Request: Hello, dear Author. Can You do the following request. Hope it will interest You. Reader is a famous singer, whose voice gets is a voice of a angel, but she hides her face behind a mask. Newt running after niffler is in concert hall and heard her. He sees her singing and fell in love with voice. But she had an abusive boyfriend, who is heating her… and here can be any variation of action…
The silver lights cast the room in a sultry glow that drapes over the red plush seats and diamond-and-pearl covered guests like a silken shawl. Their conversations, soft under the intimidation of the glow, drift languidly toward the high ceiling of the theater and mingle together as they wander through the room.
A soft jazz tune weaves through the crowd, no more than a lazy cat no one pays much attention to as it sneaks over their heels and between the legs of their black slacks. The song wafts from the open orchestra pit, a moat between the seats and the massive wooden stage that juts out, looming in front of the crowd, a stage with such a history of grandeur that few agree to step onto it.
Some women shift in their seats in an attempt to peer around the velvet curtains that guard the back of the stage, separating audience and artist for now. They murmur to one another, wondering if the brave artist is back there, hidden in the folds of the shadows, listening to the conversations swirling around. Their chairs squeak as they move, trying to earn the first glimpse of the acclaimed performer with the voice of a cherubim.
They never see her, though, never notice you as you lean against the cool stone wall and try to understand the bits of muffled conversation that amble past you. Your eyes are shut, arms wrapped around your stomach, while you take slow breaths in through your nose, let them out through your mouth. The terror you’d known your first time on stage still haunts you, a ghost you can never rid yourself of no matter the amount of glowing reviews in newspapers or number of sold out concert halls. Terror is a constant in your life, one of the only constants you’ve known for the past four years.
Two hands wrap around your waist, covering your own hands, a wave of thick cologne that ruins your slow breathing and causes you to cough accompanying them.
Theo’s hot breath, smelling of cigarettes and whiskey, scrapes across the side of your face. “You know you’re not supposed to hang out side stage before the show, darling.”
“I needed a break.” You murmur as his stubble scratches your cheek and his chin digs into your shoulder.
“Your wardrobe team tore backstage apart looking for you. They want to get you ready.” He tugs you against his chest.
“They have plenty of time.”
“They need to start soon or you won’t look radiant tonight.”
The insult doesn’t upset you, not anymore. “What does it matter how I look if they’re here for my voice?”
His fingertips dig lightly into your stomach. “No one wants to listen to an ugly person sing. You need to shine, darling. We’ve been over this.”
The bile in your stomach simmers and you feel sick, but you nod at his words. “I’ll meet with wardrobe soon.”
He presses a rough kiss against your exposed neck. “Don’t be long. They need to get to work or we’re paying them for nothing.”
“I know, love.” You whisper as his arms unwrap from around you with one final squeeze.
A/N: This got pretty serious, pretty fast. I hope it does make sense though. I am tired ugh ;A; I hope you enjoy reading this and I apologize if this is not what you wanted. But I wanted it because I just do not imagine Draco to be the sweet guy.
Sorry for stealing your gif, honey @nellaey but with this, I give you the full credit for this wonderful gif.
Summary: Credence misses a certain kind lady. But he meets an unexpected visitor instead. All is not what it seems and even though life tends to be rough at times, every cloud has a silver lining.
Warnings: Mentions of abuse, violence and blood.
Disclaimer: GIF Credits to their owners. Also I don’t own the FBAWTFT universe. Queen JKR does.
Credence searched through the gathering crowd. His heart plummeted into the melancholic depths of disappointment as the lady with the kind smile failed to turn up at yet another NSPS meet. He reminisced how her face lit up with a smile, how unlike others she had apologised and with kindness radiating from every gesture, helped him gather the scattered flyers (even though it was probably his fault that they fell in the first place). It was far too rare for people to deem him worthy to bestow kindness upon. It was more often than not a case of shoved bodies, rough touches and muttered insults. Not pretty smiles and an overwhelming softness of the heart.
Credence couldn’t help but feel sadness clutching him in its cold grasp, he really shouldn’t have gotten his hopes high. After all, it was highly unlikely that she had the free time to attend all of the rallies. She had indeed said that she had work to rush off to the other day. A hopeful part of him wished that it was just that, a busy schedule which kept her from coming back. But then again, she might have completely forgotten him. Who would remember a lowly, wicked boy like him? And if at all she did remember him, it would be with disgust at his uselessness, disappointed with anything he did. The way Ma was.
Credence sneaked a glance at his adoptive mother as she went on about the malignant virus of witchcraft that was fast spreading amongst the unaware and naive naysayers. She urged the people to be proactive and join the cause, they had safety in numbers. It was the vigilant who could save themselves after all. He thought that if he repeated the propaganda enough times, he might even start believing it. It was not that Credence disbelieved that people like witches and magic existed. He knew that his biological mother was wicked, that her blood was tainted, the same blood that ran through his veins. He had heard about it numerous times over the span of his childhood, receiving divine punishment at the hands of his Ma in a bid to loosen Satan’s hold over him. Such instances though, had become rarer as the years passed. The punishments hadn’t stopped, just the reasons had changed.
His hand felt a ghostly sting and Credence flinched, remembering the latest disciplining. His barely healed hands clutched the flyers tightly as the memory of a few weeks back washed his subconscious. Ma had been so angry with him when she had seen him idling around the back instead of handing out more flyers like he was supposed to. He had just found the crowd oppressive and decided to get a few breaths of clean air, a brief respite from the heat. That was when she had stumbled across his feet, not hard enough to cause him discomfort, but enough to make her presence known. He had expected harsh words, an angry shove or complete unapologetic indifference even. Because that was how he was used to being treated. Instead like an angel shining her heavenly aura on lesser mortals, she had come to his aid. Being the worthless being that he was, he’d somehow managed to become a stuttering dimwit, rendered dumb by her kindness and beauty. This was an exchange that hadn’t escaped the watchful eyes of his mother, though thankfully she hadn’t seen who it was that he was speaking to.
No amount of pleading would dissuade her from meting out what he rightfully deserved. It was just a matter of time and it came when they reached the rundown excuse of a church that they called their house. The moment the door to the living room closed, he silently slid off the belt from its place, grasping the buckle in the hope that the ordeal would end faster if he willed it to. Just thinking of the belting had his hands smarting in remembrance of the vicious hits. Ma had been especially angry that day.
“Hello there, young man. Won’t you give me one of those flyers?” An elderly woman broke Credence out of his reverie, a wrinkled hand outstretched towards him seeking a purple handout. Her eyes crinkled as she gave him a benevolent smile. She looked of Asian heritage, probably Japanese judging from the pastel kimono that draped her delicate frame; with her soft demeanour and quite mannerisms, she faintly reminded Credence of summers spent lying in the warmth of his birth mother’s lap, but it was a fleeting thing, this barely remembered memory.
Though he had been expecting quite a different interruption, even this was welcome. After all, it was not everyday that people treated him with such gentleness. As if reading his mind, the old woman queried, “Were you perhaps expecting someone else?” Pink dusted his cheeks as Credence replied in embarrassment, “N-no!” It came out louder than he had intended. Glancing at his mother to make sure that her attention was focused elsewhere, he quietly mumbled, “ I meant…no. That is not the…case.” His speech was marked by ponderous pauses, as if mulling over what would be appropriate enough to voice out loud.
The old woman merely nodded in understanding, though what she comprehended from his mumbles and pauses, Credence could only wonder. They stood in comfortable silence for a while before the woman spoke again, “What is your name child?” He jerked as if virtually slapped and something skittered in the woman’s eyes but it was gone before he could really observe. “C-credence.” He spoke so softly that it was a wonder that the woman had heard anything at all. But her serene smile indicated that she indeed had heard him. “You have a beautiful name”, she complemented him, making him blush again. As the rally broke up with the end address from his mother, the elderly lady stared up in the sky as if thinking about something before saying, “I better get going now. Hope you have a good day son!” her eyes twinkled and Credence couldn’t help but be gripped by a weird sense of deja vu,feeling as if he had met the woman somewhere before.
Y/N laid down her quill with a sense of satisfaction as the last report was written, bringing her paperwork to completion. Standing up, she stretched her muscles before waving her wand to summon her coat. Capping off another day at work, she stumbled out of the inconspicuous gates of MACUSA, weary and bone tired but happy at the pace of things. She started walking at a leisurely pace, setting off towards her apartment idly wondering about what she should have for dinner. Today felt like a sushi day.
Tasked with scouting for a new place to conduct the next meeting, Credence walked the bustling streets of New York City. He had been walking for well over an hour and twilight had set in by the time he truly found anything of use. Before his eyes lay a dusty playground, more derelict than green. It was not exactly spic and span but with some cleaning, it would do. Credence looked at the playground which was sandwiched between a confectionery and a chic boutique selling trendy flapper dresses which seemed all the rage these days. Yes, this would do. He was just about to venture a bit further inside to give a last cursory glance to the venue when he stumbled across an empty glass bottle.
Landing hard on the dusty pavement with his hands outstretched to break the fall, a hiss escaped Credence. The fall tore anew his barely healed palms. Cradling them close to himself, he took a closer look at the demon that had devised his fall. Was that a beer bottle that he spied? “Oi, who goes there?” A gruff voice enquired from the depths of the dimly lit playground. Fear grabbed Credence as he stared at the questioner. Three men, drunkards by the look of them, appeared from the murky shadows. A pudgy faced man, with a pronounced limp approached him followed by a stockily built man and a towering youth with a face attacked by the most vicious case of acne Credence had ever seen.
“Looky what we ‘ave ‘ere eh? A pup, wet behind ‘em ears!” The towering youth chuckled nastily, showcasing yellowing teeth much to the amusement and hollering of the other two. He had a surprisingly gravelly rasp. Probably a result of excessive smoking judging by the cigarette clutched in his blackened fingers. “Ya think ya can just come here an’ bust upon us, pup?” The stocky man’s words would have been intimidating had they not been uttered in the squeakiest voice ever heard. All this would have been an excellent backdrop for a comedy show and Credence might have even found it funny had he not been in the midst of it. “Answer da question. What ya doing 'ere, punk!” pudgy face bent down for emphasis , getting too close for comfort, spittle spraying everywhere and his body reeking of alcohol, rancid sweat and something more unpleasant best not named.
Credence could barely manage a frightened whimper as hot tears ran down his cheeks. It was one thing to be belted by Ma for his actions. He deserved that, after all, it was meant for his own good, wasn’t it? But what had he done to deserve this? He cowered as pudge face yanked him by the collar of his shirt, drunken vigour easily lending him the strength to haul the frail boy up. “The cowardly brat’s snivellin’ like a damned 2 year old, if I ever seen one. What ya boys say we beat some sense inta him?” Credence felt a tightness blossom in his ribs, pressing down on his chest making it difficult to breath. His sight became hazy and all he could think of was the world of pain, broken bones and smashed teeth that was awaiting him. He saw the raised fist and closed his eyes, as the tightness in his ribs grew, threatening to burst him at the seams. Any moment now, he would be beaten into pulp.
Suddenly, the air rang out with a shrill alarm, a siren similar to those of police vans. “Shit! Why’s the police here?” the squeaky voiced man called out and Credence snapped his eyes open. Pudgy face shoved him away as the three bustled out of the playground, scampering ahead of one another, beer bottles scattered in their wake. Shaking violently at the near beating, Credence curled up into a ball and couldn’t help but continue crying as the siren grew louder and his mind went into overdrive. The police would find him and take him in for questioning. There were empty beer bottles here, he had obviously been up to no good, they would think. Wait, if the police took him up for questioning, his Ma would know. Dread latched onto him, pooling into an acidic swirl at the pit of his stomach. Oh what would she say? The mere idea of her wrath sent him on the edge of a panic attack.
Credence barely noticed when the siren stopped, for the ringing in his ears only continued to grow louder with every passing second. He was going to be arrested!! Someone was calling out to him, asking him if he was okay, but the world was a cacophony of white noise. They crouched beside him and attempted to pull his body upright. Resisting the movement, he flailed on the ground muttering incoherently throughout. Suddenly, his face was grabbed by a gentle touch and Credence found himself staring in the most mesmerising pair of (Y/E/C) eyes he had ever seen. “It’s okay love, they are gone. You are safe now. Nothing will harm you…I won’t let anything harm you!” His body gave a violent shudder. Letting out a choked sob, he fell into the soft embrace of the kind woman for whom he had been waiting for so long at the rallies. His angel had finally come to his rescue.
A/N: Ahh the time for the fated meeting has finally arrived! Writing this chapter through Credence’s P.O.V. was super fun as well as a bit anxiety inducing. I was constantly worried whether I was portraying him correctly.Just some trivia, the first sushi shop in the U.S. reportedly opened in 1906 in the Little Tokyo neighbourhood of LA apparently. I actually went and researched this on the net and Wikipedia threw this up on “the history of sushi”. Well, now that my nerd curiosity and obsessive authenticity mania has been satiated; addressing another twist- a mysterious old woman (Oba-san, if we are getting technical here) has appeared!! I wonder who she could be? 😉 Please excuse any typos that may have crept in. Thank you dear readers for the overwhelming love that you are showering on this story! Stay tuned for the next chapter and let me know how you all found this! ~mystical reading nerd
Akihiko skipped across the playground, eyeing the other children on the swings and other equipment carefully. He didn’t know if those awful boys who made him eat worms were here, and he didn’t want it to happen again; he could barely swallow his noodles after it had happened, and his mother was concerned, she wouldn’t scream so loudly at him otherwise.
His shirt and knitted waistcoat had a few streaks of blood on them, unfortunately, but he could get the stain out before putting them in the wash. Still, he had what he wanted! The fluffy little thing was in his rucksack, smashed head wrapped in a handkerchief so it wouldn’t make it all messy and disgusting, not to mention the smell.
He stopped, however when he saw a very pretty boy not too far away. His hair… his eyes… They were so strange, like he was actually an angel… Maybe he was! His uncle always talked about them, so it had to be true now!
He waved at him, wondering if the other boy would wave back.
“By the beginning of the tour cycle with Dirt, it was something that I was dealing with every day. And through that cycle, there were many cancellations and incidences. But Layne never gave up hope. He was not a sneaky drug addict..he was open about his struggle. He tried so hard on numerous occasions to get clean through rehabs, and was willing to talk to people about it. He was willing to talk to the press about it. He was really honest about it…often apologetic about it. It kept taking him down.” - Susan Silver (AIC’s Manager)
The Amery Studios Spoon Theory Necklaces just got more colorful! I’ve got 10 colors in stock, and many more upon request. I didn’t mean to leave any out…so feel free to request the right color combo for you!
Here are some common Spoonie Awareness colors:
Black and White (Zebra): Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS)
Bruce didn’t remember how long he’d been trapped in that cage. It was hard enough to keep focus at all. The last full moon he had been captured and a silver collar forced around his neck. The collar kept him from changing back to his human form. Bruce hadn’t realized what had happened until a few days later. He was shocked to see himself still in his wolf state…
The days and weeks began to blend together. It was a constant stream of pain and abuse. Silver knives, tasers, food with silver flecks to keep him weak. They treated him like a wild animal and Bruce was starting to believe he was one. He was starting to forget what he used to look like.
It all changed when he was forced out of his cage. His ears pinned back and he stumbled, growling at the people around him.
“Next up we have a rare creature up for sale tonight!” The auctioneer announced. “We assure you he can be tamed quite easily. This wonder of a wolf would make a fine pet, so lets start the bidding at two thousand dollars!”