tina pretends to be a boy

Amnesia + Accidental Relationship AU

hear me out. 

  • Pre-movie, Graves had already started reaching out to Credence. First as a favor to Tina, then to keep an eye on the Second Salemers cult, and finally b/c he’s developed a soft spot for the poor orphan boy. Still purely innocent at this point. 
  • The events of movie happen
  • Post-movie, Graves is rescued, severely injured, needs to spend months recuperating, guilt-ridden about Credence’s death 
  • But then Credence is discovered alive! he’s in a No-Maj hospital and has been in a coma for months (pretty much since post-movie)
  • Mb Tina happens upon him when she was in the hospital for a case or something? 
  • Graves starts visiting Credence, pretending to be a family friend or whatever. Starts to pay for the hospital bills. (re: guilt) 
  • Finally, Credence wakes up…and he doesn’t remember a single thing. Not who he is, what he is, and definitely has no idea who this handsome man who’s apparently been by his bedside for a month is. 
  • Graves says that they’re not exactly family or even friends, and it’s vague enough that Credence senses that he’s hiding something 
  • Naturally, Credence assumes they’re secret lovers and Graves is just ashamed b/c…well, Credence is a pathetic slip of a thing, isn’t he?
  • Credence doesn’t ask about it b/c he doesn’t want to anger Graves. If Graves leaves him, he’ll have nobody left. (the angst!)
  • The secret relationship theory is further proven when Graves takes Credence back to his place after he leaves the hospital 
  • Credence tries to be the perfect partner to make up for the amnesia thing, Graves thinks he’s just being useful b/c he doesn’t want to be a burden
  • But in his weakened state, Credence can’t do much. He’s overwrought with guilt (so much guilt under one roof) and breaks down, crawling into Graves’ lap, crying about how he wishes he could be better for Graves
  • Graves, who’s been enjoying Credence’s company far too much after recovering alone for months, and guiltily loving the domesticity of it all, assures Credence that he’s just happy to have him here
  • Credence then asks something that’s been bothering him since he left the hospital, “it’s been weeks, why haven’t you touched me?” 
  • and that’s when Graves realizes Credence has been under the assumption that they were lovers all along
  • and of course, Graves goes along with it! he rationalizes that Credence doesn’t need more trauma on top of what he’d already been through. Graves will tell him later, at some point. no, really. 
  • this goes on for MONTHS. the guilt is building like the real estate bubble but Graves is so happy and selfish ughhh
  • Mb Tina finds out and comes over to burst the bubble (and beat the shit out of Graves for taking advantage of Credence)
  • Mb Credence nearly dies of embarrassment, runs away, and Graves does whatever the 1920s equivalent of chasing after someone about to board a plane is
  • But even though the premise is fake, the feels are real, and they’re both willing to try this again the right way, with no secrets between them
Chapter 6: Forgetting Peter Parker (Spider-boy - Peter Parker x Stark!Reader)

A/n: I don’t really mention the original marvel characters that much since Y/n Stark’s character doesn’t live with the rest of the Avengers but actually resides on the Upper East Side (as if it weren’t already that obvious). BTW, I apologize for the various time lapses because the big events usually happen on weekends. By the way, the new guy stepping in will kinda be like this story’s version of Nate Archibald (bc let’s face it, he’s gorgeous af) and let’s just say he’s going to form the love triangle; Wouldn’t you want to date a guy from Vieux riche family? ;)

 Also, I may have inserted a quote from Riverdale, if you managed to spot it, congratulations!

UES = Upper East Side


Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 7


Originally posted by evermoregreen

Before Y/n Stark’s rise to the social ladder, there was Liz Allan, the Upper East Side’s golden girl, Spence Middle School’s perfect student, and the talk of the town. She was the batch valedictorian, was vied to be the first in line at the Dispensary Cotillion and Debutante Ball where the children of the Upper East Side get to show their grand entrance to the high society. Liz was the ideal lady but Y/n knew she had to step up to take the crown from her ex-best friend.

Unfortunately, Liz Allan left without an explanation whatsoever, that’s when Y/n Stark rose to become Spence’s golden girl sitting on top of the Elites pyramid, the Queen Bee of the Upper East Side, and every Prep school boy’s dream girl.

For everyone on the UES, Liz Allan is a dead woman walking, nobody knows her whereabouts, thinking she went to boarding school or migrated somewhere far from the US. Y/n’s prominence is what keeps her moving, and she intends to stay that way.

Tony steps inside the Stark Penthouse apartment on the Upper East Side. He sees his daughter holding papers in one hand and a calculator in the other.

“Hi, sweetie! It’s a Sunday night, what are you doing?” Tony sits beside Y/n looking at her oddly before looking at the television screen to see the news.

“I’m almost done with this month’s audit. I know you like it when your staff is early when it comes to tasks so here I am finishing what I have to do, so all I have to do tomorrow are; go to school until 10 AM since the teachers will have a general meeting or something, I wasn’t really paying attention…. and then I’m going to drop this off at your office in the afternoon.” Y/n states.

“Wow, you’re like a self-cleaning oven. Efficient, just the way I like my staff, but you’re my daughter. Honey, you need to relax. I’ve always been proud of your work ethic but you’re a kid, you’re my kid, I want you to let loose, show them how Starks party.” Tony reminds you.

“Are you telling me to go out and do something stupid? Because you have Nicholas to do all the party stuff for you.” Y/n replies, not looking at her dad.

“Yeah well he’s at Dartmouth, I can’t really have my son party his life away since he’s going to inherit most of the company.” Tony responds.

“What about me and Eloise? What do we get?” Y/n looks at her dad sternly.

“See now, you’re starting to look like your mother when you’re angry. You get to keep the penthouse apartment and besides, I thought you wanted to go to Med school?” Tony asks.

“Yeah but I also want to be part of the Stark Industries, at least own a share of it.” You tell your dad.

“Alright, alright. At this rate, you can always consider Law. You have your mother’s tenacity.” Tony jokes.

“Well, would you look at that.” Tony looks at the TV screen to see Spiderman breaking in the Washington Monument.

You lift your head up from all the slouching to see what your dad’s reacting to. A footage of Liz and Spiderman locking eyes the moment he saves her from the falling elevator.

“Gross.” Your face forms into a disgusted expression.

“Hold on, the Liz, Peter was talking about is the same Liz from Spence?” Tony inquires.

“Yup. It’s a small world, dad.” Y/n sighs.

“Did Peter tell you about his infatuation with Liz? How’d you know about it?” You furrow your eyebrows at your dad.

“No, the baby monitor in his suit sends me updates of his whereabouts and what he’s been doing. He might have mentioned her a couple of times through his suit.” Your dad replies.

“Of course, he’s mentioned her.” You mumble.

Because even when she’s no longer living near me, she still manages to annoy me to my very core. Everything just has to be about Liz.’ You think to herself.

“Want to talk about it or am I just going to assume that you’re harboring feelings for Peter Parker?” Tony questions.

“Dad, clearly Peter doesn’t want anything to do with me or my life here on the UES, he’s all about becoming an avenger and getting the girl of his dreams, Liz freaking Allen.” Y/n sneers.

“The conversation about Peter is making me feel uncomfortable; Firstly because you’re my daughter and you’re only turning 16 next week. Secondly, I don’t like you gushing on my protege, I thought you were into Prep school boys? You know, those future Yalies type. Lastly, I trust your every decision, Peter is the stupidest boy if he thinks you’re not the most gorgeous girl in Manhattan.” Tony smiles at his daughter reassuringly.

“Thanks, dad. Creepy comment, though.” You raise your eyebrows at him.

“You know I’m bad at these ‘Father-Daughter’ talks. You’re like a self-cleaning oven, I trust you well enough.” He pats you lightly on the knee.

Did he just compare me to an appliance? twice?!’ You think to yourself.

“Anyway, I have to go back to the Headquarters. Good night, sweetie.” Your dad kisses you on the forehead before heading off.

“Good night, dad! Go save the world for me.” You exclaim a second before the you hear the elevator door closing.

The news is still focused on Spiderman.

“Ugh, Spiderman is sooo two weeks ago.” You grumble, turning off the television.

Your phone’s IM ringtone starts to buzz like crazy.

Tinatintin: Any of you seen the news?

ElizaBabe: What are you, 30??

You: Liz Allan still has it.

MaddieMadness: Dalton boys are raving about Liz’s comeback, even if it’s on the news.

You: That’s not what I call a comeback, for all I know, Liz Allan is a dead woman walking on the UES.

Tinatintin: Looks like everyone knows Liz still exists.

You: But still irrelevant.

ElizaBabe: Completely.

MaddieMadness: On it…

The three of them understood what Maddie’s onto, she’s Spence’s real life gossip girl, minus the anonymity, the obsession over the Upper East Siders and the fact that Spence girls are not as catty as the girls of Constance-Billard.

You move around your bed, trying hard to fall asleep when a thud against your window interrupts your reverie.

Y/n sits up and sees a shadow lurking against the bedroom window. You turn the lights on to see Spiderman outside your window. You were about to open the seal when Peter decides to sling away.


Y/n and the rest of group are gathered at the Gramercy Tavern for lunch

“Okay girls, now I brought you here today to discuss Y/n’s current situation.” Eliza starts.

“Girls, as much as I enjoy all of you partaking in my non-existent love life, I’d rather not talk about that Tony Stark ass-kisser, Liz Allan fanboy.” You hiss.

“Exactly, hence the reason why we found you a new guy. His name is Ted Vanderbilt, his surname already speaks for himself and he’s the captain of Dalton’s Lacrosse Team.” Tina states.

“I need a picture.” You pretend to be uninterested.

Maddie takes her phone out see a teenage guy with golden blonde hair and sparkly blue eyes, looking like a true poster boy of the UES.

Just the distraction Y/n needs from all the Spiderman fiasco she’s experienced, plus he’s a Vanderbilt, what more can Y/n ask for?

“Girls, set up the date. Tomorrow night, here at 7 pm.” You tell your friends who just nod along in excitement.

Y/n drops off the files on top of his dad’s desk and sits on his office chair. Out of sheer curiosity, you open his Mac desktop and look for Spiderman’s baby monitor protocol.

Hundreds of videos appear of Spiderman jumping off buildings, web-slinging along Queens. Then there were clips of Peter wearing only the mask in front of the mirror.

Hey what’s up, Liz? Peter’s told me a lot about you.” Peter does a wink through his suit.

You roll your eyes and click fast forward.

Hey Y/n! I heard you’re into bad boys, I don’t mean to brag but, I’m bad at almost everything I do.” He shrugs his shoulders.

You see a footage of Peter scrolling through his science notes and you notice his sketch of you and Spiderman.

You turn on the television to see live news regarding a Staten Island ferry.

“Oh my god, Peter.” Y/n mumbles.

You take your phone out from your Mulberry bag and call your dad.

“What is it, honey?” Tony picks up.

“Dad, Peter needs help. He tore a Staten Island ship in half.” You say calmly.

“He what?! I’m on it, sweetie.” Tony then hangs up.

“You owe me, Peter Parker.” You murmur.

Y/n is sitting on one of the Fendi Casa couches she picked out for the Stark Tower living room, waiting for your dad’s update.

You hear loud knocks against the window to see Spiderman himself, signaling you to open the window. Y/n opens the window for Peter to enter.

“Peter, do you realize what you’ve done? You could’ve died. What the hell were you thinking? Did you not think about the consequences of your actions?” Y/n bombards him with questions.

Peter removes his mask as Y/n notices the redness in eyes, her anger washes away immediately.

“My actions? Those bad guys had millions worth of weapons of destruction. Somebody had to stop them, I didn’t want to sit around and wait for bad things to happen because I have a responsibility to the world.” Peter defends himself.

“No Peter, you are not like one of the Avengers just yet, you’re only 16. My dad told you to stay away from those guys and you didn’t listen. Your responsibilities are your education and your Aunt May because if anything happens to you, it might kill her.” Y/n replies.

“And besides, how could we even forget about Liz Allan, Peter Parker’s dream girl and Spence’s brightest, nobody could’ve forgotten about her. Even when she’s not here, she’s still being talked about. Don’t you see how frustrating it was for me to live behind her shadows when we were growing up?” You feel your tears pooling.

“We were best of friends, Peter, but I always felt like I had to prove myself to the UES while Liz… She didn’t need to, she was the perfect student, the perfect daughter, heck she was Spence’s Golden girl. I was just the salutatorian, always coming in second. My parents wanted me to be like my best friend, they put the pressure on me and not on my siblings, because they knew that living in the High society means having to show yourself that you are the best of what your parents are. You know how my dad is.” Y/n continues.

“I was just trying to do the right thing, Y/n. You’re Y/n Stark, an Upper East Sider and I’m just Peter Parker from Queens, I can’t say the right words to make you feel better because my life is no walk in the park either. I’m scared, okay? I’m scared that if I don’t do something about it, I might lose an important someone again.” Peter sighs.

“-And Liz…. Liz was my real first crush, the first girl I ever truly liked, and she’s always been nice to me. I just… I care for her. I care for you too, Y/n.. You have no idea hard it was for me try and not to like you because I do, I really really do.” Peter adds.

“Peter-” You try to put your hand on his arm but his hand stops you from doing so.

“I’m sorry… for everything.” He looks at you with a sincere look on his face.

“Get your hands off my daughter, Mr. Parker.” Tony walks in in full Iron Man gear.

“Sweetie, it’s time to go home.” Your dad steps off from his suit and walks over towards you.

Peter lets go of you as the two of you look at one another.

“Dad, it’s only 3 pm.” You remind him.

“I don’t care. I need to have a word with Mr. Parker, alone.” Your dad looks at you sternly.

“Bye Peter.” You smile weakly at him before heading out.


Originally posted by multifandomimagines-17

“Is he there?” Y/n and your three friends are on a three-way call to prepare you for the date with Ted Vanderbilt. The three girls are already seated at the Tavern.

“He just arrived! He’s wearing a gray blazer, white button downs, and dress shoes. He looks so gorgeous, Y/n/n.” Maddie sighs.

“Hey, ease up on the squealing, he’s my date.” Y/n reminds Maddie.

“Alright alright.. Settle down. Anyway, are you near? He’s already seated down.” Eliza asks.

“Turn your phone off ladies, I’m about to enter.” You tell your friends as you step out of the car.

“I’ll call you when I need you, Happy.” You smile at your father’s personal security.

Happy just nods and heads back inside the car.

“Show time.” A smirk forms on your face.

Before you could walk inside the restaurant, you see a red and blue object swinging around. Peter followed you again.

It’s time to let go, Parker… Because as of this moment, I’m already trying to.’ Y/n thinks to herself.

You walk inside to see to see the golden blonde boy seated at your favorite spot in your favorite restaurant while your friends are seated 3 tables away, all three of them giving you the thumbs up.

“Hi, you must be Ted Vanderbilt.” You smile down at the handsome fella.

He stands up from his seat, a bit shaken but leans in to kiss you on the cheek, not that you mind or anything.

“And you’re THE Y/n Stark. Wow. Gala pictures don’t do you justice.” He smiles at you before the two of you can sit down.

Good answer, Vanderbilt. 

Looks like Peter Parker may just have found a loophole out of Y/n Stark’s life. At least he now has time to focus on the ex-best friend Liz Allan, the former golden girl, but now just an old name for everyone on the UES, because right now, it’s all about Y/n Stark and her Waldorf-esque emergence from the chrysalis of Spence’s Red Door


TAG LIST: @multifandom-slytherin


If Graves were a kinder man, he would’ve taken the boy to hospital that day he found him adrift on the seashore. He would’ve gotten Credence a proper doctor, found him a linen-pressed bed, and been done with the whole thing.

If Graves were a less selfish man, he would’ve driven the boy down to his own office himself to fill out a missing person’s form and inquiry papers. Would’ve asked his lieutenants and old colleagues from his Dublin days about missing white boys with dark eyes, darker hair, and skin like the moon.

If Graves were a better man, he would’ve gotten on the phone with Social Protection, would’ve reported a missing, potentially underage boy found nude and trembling on the beach, would’ve reported signs of abuse.

But instead, he swoops in himself and carries the boy into his home, into his life, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Like he’s not purposefully making the lad dependent on him. And no, Credence has never complained, never once expressed a desire to leave, but that doesn’t mean the situation is in any shape or form okay . With a growing sense of guilt, Graves realizes more and more the many ways he’s been taking advantage. He’s imposing himself on this lovely young thing, making himself an indispensable source of comfort and shelter and love. Every kind word, every gentle caress and loving glance, is a lock clicked on the boy’s door. And Graves doesn’t even hold the keys anymore.

And even if he did, he’s come to realise that he doesn’t want the boy to leave, impossibly, selfishly. And the boy never asks, only smiles and claws out a place for himself in the vast emptiness of Graves’ life, fills up the room with brightness and silent laughter.

Graves goes back to work after four days. Four days of holding the sweet, lithe body close and safe, four days of chasing the boy’s lurid nightmares away, of feeling the gentle trembles calm under his patient touch, of letting the boy tuck his pale face against Percival’s throat, of spooning sweet porridge and soup into the little plush mouth.

To have to go and sit in the grey-lit station, a fat pile of paperwork lumped on his desk, and hear the grappling of petty thieves and vandals being wrestled into the holding cells is a horrid, cruel torture that sets his teeth on edge and makes him pace and snarl like a tiger in a cage.

He wants to be at home with his boy, his sweet lovely boy, tucked up nice and warm and safe within Graves’ arms. Because four days is too short a time to know someone so completely and even now Graves knows the boy was kind and gentle and sharp of mind.

He found him hiding in the bedroom once, he remembers.

Graves loves his bedroom, and so does Credence apparently. Graves can’t blame him. It’s warm and dark and just this side of small to be recognized as more cozy than cramped. There’s a large window with a soft, cushioned alcove across the room facing the bed, a little bench piled high with pillows and blankets.

Graves found Credence sat in front of the wide, bay window the third day, when he was supposed to be eating lunch. There was a frantic chirping, the loud flap of wings, and it only took Graves a few moments to realize that a little bird’s frail feet had frozen to the wrought iron frame of the window.

Graves was about to make his way forward, to do what, he doesn’t know even now, but then Credence leant in, wrapped a slim, gentle hand around the bird’s plump body, and breathed low and warm. It was such an ingenious little move that Graves stopped and stared for a moment. He watched the boy melt the ice with his hot, sweet breath, and eventually Credence pried the little feet from the metal and turned to Graves with bright, happy eyes.

Look what I did!

The bird meeped in the boy’s careful grip, and Credence turned to the window and carefully let go. There was a sharp flutter of wings, a goodbye chirrup, and the fat little body disappeared into the distance, leaving behind a fluff of feather on the windowsill and a soft smile on Credence’s lips.

Graves finds himself smiling at the memory, but blinks and Abernathy, one of his subordinates, is gaping at him like he’s seen the good lord’s face in a potato crisp.

“What exactly are you looking at, Abernathy?” Graves snaps, sharper than he’d intended, and the shrimpish man stutters out something and scampers away like a spooked mouse.

“You’re in a good mood,” Tina says over lunch a bit later. She’s skeptical, and Graves thinks irritably that she’s a better detective than Chief Inspector Picquery gives her credit for.

“What about it?” Graves mutters, the smile that had been hovering at the corners of his mouth vanishing. He’d been imagining Credence this morning, sat up on the bathroom sink, chin and jaw smeared with foaming shaving cream and giggling at the rasp of the straight-edge shaver which Graves drew ever so cautiously across his jawline. Tina’s voice was a cruel break to the memory.

“You’re never in a good mood.” Tina picks at her salad, tone factual.

“I beg your pardon,” but Graves isn’t as offended as he’d like to pretend to be. He is in a good mood. Imagining his boy waiting at home for him, fiddling around with Graves’ da’s old radio, bouncing around in his longish sleep-shirt. It makes Graves’ ribcage swell, but not painfully—warm and brimming, happy.

“Well, I’m not complaining.” Tina smirks now. “You’re less likely to go off on the secretaries when you’re getting laid.”

Graves sputters—”Is that anyway to talk to your superior, Goldstein?”—but inside he’s grinning. It’s a good day.

He’s productive despite all of the distractions, and queerly it is the thought of Credence waiting, swinging his socked feet from the kitchen bar that has Graves finishing up much more paperwork than he’d thought he’d accomplish in a day. He’s able to leave early because of it, and decides for a quick stop at one of the grocery stores, thinking about picking up more milk and eggs. But instead, he finds himself perusing a techie shop front, full to bursting of sleek television screens.

Graves has never worried much about his lack of a television. He has never put much stock in that form of entertainment, though he knows his officers adore popular dramatic programs on Friday nights and Sunday mornings, coming in on Monday chattering about who cheated on who and who was brutally murdered and such and such. But now he finds himself fretting in front of an entertainment shop when he should be grocery shopping, because Credence gets bored quite easily, bright, feline eyes going blank and dazed on some middle distance Graves can’t see.

He eventually pulls himself, and finds his way to the market. He gets what he needs and heads home, the newest TV model still sat in the shop, and he’s glad of it because when he opens the door of the house, Credence comes bounding up to him, grinning, Shakespeare’s Hamlet clutched between his fists.

The boy gestures wildly at the cover, panting, but then stops and just beams and there’s a hard, sticky lump in Graves’ throat, looking down at this sweet-eyed boy. The version he’s holding was Graves’ father’s copy, the only book the old man had ever read that was written by an Englishman.

“That was my Da’s,” he says, clearing his throat roughly, and he sees a worried expression forming on Credence’s face, darkening the smooth brow and thinning the soft lips. “Don’t worry. He would’ve liked you having it.” He would’ve liked Credence period, Graves finds himself thinking, would’ve liked the mystery and strange kindness of him. “I could read it aloud, if yeh’d like,” he finds himself offering for some unknown reason. He knows the boy can read and write, seen it with his own eyes, but finds he wants to do everything he can for Credence.

And it’s worth it to see the pretty, plainly joyful smile twisting those pink lips, making those dark eyes shine.

“C’mon, love. Let me put the milk away and I’ll tell you all about the Dane.”

Queenie’s the one who tells him about the man in the bakery.

Queenie’s a sweet girl, chicly curled hair and bright eyes, and she’s sharp as a knife too—one of the many reasons Jacob’s lucky to have her. So when she sees a tall, strange Nordic man showing her patrons photos of a pale-faced boy and asking after his runaway “son”, she feels a creeping suspicion curling in her gut.

When Graves comes into the shop Saturday morning, searching the shelves for the lemon tarts he knows Credence likes the best, Queenie tells him all about it.

“It was strange, you know,” she mutters lowly to him. “I hope it’s not true, the poor lad.”

Graves’ skin crawls with nerves. “What made you nervous?” he asked, tone suddenly serious and businesslike.

Queenie’s got good instincts. He remembers vividly when Siobhan O’Hare got engaged to some Dublin slicker last July. Queenie had called him a cheat, and two weeks later Siobhan’s mother had found the scrub in bed with one of the Langer girls. If Queenie thought this man was bad news, Graves was inclined to believe her.

Queenie hesitates for a second. She’s the lovely type of person who doesn’t like to speak badly of people she doesn’t know, but she eventually talks, instincts winning out over courtesy. “I don’t mean to be rude or anythin’, but he was a bit weird, the man. Some sort of thick accent, tall. Well-dressed. And there was something wrong with his eyes, you know?”

“His eyes?” Graves prompted, more and more ill at ease.

“Something missing. Something—wrong. I dunno how to explain it.” Queenie fiddles with her apron, frowning at a muffin whose top is the slightest bit lopsided. “Wonder why he thinks his son would run all the way up here, middle of nowhere.”

“What did the boy in the photo look like?”

She shrugs. “Waifish, dark hair, pale skin.” She blinks gold-spun lashes. “He looked sad.”

Spine icing up, Graves manages to calm himself enough to buy the pastries and walk home at a normal rate. He doesn’t burst out into a sprint the moment he sees the swell of his hill, but it’s a near thing. He nearly wrenches the door off its hinges, though, and Credence is startled enough to nearly fall off the living room couch.

He can see the question in Credence’s face— “What’s wrong, what happened?”—but he can’t physically do anything other than crowd Credence up against the couch and just press their foreheads together. He twitches, then gives in, grabs the boy by the waist, slides his nose down Credence’s cheek to his neck, and just breathes.

Graves remembers when he first found the boy washed up on the shore, cold and pale and faded. He thought the boy was a ghost, a faerie from one of the old legends, flickering on the twilight. He thought if he dared to touch him, his hand would find mist and magic. Now, he can’t think that anymore, because Credence is warm and soft and solid underneath Graves’ hands and arms. The boy doesn’t tremble or whimper, only makes a soft, confused noise, a little hum in his throat that Graves can feel under his lips. He presses three quick kisses, gentle and fond, up the boy’s neck and jaw, before pulling back, cupping the boy’s cheek with a large, warm palm, can’t help himself because the boy is safe and here.

Credence is flushed and confused, but pleased, smiling brightly, and Graves can’t help himself.

“Sorry,” Graves whispers, and then dips in for another kiss. This time his mouth touches smooth, soft lips instead of the silk of Credence’s neck, and the boy shudders, clutching at Graves’ shoulders as they trade heat and warmth, and a weight loosens in Graves’ chest, unfurling into something hot and sweet and beautiful. The boy’s new at this, lips clumsy and unsure and his hands flutter in the air, hesitant to touch, but his inexperience only makes Graves growl, low and pleased in his throat. He cups the boy’s crystal-line jaw, feels the impossibly smooth skin, trails his thumbs over the arch of the jugular. There’s a quick, thrilling slide of tongue, the catch of teeth, and Graves has to pull away, panting like he’s just run twelve kilometers, because if he doesn’t stop, he’ll consume . And he just wanted to hold the boy, wanted to gather the boy lovingly in his arms so the world wouldn’t be able to rip him away, and now, without planning it, he can taste the sweet on his lips, the ghost of the boy hot against his side.

“Credence,” he murmurs, and the boy looks up with limpid eyes, shy and delighted. He gives a little huff and nuzzles into Graves’ chest, arms trapped between them. He fingers Graves’ tie, pressing his swollen lips to the fabric, and Graves’ heart plays a tap dance on his third rib.

“Oh lord,” Graves murmurs, stunned. “Oh—I didn’t plan that.” He pulls away, bereft at the lack of Credence’s warmth, and his heart hurts at Credence’s soft noise of protest. “No—I—it was my fault, something happened today at the bakery.”

Credence stands there, stunned. Graves draws back, paces, rakes his hands through his hair. Credence blinks, makes a little questioning sound. What happened?

“Queenie—the baker I go to—she said a strange man had come round, asking after his son. He had a picture.” Graves can’t look at Credence, doesn’t want to see the happy light in his eyes at the news that his father’s come for him. Doesn’t want him to leave. “Is—did you run away from home, Credence?”

The boy doesn’t answer, and Graves looks up, and—

The boy’s stricken, healthy color leaching from his skin as he pales. Graves sees the tears well up silently, watches as they roll down trembling cheeks and drip off the sharp jaw and dampen the boy’s jumper, and automatically he reaches out, but the boy flinches back.

Credence,” Graves fumbles.

Credence gets small, his shoulders hunch, and Graves wonders frantically whether the boy is going to shatter.

“Credence, please, what is it?” Graves had never wished so much that Credence could speak as he does now. He glances around frantically, finds the pad of paper and pen on the writing desk. “Please.”

The boy swallows, sniffles, but takes the paper.

Are you going to give me back?

“Back?” Graves’ mind whirls. “To—to the man?”

Credence nods, doesn’t look up.

“Remember what I said. No matter what, you’re welcome here.” Graves takes two steps forward, silently cheers when the boy doesn’t back away. He opens his arms, reaches out. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Credence. Not in my house.”

The boy lifts his chin, swipes roughly at his wet eyes, but doesn’t move yet. He scribbles something down instead.


“Always,” Graves whispers, the tiny word in the middle of the paper cracking his heart, and the boy rushes into him, crumpling, sobbing and hiccuping loudly. “Oh, baby. Baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—Come here, let’s—” He picks the boy up by the soft thighs, lets the boy nuzzle into his neck in a parody of the loving embrace they had entwined in only ten minutes prior. He adjusts his grip, and then sits on the couch, the boy clinging to him, a trembling, warm mess on his lap, terrified. And this isn’t right, can’t be right. No teenager in their right mind should be so petrified at the idea of their father coming for them, no young person should sob and tremble and flinch at the very idea.

“Is that man your father, Credence? The one looking for you?” Graves whispers, and he feels the boy shake his head in the negative, curls tickling his chin. “Who is he?”

The boy shifts, finds his pen.

A bad man.

“What did he do?” Graves can feel a beast awakening in his chest, a feral animal dripping from the maw, teeth snapping and clawing at the ground. Fury makes his jaw stiff, but he’s careful to keep his grip on the boy’s waist firm, but careful. “What did he do to you, Credence?”

Credence looks up at him with dark eyes and doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even move to reach for his pen. Graves remembers vividly the dark, splotched bruises on the boy’s hips and thighs, remembers him naked and trembling on the beach.

Graves is one of the few men in the local Garda who is certified to carry a gun, and for good reason. He doesn’t like guns, never has. Has met one too many egomaniacs with god complexes because they had a finger wrapped round a factory-made trigger. He respects the power a gun has. He has never, ever felt the urge to kill someone unthreatened and unprovoked, never had any sort of temptation to threaten or degrade.

Until now.

Now, his eyes shine red and his breath gets thick and heavy in his chest. Now, he finds himself struggling to not pin Credence to the couch and blanket his weight over the boy, protective and feral as a mother bear, the world unable to pry him away from the sliver of boy he guarded. Now, he finds his own fist curling in on themselves, teeth gritting against each other, and he can see in his mind Credence’s faceless tormentor crushed and broken from Graves’ bare hands.

The only thing that jerks him out of his bloodlust is the feeling of Credence shifting closer, slim fingers sliding up to twine at the hair at the back of his neck. He pulls back a bit, just to see the boy’s face.

“You’re so beautiful,” Graves says aloud, feels his own eyes water hotly as he cups the soft, rosy cheek. “How could anyone ever hurt you?”

The boy doesn’t answer, just dips his head, holds Graves tighter, and Graves thinks about thick, clotted blood and the spatter of gunfire.


He can’t go back, he refuses to go back.

When Graves comes home, feral-eyed and hungry-mouthed, swoops down and presses his lips to Credence’s, Credence thinks he might swoon. He feels lost, feels stardust swoop through his veins, leave grit of glitter to ache in his chest and swell in his fingers. He clings to the man as long as he can, but then.

Then Graves retreats and he says something about a strange man, looking for Credence. And Credence knows the witch has come back for him, will take him. And he looks at Graves, looks at his uncertain face and his beautiful eyes and his darkened brow and Credence thinks he would let himself drown in the murky depths of the sea, his own home turned against him, before he gives up this lifetime with Mr Graves.

He knows it.


The man is taller than Graves originally expected, thick ashy hair carefully combed away from the pointed, lupine face. He’s dressed finely, sleek dark suit with a pale silver tie, but it is his eyes that draws Graves’ stare—they are flat and dull and Graves can’t help but compare them to a slow-gliding shark circling a stranded swimmer. Patient and watchful one moment, murderous and terrifying the next.

The man smiles. He has a cruel mouth. The lips look thin and soft, but the eyeteeth are wolfish, long and needle-sharp. “Yes, how may I help you?” His voice is thick and heavy, the Baltic salting the slanted vowels and clicking consonants, and Graves knows this is the man that Queenie spoke of. The bad man.

Graves takes out his badge, allows the man a look at his identification. “Inspector Percival Graves, district Garda.”

The man blinks down at the badge and says, “Ah.” He reaches out for a handshake. “Gellert, Gellert Grindelwald. May I ask why the sudden visit?”

Graves smiles tightly, keeps his grip light and unthreatening. A heavy, cold ring digs into his palm. “A few concerned folk downtown have let me know you’ve a missing son.” The lie leaves his mouth smooth as butter. “Wanted to ask if yeh wished to file an official report with the authorities.”

The eyes go flinty and sharp, and then the predator subsides. The hairs on the back of Graves’ neck stand. “It’s nothing.” The man’s dismissive, and he has some charm, Graves can see that. But it is an empty charm, empty words and empty eyes. “Just a bit of family business, I wouldn’t want to trouble any of your fine officers.” Another depthless smile.

“With all due respect, sir, if a child is in danger, it’s the Garda’s responsibility to put out a missing minor’s report,” Graves says, affecting sternness.

“Ah, yes, no it is nothing like that.” Grindelwald waves him off. “I would offer an invitation in, but I was in the middle of something just before you came. Perhaps we could have this conversation at a later date?”

Graves looks at him and his expression must’ve been extremely skeptical, because the man laughs deeply and says, “No, no, of course. You take safety very seriously here in Ireland, yes. I understand.”

He opens his room’s door, and Percival is ushered into a dim-lit sleeping/sitting area, a rumpled bed shoved in the corner, a couch shoved in its opposite. Nothing sinister or out of place, a dirtied coffee mug set out on a coaster, a wrinkled shirt hung on a hanger on the curtain rung. A pile of musty, old-spined tomes draws Graves’ eye, but he can’t make out the titles on the back, even though they glint brightly and embossed. Some sort of Cyrillic alphabet, entirely foreign to him.

Grindelwald clears a small chair and a desk off for Graves, but Graves declines to sit. “I won’t stay for long, won’t want to inconvenience yeh.”

Grindelwald smiles humorlessly. “Of course, of course.”

“If there’s any light yeh could share on the situation, maybe?” Graves prompts after a tense, awkward silence.

Grindelwald draws a quick, sharp breath, dusts off the tops of his pants. “Yes, yes. Hmm. Where to begin.” He taps his mouth with his middle finger, a habit it looks like. “To clear some things up, no, my son isn’t a minor.”

(Inside, Graves lets out a long, relieved sigh he does not want to address).

Grindelwald continues, oblivious, “He’s not missing. He’s left, after a very heated argument. Our opinions differ greatly on some things, you see, and it’s created a large rift between us.” Grindelwald moves to the kitchenette, trailing long fingers over the miniscule counter. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, meets Graves’ gaze head on. “I am here looking for him, yes, but my son is an adult. I have no legal holding over him. I cannot force him to come home with me. But I wish to talk sense with him. To apologize, and get on with our lives.” He licks his lips, a small wet flicker, perches on a stool. “I’ve heard rumors among his friends that he’s found refuge in a little Irish town named Perth. And so here I am. Still searching.”

Graves blinks. “And you’re sure there’s nothing you want to be done in search of your son?”

Grindelwald dips his head politely. “Ah, no thank you. It is a kind offer, but a misplaced one. He will come to me when he is ready to make amends.”

Graves moves his lips in the small image of a smile. “Ah, alright. Just lettin’ you know, Perth’s a small town. Size of a shoebox, nearly. If your son was hiding here somewhere, people would know, trust me. Strangers aren’t common, not in Perth.”

“Thank you, Inspector,” Grindelwald nods. “But I’m sure he’s here. I can feel it.”

“Just one more thing, Mr Grindelwald, before I leave,” Graves says, adjusting the lapels of his coat, careful to not look the man in the eye. “Do you have a current picture? Of the boy?”

Grindelwald smiles, reaches into his pocket. He withdraws a small, battered leather wallet and flips it open. Graves cranes his neck, takes a quick peek—no credit cards, strangely, or pictures of family that he can see, just a glossy Polaroid slightly bent at the edges.

“Here,” the man reaches out, and Graves grasps it, brings it close to his eyes to see.

A pale, wane Credence, but the same age. Sunken cheeks and puffy mouth, lovely, knobby knees bared in cut-off shorts, slim arms vulnerable and bared in a black tank. He’s sitting on some sort of porch-step, and it would’ve looked like any other suburban teenager lounging in a friendly neighborhood had Graves not seen the eyes. The boy looks terrified, eyes blown and wild, mouth open the slightest bit as if he were about to yell. And there is a kind of vagueness to the whole scene, the background too cloudy, the clothes the boy’s wearing too sharp, as if the photo had been modified somehow, tampered with.

“Yes, I’m sure I’ll recognize him now,” Graves says faintly instead of any of these things, already slipping out the door. He barely manages to hand the photo back, barely manages to return Grindelwald’s unnerving smile. “I’ll—I’ll notify you if I hear anything.”

A few more smiles and thank yous and have a good days, and Graves begins to wander his way down the drive.

“Oh, before you go, officer,” Grindelwald stands in the doorway, watching as Graves stumbles his way to his patrol car. “My son’s name—it’s Credence. Credence Grindelwald.”

Graves sits for a good few minutes in a grocery shop parking lot after that, an accented voice rattling in his head, I can feel it.

anonymous asked:

Everytime I see Caroline flack comment all over the sisters pictures I get a shiver. She's truly something it's like she wants everyone to pretend she didn't agree to fake date a 17 year old when she was 32. I swear when Larry come out every one of the beards are going to post a pic of them all together holding hands captioned "our happy beard family". Taylor will be in the middle wearing her "I ❤️ TS" tshirt. Kendall will be handing a Pepsi to Eleanor.

danielle will be holding “it’s a boy” balloons. eleanor will have two eerie silhouettes flanking her, depicting her long-lost twins tina and gretchen.

  • I always imagine that the real Percival Grave is very salty lad , that speaks the truth bluntly in normal conversation with his arrogant face and have a dry humor . Heck he's probably annoyed/intimidated a lot of MACUSA employee with his sarcasm (intentionally & unintentionally) and his deadly glare but deep down he cares too much.
  • Percival, looking at the report: *glares intensively*
  • New Aurors: *Sweats*
  • Percival: job well done. Tina , lets go.
  • However, he will never show it and Tina knows that. Talking about Tina , she maybe one of the few people can handle Graves' attitude as her mentor .
  • Tina: Did you just gave away your scarf to that second salem boy ?
  • Percival: I'm going to pretend that you didnt ask me that question.
  • Tina: But isnt that your fav-
  • Percival: *glares*
  • Tina: YEs , SIr
  • He's that type of person just who's just bad to react to any sentimental emotion . I wonder if Credence was crying or sad when they finally meet he probably don't know what to do and awkwardly pats his head or on the shoulder.
  • Percival: *awkwardly holding Credence* Tina help me
  • I also have this funny thoughts that the real Percival Graves likes to curse (maybe a little) and it can be assume that it will take weeks or months to find the real him SOmEWHERE.
  • Tina : Mr. Graves ! we came to rescue you
The Perfect Gentleman

Originally posted by sweetly87

Request from @iknowyouwuvme: Newt Scamander x reader where she’s a muggle but a huge animal lover & he falls for her & confesses his feelings & it’s cute? 

Word Count : 3848

You were watching your childhood friend ,Jacob, and his girlfriend ,Queenie, from behind the counter as they shamelessly flirted with one another before leaving the bakery in your hands for the night. They weren’t your average couple but they were definitely the cutest in your book. A smile grew on your face as you watched the two of them. Jacob looked so happy with Queenie on his arm. You couldn’t believe that at one moment you were suspicious of her stirring Jacob into trouble. Queenie was an absolute doll.

You remembered the day Jacob invited you to come have dinner at their apartment. He wanted to officially introduce you to the girl he fell head over heels for and her sister.

Keep reading


- Harry Potter theme GAHHH

- fantastic beasts logo pew pew

- cue grindelwald with hair like the malfoys???

- newt whispering to his suitcase to stop his beasts from making noise inside

- hugs suitcase GAHHH

- luggage gets checked, lock keeps flipping open lmao

- what the hell is tearing up the city holy shit there are rips in the ground and omg what what what

- portentina casually eats a hot dog


- niffler activated

- niffler gets loose in the bank

- newt tries to get back that furry beast

- jacob discovers occamy egg

- casually brings egg into interview with him about bakery loan

- “hey mr british guy, i think your egg is hatching”

- casually apparates with a no-maj to the bank vaults to get the niffler which is promptly stuffing it’s belly with a goddamn gold bar. really.

- jacob is so confused

- newt tickling the niffler to get it to drop all it has stolen awwww

- casually apparates with a no-maj outside the bank

- jacob whacks newt on the head with suitcase HAHAHA

- porpentina whisking newt away to MACUSA (what the hell)

- lift elf???

- wand polishing elf???

- porpentina works in the wand permit office after being demoted hmm why was she demoted from an auror hmmm

- graves comes to talk to her, opens newt’s case to find baked goods

- dun dun dun him and Jacob swapped cases

- mad rush to find jacob

- jacob gets attacked by creatures, demiguise, occamy chick, niffler, erumpent and billiywig escape

- “a moth i think” newt you’re not filling anyone

- niffler be hiding in the wall sneaky little bastard

- so graves befriended credence who he thinks to be a squib

- credence gets called a freak by shaw HOW DARE YOU ASSHOLE

- “I’m not supposed to be bringing guys home”

- queenie just casually reading everyone’s minds

- queenie being adorable

- queenie making the strudel gahhh

- boys get made hot cocoa

- newt casually just stepping into his suitcase like its no big deal, asks jacob to follow

- starts feeding all his creatures AHHHHHH

- thunderbirddddddddddd

- is the reason he came to america in the first place omg

- mooncalves look like baby llamas with huge eyes omg adorable

- graphorn’s be licking his face like

- “mummy’s here” save my soul please

- newt getting all sad about his creatures being in foreign environment, nooo don’t be saddd

- finds niffler in a jewellery shop

- trying to be a stand

- good lord

- sequence of newt flying round the shop on cabinets and spinning on a chandelier what even

- accio niffler

- they get showered in jewellery and get caught by cops

- and then a lion

- an actual lion

- shows up

- what the hell???????

- girls hear noise from Central Park

- “but we made them cocoa…”

- newt strapping jacob into protective gear, “your skull is susceptible to damage”

- erumpent cornering a hippo because it wants to mate HAHAHA

- newt performing a mating dance to get its attention

- at this point i didn’t know how to react with all the weird things he was doing bless adorable newt

- cue running across the snow and ice and capturing the erumpent

- dun dun dun here comes tina (porpentina) who turns them in (WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY)

- obscurus kills shaw at his rally dun dun dun

- they get arrested and newt cries out for his case and its contents not to be harmed continuously. i started tearing up, he really loves his creatures, it was heart breaking

- he looks absolutely shattered when he’s being interrogated by graves who discovers the obscuris he’s been holding onto after separating it from its host before she died

- graves assigns both newt and tina death penalties

- the way they issue the death penalties is awful

- they make use of one’s happy memories to drag them into the veil of sorts. it’s terrifying.

- credence gets whipped by his mum my poor boy nooooo

- porpentina got demoted because she tried to attack his mum


- newt sends out swooping evil to rescue tina

- at the same timeeee

- queenie rescues jacob yay

- cue heart to heart between queenie and jacob over owls and pigeons lmao


- they casually go to some club

- newt spells his tie into a bow so cute

- “never seen a house elf before”

- “my uncle’s a house elf”

- cue giggle water oh my god

- dun dun dun newt pretends to sell pickett and rescues him after


- credence is given a deathly hallows pendant to contact grave good lord

- demiguise looks like old lady with really long fur holding handbag full of candy oh my god cute

- “it’s babysitting” holy shit demiguise be looking after the huge occamy chick ;-;

- flying cockroach

- tiny teapot

- they all go into the suitcase

- cue newt’s really old photo of his really old friend from hogwarts who was a LESTRANGE

- dun dun dun credence discovers the child who is the obscurus aka modesty (is she really?) and finds a wand

- mother proceeds to break wand WHYYYYYYY YOU AWFUL CULT WOMAN

- all hell breaks loose (mother dies YASSSSSSSSSSSSS)

- graves finds credence, completely betrays credence, realises credence is the obscurus dun dun dun plot twist as an obscuris can’t live past the age of ten :o

- cue newt trying to save credence

- cue tina following him

- cue Jacob not wanting to be left behind

- andddddd fight sequence go!

- i swear to god MACUSA don’t know how to take goddamn orders. they flipping killed credence. newt could have saved him. good lord.

- another plot twist, graves, isn’t graves

- newt be like uses his creatures to stop graves and tina has grown pretty close to the swooping evil huh

- reveal yourself dude

- dun dun dun (so many of these omg) GRAVES IS GRINDELWALD (JOHNNY DEPP DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN)

- so now that the whole city knows about magic the world is screwed right? nope.

- cue thunderbird that showered the whole city with a venom that when properly diluted can be used to obliviate someone.

- newt saves the day

- newt is so affectionate towards the thunderbird i cannot even help my soulllllllll


- cue newt bumping into jacob again at the can factory and swapping their suitcases so he gets one full of silver occamy egg shells to start his bakery


- queenie visits bakery, let me cry

- newt be like ties string round his suitcase to stop it from opening erm, that’s not gonna work friend

- has to leave new york

- “how would you feel about me giving you a copy of my book in person?”

- tina is so happy that she’ll be able to see newt again


excuse any spelling errors i watched the show yesterday and i rushed this when i woke up HAHAHAHA

Fic: Midway Justice

Written for day one of the Glee Collage Fest. Prompt: Fair 

Pairing: Klaine

WC: 1,300

Summary: Santana is a fantastic wingman in her own, special way. An alternate meeting AU.


Thank you foramomentonly for the last minute beta! I’m so sorry you were up as late as I was. : )


“That’s right! Walk away you pathetic mole-rat dressed as a human being!” 

“Santana.” Kurt put himself bodily between his friend and the middle-aged couple running out of the fair. She just got louder.

“Sir! SIR! Look at me, sir! Are you going to let me talk to your wife that way? Are you? Oh yes you are, because you have the right to get married and have little mole-rat babies!”

“SANTANA, I think they heard you.” Kurt tentatively patted her shoulder and shot a glance at the retreating couple. They’d already passed the midway rides and were well on their way to the parking lot. For soulless mole rats, they could really move.

Keep reading

Tina. Amy. Gilda. Jane.

These names are more than just names to me. They are women who left an indelible mark on my soul. They are women who helped me grow up. They are women who taught me how to be who I am today.

The 40th anniversary special of Saturday Night Live had me feeling incredibly nostalgic, as I wrote earlier. I remember the moment I discovered SNL. I’m pretty sure, actually, that it was around this time of year. In late January 2004, Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachay hosted (what a throwback to the early-aughts MTV era…). I was 12 years old. It was the first episode I remember being able to keep my eyes open for the whole way through.

Shortly thereafter, I was hooked. I was lucky enough to have grown up during an era where, not only could I look forward to watching the show live every weekend, but I could come home from school and see reruns on Comedy Central and E!. I had the best of both worlds: I could simultaneously watch a great current cast and great casts of the past. I was almost immediately obsessed. When I love something, I love it 150 percent. It’s not amateur hour.

I decided that I had to learn everything there was to ever know about SNL. I borrowed every book I could from the library, watched every special I could get my hands on. I was a smart kid, and my grades were good, but my mother has always told me that if I had had the same passion and dedication to my academic studies as I did to my SNL ones, I would have graduated valedictorian.

As a middle school girl caught up in the awkwardness of mean girls, boys, and growing up, I found myself drawn to brilliant women. I was the oldest of three girls, and aside from a few older cousins who lived hours away, for several years, I didn’t have many older women to inspire me, so I looked to the media for my lady heroes. When I discovered SNL, I didn’t only discover a pop culture phenomenon. I discovered a new group of amazing women to identify with.

They all are unique in their own ways, but they all have one thing in common: they weren’t here for your shit. They were bitches in the best possible sense of the word: they were bossy, they weren’t going to be told what to do. They were going to get on air and be seen, and they didn’t care if you liked it or not. They were loyal: best friends, sisters even, who stuck by each other’s sides through and through, never throwing the other under the bus or creating a rivalry. They were one of a kind.

Tina taught me to work hard.
Tina was my girl; I recognized such a kindred spirit with her that is hard to describe. She was me: geeky and intelligent, a smartass through and through, awkward and shy, but ambitious and stubborn to boot. Her accomplishments gave me such hope for my future. Here was a girl who was just like me, only grown up and doing it all, slowly but surely building an empire. If I worked just as hard as she did, if I was just as fiercely committed, the same could happen for me.

Gilda taught me to be brave.
Have you ever seen more fearlessness in a person? She flung herself around like a rag doll on stage, completely uninhibited. Which, given what we know now, about her inner anxieties and her eating disorder, is even more awe-inspiring. On stage, she was a completely different person. She didn’t care what she looked like. One of my favorite stories is how she broke a rib during a dress rehearsal run through of the now-iconic Judy Miller Show sketch. She taped it and went on to the show, commiting herself to the act even more.

Gilda died on my birthday, two years before I was born. When I was younger, sometimes I imagined that I was Gilda in a past life, that that’s where I got my goofiness from, only I was cursed with not being nearly as funny this time around. Today, I work a few blocks from Gilda’s Club, and sometimes I find myself walking by that red door. I pause, smile, and think of that beautiful spirit gone far too soon. I wish she was here for me to thank.

Amy taught me to be myself.
Where do I begin with Amy Poehler? So often I was either running around pretending to be Kaitlin, the preteeen goober who was constantly, endearingly, annoying her stepfather, Rick, or aspiring to have the same sort of friendship with someone as she had with Tina Fey. Amy is all about celebrating other ladies — seeing her work with smartgirlsattheparty now is just further proof of that — and standing up for who she is. She made herself an equal player in a boys’ club and stayed true to herself.

I will never forget the anecdote from Tina Fey’s Bossypants. Amy was vulgar at a table read — she often is, unapologetically so, and as someone else with an affinity for swear words, I appreciate that:

“Jimmy Fallon, who was arguably the star of the show at the time, turned to her and in a faux-squeamish voice said: “Stop that! It’s not cute! I don’t like it.”

Amy dropped what she was doing, went black in the eyes for a second, and wheeled around on him. “I don’t fucking care if you like it.” Jimmy was visibly startled. Amy went right back to enjoying her ridiculous bit …”

Jane taught me to that smart was sexy.
Jane Curtin was not goofy. She was the woman with an acerbic wit, who could match Dan Aykroyd’s barbs point for point. She also challenged the notion that women couldn’t be funny and pretty. Jane didn’t have to play dumb or make herself ugly or weird looking to get laughs. She came in and did her job pointedly. When her bits were over, I felt such an understated confidence radiate through the screen. She knew she was smart and she knew that it was intimidating, and she went with it. She was better than the boys in more ways than one, and she knew it and embraced it, though never in a pompous way.

These women meant everything to me growing up, and they still do to this day. I say this so often, but I will repeat it until I am blue in the face or until it sticks — whichever comes first. Young women need strong female role models. We need to see that we can succeed without dumbing ourselves down or sexing ourselves up. We need to see that we can accomplish just as much as men, that we can go from awkward duckling to beautiful, confident swans. We need lady heroes. We just do.

These women are such a rad group that 1200 words doesn’t do them enough justice. Go out and read Bossypants, Yes Please, Live From New York, and It’s Always Something. Go on YouTube and pour over clips of these amazing women. If you don’t understand their importance now, maybe then you will.

What I loved about Supernatural 10x12 "About a Boy"
  • Dean’s back to burgers and soda, thank Chuck!
  • Dean locking himself in because he’s worried and doesn’t have enough faith
  • Sam and his tablet - when did he get this? or is this foreshadowing next week’s episode?
  • “Time this gig got an R rating.” - Fourth wall? What fourth wall?
  • “You also believed in the easter bunny until you were 12." 
  • Dean’s insecurity about interviewing people after a week of locking himself into the bunker
  • "It’s a dive bar. It’s my comfort zone.”
  • Dean telling Tina about his childhood and hinting at the difficulties, not just pretending everything was fine
  • Now Dean also lost a shoe
  • Dean PUT THAT SHOT DOWN you were doing so well!!!
  • “I’m a high-functioning alcoholic.”
  • Teen!Dean’s dirty jokes^^ 
  • “Your son is so polite.”^^
  • Puberty sucks… again!
  • Sam being squeezed in the passenger seat because Dean has to adjust it and the height difference in general
  • “I blame Obama” as answer to the witch’s complaint about how she can’ just kidnap children anymore without everyone freaking out
  • Americans trying to pronounce “Hänsel” is always hilarious
  • The Coven sent a witch to control Rowena - so she’s got big things planned, I’m so excited!
  • Dean suggesting to stay young because the Mark is gone, being his usual self-sacrificing self
  • Dean saving Sam and Tina, being his usual self-sacrificing self
  • “You pulled a Dean Winchester. Thank you.” - “Anytime." 
  • Tina’s "Everybody wants a second chance” and Dean’s look at hearing that
  • “There was a Taylor Swift song in the bus that I hopped back to the motel and I liked it, Sam. I liked it a lot,”
  • THAT ENDING! Dean deciding not to pretend he doesn’t like the song and instead letting it play and doing something he likes even if it isn’t masculine or what-the-fuck-ever - this is SO important!!!

(also on AO3)

Thanks @agricolaesumus for the prompt! It was lots of fun and made my heart warm~ I, ah, didn’t use the sentence exactly, but the general idea is the same! Hope you enjoy! <3

(written for these ridiculous sentence prompts!)

“I’m sorry that I got way into playing house and I kissed you passionately”

Nico stepped out of Cabin 13 an hour before breakfast. Early morning or late night were really the only times Camp Half-Blood was peaceful. If Nico came out any other time, some camper or another was bound to try to get him to participate in camp activities. (He didn’t mind archery or sparring or even sculpting weird shit out of clay, but climbing up a wall of lava? Not exactly Nico’s idea of a good time.)

In the mornings, though. There was a thin layer of mist in the air. The sun hadn’t fully come up, so the sky was still dim and gray. There was a stillness in the air, disturbed only by the occasional satyr running about getting things ready for the day. Yes, Nico much preferred Camp Half-Blood like this. Nobody screaming with laughter. No idiotic practical jokes being pulled (Leo Valdez and the Stoll brothers were a bad mix). Just peace and quiet.

Will liked to call him an old man for hating noisy people as much as he did. Will was technically right, since Nico was born about eighty years ago, but Nico still hated it because Nico wanted Will to want to date him, and nobody wanted to date an old man.

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The Winner

Newt Scamander x Reader

Words: 1, 560


You weren’t jealous, absolutely not. Maybe just a little bothered but that was Tina´s fault. She didn’t address your presence at all, the white wall of the small room was more gazed at than your annoyed frame by her pretty brown eyes. Those damn pretty dark eyes where eating Newt alive and he didn’t look a tad uncomfortable.

A tiny voice in your head encouraged you to be a brat and get the hell out of that horrible situation, but the bright baby blue eyes of Queenie forced you to stay there with a fake tight lipped smile. You were sitting so straight and stiff that your body was starting to feel sore, however if you moved even a millimeter, you were sure your lips would become part of a grimace.

Watching Newt made things even more painful to resist. How could he look at her like she´s the goddamn chimera he never had the chance to see before?

Well, of course now you would accept that you were extremely and awfully in love with the freckled man that leaned into you every second of his life. Except now.

Queenie giggled and you frowned, knowing that both of you were vaguely aware of what the dazed lovers were talking about.

“Love?” Her baby blue eyes darted to the concerned man at your side while you forced a smirk.

“Yeah?” It came out in a somehow aggressive tone, Newt didn’t appear to catch on the edgy annoyance even though Tina did.

“Maybe you should go out, you seem anxious.” So now the pretty new friend of the fool you liked was kicking you out of the case in completely polite way. Queenie stood up quickly, golden light locks ruffling with the movement, almost running towards you, she grasped one of your tense arms and made you stand up beside her.

“Finally! Let´s go!” The blonde exclaimed with enthusiasm, receiving a raised eyebrow from you. Newt seemed eager to say something, nevertheless he got attached to another conversation before he could call your name. He adored Tina but the sudden necessity to get him trapped in a casual conversation was trying rather than pleasant. He missed you, even when you were sitting next to him, Newt couldn’t feel you there.


“I don’t understand what you are implying.” Tricking a mind reader was simply useless, still the words came out bluntly and without asking your brain.

“Oh! Come on! You know, I´m bad at listening to people but reading minds is something completely different. I could hear you even if I didn’t want you.” She pouted like a child, crossing her slim arms and frowning at your indifferent expression. “It´s like an outrageous bitterly comical tragedy that you read in a cheesy book, goodness! I can almost hear him thinking how worried for you he is right now.”

“Queenie-” Earlier she was acting as if she was mad at you, and now the looney took the place of the gossiper that wished to help the enamored woman that never got a chance. The last fact irritated you to the point you wanted to use a rougher tone with her, even though you knew that being mean to your friend was nothing near to a solution.

A noiseless movement of the door caught your eyes, Queenie also adverted her blue gaze to the wood frame with narrowed eyes. The man who you thought she was waiting appeared with a hopeful, slightly scared and weary smile. His hair was ruffled more than ever, his fingers twitched and you realized he got the new hairstyle by passing his hands over it a lot of times. Sadly thanks to his blush, you associated it to the nervousness he felt when you left him alone with Tina. “Um, I hope I´m not interrupting anything…”

“And there he is, not even ten minutes. A record, congratulations, lover boy. Goodbye, y/n.” The blonde bombshell scoffed, nearly rolling her eyes. Her low pink heels clicked on the floor while she stomped out of the living room. She looked so damn proud.

“L-Lover boy?” Newt flushed a redder shade of crimson with wide eyes. You inclined your head to the right slightly, in a common expression of confusion, pretending not to know what was she talking about.

“Maybe she was referring to Tina, I mean, we even left you both alone.”

“You did what?” He scowled, maintaining his gaze on your eyes for a mere second that made you tense your jaw preparing yourself for a scold. Moments after he realized how severe his eyes were fixed on the floor a warmer and familiar emotion filled his features.

“Sorry.” Apologizing, Newt tried to step closer to you. He was weary, slowly approaching to your side. “I just wanted to know if you were feeling alright, you seemed rather pale…” Carefully, his fingers reached your cheeks, caressing the soft skin tenderly.

“Umm…I´m feeling fine, maybe I just need to go to sleep…” You whispered in panic, not daring to say nothing or flinch away of his touch.

“Well, then let´s go to sleep.” With a small smile, Newt declared, ruffling your hair harshly.


“You got me scared, last time you caught a cold I almost fainted because the fever wouldn’t go away!” Mother hen exclaimed, tugging your arm in the direction of your shared room. You quite didn’t adore the idea of staying with him right now that you couldn’t process your own emotions, but leaving him with the Goldstein sisters was something you wouldn’t do again.


“Are you asleep?”

“Not yet, I need to finish writing this page.” The exhausted man rubbed his eyes roughly, making you wonder how horribly the bags under his eyes would look in a few hours when you both left in the morning.

“Newt, we need to sleep and I can´t if all the lights are on, flashing in my face.” His face hardened in concentration, while his hands scribbled hurriedly over the paper.

“Almost finished!” You chuckled, laying on your bed again, looking up to the ceiling with a small grin. He didn’t mention Tina more than once. And when he did, Newt complained for the insistent attitude his friend was having. Somehow, the freckled man couldn’t comprehend why both of you seemed to have the necessity of leading a conversation at the same time and that obliviousness just made his actions cuter. (At least it was adorable when he wasn’t on Tina´s side.)

Between five and ten minutes, Newt completed fixing the small details of his script and stumbled to one of the drawers. “Don’t look!” He started to get changed, previously covering your face with one of the smooth pillows of the bed.

“Why are you taking so long? I´m going to die, you sluggish man.” A loud laugh echoed in the room and a pair of hot fingertips removed part of the pillow, leaving only your eyes covered.

“Don´t exaggerate, love. I can´t find the blue shirt, do you know where I put it?”

“Hmmm? Yesterday you changed in the case.” Now you heard him sigh, nearly a minute later a rustle sounded and you waited for him to let you get rid of the soft material of the cushion.“Newton?”

Silence was your response, however, you knew he was still inside of the bedroom. You could feel the familiar scent of cinnamon while he stood there at your side. “What is it?”

A soft, hot and damp mouth chastely collided with yours with the sweetness of honey. Startled, you just let him continue kissing you but didn’t press your own mouth to his. When he noted your lack of reaction Newt stumbled back and you raised yourself in a sitting position. Your cheeks flushed warmer than ever, feeling the boiling blood of your body concentrate in your nose without shame.

“Oh goodness! I´m so sorry! Really! I didn’t mean to…! In fact I wanted to kiss you but, but I know I should´ve asked-” He put his hands up, opening his palms and waiting for you to say something.

“So…So do you like me?”

“Emm…yes, of course I like you, I mean I think I made it clear last year during Christmas…?” Looking confused, Newt inclined his head to the side, frowning a bit.

“Oh. That, that necklace?”

“…You couldn’t understand what it meant?” His hopes got higher, his heart fluttered intensely on his chest, at the same time you fought the urge of slapping yourself. Maybe you had fallen asleep minutes ago and you were just having a wonderful dream.

“In my defense, I love you can mean a lot of things. You didn’t even say it…! You assumed I knew.” Newt stiffened at your words.

“How I´m supposed to take that answer?”

“I love you too, Scamander.” Kneeling to the front, you reached out for him and tugged his shirt. Once he leaned the sufficient amount of space, your lips sweetly crashed into each other.

Even before meeting Tina, you were the winner of his heart without knowing. Such a thing as jealousy makes blind the smartest of women. Luckily, you had Queenie on your side. (And secretly, Tina. The brunette who loved Newt so much that wouldn’t let him get another broken heart thanks to his and yours obliviousness, when she already knew of the feelings you harbored for him.)

Are You Really Wearing That? - Ashton

Requested by anon - Ashton is being overprotective over what you wear when u guys wanted to go to some party

“Yeah, I can go with you but where is it?” I asked my best friend. I sense Ashton staring at me from across the room. 

“It’s at ‘Zero’ which is over there on Palace Street. Tina knows the bouncer there so we can get in for free” she tells me. 

“Tina doesn’t even like Lando but she is willing to go to his party?” I roll my eyes and try to ignore the feeling that Ashton is STILL staring at me. 

“That girl will pretend to like anyone if it gets her free entry and free booze” she laughs. 

“Yeah, I guess you are right. Okay, I will see you around 8 then” I reply.

“Okay, do I need to come pick you up?  Are the boys coming?”

“Not tonight, they have to finish recording, it’s the last night” I answer and I chance the glance up and I was right, Ashton could burn a hole through me with that look.

“Do you want me to bring that red dress I got in New York? I bet it would look awesome on you!” She asks me.

“No thanks, I’m a bit taller then you. I need a dress that will one past my butt” I laugh and she does too.

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true. Okay, see you later.”

“See you at 8 Meliss” I tell her and hang up the phone.

“Who is this Lando guy” Ashton asks as soon as the phone is hung up. 

“Some guy that we used to go to school with.”

“Have I ever met him?” He keeps pushing.

“No, because we were never really friends with him but apparently he invited on his Facebook and told them to bring friends.”

“So you weren’t directly invited? How do I know you will be safe?”

It’s his dad’s club or uncles or something so they want to get publicity. Tina knows the bouncer there and said we could get in for free and it’s just on Palace Street Ashton. It’s not like I’m going to Detroit. I figure since you will be here recording, I could go out and just let loose.“

"You need other people to do that? You can’t let loose with us?” he asks and I hear a little snideness in his voice.

“First of all Ashton, turn off the attitude. Second of all, I let loose with you guys at home but I can’t go out with you without 4,000 girls screaming for you. If anyone needs to get snippy here, it’s me. I don’t want to fight about this, I’m going to a party with my 2 best friends and I will be home when we are done.” I stand and go to leave the room.

“Where are you going now?” Ashton stands and walks towards me.

“I thought maybe I could shower and get ready if that is okay with you.”

“It’s only 4” he tries. I sigh and put my hands against his chest.

“Listen Ash, I don’t know what this is all about but you need to relax. There is a 20 minute drive back to the house, I need to shower, shave, pick an outfit, put some make up on and cook something to eat before I go.”

“Can I come home and have dinner with you then?” He says while looking away, almost embarrassed to ask.

“Sure Ash, I will cook for both of us.” I lift his face up. “I love you, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I know. I love you too baby” he says before kissing me on the lips and going back to playing with Michael’s guitar. I walk out of the room and to my car.


I had taken my shower and shaved about an hour and a half ago then spent time in my robe preparing dinner. I put home made meat balls in the oven and spread some garlic butter on bread to toast right before we ate. I looked at the clock. 

“Oh geeze! I better get going on my hair” I tell myself. I head back upstairs after one last check on the meatballs and set to work. I had put my hair up in a couple loose buns in the hope that it would curl nicely and it worked. I finished drying my hair and sprayed it into place then starting on my make up. As I placed the last of my powder on, opting to hold out on lipstick until dinner was over, I heard the door open. I made my way downstairs and found Ashton just kicking off his shoes. 

“It smells awesome in here baby” he smiles. 

“Thank you. I’m just about to put the pasta on so why don’t you go clean up” I tell him, knowing that his hands get dirty after a day in the studio. I turn the stove on and place the pot on top, take the meatballs out of the oven and place the sauce in a pan. Ashton walks up behind me and wraps his hands around my waist.

“I thought you would have been all dressed and ready by now” he tells me.

“No, I did my hair and most of my make up but I didn’t want to get dressed before eating spaghetti” I giggled.

“What are you going to wear?” He has a weird tone in his voice again.

“I planned on wearing that pink dress with the black sequins that fade from the bottom to the top” I tell him as I take the bread out and set the strainer in the sink. 

“How many people are going?" 

"I don’t know Ashton, probably a lot. It is at a club so probably normal club volume” I say in a huff as I strain the pasta and put it in a big bowl. Ashton sets the table as I mix the sauce and meatballs into the pasta. I hear him cut the bread and I bring the pasta to the table. We are silent as we eat but near the ending he places his fork down.

“I want to go to this thing with you.”

“Ashton, I’m going out with my girlfriends and you have to do your job. You need to finish recording tonight and I refuse to be the reason you don’t finish” I say, struggling to keep calm.

“There will be a lot of horny guys there and I don’t want you running off with them” he mumbles. I huff and stand. 

“Please clean up the table while I get dressed” I answer. After making my way upstairs, I take my robe off and slide into the pink dress. I adjust the straps and pick out a perfect lipstick to go with it along with my black clutch that matches my heels. I hear Ashton groan at the door.

“You are really going to wear that?” I can tell he is unhappy.

“Yes Ashton, I am really going to wear this and I am really going to go out with my friends and I am really going to have fun. I might even get crazy and have a drink or two because that is what people our age do. They don’t sit at home and wait alone for their boyfriends to get home from the studio” I snap. I feel bad for snapping but I can’t take his attitude anymore. “I don’t know why you have such an aversion to me going out and having fun with someone who isn’t you!” I practically shout. I hear a honk outside and look at my phone. “I’m going Ashton, get over it.” He follows me to the door but stops just as I reach for the handle.

“I just don’t want other guys approaching you and seeing this much and trying to get something from you. It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just….what if one of them has more to offer you then I do. What if he thinks he can take what he wants even if you don’t want it. What if I can’t get to you in time." 

"Are you jealous?” I ask, trying to hide a hint of laughter.

“I’m not jealous. I’m worried that something will happen and I can’t do anything. I can’t protect you if I am not there” he says sadly, opening the door for me. I give him a sad smile and lean in to kiss him.

“You don’t need to protect me Ash, not all the time. I have the pepper spray you got me in my purse and I know how to use my shoe as a weapon. I love you and don’t worry. I will text you and keep you up to date” I smile, give him another kiss and head out to Melissa’s car. Ashton still looks sad/worried and a little turned on. 

“I love you too Y/N” he tells me and stays at the door until we pull away. Melissa looks over at me.

“What is he scared of? That you will leave him?”

“No. He is scared that he can’t protect me.”

“He knows you once hit a man with your shoe who tried to kiss you when you didn’t want it right?” She laughs.

“Nah, that’s a story for another day” I laugh with her.