linsead n turpentine shhh. but. god they sit still and wait for me to return with the blendy colour. god its wonderful. #unfortunately the black means the colours are out of whack. and that's all fine until i need a bloody dark brown. #SORRY i dont have people to chat at about this bc its rude to chat AT people so. here will do. anyway im such a bitch about my oil pastels #with no basis mind you. but i am a bitch about them nonetheless.

[sunnydayjackass]

Hello! Is it alright if I ask for Jack x a s/o with an incredible singing voice, but he only finds out much later on because they don’t think much of it? i.e watching a musical and then hearing them sing it whilst doing laundry or washing the dishes.

Jack would highkey L O V E a sweetie who can sing are you kidding me? He may not exactly sing much himself but he's got a great voice. Jack himself is the type to hum to himself or perhaps put some words in a song like cadence

While he may not be so versed in many musicals, especially current what with being trapped in a goddamn VHS tape, Jack is happy to watch them with you. He thinks there's something distinctly artistic about musicals and their flair for painting a story near entirely through song.

If you're more the type inclined to having your own instruments, sheet music, ect- well...he may not be able to follow as well but he appreciates your craft or hobby all the same. While never pushy he may on occasion ask if you'd be willing to play something for him- anything will do he isn't picky.

Either way it's some time into this rather unorthodox living situation that Jack hears you actually sing. He thought that maybe you were just someone who loved music, who doesn't?

It's an otherwise unremarkable day, you're home doing chores or engaging in a hobby, maybe in the shower that you absently start singing quietly to yourself. Jack just assumes you're playing something from your phone, computer, or streaming and wanders towards the door to join you-unless you are in the bath in which case he'll wait outside. He prides himself as a gentleman, or "consent king" as you'd called him once or twice.

As he draws nearer, Jack realizes it isn't a recording but you singing. Melodic and pitch perfect to him, he's always adored your voice but with this brings a whole extra layer of appreciation. Why didn't you tell him you could sing sooner? Maybe you were shy? He doesn't dare interrupt, lingering just outside the door, leaning on the frame to listen until you're done or fade into humming lowly as you finish your task.

To not startle you, he'll knock before walking through with a warm smile pulling his lips. "Sunshine, why didn't you tell me you were such a beautiful singer?" You blush a little, unaware he'd been listening but you don't react too much other than perhaps a small shrug.

"I dunno." You answer honestly, "I mean I like it but I'm not..." you give a vague sort of hand wave to show that while you enjoy it you don't seem to regard your talent with the same high credence Jack does. While there's certainly something to be said about being humble, Jack believes gifts and talents should be praised and celebrated. Nurtured.

With a little shake of his head, Jack will dip dow to press a kiss to the crown of your head. "Sunshine, you have a wonderful voice. I'd love to hear you sing more often." He doesn't want you to hide it or tone yourself down. If it's a song he knows, or learns, he'd be happy to join you even or dance about the apartment with you.

#somethings wrong with sunny day jack #there's something wrong with sunny day jack #theres something wrong with sunny time jack #something's wrong with sunny day jack #tswwsdj #swwsdj #sunny day jack #sunny day jack x reader #sdj #sdj x reader

[yesterdayiwrote]

Some of the takes I see about George online are actually insane.

I saw someone saying basically the issue with the W14 is that mercedes followed how George felt about the car in development and not Lewis, therefore it suits George and that mercedes should not have taken georges opinion in development as seriously as Lewis's. That they should have focused on making the car suit Lewis and have George adapt.

Its like people aren't aware that these cars are a different era of cars to what lewis won his championship with. Plus it isn't like the engineers are gonna go sure we will go with George in this even though what Lewis says will be faster. They go with what they feel the fastest concept will be, they don't just decide to go with George because they like him more than Lewis.

Plus it ignores the fact that George was working in the Mercedes simulator all the way back from the brocedes era. It was his work in the simulator which gave him opportunities to test drive cars and do free practice sessions and tire tests. Surely he must have some abilty in the sim and the engineers have alot of trust in him. They are always praising his technical knowlege. Just look at last weekend. Lewis even admitted that George chose the better set up and strategy, even though on paper it shouldn't have been.

Honestly I feel for the lad. People insulted him last year because apparently he didn't do enough for development for the car and lewis was doing all the experiments and it cost him points and now because the cars a bit crap its all his fault because they put more weight into what George has said about development. Both cannot be true. You can't say George didn't do any development last year but also blame him for the car being bad this year because of what he said in development last year.

Okay, I’ve been trying to think of a way to answer this since I got it, and I’m really struggling to find a way that covers ALL the nuance of the situation whilst simultaneously airing my frustration and trying not to be a biased dick about it. I do genuinely like both of them.

This creeping narrative that everything that goes wrong is because of George and everything that goes right is because of Lewis really does fuck me off big time because it’s just such childish bullshit and I can’t be dealing with it. That said it’s so ridiculously childish that it’s barely worth giving much credence to. The people know what they’re doing and sometimes you just have to let people have their copium and just… laugh?

I think people need to allow Lewis to be vulnerable and this aching need by some people to paint this picture that he is a perfect, fully rounded driver with absolutely no flaws or weaknesses does no one any favours. Sure we haven’t seen them as much, because success has a tendency to conceal these things, but even the GOATs have areas that need improvement. Merc have no responsibility to treat him as a first priority in all eventualities, and doing so would do Lewis more harm than good? If they had insisted on switching the cars in Jeddah like some people wanted, it surely would have been ten times more humiliating for him when he got passed by his teammate five laps later going quicker on the harder tyre?

George has a really solid eye for strategy. He can call strategy in the car while he’s driving a race and that’s no mean feat. Personally, I feel Lewis is weaker in that area. He prefers the team to lead his strategy and he puts his full faith in them to get it right and that’s fine, plenty of drivers do that. It’s not a glaring void in his arsenal, but in times when things go wrong it gives George an advantage he can draw on. People get angry at him doing it, because he’s ‘putting himself first’ but equally sometimes you’ve got to control your own destiny.

The whole situation with the car design is getting a bit ‘He said, She said’. Lewis said no one listened to him and he had all the right answers. George said they all agreed the direction together. We’ll never know who is telling the truth. Chances are it’s somewhere in the middle. Some teams do design their cars to suit one specific driver over another. I don’t know that I buy into any theory that suggests in Merc it would be George, even if he did come out on top last year. I said before I was a bit disappointed with Lewis’ comments and I think they were ill advised and borne out of frustration, as did he in the press conference, and then effectively doubled down and said something just as contentious in the post race interviews 🤷🏼‍♀️

We know George has done car development. You can’t joke about him being locked in the Sim and then simultaneously accuse him of not assisting with development, and then simultaneously accuse him of driving the entire development direction to suit himself. Like any sane person knows all of those things can’t be true cos the maths ain’t mathing?

Lewis isn’t ultimately responsible for his fans and the things they say, that being said I do feel like he sees more than he lets on and he knows when to give a crafty stir of the pot. They all do? This is purely his fans doing it though, not him, even if Spinz hasn’t helped matters in the past 😒

I think it’s a shame it’s got to this state though. I feel sorry for George and I do feel sorry for Lewis as well. It is a tougher situation for him in light of 2021. None of this is George’s fault though and it’s sad to see the online discourse getting so… tribal at times.

#I had so many things I wanted to say and I lost my train of thought so this only covers like…half of them #I’ve also got a ridiculous blocked nose atm so I’m not working on all cylinders right now #tldr: lewis’ fans can be ridiculous but he’s not responsible for that even if he maybe stirs the pot at times. it’s a shame for everyone

[phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust]

Personally, I feel like John and Paul did experiment together and/or had a full on relationship, because the lyrics they wrote spoke for it. They would do secret hand gestures and give each other certain looks. (George and Ringo didn’t do anything like they did, I mean they might’ve had a laugh here and there during interviews but that was it..)

I think Paul was involved just as much as John was (in the beginning anyway) and somewhere along the line he withdrew himself from it. I feel like John begged for him to stay (think around the time of the maharishi trip) but Paul was too stubborn and now he wishes he would’ve just stuck it out with him. But the whole thing about being serious with a man or labeling himself when Paul just didn’t want to I feel like, especially in a time where it was so widely disliked and not accepted. Idk I’m rambling on forever about something that happened in the sixties so who’s the bigger fool lol

I like the point you make about how George and Ringo didn’t appear to share the same sort of hidden intimacy that we seem to see between John and Paul, at least in interviews. I don’t tend to take posts that are like “Look at how they look at each other here they were in love!!” too seriously, because for me, a look is often just a look. I mean, very cute to look at of course, but not infallible evidence for me y’know. But in contrasting the small gestures and glances we see between John and Paul with that of George and Ringo’s, I am a little more convinced! It does seem to offer more credence to the theory that there was something deeper and more requited between the two of them (rather than one of them) because it shows that their relationship truly was something so, so special.

And with the songs, im not always sure – songs can be very vague in their actual subjects, though the lyrics might suggest otherwise (I think im probably only making sense to myself here lol). But it does feel as though John and Pauls lyrics tend to be quite centred, which suggests to me that there is maybe more truth to a lot of their songs that im not giving enough credit for. For example, if we didn't have that video where Paul sings, "Call me back again, John" then im not sure if id ever be totally convinced that it was about John. So I dunno, maybe I should go with my instincts a little more?

Just got reminded of this quote actually: “Time passed. Paul locked the door of his home studio and played (Just Like) Starting Over, the first single from Double Fantasy. Top volume. For days.” – some people think that John and Paul might have started an affair again just before John died, and so Just Like Starting Over is written for Paul (and Coming Up is written for John, which I have a whole post on here <3).

Also, your theory about Paul being as involved as John was, but ultimately withdrawing from and ending the relationship is quite interesting. I hadn’t really thought of it like that before but now that ive heard it ill be putting it in a fanfic but it kind of reminds me of the book Maurice by E.M. Forster! Id always assumed that if they were ever actually involved, it’d probably be casual until John wanted more, and Paul didn’t want to fully commit (because I think he wanted kids and stuff) and so eventually John went “fuck you, ive got a new hoe” and then fucked off with Yoko.

But it does feel like yours would make sense, because while Paul was the one wanted who was the most desperate to keep the group together (being the last to leave), there is also a part of him that appears to have this inclination for independence, which I suppose eventually became problematic in trying to balance that independent disposition with the democratic nature of the group. I guess an examples of Pauls independence from the ‘group-think’ mentality might be when he abstained from LSD until he felt ready to try it, or when he went and bought a house in London whilst the others all lived in the suburbs; I guess you could say Paul - sort of - knew what he wanted, at least more so than the others, and so didn’t really let the group influence him too much.

And then John I believe had major fears of abandonment, so maybe when he felt Paul was getting too independent (I presume sometime after they stopped touring) and was starting drift away from him, perhaps that’s when he really started acting irrationally, and possibly that was the root of the arguments that would later become so ubiquitous. All speculation of course, but it’s a theory that I think aligns quite well with their character types – although I haven’t thought about it too deeply yet, so take my rambly thoughts with a grain of salt haha

#mclennon #asks #anon #analysis #discussion #theory

[ruwithmeguys]

I don't think Felicity was sidelined in 7a but she has definitely been pushed aside in 7b and disgustingly so in the 150th episode. I think it's very naive to think otherwise. Emily also didn't film a single day for 7x17 as she was in LA the whole time so she's even going to miss her first episode ever. This is problematic.

I think it’s not the best thing to tell people that they’re naivefor having a different opinion to you. I never said to not be upset by how afavourite character is treated. I asked for people to see the bigger picture. Thatdoesn’t make me naive.

I don’t go around leaving asks in people’s inboxes tellingthem to make me feel better about something I don’t like, which is what some anonsdo with me.

What I did do, wasask people to stop sending me the same asks without taking even a few hours toconsider the words they were using and I know that they didn’t because in lessthan one hour after the title for 7.18 was released I received three asks allworded almost the exact same way:

ANOTHER EPISODE WHERE FELICITY’S BEING SIDE-LINED AGAIN.TELL ME I’M WRONG, COME ON!

Are you kidding me? I’m not here to make up for that.

Did I appreciate the lack of Felicity in 7.13? No I didn’t,but with Arrow it’s par for the course.

Do you know what IS naïve? Ignoring how the show hasprogressed since forever ago and then dishing out anger in inboxes. Arrow does an excellent job of beingcontinuously inconsistent, it tries to detract from its own mistakes, it veryliterally ignores plot holes and avoids the things that need focus. It’s donethis to every single character… and you guys EXPECTED 7.12 to be chock full ofwhat you wanted. No part of the fandom got what they wanted in 7.12. Thatepisode was DESIGNED to not only remind everyone of what the show had become,but to embrace the flash forwards.

The writers were telling us that, yes we’ve heard how much you don’t like the NTA and we’re getting ridof one of them soon so there you go! BUT.We don’t really care whether you detest Dinah and Rene. We need them to buildthe FF’s and to evolve the team so that when Stephen and Emily and David leaveArrow, it won’t feel quite so much like the earth cracking in two.

They don’t care.

7.12 wasn’t this deliberate attempt to push Felicity out ofit, it was hailing the masks as heroes whilst keeping Overwatch to the side:the city doesn’t know about her. The writers expect us to remember the thingsthey can’t be bothered to include in the episodes. Beth didn’t write 7.12,which was how I instinctively knew it wouldn’t have what I wanted, though I letmyself hope.

I don’t trust Beth, but I give her far more credence thanother writers on Arrow. They played us like a fiddle with their use ofmisdirection: the episode description alone suggested this, HOWEVER. Felicityhad the most important line in thisepisode.

She TOLD the audience to not use the word vigilantes to describeher husband. They’re heroes. There’s a reason Felicity said that and it leadsinto the FF’s. Why are the vigilantes looked down upon? Why are they hated whenwe’re seeing them finally be recognised in the present? Why does Mia blamethem?

Like it. Don’t like it. AT the end of the day, it won’tchange a thing. The show is deliberately trying to expand away from the coreteam and 7.12 was the flag ship for that. Notice how each episode after the crossoverhas been singular.

7.10 was Emiko’s revelation. 7.11 was Siren’s entire redemptivearc in one go. 7.12 was pushing an undeserving city to accept vigilantes for the heroes they are and a poor effort to bring back the john diggle of old. 7.13 was aboutOlicity as parents and William and how they get from a to b in terms of the present and future. 7.14 will be about OTA andFelicity’s pregnancy. 15 will be about OTA, the SCPD and the FF’s. 16 willbe about Mia. And so on and so forth. They’re all standalone episodes and it’sknocking us for a loop.

I would have loved for 7.12 to call-back to S2 and 3 and howOTA was set up. I THOUGHT this was the purpose to 7.12. Instead of focusing onthat, they focused on how the show has CHANGED, which wasn’t what a lot of us wanted.It focused on how it shaped from S5 through to 7 with some S1 thrown in. Ifthey hadn’t lauded the episode so much, WE wouldn’t have cared so much.

Also, a lot of my anons tend to decide weeks in advance thatan episode is going to suck. Remember how good 7.13 was? Do you want to take aguess at how many anons told me it would be the exact opposite?

Now yeah: I don’t care about BC because they’ve never beenable to stick with one which tells me they failed with that character big time. Sara. Laurel. Dinah. Evelyn.Now Zoe. Fail. Fail. Fail. Fail.

But, so what if they take an episode to focus on her. I’m not taking this asa personal insult to myself. Nor am I taking this as an insult to Felicity’scharacter. Felicity, Oliver and the birds and so flipping detached from each other at this point. In fact, they've never been close. Whenever Felicity gets focus, I notice that no one gave a crap about everyone else's lack of limelight.

Would I love for her to have the limelight always? Yes. Would it have been great if her being present in every single episode description continue forever? Yes. But all good things come to end. She'll get the limelight again (DO NOT ASK ME WHEN: I am not a psychic) at some point.

The ENTIRETY of the OTA are not a theme in 7.18 either. The birdsare. To be honest, I kind of get it. Think about it:

Aside from pulling Rene up, being a hypocrite and looking down on Oliver, what hasDinah’s SL been this year? NOW she’s lost her scream, perhaps forever. Perhapsnot. They just got rid of Curtis. This feels foreboding for her character.

Again, aside from trying to BE LL in order to redeem herselfand being Felicity’s BF, what is Siren’sSL this year.

I already listed the SL’s for felicity and they’re severaltimes that of the other two.

It doesn’t remotely bother me that Felicity (AND Oliver) won’tbe in 7.18 much (save from her being Overwatch for them) because it’s lordingup each version of bird they possess (including Sara and the dead ll). It mighteven be a goodbye. No, Dinah isn’tleaving. I meant a goodbye to the canary cry or whatever the hell.

What they shouldbe doing in this episode (but I’m not getting my hopes up) is finally makingthese women realise, like Felicity has always known, that you don’t need a metascream to make a difference. Dinah is the lost canary because she’s lost her ability.As I said before, she’s nothing without her scream, so maybe this is where sherealises that’s not true. Again, I don’t care. It doesn’t bother me. It’sArrow. This happens all the time.

Emily did film for17. And 16. And 18. She’s filmed for them all. Just not much.

Neither has Stephen. In fact, she and Stephen have filmedfor similar amounts recently. And though the after winter hiatus arc has neverfocused on Olicity the way 7.13 did, we’re not even half way through 7b. I’d rathersave my opinions until S7 is finished.

But I’m not here to make anyone feel better: if you don’t likemy opinions, then you don’t have to ask for them.

[credenxe-barebone]

Credence as a Father | Headcanons

I’m not even sorry for this 🤷🏻‍♀️ enjoy some Credence as a parent! Also, I’ll admit this is more a female reader imagine because of the pregnancy headcanons, but if people want I can always try male reader later on!

When Credence finds out you’re pregnant and that he’s going to be a father for the first time, it shocks him - he cannot believe it and you have to repeat it so he knows he heard you right. You’re a little worried because for a moment he doesn’t say anything, and he seems to go into shock.

But then he looks up and he’s terrified. You know, even without him saying a word, that he’s thinking about his “ma” and how awfully she abused him.

The only “childcare” experience he has up to this point is when he used to look after Modesty (“I...I nearly killed her, she was so terrified for me...”) and then when the two of you sometimes babysit Jacob and Queenie’s, and Newt and Tina’s, kids.

Credence starts having nightmares about Mary Lou and her beatings again - you wake up in the night to find him crying and shaking on the edge of the bed, and it breaks your heart.

Soon the dreams get worse: he dreams of the baby fearing the same thing, of him hurting them, of his Obscurus harming them

You tell him that you know he wouldn’t hurt your child: he’s going to be a far better parent than that monstrous woman was, without a doubt. (Not that it’s difficult, you think bitterly - the very mention of the woman makes you angry)

“You won’t be anything like her, Credence,” you whisper sincerely. You have no doubts in your mind at all about this.

During the pregnancy, he treats you like you’re fragile and could break if he’s not careful. You understand that he’s just worried about your well-being, and you work through it together. He needs the reassurance that you’ll be okay, that the baby will too, and that he won’t hurt either of you.

You’re lying in bed together, dozing off, when you feel the tremors against your stomach; immediately you take Credence’s hand and press it to your abdomen. For a moment there’s nothing - and then he feels the flutters, the kicks, of your baby.

“Is that the baby?” He asks, a little startled. “It’s so...so strong.” And then, “it’s strange but I like it.”

And then he smiles too, still kinda terrified but also extremely happy because it’s finally starting to actually sink in that there’s a real little baby there, something the two of you made.

He’s there through the delivery, and you do your best not to alarm him or scream at him, but he still looks bewildered and tries to help desperately anyway.

The baby comes - a tiny little girl. At first Credence just stares at her, still bewildered but also curious because it’s unreal that this is his baby, his child, his daughter.

She’s so tiny and pure and innocent, he thinks, awed.

He goes all stiff the first time he holds your daughter, worried because he sees the scars marring his hands, he knows he’s all lanky limbs and awkward, and he’s terrified he’ll screw up somehow, that she’ll hate him.

But then your daughter just looks up at him with big blue eyes, and he’s reminded of Modesty and her big blue eyes; the baby’s not screaming at him to get away, doesn’t appear to hate him.

Credence relaxes, more comfortable, and he allows the joy to overtake him for once because he’s already fallen in love with this tiny precious little girl. He knows, right then and there, that he’ll do his best to protect her - she’ll never ever go through the hell he did, because he’ll keep her safe.

Your daughter’s middle name is Modesty for his sister

Being honest, Credence is wrapped around your little girl’s pinky finger - he would give her the world and more if he could!

On your daughter’s first night home, he’d be totally content to just stand over her cot all night to watch over, to make sure she’s safe, but you coax him to sleep because she’ll be fine, she will, she’ll cry when she wants feedings, you need sleep too.

Even after a few weeks, he finds himself stunned that he’s a father - it’s never occurred to him that he’d ever be someone’s father, that he’d have such a life.

When he holds your daughter in his arms, just looking down at her, he feels such a peace within him. He can’t explain it - everything just feels right.

The first time your daughter calls him “Daddy”, he thinks he might be about to cry; later, he does cry in front of you but it’s tears of joy. You can only shake your head fondly and say, “of course she loves you, Credence, you’re her daddy”.

When she’s older, your daughter sees the scars - really noticing them for the first time - and just takes his hand with a smile to make sure he’s okay. Your little girl knows her daddy was hurt once, but that he’s safe now with her and Mommy - it’ll be okay.

Credence is the kind of parent who doesn’t let his daughter’s hand go in public; he’s so petrified of losing her, this precious little miracle you’ve created together, and if anything happened to her then he’d be beside himself with worry and guilt.

You have a son together too, just a few years after your daughter, and Credence is stunned because he had no idea how big his heart could grow, just how much love he could fit into his life.

In the evenings, Credence reads books to your children to help them sleep. It’s both his and the kids’ favourite part of the day - curling up together whilst he reads a story.

You usually watch from the doorway, the biggest smile on your face as you fall in love with your family all over again.

Credence does whatever the kids want when it comes to playtime; your daughter wants to dress up and play dolls? Credence totally does it, without question. Your son wants a piggyback ride to be his steed during a game? Credence hoists him up on his shoulders immediately.

When your children go to school, some of the other kids call them names; Credence isn’t the sort to get violent or aggressive, of course, but he makes sure to sit your kids down to say “you’re both wonderful and special and so loved”. He doesn’t want them feeling like he did for so many years.

When the kids display signs of magic, usually accidentally, you and Credence are sure to encourage them - magic is not bad, and you do not want either of your children repressing their magic or feeling like Credence did.

When one of the children has nightmares, Credence is the first one in their bedroom to give them a hug and tell them it’s going to be okay. (“It’s okay, it’s not real...I won’t let them hurt you...”)

He just really loves the children so much - you and the kids are his entire world, and without the three of you he’d be so lost.

Sometimes, before he goes to bed, he’ll quietly look into your son’s room and then your daughter’s, just watching them as they sleep peacefully; they’re safe and happy, which makes him happy too.

At the end of each day, when he climbs into bed beside you and you cuddle together, he whispers “thank you” - for loving him, for your beautiful children, for being so wonderful and brilliant.

And you just smile because god damn it you love him and your family just as much

(I don’t know who the photos belong to, credit to whoever they are!)

#fantastic beasts and where to find them #credence barebone #ezra miller #fantastic beasts: the crimes of grindelwald #credence barebone x reader #credence x reader #credence deserves better #headcanon #imagine

[wolfpawn]

When Ghosts Come For Us

Chapter 53

NOTE This is based on the movie Crimson Peak, so if any of the subject matter in that was uncomfortable for you, you will find this similar. I will *NOT* be describing incest in this, it will only be implied, same as the movie.

As I have stated already, my laptop is broken at present so please excuse grammar mistakes and the lack of GIFs and pics.

Also, I do not own any image or gif used in this story.

HERE is the link to Chapter 1 on Ao3

Rating - Mature

Thomas’s jaw clenched. He disliked conflict at the best of times, he avoided it whenever possible but for his family, for his beloved Charlotte, he had to embrace the oncoming argument he was certain was coming. Inhaling deeply, he called the nearest servant to him and requested he find Mrs Matthews and have her come to the drawing room where he wished to speak with her.

A mere ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door before Mrs Matthews entered the room. “You called for me, Sir?”

“Mrs Matthews, yes.” He indicated for her to sit in a seat close to him. “Please, sit for a moment.”

Worried, the housekeeper did as instructed, her employer’s ire from earlier at the nursery staff still fresh in her mind. “Is everything alright, Sir Sharpe?” She asked in concern.

“To be blunt, Mrs Matthews, it is anything but. But allow me to start by saying something. This house is impeccable, you clearly run a strict and clean home and for that, I thank you. My sister’s rooms are immaculate, and I know well from Allerdale Hall that she is difficult to tend to and is not always the easiest to keep clean. As for my son’s nursery, from what I have seen of it,” There was a darkness in the manner he mentioned that. “Is also clean and bright. And the master bedroom is also to a very high standard. I also notice that the majority of Blake’s mess has been made look as though it never even existed. Mrs Phillips has commented more than once that that is no easy task with that dog, yet you have it as though you would not think him to be here. For that, I can only thank you and ask you to continue your fine work.”

“Thank you, Sir Sharpe. I always take in pride in the work of the staff and myself and being commended for our effort.”

“As well you should.”

“What is not to your standard then, Sir Sharpe?” She asked.

“Today, I went to the nursery, which I must state, displeases me to see is on the other wing of the house to the master bedroom, though that is nothing to do with you, Mrs Matthews, I am only too aware you had nothing to do with the design of the house,” He assured her. “But whilst there, I was informed that I would not be permitted to see my son on the command of the nursemaid.”

“Well, Ms Amelia Clarke is an exceptional…” Mrs Matthews began but a single look from Thomas silenced her.

“I am aware that most of the staff here are from the time of the Hamiltons and I am also aware that many would see myself as merely someone to come into this house by luck or good fortune, but through my wife and her previous marriage, I am still master of the house.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“So when I state I wish to see my son, the same son I have shared my rooms with for the beginning of his life then being forcibly unable to see him for half of his said short little life, but I was declined and told that the, and I use the Nursemaid’s own wording here, ‘allotted’ time for the day was past. I fear there is a situation at hand here where the staff do not see their position and that of those who own this house.”

For a moment, Mrs Matthews said nothing, thinking over what it was she would say. “Lady Sharpe had made such requests to see Master Thomas, but she was not of the strength to tend to him. The nursemaids have created a timetable for him more suitable to the needs of a child of the family’s standing and with Lady Sharpe being so ill...”

“Of course, I am aware. I stayed with Dr Thompson after our own home became blocked off by the snows and there he informed me exactly of what my dear Charlotte was enduring. Hypothermia, the body being far too cold and the associated effects, then for her chest to be so ill after. She is still quite weak a month on, but I would gather that seeing Thomas would have done more good for her health than anything else. She accepted her not being able to hold him, she would never wish to risk his wellbeing were he to move and her not be able to hold onto him and risk him being harmed but to put a limit based on another person’s belief of what time they should spend together...that is unacceptable. She is Lady to the house and as such, should be held to such a respect.”

“Ms Clarke is going by the accepted normality. Ladies of such standing do not tend to be overly involved in the rearing of the child.”

Thomas felt his anger rise again but he forced himself to quell it. “How long have you known my wife, Mrs Matthews?”

“Since Mr Hamilton, God Rest Him, brought her here almost five years ago.”

“And in that time, did you ever once think my wife to be as other ladies of her standing are?”

Mrs Matthews was unsure how to answer such a question, feeling as though it was perhaps one to trick her. There was only one answer to such. “Not once, Sir.” She answered honestly.

“And when she came, she informed you of her feeding our son herself? I assume she exited the carriage with him in her arms, not Margaret’s?”

“Correct on both accounts, Sir.”

“Does this not give credence then to the fact that she does not do as other ladies do regarding the rearing of her son? That indeed, she is a more active mother in the rearing of her child?”

“Yes, Sir. It does.”

“Then why strip her so brutally from her place? We all hear of how cruel a fate it is for a mother at the loss of a child. We, as a society, place the bond of mother and child as that above all others, so why do something so against such sentiments to my wife?”

“I had never thought of it as such, Sir Sharpe but your words are nothing but the truth. Too many women of wealth discard their ties to their children as nothing but mere duty, Lady Sharpe is no such woman. Nor…” She looked guiltily, then looked away.

“Speak freely, Mrs Matthews.”

“Nor you, as a father, Sir. Most men of wealth see a child as merely an heir and do not wish to be part of the less important times of their lives.”

“Thomas is my son, the heir to our businesses and wealth but our son first and foremost and I will only ever be concerned for him on that level.” Thomas declared. “I called you here because I wish to resolve these matters without issue and with the utmost promptness. I do not enjoy arguing with staff and I do not wish for there to be undue tension in my home. The reason for coming to Foxgrove for the winter was to enjoy Wales, not counting the days for the snow to melt enough to head back to Allerdale Hall. If we merely wished to avoid being snowed in for the winter, we would have gone to London as many Northerners do. Charlotte has a fondness for Foxgrove, and indeed yourself and Mr Matthews, ergo her request we come here instead, do not have it that she will not consider such again for winters yet to come. If Foxgrove is no pleasure for her, she can and would have every right to sell it to someone who would like it, and I have heard from Mr Brown himself that he has a liking for the place. I am sure he would make her a very fine offer.”

Mrs Matthews nostrils flared and her eyes filled with fear. She had heard terrible things about Mr Brown’s homes. The filth he created with his extravagant and overly boisterous parties, his terrible drinking and his illicit acts. Foxgrove held a good name in many ways as an upstanding home. The most eventful thing to happen there in over a decade was the arrival of Blake that afternoon and he was clean and by all accounts, all but attached to his master and mistress since he had been cleaned. According to Margaret Pimms, that was simply how he lived, either with Lady Sharpe as she tended the baby or Sir Sharpe as he worked either in his workshop or worked his mines and if both were together, he was by their sides. A muddy dog, though irksome was no issue. The issue that day had been that none had thought Blake or indeed, Sir Sharpe were in Pembrokeshire and they worried the dog to be dangerous since that was sorted, there was nothing of issue any longer. She was grateful for such, to think it could be bought by Mr Brown, and she knew he could indeed be interested, or some other fellow which they could know nothing about, it filled her with fear and concern. “I will ensure that the house is tailored to the wishes of both yourself and Lady Sharpe, Sir. At once.”

“We have a routine that as Charlotte recovers, we will be inclined to retain, Margaret is very much knowledgeable to this, she will instruct you on it, but I would ask that she is Charlotte’s main maid attendant and she instructs my main servant or if one is not attainable, is the one to be called upon for myself also. She is rough on the edges, but she knows us well and for that, her familiarity is wanted.”

“Of course, Sir. I will liaise with her myself today so to have the house more to your requirements.”

“Wonderful. I think that to be all for now, Mrs Matthews. I will converse with you again tomorrow about all changes that may be required.”

“Of course, Sir.” She rose to her feet, him following suit out of courtesy. “Will I have a room readied for you?”

Thomas recalled their first time in Foxgrove, where Charlotte made it clear they were not to share a room. “No, such is not required, I share with my wife.”

“Of course, Sir.” She gave a slight curtsey and went to leave.

“Before I forget, Mrs Matthews,” He called after her.

“Yes, Sir Sharpe?”

“The next member of staff I hear of dismissing my wife as “silly” or anything similar will find themselves without a job with immediate effect.” He looked her in the eye as he spoke to portray his sincerity.

“Of course, Sir. Such is unacceptable and cannot be allowed,” Mrs Matthews agreed.

“Wonderful. Have Margaret fix our evening usual.”

“No dinner, Sir Sharpe?”

“No, she knows what we like at this hour on such days.” He responded, no longer looking at her.

“Yes, Sir.” With that, Mrs Matthews rushed from the room and downstairs, calling every maid she found with her as she went, sending one to find the others as she made her way to the kitchen. There, she found Margaret readying a tray. “Margaret, Sir Sharpe…”

“Already preparing it Ma’am. An Earl Grey for Lady Sharpe and another for Sir Sharpe, no lemon.” She smiled. Looking at Mrs Matthews face, her face fell. “Did you insult ‘er Ladyship in front of Sir Sharpe, Mrs Matthews, that is not to be advised.”

“No, I did no such thing.” Mrs Matthews was slightly indignant at such a suggestion of unprofessional behaviour, but recalling Sir Sharpe's comments on Margaret knowing their routine and Margaret’s ability to assume almost correctly as to the reason for her startled features, she inhaled deeply. “You know the Sharpes well, don’t you, Margaret?”

“I like to think so, Mrs Matthews.”

“And their routine?”

“As good as set in stone.”

“You are to have it made clear to everyone what that routine is and how best to serve it.” Margaret nodded at the instruction, having tried to suggest politely a few things to get Lady Sharpe’s normal routine made standard here but was dismissed. “Everyone, I will say this once and once alone. Sir Sharpe has made it clear, any disregard for Lady Sharpe that can be deemed unacceptable by him will be met with immediate dismissal. Any attempt to ignore what is said as routine by Margaret here will not be accepted and if there is one utterance of ridicule as regards how he and Lady Sharpe raise Master Sharpe, well, good luck in finding a new job outside of a tavern.” The staff looked at one another worriedly. “Sir Sharpe has made it clear, the house is to standard, the attitudes of those in it, are not. This is a Baronet we serve now, and we must remember such. All will endeavour to do their job to the best of their ability, and any that make Lady Sharpe feel unhappy...well, I have just been informed that Mr Brown of Hampshire, a man of incredible influence and disrepute could very easily become the Master of Foxgrove Park, and I can assure you, no one here will want that to happen. As it stands, we only deal with our family for a few months of the year, and bar Lady Lucille’s actions, now not an issue once more, to say we are dealing with a pleasant family who are clean and unbothersome is an understatement, the last thing we require is an alteration to such.”

“You said he was pleasant?” Jane stated to Margaret, feeling as though the other maid had lied to her.

“Sir Sharpe is a pleasant and good employer,” Margaret declared. “Until you make an ill comment of Lady Sharpe. ‘e will not stand for it. ‘e adores her and will not allow any to dismiss her or disregard her. I ‘ave yet to be treated to such a manner personally ‘n so long as I am in their employ, I will make sure to never be so. Lady Sharpe is a lovely and nice woman, some do not think her overly smart, but I ‘ave seen her discuss poetry and the machines Sir Sharpe’s builds with ‘im, she is too nice for her own good and is seen as a fool, but she is not. We are lucky to be working for such people.”

One or two of the servants and maids looked doubtful or even seemed to scoff at the idea, the rest took into account what Margaret said, so with their new information, they nodded slightly and looked to Mrs Matthews. “Now, back to work and for the love of all that is Holy, do not anger Sir Sharpe with regards his wife and son.” She instructed. “Oliver, you will tend to Sir Sharpe,” She pointed to a young man who nodded worriedly. “You are to shadow Margaret as she does his evening routine so to learn it.”

“Yes, Mrs Matthews.”

With that, Mrs Matthews went to alert the nursery staff of the new rules set down by their employer, promising to come in search of Margaret in the near future to discuss their routine with them.

“Right, Sir Sharpe loves ‘is Earl Grey plain, so even if Lady Sharpe is with ‘im for the evening, ‘e ‘as a separate pot to ‘er. She likes ‘er lemon in the pot, you see. And ‘e does what ‘e can to eat with ‘er. She most often waits for ‘im unless told that the mines are working late or paperwork needs doing. As there is no mines ‘ere, they’ll eat together every day.”

“Okay.” Oliver fought through the Northern English accent and Margaret’s inability to use “h’s” to understand what she was telling him. “What about later in the evening?”

“We’ll go through that soon. When we bring the tea, you are to introduce yourself to Lord Sharpe in a polite but confident manner, ‘e respects that and are you able to read?”

“Yes.”

“‘E’ll love that, ‘e will.” She smiled. “You can ‘elp with ‘is paperwork then. I can’t read so I was no use, but ‘e used get Mrs Phillips to ‘elp ‘im if Lady Sharpe isn’t available.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Sir Sharpe gets really into ‘is work, so when ‘e does, anyone that ‘elps doesn’t regret it.” Oliver’s face lit up. “You don’t need be perfect, the Sharpes like people who work, errors aren’t punished if they are accidents.”

“I heard they were strict.”

“No nothing like that. If Lady Sharpe said she was going to America and if I went with her, I’d never see England again, I would go, because with them, I know I’d be looked after for life, so I would.”

“Well, I better make the right impression.” Oliver smiled hopefully at her, eager to please his employer.

“I’ll ‘elp you,” Margaret promised, indicated to the tray beside the one she was using and divided up the cups, pots and everything. “That is Sir Sharpes, put it down in front of him, tray and all and face the ‘andles to his right ‘and and you will make the right impression.” Taking the second tray, Oliver followed her.

*

As Thomas readied for bed that evening, he smiled at seeing Charlotte in her night clothing, looking at him with equal parts love and lust. Neither of them was physically able for the act of coitus, but to see her find him attractive even after everything stroked his ego. He got into the bed beside her, Charlotte immediately curling in against him as she found comfortable when going to sleep, his arm around her. “I missed you, more than words.” She declared as she inhaled his natural scent.

“And I, you, my darling Lottie.” He gently kissed her head as he pulled her close to him. As he watched her fall asleep, he thought over his days of travel, how Edward offered to care for Blake through the winter, something Blake would not hear of, and of the journey, the days of travel and the odd looks he received on his travels. As he rested and thought over it all, he realised that the cries that infested his mind, the shadows, all of it, disappeared, instead, he felt nothing but contentment with his beloved Charlotte by his side.

Tags: @ilovekingt @sigridlaufeyson @lokiloveheart @lokilover9 @perpetual-fangirl @whovianwookie86-captainxev @texmexdarling @wolfsmom1

#when ghosts come for us #chapter 53 #lucille sharpe #thomas sharpe #cromson peak #crimson peak story

[jaskiersbard]

Comfort - Newt/Tina

So this was prompted by two different people, and I think it’s a great idea for a one-shot since Tina is definitely going to be upset/distraught over THAT ending with Queenie.

I’m setting this immediately after the end of Crimes of Grindelwald, maybe a day or so after that scene on the Hogwarts bridge. I haven’t written for a while, so it might be a little rough! Also, I’m working through requests but I’ve also been trying to get university work done too :p

Prompt: “Can you do a fic where Newt comforts Tina about Queenie?” // “Newt comforting poor Tina about Queenie? She defiantly is going to need, sadly. (And if I could be Anonymous that would be wonderful?)”

SPOILERS AHEAD!

It was two in the morning when Tina woke suddenly, feeling the swell of a sob sitting hard in her chest and tears pricking her eyes; it had taken so long for her to fall asleep, and not just because the bed smelt like a certain Magizoologist – her thoughts had been the same as the dream plaguing her.

Across the room, she heard Jacob give a loud snore; he had taken the sofa that Newt had transfigured into a bed without any qualms and fallen asleep almost immediately. A part of her wished she knew what she could say to him, but the words would not come – it felt far too painful, too fresh and raw, to discuss that just yet. A lump rose in her throat at the thought.

Sitting up, Tina glanced over at where Newt’s case had been tucked into the corner of the room; the Maledictus girl – Nagini, Tina had learnt – had wanted to sleep in the shed in the case because it was more private. She had looked so terrified as she admitted that she had to sleep in her other form, that she had no choice, and it reminded Tina of how scared Credence had once been; just as she had for Credence, she found herself suddenly caring for the young frightened woman and wanting to help her. A part of her wanted to check up on Nagini, make sure she was okay, but she had agreed that she wouldn’t go into the shed – the girl had begged her not to, seemingly ashamed of her condition – and she wouldn’t break that promise.

Her eyes wandered over the flat, taking in everything; it was modest, sparsely decorated even, and she already knew Newt probably didn’t spend as much time up here as he did in his case or down in his basement with the creatures. The thought made her smile half-heartedly despite herself: there was something about him and his passion for his magical creatures that made him endearing. His love for his work was something she could understand for she had that same love for her job too – perhaps they weren’t that different after all.

Curiously, she eyed the door down to his basement; Newt had chosen to sleep downstairs with his creatures, insisting that he didn’t mind at all – he wanted to check on certain beasts anyway, to make sure they were safe after his absence. She wondered if he was still awake and tending to any creatures – judging by the muffled noises she could hear through the closed door, it certainly seemed like it.

He probably doesn’t want to be bothered, she thought to herself half-heartedly; I should leave him to it.

But the truth was that she couldn’t sleep – not after everything that had happened. She felt as though she was in shock, that it was a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from no matter how hard she tried, and she hated feeling so helpless. In the past, if she’d had such a dream, she could have gone to her sister for comfort – the thought made her heart ache even more.

On top of that, she couldn’t help but worry over how Newt was doing – he had lost a friend, someone he cared deeply about. After months of resentment and misery over Leta Lestrange, over what she had thought to be true, Tina couldn’t help but feel saddened too; she’d barely even known the woman, but she had been different than expected – she had been kind but troubled, deeply misunderstood even. There was no doubt that Newt would be taking her loss harder than expected.

It was this thought that made Tina climb out of bed and make her way over across the room as quietly as possible; Jacob slept on, completely oblivious, as she pushed the door open and made her way downstairs.

To her surprise, Newt’s basement was far larger than expected; as she made her way down the steps, she couldn’t help but gaze around in slight awe at everything. She was pleased to know that she could name a number of the creatures she saw, having read Newt’s book several times over the last few months; an Augery peered down at her mournfully when she passed his perch before taking off and landing somewhere at the bottom of the stairs.

It didn’t take long for her to find Newt; he was sitting by the edge of what looked like a pool, gently rubbing some kind of ointment onto a large green sea creature. The sight made her smile to herself, despite how miserable she felt – only Newt would feel completely comfortable and relaxed whilst so close to a beast at least thrice his size, she thought bemusedly.

“You can’t sleep either then?” She asked quietly.

Newt jerked in surprise, hurriedly looking her way; at the sight of her, he quickly stood up and tucked the ointment he’d been using away. “Tina, I… No. No, not really. It’s been…”

“Yeah,” Tina agreed softly, understanding completely. “Hasn’t it just?”

“Is everything alright upstairs?” He asked. “Is the bed not comfortable?”

“No, it is,” She informed him, trying not to let her cheeks go pink at the memory of how much the sheets had smelled of him – and how much she liked it. “It’s very comfortable, I just…there’s too much on my mind to sleep.”

Newt gave a nod in understanding, moving closer to her. “Yes. Well, perhaps you might like a cup of tea? I always find that that helps if I can’t sleep.”

They hadn’t spoken as he quickly made two mugs of tea with his wand, an uncomfortable silence growing between them. He conjured two chairs for them to sit on before sending one of the mugs her way. She accepted it gratefully, immediately looking down at her drink; she preferred coffee, always had, but tea would do for now.

Newt was slightly awkward as he sat down opposite her, gripping his mug. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at making tea,” He said, trying to break the tension between them. “My brother actually does better when it comes to that sort of thing, though I’d say I’m a rather decent cook-”

“I keep thinking about Queenie,” Tina whispered suddenly, and he fell silent. “I keep on seeing her face, Newt, that moment when she screamed at Jacob to go with her. She didn’t even so much as look at me or anything – she just crossed into the circle and disappeared.”

He swallowed. “I…I know.”

“It was bad enough that Credence…” Her voice broke, and she closed her eyes tightly. “I was trying to keep him safe, trying to help him, but I failed – he’s gone to Grindelwald, and I just know that he’ll use Credence for his own cause, his beliefs. And then Queenie went with him too – I was supposed to look after her, Newt, to take care of her after our Ma and Pa died. I got so caught up with helping Credence that I didn’t realize she…” Her eyes were filled with tears. “She needed me, and I wasn’t there for her.”

“Tina, you can’t blame yourself,” Newt said quietly, putting his mug down and leaning forwards in his seat. “The only reason Credence went with him was because he thought Grindelwald could tell him who he was – he’s just lost and confused, wanting to know who he is. And Queenie…” He hesitated. “I don’t quite know what to say, but I do know it was not your fault.”

She didn’t protest when he gently eased the mug from her grip, her hands immediately covering her face. “She’s so young, Newt, and I didn’t do anything to help her; I left her on her own in New York, I thought she would be okay, I…” A small sob escaped her. “I told her not to see Jacob anymore, told her it was against the law – I only wanted to keep her safe, didn’t want her in jail, but instead I drove her away.”

“No, Tina,” He disagreed softly, and he cautiously placed his hands on her shoulders – he hoped she wouldn’t mind too much. “Everything Queenie did was her decision, and hers only; bringing Jacob here under an enchantment, disappearing to Paris, joining him… No one is to blame for that. She made her choice all on her own – and you saw what Grindelwald was like at his rally: persuasive, seductive even. There was nothing you could do, Tina, not once she had already made her mind up.”

Suddenly she was leaning into him, and he found himself wrapping his arms around her without thinking. “I’m so scared for her, Newt,” Tina whispered into his shoulder. “She could get hurt or...or killed, whether by him or by one of our side – they’ll hunt her down once they know she’s joined his side. She’s…” He felt her tears starting to soak through his shirt as he body trembled slightly. “She’s the only family I have left – and she’s gone. I have no one else.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Newt assured her softly. “You have me…and Jacob,” He added quickly. “I know it’s not quite the same, but we’re your friends and we care for you. I know things have been a little misunderstood lately, what with that stupid bloody magazine, but I can honestly say that I…I care about you.”

“Yeah?” She sniffed, pulling back to look at him; she gave him a slightly watery smile. “I care about you too.”

He grinned awkwardly, not quite sure what he was supposed to do – Jacob wasn’t here to advise him, and he didn’t want to ruin things. He briefly debated kissing her, making certain that she knew just how much he cared for her, but perhaps that would be too forward? Would it be better to wait and see?

“Tina, I-”

And suddenly she was leaning forwards, pressing her mouth to his and kissing him; surprised, it took him a moment to realize what was happening – and then he closed his eyes, relaxing and giving himself over completely. It was only small, a peck really, but it sent a pleasant fire coursing through him, heart thumping hard in his chest.

When she pulled away, Tina was pink-cheeked and flustered. “I’m sorry,” She murmured, somewhat dazed. “I just…I’ve wanted to do that since we were in the records room.”

“Oh?” Newt gave a small breathless chuckle. “I’ve been wanting to do that since we said goodbye in New York.”

She laughed at this, relief and joy suddenly washing over her as he grinned shyly; this wasn’t exactly how either of them had planned a romantic reunion – far from it – but somehow neither of them could find it within themselves to complain.

So this was a little bit rough but I enjoyed writing it – and I wasn’t expecting to write a kiss in but…hey, the muse does what it wants ;)

Help support me by donating to my Ko-Fi page! :)

#newtina #newt scamander #tina goldstein #porpentina goldstein #fantastic beasts: the crimes of grindelwald #fantastic beasts and where to find them #newt and tina #fluff #writing #queenie goldstein #hurt and comfort #fanfiction #fanfic #fic request #fbcog spoilers

[mothermaidenclone-blog]

Incredibles 2 or Yeah I Suppose it Was Alright or Whatever

I was pretty late to the Incredibles 2 party and so had inadvertently heard lots of opinion about it beforehand. Most people’s reviews seemed to land firmly in one of two camps: it was a real let down or that it blew people away and was the best movie they had ever seen. So, I went into the film with confused expectations. However, I have to say that I came down firmly in the middle - I thought Incredibles 2 was a solidly good movie. I was pleasantly impressed and I enjoyed myself, but I’m not fanatically hyping it up like so many people did to me. The women of Incredibles 2, on the other hand, were truly deserving of that moniker.

*Incredibles 2 spoilers follow*

Helen Parr, or Elastigirl, (Holly Hunter) took much more of a leading role in Incredibles 2 and a large chunk of this movie was about her coming to terms with her independent worth as superhero, separate from her husband Bob, or Mr. Incredible, (Craig T. Nelson). Elastigirl really took centre stage, as it was pointed out that, whilst both her and Mr. Incredible were good in a fight, she has much more control, tact and finesse. Because of this, wealthy brother and sister duo Winston (Bob Odenkirk) and Evelyn Deavor (Catherine Keener) select Helen over Bob for a public relations media stunt to restore the reputation of superheroes. Bob’s bitterness is immediately evident to a cringeworthy degree, and the rest of the film deals with them both coming to terms with their new roles.

Despite both Helen and Bob being crime fighting vigilantes on an equal footing by night, it does seem as though Helen is a stay at home mum and Bob is the one with a day job and career. Therefore, Helen leaving the family to work solo is a shock to both systems. Bob is immediately overwhelmed with what taking care of a family actually means, and his struggle goes a long way to validating the hard work Helen puts in to running things at home on a daily basis. In addition. Bob realises that he needs to do this so that Helen can have her moment in the spotlight and her chance to receive the acclamation that she deserves; he says, “I’ve got to succeed so she can succeed.” By the end of the movie, with a lot of help from a variety of others, Bob learns what it means to be an actively participating father, and it’s good to see a man being allowed to develop emotionally as a person in a traditionally feminine space; that of the domestic home.

Helen, on the other hand, seems to take to her new role with relative ease. She juggles performing amazing elastic based physics stunts on a motorcycle in a high speed chase with helping her son Dash (Huck Milner) find his shoes down the phone. Furthermore, once she has saved the entire monorail from utter destruction, Helen makes sure to ask how Bob is and check in on every member of the family before allowing herself to unload her excitement and pride in her accomplishments. As if this list needs any more added to it, not only can Helen competently pilot a helicopter, but she also checks that all the civilians inside can swim before booting them out of the door to relative watery safety. Helen is not only a caring, giving and loving wife and mother but also a brave and powerful superhero.

As part of Helen’s independent mission, she forms new relationships outside of her nuclear familial bonds. The most notable of these is with Evelyn, her aforementioned benefactor. The pair have a wonderfully genuine conversation about trying to succeed as a woman in a man’s world and attempting to be a female influencer. Evelyn has many impressive traits of her own - she is clearly the brains of the operation where her brother is more of a frontman and people person, once again highlighting the prominence of men taking credit for female achievements. Evelyn is a skilled designer and inventor, as well as apparently being in charge of company analytics. It’s such a shame, therefore, that Evelyn became the villain of this movie, although her motives are logical and well thought out. Evelyn is portrayed as much more mature than her brother, and accuses him of conflating the idea of superheroes existing with a time when his parents were alive, showing her to be more emotionally sophisticated and giving some credence to her role as the antagonist.

Incredibles 2 is somewhat characterised by relationships between powerful women, however brief they may be, and the mutual respect between Helen and the unnamed Ambassador (Isabella Rossellini) is one such example. After Helen saves her, the pair share the short exchange, “Bring lasting peace!”, “I will! When you defeat evil!” This tiny slice of dialogue might seem insignificant, but it’s so rare for women to interact on screen in such a mutually supportive way that has nothing to do with men that it’s worth noting. Especially when both women are acknowledging the power and responsibility they both hold. It is somewhat annoying that the ambassador is not granted a name, but in the same way that this is dehumanising to some extent, it also solidifies her position as a figure of authority who commands respect. Furthermore, as always, it’s good to see an older woman in a position of power.

One relationship that was somewhat absent was that of Helen and her daughter Violet (Sarah Vowell). This is, of course, because Violet is spending more time with her dad, which is also very important, and their relationship strengthens as they both develop a better understanding of each other. If I hadn’t seen the first Incredibles, I’d say that Violet’s character undergoes a journey of significant growth. However, she deals with much the same issues as she does in the first film - wrestling with not wanting her superpowers, accepting them and the responsibility that goes with them and therefore becoming more confident as a person, specifically with regard to her interactions with the opposite sex. All of this would be great if it wasn’t basically exactly what Violet went through in the previous movie. This is especially weird seeing as Incredibles 2 starts exactly where it’s predecessor finished, with Violet talking to her high school crush, Tony (Michael Bird), and then this film ends with them on a date. So, I can’t help but feel as though poor Violet is stuck in a bit of a developmental time loop.

One new - although again very brief - female relationship is that Violet has with a new superhero, Voyd (Sophia Bush). There’s a short but touching scene of the pair complimenting each other towards the end. Boyd is a very honest character, who serves to exemplify the metaphor of superheroes as any marginalised group by speaking about how she felt ostracised because of her abilities, and therefore how glad she is now to be a part of this new superhero family. Speaking of which, this new team assembled by the Deavor siblings - if we do not include Elastigirl - has a ratio of 5:1 male to female members, so this is either another comment about making it in a man’s world, or just some shitty statistics.

One final named female character remains, everybody’s favourite, Edna Mode (Brad Bird). Edna continues to be an endless fountain of witty, acerbic one-liners, but even she has some more in depth development in Incredibles 2. Bob leaves her with his baby, Jack Jack (Eli Fucile), so that she can design a super suit for him once he starts showing his powers, and Edna protests, “I am not a baby person, Robert. […] I am an artist!” This could have resolved itself in a very saccharine way, with Edna’s long dormant maternal instincts finally surfacing. However, the opposite happens, and Edna instead influences Jack Jack, bringing out the artist in him - he even begins to mimic Edna’s mannerisms and movements. They part ways as creative collaborators, not surrogate mother and baby.

Overall, Incredibles 2 is mainly the story of Helen as Elastigirl, and by extension, the story of women everywhere battling against the odds of sexism and the patriarchy, trying to succeed as both mothers and independent heroes. It’s also just a fun family movie where people make pew-pew noises with their mouths when using a baby as a laser gun, so maybe I’m reading into it a little too much.

And now for some asides:

I plan to save the clip of Edna justifying not having children because she’s an artist to my phone for family occasions to play when people ask where their grandchildren are.

Something about Evelyn reminded me of a proper old school Gerry Anderson puppet, except for her posture, which was the most relaxed and full of personality I think I’ve ever seen a woman be animated.

Ooh! I wonder if their red plates were the infamous radioactive Brilliant Red Fiesta Dinnerware! Maybe that’s where their superpowers come from!

#incredbles 2 #disney #pixar #film review #movie review #sci-fi #scifi #science fiction #feminism #superhero #elastigirl #holly hunter #craig t. nelson #bob odenkirk #catherine keener #feminist #edna mode #brad bird #sophia bush #sarah vowell

[saintsurvivors]

Kel’s Religious Meta Time

SPOILERS FOR 13x21 BEAT THE DEVIL

Hello yes, it’s time for more Religious Meta with Kel, from the same person who brought you the The Reverse Pietá, also entitled by @sugarspunsam as “Kel does it better than the entire Catholic Church part 2″

There are gifs and stills under here, so please be aware of not only spoilers for Beat the Devil, but also warnings for blood, death, violence, and religious themes and imagery.

Now, before I start though; to any of those whose read through The Reverse Pietá post, you’ll know what Mary and Jack to an extent was given several Christ, and to an extent, Christ’s Disciples, parallels in the last episode, and I have so many ideas with how we’re first given the scene of “and remake the world in my image” and of Lucifer on Heaven’s throne.

Now though! Onto Beat the Devil.

The first piece of imagery is when Sam, Dean, Mary, Castiel and Jack are surrounding the table, eating pizza and beer, reminiscent of The Last Supper before Jesus Christ was crucified.

I couldn’t find a gif of it, so this will have to do; however, at The Last Supper of Christ, He and his Disciples partake in bread and wine, also classed as the Body of Christ, which is why we drink wine whilst taking communion. Furthermore, the more modern on take of “bread and wine” is classically “pizza and beer.” Furthermore, on the topic of The Last Supper, “ The slain lamb, then said to have been sacrificed, was borne away to the appointed gathering place of those by whom it was to be eaten.” with the correlation to The Last Supper, this could also be a direct foreshadowing of Sam’s eventually death as a sacrifice to the two humans he saved by sacrificing himself to the vampires and thus consequent removal of his body into what should be his tomb if Lucifer hadn’t interfered.

We also have the imagery of devil’s horns, when Mary and Sam are talking in the hallway

Which could also be the foreshadowing that we were given in the promo before the episode, that Sam, Castiel and Dean would be “teaming up” with Lucifer to try and find a way into the Alt!World, something which could have been predictable due to how it’s been consistently emphasised that Gabriel was still so low on grace that he couldn’t heal a broken teapot, let alone his own broken heart. However, it could also be interconnected to the fact that it was Lucifer who dragged Sam “out of the darkness and into the light”, and furthermore, that it was in fact Mary who seemingly sees Lucifer step out of the darkness and into the light at the safety compound.

Furthermore, the direct correlation of when Sam gasp’s awake after his dream of them all being in the bunker of sitting down for a family meal - something that, canonically has never happened and feeds into Sam’s want for his family to be happy, health and together - is also related to when Sam is brought back to life alá The Rising of Lazarus, or, more probably The Resurrection of Christ after his Crucifixion, upon which I will expand upon later, further also giving it parallels to the Sam’s spontaneous resurrection in 11x17 Red Meat after another sacrifice by a Judas portrayal to save the rest of the company.

Leading on from that, the placement of Sam’s body on his bed after waking up from the nightmare is reminiscent of Christ on the Cross after his crucifixion.

With his arms spread wide, which seem to be a regular position for Sam especially in regards to the Christ archetype, and with his legs in the vague position of Christ’s when his ankles and feet were nailed to the cross. Furthermore, when crucified, Christ was pierced by a spear on his side, and “the wound spilled blood and water”. It’s been debated about what side that Christ was stabbed on, left or right, but in his imagery, Sam was stabbed on his right side I think.

Also leading up to the further crucifixion of Christ and the parallels to Sam is, how when stepping into the tunnel that will lead to the safety compound, he comes across a pool of dirtied water, illuminated in the sunlight falling into the tunnel, to which Sam is standing beneath and seemingly illuminated, which lead into the next part of the sequence.

After that, when the vampires attack Maggie and Sam is the one to save her, but unable to save himself;  Matthew 27:42 “He saved others,” they said, “but he can’t save himself! He’s the king of Israel! Let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him." to which Sam is promptly forced down on his knees in a way that gives thanks to crucifixion once more;

which happened to Christ when he was forced to bear his own cross to the hill upon they would crucify him on. After, whilst the vampires are feeding upon him, Sam calls Dean’s name, not once, but twice, which could also be reminiscent to Christ crying out  Matthew 27:46 About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, Eli,[a] lema sabachthani?” meaning, “My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?” especially in relations to the fact that Dean was also cast into the Judas position last episode and that Sam has also been cast into a Judas role somewhat due to his perceived betrayal of allowing Lucifer to be near to Jack, never mind that he was coerced, with Lucifer once more taking away Sam’s consent and bodily autonomy.

Furthermore, when we see of Sam’s dead body, very much in correlation to how Sam was framed in the panic room in season 4 when he was detoxing, Sam’s dead body is lying there, still, after being dragged through a cave, that was his tomb and lying somewhere where a halo was given to him, illuminated and shadowed in turns

Never mind the fact that when Sam is lying there, he does so in another classically Christ pose; arms outstretched, legs bent, never mind the circling halo on the floor and then the flash light illuminating him from somewhat above.

After, we see the resurrection of Sam by Lucifer, alá The Rising of Christ, since it apparently takes two days to get to Dayton, where the compound was, and Sam must have been dead perhaps day, or even half. Thus giving us the three days of resurrection that Christ was afforded. I failed geography. You can probably tell.

Furthermore, after his consequent resurrection at the hands of Lucifer, the blood splatter on Sam’s face is remarkably reminiscent to 11x02, where he was infected by Amara’s darkness creatures.

Which gives credence to the fact that Sam still think’s he’s unpure, especially with the darkness only having been beaten by being “biblically cleansed” by holy fire, especially owing to the fact that

Furthermore, in relation to how Lucifer phrases, “out of the darkness and into the light” could also be connected to how Lucifer has risen Sam, and that, back in season 5, Sam was told “and I’ll just bring you back,” after saying “I will kill myself before I let you in,” and with Lucifer, in 13x21 saying “that I was the one who brought you back to life, that I was the one who lifted you from darkness and into the light”, which could be a metaphor for how Christ after he’d died, was said to have ascended and preached to the captives of hell, showing the inversion of Sam’s Christ parallels after he’d been resurrected, not by God, but by the Devil. 

However, Lucifer saying “lifted you from darkness and into the light”, could also be connected to “The people which sat in darkness saw great light; and to them which sat in the region and shadow of death light is sprung up” (Matthew 4:16), especially in regards to Lucifer’s delusions of trying to “remake the world in my image”, alongside with  "I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life” (John 8:12).

Furthermore, with the bells of the compound ringing, could also be comparable to the bells that the disciples rang;  “ But Thomas, one of the twelve, called Didymus, was not with them when Jesus came. The other disciples therefore said unto him, We have seen the Lord. But he said unto them, Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe” (John 20:24,25). 

This could be with Castiel in the place of Thomas, who became a doubter and completely ceased his work for God, which could be a metaphor for how Castiel seems to be returning to his season 4 more ruthless angelic roots, and thus feeling guilt over the fact that it was him who guilted and manipulated Sam into “teaming up with Lucifer”, with Dean in the place of Peter, for whom the bells seemed to have stopped ringing for and he denied that he knew Christ, which could be a deeper metaphor for how Dean became silenced in the wake of Sam’s death, alongside Jack as John, to whom was the youngest at The Last Supper and who lent against the breast of Christ, alluding to Sam and Jack’s close father-son like relationship, alongside the fact that John never believed that Jesus was truly gone and whom always rang the Bells of Heaven for.

Carrying on, you also have the appearance of Sam at the compound, from which he emerged from a tomb like hut, giving credence to the fact that Sam has been given Christ and inverted Christ parallels, especially in regards to the fact that Sam has been coerced into working with Lucifer, the Devil and his repetitive abuser. Furthermore, you also have Mary, Jack, Castiel and Dean lining up before him to “witness” his return.  “What things?” he asked. “About Jesus of Nazareth,” they replied. “He was a prophet, powerful in word and deed before God and all the people. 20 The chief priests and our rulers handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him; 21 but we had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel. And what is more, it is the third day since all this took place.” (Luke 24:19).

Which further plays into The Shame of Sam, giving a reversal of the Witnesses; “He said to them, “This is what I told you while I was still with you: Everything must be fulfilled that is written about me in the Law of Moses, the Prophets and the Psalms.” Then he opened their minds so they could understand the Scriptures. He told them, “This is what is written: The Messiah will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance for the forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things." (Luke 24:44-48) which play into the reversal of Christ appearing to the witnesses, due to Sam’s resurrection and consequent appearing to his chosen witnesses, with shame and guilt, fearing that he has betrayed them, with the Alt!World being an apt metaphor for Jerusalem and the Canon!World being Nazareth, especially in regards to “and the repentance for forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem”, which could be that people are going to once more blame Sam for working with Lucifer, and thus have his sins spread to Jerusalem, considering the inversion of Christ, or that the Alt!world is to be doomed by The Raising of Sam and the appearance of Lucifer.

Tagging: @sugarspunsam​ @smolstiel​ @mooningsammy @incestmurderbros​ @unforgvnsam​ @bitter-ishsweet​ @julia-sets​ @magnoliasam​ @always-keep-writing​ @interstellarstorms​

#spn spoilers #spn #spn 13x21 #spn meta #sam winchester #sam winchester meta #sam and faith #txt #long post #alex #the cursed squad

[gazeintotheiris]

Honesty.

I combined this drabble prompt with a prompt for overwatch rarepair week 2018/ @i-willshieldyou  @overwatchrarepair

Day #2: Honesty/ Lies.

Pairing: Reinhardt/ Human!Zenyatta

Rating: T

Honesty.

“-I want more. I want us to be more than friends.”

Zenyatta stands in the shadow of the broadly set man, their outline silhouetted against the brightness streaming through the torrential downpour that had seen them drenched before they had sought the shelter of the homely, plant-clustered, porch. His clothes cling to him uncomfortably, his rather plain long-sleeved t-shirt offering a glimpse of toned flesh beneath the sodden expanse of fabric. He thinks he pales in significance compared to the well-muscled man who doesn’t appear to give any semblance of credence to Zenyatta’s insecurities. The culmination of the last few months has led to this, he knows this, yet it seemed intangible to him. What he had wanted for so long could never be a reality, or so he’d thought. 

How many times had they passed each other in the entrance hall to their apartment block, to engage in small talk, only to have found that time had run away with them and they had been there for an hour or more, their previous tasks all but forgotten. Small talk had progressed to flirtation, the casual exchange of compliments to the odd suggestive quip. He has welcomed them all, and if he was not mistaken, so, too, had his lofty neighbour. But neither of them have been honest...Until a few moments ago.

Zenyatta wants to rewind, to hear those two words again and finally hear them right. Because, of course, they couldn't be, could they? This wasn't real, something would interfere, just as it had all those times before, and he would wake up, alone, disappointed, left to ponder the previous night’s torrid dreams with sweaty palms and a rosy, flushed, complexion. Yet this feels so grounded in reality, from the fresh smell of rain-soaked earth, to the warmth of one huge hand practically engulfing his shoulder,  it couldn’t be anything but the truth.

“Kiss me” That whisper of a voice had asked of him. Hoarse but gentle, silkily caressing his mind. “If this is not my imagination, then show me what it is between us.”

Zenyatta stares back, caught, gaze unable to meet the crystal blue of Reinhardt's eyes, his own, dark gold, partially veiled by the soft and muted blackness of his eyelashes. His gaze is focused on something else entirely - Those lips, soft and full and ripe for claiming. He can feel his pulse quicken at the thought and a soft, yet somewhat humorous, lament plays through his thoughts, that their height difference meant he would need to rise up onto the very tips of his toes to do so.

Reinhardt does all the thinking for him, bending to cup the side of Zenyatta’s face, thumbpad wiping the spatters of rain from one perfectly sculpted cheekbone. “You are adorable when you blush.”  

That gentle, loving expression conveyed in his actions, the tender, basso chuckle he utters, whilst tilting the younger man’s face up, and Zenyatta does not resist. His laugh is melodic, warm, and full of nervous gratitude. If anyone could have put him at ease after confessing their true feelings, then it was Reinhardt. Somehow, he’s always had a calming effect on Zenyatta. But the butterflies in his stomach will not remain calm this time, each one calls out for him to act, the other is so close now he can feel the gentle ghost of warm breath against his own lips, tempting, prompting.

Their lips brush, tentative as they test the conviction of the other, both afraid of the other’s rejection. They need not worry, the second press more confident, firm and sure, like the way in which Reinhardt enfolds Zenyatta in an embrace so safe and consuming he surges, mouth working hungrily against the other’s, as if the taste of the larger man was the only air he needed to breathe, like nothing else matters but this. The slip and undulation of the other’s tongue is welcomed eagerly, stealing the breath from Zenyatta’s lungs until the pair of them part, forehead pressed gently to forehead, breathless and gasping and craving so much more.

It is time to be honest.

Reinhardt’s hand trails a delicate path down Zenyatta’s spine, his body taking a moment to savour this closeness. It’s all he has thought about for what felt like an age and by the powers that kept this world turning, he would commit every curve or bump, every contour to memory.  

“I would very much like that too, mein schatz.”

#OOC: gaze into the iris #ovwrarepair #rare pair week 2018 #Reinyatta #Reinhardt #Human!Zenyatta #my drabbles #munyatta speaks #my writing

[mysticalreadingnerd]

Angel on Wheels (Credence Barebone x Reader Imagine)

Words: 1491

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: I don't own Credence or any character from the FBAWTFT universe. Queen JKR does. I'm just a Hufflepuff Nerd who writes fanfiction to fulfill her happy Credence cravings. GIF credits to the user.

Request: Hi I was wondering if you could do a Credence x shy wheelchair reader imagine thing where the reader is insecure and doesn't think any one will love her because of her disability but gets proven wrong by Credence who shows her he loves her with lots of fluff and maybe a kiss and an excited Queenie (maybe the gang are hanging out at the time) it would mean a lot if you could do this as I often feel this way about my disability xxx bye

A pleasant breeze weaved it's way through the trees, carving a path through the gently rustling foliage and fluttering autumn leaves. Vivid shades of red, yellow and orange glittered across the expanse of Central Park, giving the abundance of trees the illusion of wearing tiaras set with gemstones. Quite unlike a place set in the heart of a bustling city like New York.

Credence took a deep breath. The crisp air that filled his lungs gave him a sudden burst of energy and awareness. His Obscurus thrummed in approval beneath the surface of his skin, alight with the excitement that he was feeling. The entity had become less of a uncontrollable beast and more of a sentient existence, omnipresent as a silent spectator. Always aware, watching.

Had he been the Credence of a year ago, the Obscurus would have burst forth at the slightest fluctuation in his feelings. Though that was a given since fear was the only emotion he felt back then. Constant and intense fear. Accompanied by a pulsing rage that was barely contained. Looking around him, he was thankful that all of that was in the past. He looked on as Newt and Tina bickered about which spot would be ideal for setting up their picnic. It seemed that Pickett was voicing his own reservations from his sanctuary in Newt's pocket, a chirrup or two at a time. Queenie was talking animatedly with Jacob about the contents of the food basket and how their joint efforts had turned it into a sumptuous feast. The jovial Muggle was smiling widely, probably just content being with his beautiful blonde lover.

Credence's gaze then shifted to Y/N as she sat in her wheelchair, staring off in the distance. He followed her line of sight and realised that she was looking at a pair of cyclists who were pedalling leisurely. Occasionally hooking hands, the couple was very apparently in love. Feeling someone's gaze on her, she turned around to look straight at him. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a shy smile lighting up her face and Credence's heart skipped a beat. It had been doing that every time he saw Y/N. Even in a room full of people his eyes always searched for her, settled on her and grounded him to the present.

Gravel crunched under his feet as long strides took Credence towards her. He stood beside Y/N as they looked upon the cyclists slowly disappearing in the distance. He had never been a man of many words and the comfortable silence between them was what always drew him to her. Ever since 'the incident' (that's how he referred to nearly blowing up New York in his rage) and being subsequently saved by Newt, he had been in the care of Y/N's brother, a trusted acquaintance of Tina's and a respected Healer.

She assisted her brother in making healing draughts, potions & poultices, curing minor injuries and ailments, tending to their extensive herb garden and taking care of people like Credence. Though the last one was less of a duty and more of a preference, he hoped. All this was done whilst occupying a magically reinforced wheelchair that adapted itself to her surroundings, giving her approach a surreal, gliding effect. More than once, he had thought of her as a superhero without a cape, whizzing about her daily duties like a bumbling source of joy. 

She looked at him again and held his gaze for a brief second, before training her attention upon the slender fingers clasped in her lap. Her nervous fidgeting everytime their eyes met endeared him the most to her. Above all, when they had first met, she had greeted him with a smile holding the same warmth as it did now, one year later. It was quite akin to being enveloped in your favourite warm and super soft from overuse jumper on a rainy day. During his slow recuperation, he often got bored out of his mind. Being bed ridden without much to do except stare at the ceiling as the sunlight made its daily trajectory from one corner of the roof to another. That was when she came up with the idea of reading aloud from old school books. The lazy afternoons spent in their home, while she softly read out from a battered copy of History of Magic had helped immensely in his long recovery process. It was also one of his favourite memories of her.

"I sometimes wonder..." her mumbled words snapped his attention to the present. He waited for her to continue but when it became apparent that no more words would be forthcoming, he spoke up. "About what?" "Whether I will ever be able to do things like that..." he opened his mouth once. Twice. The image of the cyclists holding hands popped in his mind, only this time it was him and Y/N that he visualised. Lost for words and appalled at the absurdity of his thoughts, Credence blurted out, "Cycling?" His response earned him a wry shake of her head. "No, falling in love." The sad smile that she gave him in return made him berate himself a thousand times more. Besides being extremely dense and unable to read the atmosphere, his insensitivity had probably ruined any pleasant feelings she might have harboured about him. 

The air had abruptly become heavy, as if the melancholy that Y/N was feeling had tinted the wind with hues of blue and murky grey, mirroring the mood. Unable to bear the sudden, oppressive silence anymore Credence said, "I.. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you..." But she merely shook her head. She pondered over something before finally sharing what was truly bothering her.  "I wasn't offended...just, things like that make me wonder whether anyone would ever think of me...in that way. It's not easy... finding someone who'd love you, especially for a person like me." The silent resignation that flitted across her otherwise cheery and bashful features unsettled him the most. 

It was enough to make him crouch so that he was kneeling beside her. Taking Y/N's hand in his, Credence gave it a firm squeeze before saying, "You are kind, hard-working, dedicated and fiercely loyal to your loved ones. Your warmth translates into your actions and any person who receives your affections should be immensely grateful for it. I don't know what made you think so lowly of yourself but please, stop." "It's just the truth Credence. Who would like someone like me when there's so many better..." The affronted noise that he made stopped Y/N mid sentence. Taken aback by the earnestness blazing in his brown eyes, she could only stare as his face inched closer to her own. A calloused hand grasped her face with surprising tenderness before his lips crashed into her's in a flurry of barely restrained passion. Warm, soft and tasting faintly like a sweet caramel toffee. His lips entranced her into a seductive dance that made her giddy and slightly out of breath. It wasn't long before they broke apart, gasping for oxygen. 

Mesmerized by the flush that adorned his usually pale face and blushing a deep beet root herself, all Y/N's scrambled grey cells could manage was a barely coherent, "W-what...?" Credence looked at her for a moment, as if making sure that this surreal moment was actually happening before confessing, "You look extremely beautiful when you blush, you know. It's one of the many things that I love about you." On hearing his words, her flushed cheeks darkened into a deeper shade. His thumb brushed her lips once before he continued, "And how can anyone not fall for such an adorable angel on wheels?" He gave her a loving smile before capturing her lips once again. They would have continued for longer had they not been interrupted by a delighted squeal.

They broke apart to see Queenie clasping her hands together, excitement alight on her smiling face. "See Teenie, I had told you they would get together sooner or later! It was just a matter of time!" Tina rolled her eyes at her sister's enthusiasm but gave the couple a warm chuckle, "You two love birds, come on. We finally found a place that Mr Perfectionist here approves of." She glanced subtly at Newt who gave a sheepish grin of his own. 

Credence nodded. However, he didn't give much of a warning as he proceeded to scoop up Y/N from her seat and take her to their decided picnic spot. She clasped her arms tightly around his neck, her heart beating a mile a minute. Nervousness mixed with a heady dose of intense happiness coursed through her veins. "Shall we?" he asked, with a carefree smile on his face. His boyish charm captured her thudding heart anew. "We shall", she murmured, before resting her head on his chest. Love had helped even an angel on wheels to grow wings.

A/N: I hope you like this, lovely anon. I'm of the opinion that Credence is more about non verbal displays of affection and he would constantly show how much he adores you through small gestures like forehead kisses and holding hands etc. Above all, he'd treasure you for who you are, and that means all of you. I bet you are awesome and nobody can tell me otherwise. There's love for every one of us out there and it often finds us in small, sweet ways we never dreamt of. You can always talk to me if you need an overeager Honey Badger rooting for you! :)

Excuse any typos and hope you guys liked this tiny morsel of Credence fluff. Let me know how you found it!

~mystical reading nerd

#credence imagine #credence barebone #credence × reader #credence barebone imagine #credence barebone x reader #Credence Barebone x reader imagine #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fbawtft #FB #newt scamander #queenie goldstein #jacob kowalski #credence #tina goldstein #credence barebone x happiness #credence x shy reader #credence x differently abled reader #Harry Potter #hp #credence barebone x disabled reader #fantastic beasts imagines #fantastic beasts imagine #fbawtft imagine #fantastic beasts fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #My writing #mystical reading nerd writes #request #fluff

[lnhollinshead]

Where Was Last Week’s Post?

I had every intention of posting once a week and whilst I’ve kept that streak going for nearly 4 months, inevitably, life got in the way and my run is over. It’s not something to be disappointed about, though – in fact, it’s something to be happy about really, knowing that serendipitous events can occur and it’s not the end of the world.

One of the important aspects of habit building is consistency; and whether that means in timing or in method and technique, consistency is a fundamental part in creating habit loops that take you from conscious effort on a task to ‘something that just happens’.

I’ve managed to be consistent in posting once a week, but I could improve this by making sure it is the same day every week. You’ll probably notice that a lot of the dates are Sundays, and it might appear as if that’s the day I’d chosen on purpose but the more scrupulous amongst you might realise that it is a coincidence and the underlying reasons for my posting day being a Sunday aren’t that it is purposefully chosen, but that Sunday is the last day of the week and I’ve been so desperate to keep that run going.

The reason I didn’t post last Sunday specifically is because I was enjoying a weekend in London, fulfilling one of my lifelong dreams of seeing Metallica in the flesh (well, I say lifelong, it’s more since I grew out of The Spice Girls in the early 2000’s).

The chance occurrences actually happened this week, giving further credence to the theory my habit of blogging on a Sunday is just a last-ditch effort to keep a run going, but to avoid going off on a tangent – let’s get back to habits.

We’ve established consistency is important when building habits, and if you are looking for rules, there are various sources that will give you a number of days as a target for successfully embedding your chosen habit – 30 days, 61 days, 97 days – but in truth, the number of days is not so important as it is what you do when your streak ends.

If I’m trying to build the habit of going to the gym every day, and I’m working under the assumption it takes 30 days to build this habit, and I get to day 29 and don’t go the gym – what does this mean?

The answer is it depends what I do on day 30. If I don’t go again because I’m feeling dejected at having broken my streak, then in habit building terms I’ve set myself back about a week. If I do go again, it’s like having a checkpoint in a video game that I’ve just gone back to as if nothing happened – day 30 is just like replaying day 29 all over again and the habit building progress is not lost.

This is really important because it’s so easy to take that first option – think about the times people are on a diet, and they have a bad day, what do they do? They follow it up with another bad day (especially if it’s a Saturday, because who wants to start their diet again on a Sunday? Start Monday!) and then before they know it, all the progress is lost and they’re back to square one.

Tracking a sequence of successful days is good because it motivates you to keep going and for every tick you put on the calendar, you get another small dopamine boost, but be careful not to switch the focus from the goal to the streak – because when this happens, this where a sequence breaker is likely to be a habit breaker and you won’t achieve your goal.

The thing with consistency and what I mean by this is that it’s not so much about doing the thing well it’s more just doing the thing at all.

When it comes to doing the thing well, this is where that focus on the end goal is important, and this is what I mean when I say technique and method.

If I use writing as an example, it would be all well and good for me to write for 30 days in a row and declare that I’ve successfully built that habit, but If I’ve just written 30 days’ worth of incoherent nonsense, am I any closer to my goal?

Possibly – it’s likely that I’ve improved over that space on time, and writing something is always better than writing nothing, just as playing a song badly when you’re practising is better than not practising at all; but I think part of building the habit is also reflecting on what you’re doing well and what you could improve the next time.

If I write one page of disjointed ideas one day, the next day I could write one page around a single idea. If I did 20 reps of an exercise and injured myself one day, the next day I could do less reps with a better technique (bad example, don’t make the injury worse). If I played 3 songs on the guitar and played 40 bum notes one day, the next day I could play 1 song with 5 bum notes. You get the idea.

If you’ve been reading my blog every week, then remember – keep that streak going (I know, it wasn’t in your hands this time, I broke your streak technically) and if you missed one it’s fine.

As long as it’s just one.

#habits #nokillstreak #practicemakesperfect

[theseventhhex]

Cradle of Filth Interview

Cradle of Filth

Unquestionably one of the greatest and most influential British metal bands of all time, Cradle of Filth have cast a commanding and macabre shadow across the metal scene for nearly a quarter of a century. Armed with their trademark, cross-pollinated assault that taps into myriad strands of sonic extremity and morbid opulence, they have steadily conquered the entire world, unleashing a malevolent slew of classic albums along the way. Currently enjoying a collective creative renaissance that is driving them to new heights of elegant fury, the band are more potent and devastating than ever as they release their latest studio effort, ‘Cryptoriana - The Seductiveness Of Decay’… The Seventh Hex talks to Dani Filth about Victorian England, QPR and the quest for a third yacht…

TSH: How would you say 'Cryptoriana - The Seductiveness of Decay' ties in with the evolution of the band?

Dani: This record was certainly not an easy album to write and we mainly had a strong intention to please ourselves as musicians. I guess we always evolve with a fresh new set of arrangements, whilst staying true to our core beliefs. Members from this band are from Scotland, England and Czech Republic, but regardless of the distance we still managed to have a renewed level of confidence for the record. We managed to form a lot of work beforehand and remained prolific with our songwriting.

TSH: What drew you to writing about Victorian gothic horror and Victorian England?

Dani: Well, it was mainly because I live in a Victorian house. I was panicking about what to write about for the new album and my wife basically told me to delve into this direction. After all, I was reading books by Ed Benson, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Robert Louis Stevenson, so my wife helped me by giving me direction. Sometimes you can't see the wood for the trees. I'm a massive horror movie buff, so I found it quite easy to talk about this kind of stuff.

TSH: Does your infatuation with the supernatural, the grave and the ghoulish still intrigue you?

Dani: Yeah, even when I read about this stuff now, I just get so into it, even though I've known about these types of topics my whole life having grown up with it. For the record's content, I didn't need to dig too deep; I had enough material to lead me into penning many songs. It's funny because the non-believers that don't learn or know about Victorian gothic horror don't know that the Victorians were very much into the supernatural, palmistry, table turning and séances. These factors were things that were part of science for them; they believed it was a scientific phenomena to communicate with the dead. All in all, I just really like this kind of stuff. I like the ideology and imagery that comes with it. I'm proud to live in a Victorian house - it's like a British museum, ha!

TSH: Was there a particular shift in instrumentation this time around?

Dani: We wanted to be a lot more fluid and colourful. This album certainly has more emphasis on the guitar work. Other than that, I think we didn't really plan to do anything too new. The record is an amalgam of everybody in the band being really big fans of heavy metal.

TSH: What was the dynamic like whilst forming 'Vengeful Spirit'?

Dani: It was quite organic. The main decisions for this song were very much a last minute thing. In the studio this song was not working and we didn't really feel good about it. Our producer suggested towards the end that we include Liv Kristine to give the song a particular vibe. This decision was totally brilliant, as she was the right person to make the song feel complete.

TSH: What resonates with you most about ‘Death and the Maiden'?

Dani: Like all the other songs, this one was written prior to having any lyrics. I don't want to be selfish in predicting what everyone else should be doing by constantly painting songs beforehand. I like getting a feel and an idea for a song with my band. I have to give Martin a lot credence for this song, he also wrote a lot of the keyboards for the album and is a very talented individual. But yeah, the sole premise behind this song was to do something heavy and it grew over time, it sounded so different from what it initially was. The lyrics actually came from an unreleased track from my other band Temple of the Black Moon, a song called Persephone. I took most of the lyrics and reformed them for this song. It's basically about Hades and Persephone's dark underworld adventures.

TSH: Do you still keep a stack of songwriting ideas via constantly jotting down notes?

Dani: Yup, I still do. I have a couple of books that I carry around with me in which I write a load of stuff in. I've got notes relating to all kinds of gibberish and quirky ideas.

TSH: For the band's live shows, is it imperative to create a space of immersion for the crowd?

Dani: That's of absolute of paramount importance. Whenever I've seen other bands I admire, they transport me to another place, and I've been wanting to do that for other people my whole life. Also, I don't think the connection with the fans should end with just the love of the music, I feel it should be inherent in the lyricism, the live shows and the ideology of the artwork used.

TSH: Do you prefer the way the industry is now, given all the changes and advancements?

Dani: It's definitely a double edged sword. I prefer the way things were before because I can't afford my third yacht yet, ha! With music you can make money by touring I guess. You know, I just find it annoying having to sit on a record for so long. I mean we completed this current album a while ago, but we've had to wait a long time for it to be released, which makes me furious. Why go to all these lengths and do so much work, only to have other hands tell you what to do. It does get quite ridiculous, you know? The old days were way more simpler. After all, you wouldn't walk into a grocery store, pick up an apple and not pay for it, right? However, this is what people are like with music.

TSH: Have you mastered how to obtain a positive frame of mind throughout extensive touring?

Dani: It does become intense. I just think that being good friends with one another is so crucial. I've learnt over the years to mutate and survive. Sometimes you get onto a tour bus thinking how you're going to last for weeks. Two days later, everyone that's on board are your best mates and things just pan out accordingly.

TSH: Can Ian Holloway help get QPR back to the Premier League?

Dani: I love him. Ian Holloway is a nutcase. My daughter took me to see QPR for my birthday and my sister flew back from Singapore to be here too, which was nice. I reckon we can have a good season this year and probably push for a playoff spot.

TSH: Do you tend to simply unplug when you're in the Suffolk countryside?

Dani: Absolutely. I love being away from all the stupidity and bullshit. If I had more money, I'd buy an even bigger house out in the countryside.

TSH: What's your verdict on Dunkirk?

Dani: Well, I was really looking forward to it given all the great reviews and five stars that the movie got. Having watched it, I thought it was quite shit. It did nothing for me. I tell you what was amazing though, the new Planet of the Apes film.

TSH: Is music the perfect form of escapism for you?

Dani: It's either music, sex or Netflix, haha!

TSH: Do you have much perspective with how you want Cradle of Filth to progress from here on in?

Dani: I think I need to secure that third yacht! I don't mean to be selfish, I'm just not happy with two yachts; I need that third one, ha! Nah, but in all honesty, I just want Cradle of Filth to carry on with what we're doing. We reached a zenith in the fact that we've achieved so much. I don't think we'll ever be as big as we were, simply because it was just a different time period back then. However, I think we will definitely write better albums. I mean I don't mean to boast because I hate doing so, but if you take Slipknot out of the equation, we are the biggest extreme metal band in the world, and I'm happy with that. I'm 44 and we're still going strong. We have a lot more to offer in the coming years.

Cradle of Filth - “Heartbreak And Seance ”

Cryptoriana - The Seductiveness of Decay

#Interview #Cradle of Filth #Dani Filth

[madness-narrative]

Indeed, many Black women I know are no strangers to what most mental health professionals would see as depressive and/or anxiety ‘disorders’. The majority of us consider these experiences to come with the territory of having to navigate through injustice and oppression. We call that life. The bio-chemical theories which may account for what seems to only become manifest in structures of domination and subjugation don’t necessarily matter much to us. In spite of the controversy surrounding the article’s publication and subsequent removal from The Guardian’s website, it at least seems to have encouraged a conversation on the emotional needs and experiences of Black and African women. Sadly, these conversations have occurred almost exclusively within a medical/psychiatric model and many websites are now urging Black women to seek support for this ‘illness’. Whilst attempts at encouraging people to seek support for emotional or psychological problems must be applauded, the imprisonment of Black women’s experiences within a medical discourse needs to be questioned. Indeed, it does not speak to all of us. Personally, it was only during the course of my psychology studies that I realized that this recurring feeling of imminent passing out had a medical term: ‘anxiety’ or ‘panic attacks’. Calling this ‘anxiety’ did not provide comfort or reassurance. I did not think: ‘Great, now I know what’s wrong with me’. I felt angry. Angry and invisible. Angry and re-traumatized. Is depression a useful word for Black women? These categories erased the daily onslaughts on my existence whilst positing that I was diseased. I did not feel shame. I did not feel stigma. I felt insulted in my intelligence and in my experience. Many of my friends and relatives would rather drink a bleach cocktail than head for mental health services. Unlike Chimamanda however, most of the Black women I know would not dream of calling what they experience ‘depression’ (or ‘anxiety’ or any other term for mental ‘illnesses’). Although we are all too often conditioned to think so, for many Black women, this approach makes no sense. And why should it? Why should Black women be expected to locate their distress within mainstream psychiatric frameworks—frameworks that have historically been used to pathologize and interiorize us—without resistance? Do not be fooled into thinking for one second that Black women are oblivious to the normalization of the racism and sexism imbedded within psychiatric standards of normality. Some of us may not have the language to articulate this but, given that there is no single aspect of our being that has not been imprisoned by labels, we have learnt the life-limiting impact of being in a world that is pre-emptive of our existence. To me, it seems perfectly adaptive and pragmatic for many of us to refuse yet another label and its associated prejudices and preconceptions. And it is highly disturbing that we would be pathologised for, essentially, resisting further oppression. Putting a medical label onto an experience does not make the experience any more or less real or painful. Nor does it validate it; all it does is just this: it gives it a medical label. The case for a ‘paradigm shift’ Black women’s distress, even within mental health services, is often not seen. Perhaps this is unsurprising if we are forced to adhere to a worldview and use a language that can invalidate our very pain, distress and experience of the world. Yet, it is a language that millions of people accept without question. A language now embraced even by people whose interests may not be served by it. A language which seems to have become a pre-condition for our psychological needs to be seen. A language that, to me, perpetuates centuries of oppression by erasing our experiences and histories as Black women, and which replicates the invisibility of our wounds. It is perfectly within anyone’s rights to choose the name given to any lived experience, without being devalued. If the medical model does help women like Chimamanda make sense of their experience and care for themselves, then this must be respected. However, it is important not to lose sight of the fact that the evidence upon which illness/disease theories (such as chemical imbalance in the brain) are based remains contestable. In its attempt to shift current conceptualisations of emotional distress, the British Psychological Society’s Division of Clinical Psychology (DCP) issued a position statement on psychiatric diagnoses. The statement makes clear that current psychiatric classification systems and diagnoses have significant limitations—both conceptually and empirically. Further, in making the case for what it calls a ‘paradigm shift’, the DCP highlights the impact of psychiatric diagnoses on the lives of those in distress. These impacts include the marginalisation of lived experience, the decontextualisation of distress and stigmatisation. Encouragingly, the statement also recognises the ‘ethnocentric bias’ inherent within such conceptualisations given that they come out of a Western worldview and, that can translate into discriminatory practices. On one hand, we have come a long way in terms of increasing the relevance and appropriateness of mental health services for racialised groups. Indeed, specialist services have burgeoned in the past decades and various collectives now exist to try and ensure that psychological needs are met in ways that are more congruent to peoples’ values, worldviews, histories and social realities. For example, the Nasfiyat Intercultural Therapy Centre specialises in providing psychotherapy for clients from diverse backgrounds. The Black and Asian Therapist Network (BAATN), a network of well over 800 therapists, counsellors and supporters, seeks to better address the psychological needs of Black and Asian people in the UK. The Afiya Trust and Black Mental Health UK, were set up to help reduce the inequalities in the mental health care for people from BAME groups and African and African-Caribbean communities respectively and, to support these communities increase their strategic influence in the commissioning and developing mental health services. On the other hand, whilst our voices might have got louder, race-based inequalities within the mental health system remain starker than ever, and the training curriculum of most mental health professional is still uncontestably White. As shown in the Care Quality Commission’s Equal Measures report it remains the case that I, as a Black woman, I am more likely to be prescribed psychotropic medication than to be offered therapy; that my chances of being coerced into psychiatric ‘care’ if I am in distress are still much higher than average; and that I am less likely to want to engage with mental health services. A better approach Rather than giving further support to the dominant discourse, the way to encourage Black women to seek support for emotional problems is to make space for other conceptualisations of distress, to allow us to name our experiences and use whichever framework rings true for us. This means accepting with humility that psychiatric diagnoses are just lenses and, as such, they are not the only frameworks that exist to make sense of the world. Though there are relatively few studies looking at the experience of women of colour who have used mental health services, when their voices have been listened to (see, for example, the Mental Health Foundation’s Recovery and resilience report), it has been clear that they have felt restricted or oppressed by mental health services’ dominant view of mental distress as ‘illness’, that they felt their distress was decontextualized, and that alternative views of distress were problematized. Various frameworks do exist to understand and situate our experiences as Black women, including: socio-political, religio-spiritual, inter-generational/ancestral, intersectional approaches, and combinations of any of these or many others. The problem with the current conceptualisations of emotional distress is that they silence other narratives and worldviews and thus further marginalise other epistemologies and ontologies. This restricts our ways of thinking or knowing, and, put simply, perpetuates invisibility and disengagement. Not only is this wounding; it may well prevent the most distressed amongst us to come forward, seek help or speak out. My sincere hope is that powerful women like Chimamanda will champion marginalised and silenced narratives and give credence to explanatory models that are more consistent with Afro-centric worldviews. Doing so may help position our experiences of distress within the struggle for liberation and recognition.

Guilaine Kinouani, The language of distress: Black women's mental health and invisibility "To me, it seems perfectly adaptive and pragmatic for many of us to refuse yet another label and its associated prejudices and preconceptions. And it is highly disturbing that we would be pathologised for, essentially, resisting further oppression. Putting a medical label onto an experience does not make the experience any more or less real or painful. Nor does it validate it; all it does is just this: it gives it a medical label. Black women’s distress, even within mental health services, is often not seen. Perhaps this is unsurprising if we are forced to adhere to a worldview and use a language that can invalidate our very pain, distress and experience of the world. Yet, it is a language that millions of people accept without question. A language now embraced even by people whose interests may not be served by it. A language which seems to have become a pre-condition for our psychological needs to be seen. A language that, to me, perpetuates centuries of oppression by erasing our experiences and histories as Black women, and which replicates the invisibility of our wounds."

#radical mental health #depoliticising distress #psychiatric oppression #pathologising distress #language #psychiatric diagnosis #feminism #guilaine kinouani

[writeyouin]

Newt. All of the Newt. Newt meeting Credence and looking after him maybe? Like a blanket around him sort of thing c:

NewtScamander X Reader – Helping Credence

A/N – I’ll admit, this one’sbecome more of a Credence fic than Newt but I’m still happy with it.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

You pelted down the dim subway tracks. The nearing echoes of Picquery issuing commands to MACUSA Aurors alerted you that they were closer than previously imagined. You had no plan to accomplish your goal but you knew you had to work fast otherwise it would be too late to rescue the boy, Credence Barebone.

Newt’s urgent order replayed within your mind once more, spurring you on against all hopes. It had been when Percival Graves had entered to poison Credence’s mind further that Graves and Newt begun duelling and Newt had called over to you, “(Y/N) – THE MACUSA WILL GET HERE SOON, DO SOMETHING.”

You had run off without a second thought, all the time seeing the impossibility of it all.

“Lumos. Alohomora. Expecto Patronum.” You listed various spells you knew, each just as useless as the last. “Come on… There has to be something I’m missing, anything.”

“You!” Picquery pointed her wand at you, backed up by a group of her best. “Where is the Obscurial?”

“I- He’s-” You swallowed your fear, opting for a statement that would hopefully distract her, “Percival Graves set it free to do his bidding, he’s now warring with Mr Scamander for control.”

You fought not to look away as Piquery’s icy stare bore into you, measuring the truth in your words.

“If I find your accusation to be deceptive of the truth, there will be a harsh penalty. Lead on with haste.”

You nodded, hiding your sudden inspiration. You doubted it would work but if Picquery wanted deception then that’s exactly what you would provide.

“It’s just down this tunnel.” You sped ahead, thankful that Picquery wouldn’t rush into any unknown situation; she would lead her auras in with caution and grace, which would give you precious seconds to hide the boy.

Newt and Percival didn’t even notice you enter, they were still warring away in their own heated battle. You checked behind you, making sure the MACUSA were out of sight before running over to the shivering form of Credence Barebone. Credence recoiled from your approach, shadowy grains flowing off him, keeping him somewhere between his human and obscurial form.

“Sorry for scaring you.” You raised your hands, speaking in hushed tones.

Credence eyed you suspiciously, clearly mistrusting everything and everyone that could hurt him.

“I need you to listen carefully Credence. The MACUSA are coming as we speak to take you away. I want to help you, so I’m going to take my wand out and use it to hide you, is that okay? Just nod if you’ll let me do that.” You stayed in place, silently willing the boy on so you could hurry up with the necessary charms.

“W-w-what about af-after?” He asked hesitantly, more like a cornered animal than the person he was.

“We’ll talk about what you want after but I need to do this now, there’s no time for an argument.”

Credence was torn between trusting you and killing you as unrecognisable voices argued both options. One voice sounded like a blood-thirsty monster while the other resembled a small child; both were equally loud as he pondered your proposition. On one hand, he couldn’t trust you or anyone else in the world, on the other, you were the only person so far to use the words, “what you want,” nobody else had ever asked him that before. He nodded shakily, you smiled relieved, whipping your wand out and weaving disillusionment charms around him until he was fully invisible and a fake obscurial masked the wall above him.

Credence sat in a state of shock as he tried to look at his arm and instead saw the floor tiles where it should have been. Everything felt like it was unfurling fast while he watched Tina, Newt, and Percival talk to the fake monster above him; he couldn’t believe that he had been that, or could become it again. Then the MACUSA entered.

You observed breathlessly when Picquery and her Auras tore through the illusion “killing” Credence. You were more than a little surprised that none of them noticed the subtle holes in the rushed illusion, perhaps they were simply seeing what they wanted or maybe they were occupied by other pressing matters that they’d soon have to deal with, such as the muggle world’s realisation about witches and wizards living among them. Regardless, you were able to keep Credence hidden throughout the events until the night when you went back to the subway to collect him.

“I’m sorry I took so long.” You murmured sadly whilst dismantling the charms surrounding Credence until he was fully visible again.

He still remained curled up in the corner, keeping his distance from you. You made no attempt to touch him, moving slowly whenever you needed too.

“Have you thought about what you want?”

“Mr G-Gr-Graves said I c-c-could be a wizard, I w-w-want to be a wizard.” He stuttered, desiring control over his actions.

You nodded, scratching the back of your head at the tricky request, “Well… It’s a difficult one, I’ll admit. First, you’d have to promise you wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“W-what if they h-h-hurt me first?”

“I know it’s hard to believe after all you’ve been through but not everyone is like your mother and Grindelwald- Sorry, I mean Mr Graves. I don’t want to hurt you and I know my friend Mr Scamander doesn’t want to; he’d be here right now if he wasn’t grieving you, he blames himself you see.”

Credence scowled at you disbelievingly, sudden sureness lacing his words, “Nobody would mourn me.”

“Not true, I would if my spells had failed, otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered hiding you. Now, getting back on track, could you promise me you wouldn’t hurt anyone and mean it?”

He paused, seeing the truth in your statement, then nodded allowing you to continue.

“Alright. So, then we’d have to get you a wand. I suppose I’d teach you, though I’m not really a teacher, an we’d see how it went. Does that sound acceptable to you?”

“H-How will we d-do it?”

“By taking it one day at a time I suppose. For now, how about you come with me to meet my friend?”

Credence pushed himself up slowly, using the wall behind for support, apparently accepting your proposition in lack of any other options. You smiled sympathetically, “Okay, come on then, Newt just lost one friend, it’ll be nice for him to find another.”

You opened the hotel door just enough to put your head through, Newt was on the bed with his head in his hands, apparently despairing two losses in one day.

You cleared your throat. Newt looked up, relief taking over as he marched up to you, “(Y/N), thank Merlin, I was so worried-”

“Ah-ah-” you stopped him, “Newt, I uh, did a thing so I want you to wait till I’ve explained everything before reacting too much okay?”

Newt’s brow furrowed the way it always did when he was apprehensive about your actions, “A-alright.” He answered hesitantly.

“Good. Newt, I want you to officially meet Credence Barebone.” You pushed the door fully open, revealing Credence who was hiding a few steps behind you.

Newt’s eyes widened in surprise and you could see him trying to figure Credence out like he would one of his creatures. Should he approach slowly? How would he react to contact? Would noises scare him away? It was all there inside Newt’s head.

“(Y/N), how- how is this possible?”

“Sit down and I’ll explain the whole thing. Credence-” Credence flinched at the sound of his name, you lowered your tone empathetically, “I’ll make some tea sweet-heart.”

Credence hovered at the window, looking outside silently; while he was almost sure you wouldn’t hurt him now, he was still ready to run at any given second.

Once again, you and Newt were on the road for more unusual creatures, living mostly in the suitcase where you had also built a permanent room for Credence. Newt had become a brilliant role-model, easily filling the role of best friend, mentor, and most importantly father. Newt seemed to just sense when Credence needed comforting or to talk, even when Credence didn’t ask; you supposed it was from years of studying animals’ needs when they couldn’t talk back.

You meanwhile, had become the role of both teacher and friend, often making progress in small actions such offering encouragement or advice where possible. After 3 months of travelling together, Credence was finally looking you both in the eye, not flinching at physical contact, and barely stuttering at all; he was also coming along in leaps and bounds where magic was concerned, now that you had acquired a suitable wand for him.

“Very good Credence, that’s brilliant, now hold it there.” You praised as he levitated a pencil steadily before you.

He smiled happily, even giving a rare, boyish giggle, finally finding the happiness and acceptance he’d always dreamt of.

“Can we move onto heavier things soon? What about the water bucket?” He asked eagerly, dropping the pencil in anticipation of your answer.

“Now, now,” You beamed, “Let’s not run before we can walk. If you can do this again tomorrow and hold it for a few minutes, then we’ll think about moving onto a stone, but nothing heavier than that just yet. Alright, end of lessons today, the mooncalf’s need feeding and mucking out.”

“I’ll do it.” He sped off enthusiastically, stopping by Newt’s side to tell him all about the progress he’d made.

Newt lit up animatedly, keen to hear everything while they cared for the creatures. You smiled warmly, heading over to the Bowtruckles. “That’s my boys.” You murmured happily to yourself, getting on with the task at hand.

#newt scamander #newt scamander x reader #credence barebone #Harry Potter #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fbawtft #fanfiction #fanfic #reader #reader insert #hogwarts #fantastic beasts imagine #fbawtft imagine #helping credence #Anonymous