❛ DEAD BOY WALKING.

[diegoandor-deactivated20171220]

Credence, I owe you an apology.

[barebcned-blog]

contemplating the fact that credence wears suspenders under his vest

[jungshoseok]

[spectrcm]

@barebcned || starter call !

        “Credence?” he called softly, taking several short steps closer to the boy he could see huddled by the wall.  “It’s Credence, isn’t it?”  A faint smile tugged at the corners of Newt’s lips.  He wasn’t good at this, not with – not with people.  But he supposed Credence was a different case entirely.  He wasn’t just a boy.  He didn’t even want to be just a boy, but he didn’t want this.  Nobody wanted this.

“Are you hurt?  May I come closer?”  Newt’s approach had long since come to a halt, not wanting to get too close without the boy’s EXPRESS permission.  He knew how troubled he was, and he understood why.  It wasn’t his fault.  That was what he wanted him to know. —that his wasn’t his fault, none of it was his fault.

[barebcned-blog]

                                      A BODILESS CREATION OF RAGE, he is subjected to a phantom misery. such righteous anger is deemed as HOLY, wrought into falsified maliciousness. a plethora of wrath seeks to seethe from credence’s frame, an INHIBITION of past volatility. in light of ignominious destruction credence won’t bring himself to speak as he is faced with a stranger, dreadful in attempts to CALM a self-created darkness -- - surfacing from age-old terrors. familiar in the torment it does not rest, rather is kept submerged in the dusk of his soul, daunting & uncertain. he’s a creature built of GRIEF, hope is far from his mind. there is no solace in silence & yet that’s all there ever is ; a static looming overhead, the boy alone. out of the mud credence has crafted a life of wrecked humanity, set for a choleric DOOM from the start. there is nothing left for him, not here. 

                                        “help me,” an archaic plea, it has never been answered. “-- -please.”

[creadences]

— snow and dirty rain (richard siken)

[stsebastiens]

“Credence’s face begins to contort, his rage tearing him from within.” 

[barebcned-blog]

Birds, write about birds

send me a topic to write a meta about my muse on. // accepting. 

                              it’s a childish nature of his that makes him stop & notice things as simple as a bird’s presence overhead. choked in the smog of the lower east side the city is OVERRUN with them. his mother hates them, curses those that nest in the high pillars of the church’s attic. credence doesn’t mind them all that much, though makes sure to scare them away before mary lou returns. birds carry different messages, he’s found. god’s CHOSEN people, the israelites, have been compared to the dove, considered pure & divine, carrying a message of hope. credence rarely sees doves in the church, but they can be heard in the early morning before the sun has risen. their mourning cries bring an EERIE sense of peace, almost calming. ravens & crows are few and far between, they fly in murders across the afternoon sky & never seem to settle. their presence harbors only a message of sin & death. when credence has nightmares there’s an unkindness of ravens, flocking together in a DELUGE of overwhelming black mass – - threatening & taunting as they swarm in the void. it’s a self-reflection of inner TORMENT he has known all his life. always there, even in his dreams where he cannot escape. credence doesn’t take lightly to their iniquity, he finds crows unsettling, anxious when he hears their forewarning call nearby. it always means something bad is going to happen. an owl often inhabits the farthest reach in the church’s roof, one of the kind said to make home in RUINOUS places. in the dead of the night it can be heard, emitting an unearthly shriek. credence has never seen it, but a dense flutter of wings in the late evening warns of it’s arrival, he often DREADS having to hear the creatures ghastly call. with a covetous mind, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like to capture such a bird. there is no gilded cage keeping him in place, but a shard-sharp will of cruelty. the bare skin on his back is MARRED with scars, old & new alike ; reminding him that unlike the mysterious flight of such animals, he cannot leave the life he has been FORCED in. 

send me a topic to write a meta about my muse on

[barebcned-blog]

lcgilimens:

the kind smile stretched across her face is something she’s sure the young man doesn’t see –––– he won’t look at her, but the witch tells herself it’s nothing to be taken personally. he hardly makes eye contact with anyone. ( give him time, queenie. ) so queenie gives him his space, lets him wander through their little apartment as he pleases and tries her hardest to let him keep his thoughts to himself. it’s nearly impossible to ignore the unrest within him, but she bites her tongue and refrains from commenting. ( don’t make him feel uncomfortable. he deserves a safe place. )

“ don’t mention it, sugar!! ” bare feet pad softly from the kitchen to the living room window where credence has taken up standing by the window. a very tentative hand is place softly on his shoulder. a feather light touch hoping not to startle him. “ we like having you here. you can stay as long as you need to!! ”

                                FINDING PEACE IS ARDUOUS FOR THE MIND. he finds it difficult to blend into the array of the kempt home, still after all this time. no matter how hard he tries to scrub away the dirt from RAW skin, it's never enough to rid his soul of uncleanliness. almost noticeably, he winces at the touch. he knows it to be of sympathetic nature, there is no harm, yet it summons an old ghost UNEARTHED from illusory torment ; a reminder of past derelict. solicitude is evident, but he cannot conjure the peace of mind that rests too far from his grasp. nevertheless, beyond the grey storm clouds of an APATHETIC heart slowly are old wounds healing. queenie is patient, carrying a lilted presence & a sense of BLISS that credence has never known. attention falls from the meek windowsill & he nods, understands. there is sanctuary in the four walls, where he will not be cast out. a pity credence judges he does not belong anywhere, he finds HOME in the peculiar places of his soul. given compassion pulls him from the cruelty harbored in the cracks of his mind, easing an all too familiar anguish. 

                                   “you don’t mind?” it’s an unwanted skepticism, he can’t help but ask. “--...i don’t want to intrude.” 

[barebcned-blog]

prcphvcies replied to your post “KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT...”

omg another person who hasn't grown since 13. except i'm 4'11 lol

i don’t know why i haven’t grown like even an inch taller. my twin sister is 5′8″ we don’t even look related

[barebcned-blog]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER.

BASICS: NAME: echo PRONOUNS: she/her SEXUALITY: ace TAKEN OR SINGLE: single THREE FACTS: 1. i’m honestly in love with the 1920′s & am slowly shifting my wardrobe to match it 2. i can do a shit ton of different accents & want to do voice acting 3. i'm only 5′1″ and have not grown since i was 13 years old 

EXPERIENCE: HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?): five+ years PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED: tumblr BEST EXPERIENCE: uhh an old blog i had for one of my all time favorite characters. still kinda mad at myself i deleted it. there were some good bants on it  MUSE PREFERENCES: FEMALE OR MALE: both MULTI OR SINGLE: personally for me i’ve always used single blogs WRITING PREFERENCES: FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT: i live for the angst. please kill me PLOTS OR MEMES: both!!! i love plotting but also if you come at me w/ memes i will cherish you forever also they’re so much fun to write for??? LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: i am incapable of writing short replies BEST TIME TO WRITE: evening ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): listen. before i even watched fantastic beasts i saw credence and i knew. i just knew he was going to be tragic and i was going to fall back into the void. in short we’re both way too fucking emo and i love my beautiful tragic jewish son. also we both have ridiculous haircuts

TAGGED BY: @directorgrcves (indirectly/ish but i’ve been wanting to do this tbh) TAGGING: @lcgilimens @spcllbinding @prcphvcies @wcndless @hallowedbethyname @lostbarebone 

[gcldentina]

                                      TINA STANDS ALONE IN THE                             EMPTY HARBOR. AS SHE WALKS AWAY,                              THERE’S A PLAYFUL SKIP TO HER STEP.

[loakspider-deactivated20240220]

#tbh this is probably why they haven’t met in canon…yet

[barebcned-blog]

vanessa.

it b r e a k s her heart. to see him recoil—- before almost reaching for her. abuse. she realizes. understands. he fears the hand that is extended to him. fears the offer of kindness, believing it to only cause m o r e pain. “ credence—- ” she voices out softly. wants to reach out for him once more but stops herself. worried to cause him more possible torment than he already ( no doubt ) feels. “ i won’t tell on you. i won’t judge. i promise. ” another soft smile slips along her lips. there was no need for her to care. no reason for her to do so. he was a stranger. for all that she knew. someone who despised those like her. but there was something. something about him, that just drew her in.

her fingers soothe along her dress. she needs to busy them, stop herself from reaching out for him. something tells her. that he is a lot more open, welcoming, for her kind, her powers. than he should be. given the surroundings he grew up within. and she wonders why—- “ i do know credence, because i possess that gift. ” somewhat differently, than those his mother preached against, but it was there regardless.“ i wield magic. i a m a witch. ”

                                           HE FINDS COMFORT IN HER WORDS, for a reason unknown. a kind heart was not something he experienced often, there is a part of credence that still wonders why -- - why take INTEREST in him? he is looked down upon in disdain for his mothers purpose, the second salemers were more iniquitous than their counterparts. he stood out among the rushed crowds in the city, self branded as an OUTSIDER by his ill-fitting suit & the leaflets he was to hand out. credence’s thoughts travel to home, as the dusk settles in he FEARS he may be late. but it’s all forgotten in the whir of serene conversation & a newfound hospitality. can’t help but BLAME himself as he recoils, not yet keen on faith of vanessa’s promise. it’s only a matter of time before the concord breaks, her words drown out the clamor of car horns & late night theater-goers. the absolution of peace DIMS in his heart, it reveals hidden depths & strength of feeling that he tries his best to keep hidden. a witch. 

                                               “what?” he breathes, trying to conjure a tone other than desperation. somewhat at a loss he looks to her, WARY but not fearful -- there is no discrimination. tries to avoid eye contact, eyes peer into the soul, god knows what they’d find in his. as if time has stopped, the susurrus around them ceases ; apprehensive focus remains on the woman in front of him. consternation FORCES him to stay put, awe unearthed from the wasteland of his soul. mind & body are at an unrest, shoulders tremble & his head cants forward, maladroit & disquiet. she kept a secret hidden inside of her, as did he. but was hers concealed in horror? there are questions he dare not ask, harbored in the murk as god weeps. 

[kaleiidoscope-archive]

Casual reminder that you can always  ,  100%  turn memes into threads    (    just move it to a new text post    )    &&    I love having multiple threads with people.  So like   do the thing. 

[barebcned-blog]

tina.

                   her hands have been shoved into her coat pockets as feet carry her throughout the city. she’s on her way home, an extra heap of paperwork having kept her later than usual, and as she walks, her dark hues are sure to keep a careful lookout of surroundings, so it’s no surprise when she sees a familiar figure standing several yards away from her. the sight of the figure sends chills down her spine, a certain melancholy looming overhead. she can do no more than watch him for the time being, though she hasn’t been watching him long when he is looking up at her, causing her heart to begin beating just a bit faster. her mouth opens, but not a sound is released. she isn’t sure what to say. she isn’t sure what she can say. even after she had gone through every bit of reprimanding she had experienced, a watchful eye had been kept on the boy, day after day, filled with a worry that every bit rational. it broke her heart to think of the mistreatment this boy was forced to deal with.

                                                  ❛  — credence —  ❜

                                AN UNKNOWN FEELING TUGS AT HIS HEART ; urging him to step closer. something of disbelief, an intimate curiosity weighted in his thoughts. phantom SCARS paint a picture of ultra violence, galvanizing as nostalgia floods his veins of lesser times. a constant game of push & pull, bidding MALEVOLENCE in the shadows where there is no affection. memories of atrocities done that night numb his throat, reminding credence of what awaits him. but her visage serves as a beacon -- - dull PANIC subsides as the twilight's unease reflects souls alike. as if a guardian angel, her presence brings a mixed feeling of vulnerability & reassurance, settling in MIRAGES of sanctuary. it pulls him from the DEPTHS of his mind, a blatant solitude rising to the surface. there are dreams & ghosts dug up from his past & they lie in hues of russet alongside rudimentary grief, but she has always been there. there are CRACKS in his soul beyond repair but the benignity paid to him has eased the bite in the dark. 

                                                            “why are you here?”

[mcfassyz]

Your sister’s in grave danger. We need to find her.