• Kass: One bonus of being An Adult ™ is grossly misusing modern slang on purpose and watching the young Hylians cry inside.
  • Kass: A fine example: the other day I pointed at a passing shark and, while looking one Hylian right in the eye, went “Man, is that bae or what, huh?” and the look on his face was something I will treasure for years.

Lets…talk about the scars on our little Crewtons though.

Newt obviously, a very marked man, its canon though we didn’t see them. He works with wild animals, he takes their hits he earns their trust, he bears his trophies of a job well done like a map of his victories. 

He doesn’t show them off, that’s not his personality, but he never heals them away, he never conceals the skin of his hands and cheeks and brow with masks of spells, though you’d be hard pressed to find the dimmed silvery lines on his face under his freckles. Many wounds leave no scars from the magic used to heal them, but the ones that held poison and venom and magic saliva or were sliced open with enchanted claws and ripped into being through cursed tendrils…those ones leave their marks and those he is most proud of. Those prove he did what he set out to do and that he lived to spread his knowledge.

Though of course you’d never see Newt blink one jot of acknowledgement for all he achieved. 

Credence, his whole being is ingrained shame. He barely wants to exist as himself as he is, let alone bring more notice of the struggles he’s overcome. You won’t see more of his skin if he can ever help it. His body is just one more regret of his existence. But once you strip away the last of his fabric armor you’ll see the evidence of his bravery. He will never call it that.

Scars upon his palms for the small sins of every day, Scars upon his knuckles for the careless manner in which he treats himself. Scars upon his arms from the hard work only the eldest boy of the family could perform, scars upon his biceps from digging his nails in deep at night to stifle the effects of his nightmares. 

Scars across the tops of his thighs for when Ma was more strict.

And scars upon the backs of his thighs for long old disciplines.

But the Scars across his shoulders were for infractions most dire. And those are the ones where his skin pulls tight when he twists a certain way.

He had many years learning to behave from his Ma, but he never did seem to manage it did he. 

One day, Newt will make him understand that his skin is a triumph of his power and the strength of his life. That day is far away

Inspired by @linddzz’s adorably chaotic fic: in which Newt, our blessed protagonist who does not, and never will truly understand self-preservation, tries to fly on something that is not a fantastic beast. Credence must, as always, protect this man from himself.



Sigrid had to grow up very fast, very young due to her mother’s death and her having to step into mum’s shoes as the woman of the house. Bard is poor and things would be iffy and unstable even in the best of circumstances, but this sure as hell ain’t it - not only is Sigrid having to tackle the domestic responsibilities of an adult woman at like, 8-12, Bard’s always in trouble with the law. Because the law in Laketown is well-established to be skeevy as fuck. So not only is Da a very poor single parent with a job that requires him to be absent for long stretches at a time (fishing voyages, yo) he’s always one scrape away from a stay in the Esgaroth brig. This is obviously not a recipe for a stable or stress-free childhood and adolescence. 

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linddzz  asked:

Newt/Credence, specifically, Newt's massive boner for Credence's obscurus form.

[HOO BOY HOO GOSH IS THAT A XENOKINK I SEE BECAUSE YUM and gosh this is itching to be something longer at some point because Reasons]

Credence was exhaustingly beautiful at times, in a way that had taken Newt by surprise over and over and over again; the first time he caught Credence smiling, he spilled tea all over the table; the first time he really noticed how Credence looked with his hair grown out, he overbalanced and nearly flattened a mooncalf in the process.

Of course Credence’s obscurus was as beautiful as everything else about Credence was, when healthy and relaxed with nothing for company save Newt himself; of course the slow swirls of black, by turns sand-like, oily, or shimmering were hypnotic to watch.

Newt knew reaching out was a deadly risk, the mere touch of an obscurial enough to scar if it was enraged, but tendrils of black looped around his wrist before spreading up over his arm, his shoulder, his neck, and Newt found himself blushing ferociously even as he forced himself to stammer out, “I think that’s q-quite enough for now, Credence.”

Establishing Connection

For linddzz, ‘cuz her birthday’s in a week or so, she’s discovered the joys of Boffinshield and ot3s, and Signal Strength and Safe and Distant make me want to write about these dorks, like all the time. This particular fic is set in Signal Strength’s universe, which is basically Middle Earth but with modern tech. They have cars and computers and guns now, it’s great (until you remember that orcs were bad enough with just swords and shit). Anyways, this fic is also post-quest, with Bilbo having gone back home to the Shire for a bit.  

So here’s part one of I haven’t a clue how many more, currently entitled in my documents folder as “boffinshield - LDRs suck.odt” 

Bofur: I can’t understand what you see in him.
Bilbo: Who?
Bofur: His Royal Majesty the Broody. He’s been in one of his dark moods ever since ya set out from Erebor.
Bilbo: I don’t know what exactly I see in him. I know he’s grumpy. I know he can be rude, and pig-headed, and harsh. I know his faults all too well.
Bofur: So…why are ya in a relationship with him again?

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Denethor: Is there a captain here who still has the courage to do his lord’s will?

Faramir: You wish now that our places had been exchanged… that I had died and Boromir had lived. 

Denethor:  unlike u i have the spine to tell ppl when i hate them so they know and can fix their behavior

reasons why you should take the time to watch jupiter ascending
  • werewolf!channing tatum, his true form tbh
  • it’s a self insert fanfic turned movie
  • aliens
  • Space!Boromir the Bee King
  • space boots that are roller blades and werewolf!channing tatum seems to own the only pair
  • he’s really good at roller blading
  • anytime someone is in danger, he just nyooms right in and nyooms right out on his sick blades
  • as the movie progresses you’re less certain its a movie and more so a two hour commercial for space boot roller blades
  • eddie redmyane looking like the starkid production of lord voldemort
  • space orgies 
  • three really creepy siblings who all love their mom a little too much
  • more eddie redmayne, talking like a chain-smoking wine mom
  • Space!Boromir doesn’t die
  • Mila Kunis gets her own pair of space boots in the end and rules earth cause she got a sick pair of roller blades