i-liked-the-lighting-though

anonymous asked:

Do you like the three new songs? I find myself feeling very underwhelmed by them and was wondering what your thoughts on them are.

I enjoyed “Love” a lot because of its positive atmosphere. I like the sound, the lyrics, the melody.

“Lust for Life” is a nice song, not that outstanding to me, but still pretty solid. I’m not a huge fan of The Weeknd but I don’t dislike him, so I was interested in seeing how a collaboration for Lana’s album is going to work. I guess, it does work but I don’t know… I didn’t need a feature on the title track tbh. I like the new light pop direction though. I don’t want every song to be like that but it’s certainly not bad to release a radio-friendly single every now and then.

I already answered this question about the standalone single “Coachella – Woodstock In My Mind” here.

But yeah, I’m really interested in hearing what the other songs sound like. I think she’ll surprise me once again with something I’m not expecting. So I guess what I’m trying to say is, please, don’t give up on her yet even if those three songs didn’t really blow your mind.

Kind Eyes, Kind Smiles, Kind Understanding

Part One  ||  Part Two || Part Four

Summary: You’ve taken Credence in after the subway situation, and this is a day you both take it easy. Part 3/?

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, as always (nothing explicit)

Word Count: 2,148


Credence was thrilled, if he was being honest with himself. He’d never really had a day to “take it easy” because he was constantly doing his mother’s bidding or trying to please Mr. Graves. But this, he had a strange feeling, would be all about him. He felt himself blush at the brightness of your smile when you’d heard him give you the Okay for a day to relax. You were tidying up the kitchen before turning to him, saying, “I can take us away from here for the day, and we can do anything you like, Credence.”

Credence was suddenly embarrassed that he wasn’t exactly sure what he liked. He looked at your patient eyes while he thought about what exactly he would say. He briefly wondered what you liked. He settled on telling you the truth. “I-I’m not sure what I like. Ma never r-really let me do very m-much.” He honestly wasn’t used to being allowed to talk this much without punishment either, so this whole situation was uncharted territory.

Your smile softened, but it didn’t look like you were judging him (because you weren’t). You walked over to where he was sitting at the table and rested your hand lightly across his shoulders before kneeling down next to him. You were trying to think of what to say and rubbed his shoulders while you thought. You did not miss how he leaned into you, so you began to put more pressure behind the gesture, extending the contact and the fondness behind it. “Why don’t we try a bunch of things, Credence? We’ll figure out what you like together.”

Credence blushed out of his skin when you said “together” the way that you did; he was so incredibly fond of this idea, figuring this out with you. He liked that it felt like the two of you were on the same page. He nodded with conviction, the first movement he was really sure of since Ma died—since he killed her. He shuddered at that, thinking of Hell and all those terrible things his mother had said, how if he had killed her, maybe she hadn’t been wrong. He felt himself going to that dark place again when he felt your hand go from rubbing his shoulders to trail down his arm. “Credence.” His name again, coming back down, looking at your feet. “Light hearts today. We’ll do something fun together. Let’s go get ready, okay?” He wanted to cry at your patience.

The truth was, you thought as you handed him a new toothbrush from your drawer, that you didn’t mind being patient. All you could think about were those months you had spent alone and lost after you had left your ex-boyfriend behind and how you had wanted so desperately for someone to understand that you needed—that you didn’t know what you needed. And here you were, given a chance to be this Someone for a boy who was so kind, who deserved so many good things. You hoped he knew that you did not see him as a burden or a chore or (Heaven forbid) a project. You saw him as he was—as Credence, as Credence, as Credence.

He showered as quickly as possible, washing the remains of yesterday down the drain, stepping out new, stepping into new clothes, stepping into new possibilities. He looked into the mirror, recognized the face but not the color in his cheeks. He wanted to…know himself. He hadn’t realized how much he didn’t know. He wanted to find out with you. “I-I’m ready,” he called gently from your living room and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw you round the corner quickly, pulling a coat across your body and nearly skidding into him.

“We can go anywhere!” The energy in your eyes was contagious, and he felt himself fill up on it, feed off of it almost. “Is there anywhere you know that you’d like to visit, Credence?”

Your smile was beaming, and he felt he could gather some strength from it. Maybe he could smile too. And he was, before he knew it, the slightest flash of teeth, and you were taken with how beautiful he was, with the height of his cheekbones and the way his eyes crinkled with happiness. You blushed and hoped it wouldn’t embarrass him if he noticed why, but he was talking. His voice was a little louder than usual when he said, “M-Ma had a—a postcard. She said it was—was a place for sinners, called a—a boardwalk? It was in New Jersey. I always l-liked the lights though.”

Credence nearly fell when you returned his smile, when he saw the pink in your cheeks, when he saw just how impossibly happy you were for him. “You know more about yourself than you think, Credence. I know about one of those. I used to go there with some friends on break. I could take us there, but it’ll take quite a few trips to get there. But it’s absolutely doable!” He felt your excitement trickle into him and waited anxiously for you to take out your wand and whisk the two of you away.

Unfortunately, it did take quite a few trips to apparate there. You had wanted to be safe and maybe took more trips than necessary, but it was worth the momentary weariness when you saw the look on his face. There weren’t too many people there, since it was the winter after all, and the lights were dimmer than they were in the summer; but Credence’s face held so much light in it, so much hope and you felt yourself swell with adoration at the sight of him. “I-It’s so beautiful,” he said with such breathless wonder that you were nearly knocked off your feet.

You weren’t sure how many people in the world would be taken away by New Jersey, but now, standing on the rickety Ocean City boardwalk, you thought maybe he was right, that maybe Credence could make anywhere beautiful. Before you could really think, you were saying, “Like you, Credence.” You didn’t regret saying it, but you blushed and sent a soft smile his way so that he knew you were serious.

His face was so red, but he was so happy. He didn’t know exactly why, but he was so glad you thought he was beautiful. He hoped you meant it, but your eyes never seemed to lie, never seemed to be guarded from him. You were just so open, he was thinking when you took his hand and led him toward the Kohr Brothers custard shop. “These are so good, Credence! You have to try one!” You ended up getting chocolate mint flavor, your favorite, and got Credence a chocolate one, trying to keep it simple and start somewhere small. He watched you as you started to eat yours and began to do the same. Flavor quite literally exploded in his mouth, and he gasped, enjoying how sweet it was and the strange texture. He wasn’t quite sure why you were holding your cone out to him, though, or why you kept waving it around at him. You giggled, pink nose crinkling and face burying into your scarf, and Credence, once again, nearly tripped because it was so cute and pure and he wanted you to keep making that sound but you were talking to him. “Try some of mine, Credence, see if you like it!”

He blushed as you crowded his space, reaching your hand up so your cone was level with his mouth. This was a kind of intimacy he did not understand, but he was breathless with how much he wanted it, how much he needed it, this normalcy, this simple affection. You were sharing with him, wanted him to be a part of your world. He flicked his tongue out tentatively, making a pleasured kind of whine at the taste, the cool, crisp mint mixing with the sweetness of the chocolate in a way that he loved. You kicked yourself for the way your eyes hooded at the sight of his tongue and the way your stomach knotted at the sound he made. You returned his gaze, hoping the cold weather hid your rosy cheeks under the guise of the chill, and couldn’t help but lean closer to him at the sight of his adoration, the affection behind his eyes that he wasn’t trying to hide in this moment. You wrapped an arm gently around his waist and nearly cried at the way he crushed into you. Credence was just okay enough in this moment, here on a boardwalk in New Jersey, to indulge in the touch he wanted, in the life he wanted.

By the end of the day, he had tried custard (and loved it), played mini golf (and was terrible at it) (but he would play round after round to hear your laugh again, to see you try to help him but laugh uncontrollably when he was still terrible), ridden a Ferris wheel (and loved it, and how close you had to sit to him to fit inside the small car) (it helped fight the chill in the air anyway), and enjoyed a sunset over the beach. You had watched him every second of the day and loved watching him visibly relaxing. The distance was good for him, you thought, escaping the places he had been with his mother, the places he had been hurt, the places where wizards had tried to kill him. You hoped he would remember this day when you had to go back with him and that he could remember that things could be okay.

As you took him toward a secluded area to begin the journey home, you saw him get more reserved. You knew what was wrong but asked anyway. “Credence?”

He looked at you shyly, nervous glances and hunched shoulders returning. “I-I don’t want to go back, Y/N.” He sounded so broken, and you wanted to crush into him again but were unsure of how okay he would be with that right now. “I-I want to stay here, with you.”

Part of you wondered why you couldn’t leave. You had just quit your job (to sever the final tie between you and your abusive ex-boyfriend), and nothing was really keeping you in New York anymore. Your mind was all romantic notions and escape escape escape. Escape from where you had been tortured for years, escape from the prison that had held Credence too. “W-Well, maybe we can, Credence.” His eyes turned sharply to you, his posture straightening a little. “I-I mean, we’d have to plan a little to get things over. But we—we could go anywhere.”

And that’s when you saw Credence really smile, all crescent eyes and the most radiant face you’d ever seen. You wondered briefly if he were some angel clad in raven-black night as some of the smoky tendrils escaped him, approached you softly. You considered briefly how little you knew about what an Obscurus really was, but you also realized idly that you didn’t care too much. He might be dangerous, but he’d never hurt you, not on purpose for sure. He jumped a little at the sight of the smoke touching you and managed to collect himself enough to pull back, but you looked at him without fear. He wished briefly that he had talked to you more at the rallies, more than just when you would protect him or make idle banter, as much as he had appreciated your kindness even then. “D-Do you mean that, Y/N?”

He sounded so hopeful. “Yes, Credence, I do. It’ll probably take a few weeks to prepare, but… Now that I’m thinking, it would probably be better to leave. People are bound to be looking for you, or at least trying to make sure you’re really dead.” You frowned at that. “They’ll follow through on an Obscurus. And they can’t find you.” You frowned again, thinking of what they’d do, and unconsciously reached out to take his hand and stroke it under your fingers, comforting yourself, really, knowing that he was there in front of you. “And—And admittedly, a more selfish reason, I’d like to get away from that damned city. I only stayed there for—for him, so I could stand to get out of there too. We could go, Credence, if that’s what you want.”

Credence felt a surge of anger when you mentioned that dreadful man who had given you your scars but managed to keep the dark—the obscurus—inside. For once, he was confident. He knew what he wanted. And with the slightest hint of boldness and the memory of mint on his tongue, he whispered, “Let’s plan. Let’s go,” and dreamed of escape—for the both of you.


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