// This mun has just seen Crimes of Grindelwald, and I’ll be updating the bio section of this blog sometime in the (hopefully near) future to reflect that.  I am still canon-compliant!  To all my writing partners who are not CoG compliant, that’s totally fine and I am still more than willing to write threads with you <3

Hanging onto his words as if they were the gospel, Credence nodded almost eagerly.  He would remember that, of course, even if he didn’t fully understand its meaning at the current moment.  You deserve nothing less.  It almost sounded fake, and he would have thought it so had he not known that Percival wouldn’t lie to him.

“I do want to,” he breathed, just barely managing not to stumble over the words, “And - and I’ll try and remember.”  Credence couldn’t lie - he didn’t know how successful he would be.  He didn’t even know how to start or where to start, re-teaching himself how to think - but he certainly would do what he could.

Instinctively, Credence tightened his grip a little when he felt Percival trying to leave - not so much that he could not easily step away, of course, but it was more of an involuntary motion - a split second of no, please don’t go.  Confused, he looked up at Percival with wide, wondering eyes.

“Yes?”  He said.  There was a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach and it felt suspiciously like it always did when something was about to go terribly wrong.  He’d almost never been wrong before in the past when it came to that, and he prayed that this would be the first time that he was.  Nevertheless, whatever Percival had to say?  He would listen, of course.  “Is - is something the matter?”

Almost instantly afterwards, he drew back a little, as if bracing himself from whatever was to come next.

God help him, it was everything that Credence wanted to hear, everything he’d needed to hear.  He was scared and afraid and in pain and alone, and along came Mister Graves, promising that he would try his hardest to take away those troubles with a wave of his hand, as he had done so many times before with the lashes that Ma had left on his palms the nights before their meetings in the past.

“I’m trying, Mister Graves,” Credence whispered, “I’ll - I’ll keep trying.  I promise, I promise!”  He wouldn’t let him down - not him, the one person who had actually given him a chance instead of refusing to see past his exterior.  To Mister Graves, Credence was not a freak - he was a fellow human being, and that was all he had ever wanted - not to be alone.  Just knowing that there was a possibility that he might not be the only one with such a condition was enough to spur him onwards.

Surely it could not be him - yes, there was something deeply wrong with him, he was unusual, but Mister Graves was looking for a child.  A young child - and deep down, he hoped and prayed that it would not be too late for this one.  They would both join the rest then - and Credence would never have to be alone.  

He couldn’t take his eyes off of Mister Graves now, not with the way that he was gently gripping his chin, tilting his head back, staring into his eyes with the seeming intent of boring into his soul.  These were the eyes of his savior - even if he could have, Credence wouldn’t have wanted to look away, and this was why he would never stop trying, no, he would try harder than ever to find this child.

“Very much so, Mister Graves,” said Credence, sitting back a little on his heels.  What an odd question to ask, he thought - of course he was happy, he was happier than he ever had been in months.  He no longer was living in that church, he no longer felt utterly alone - and for the first time in his life, he was beginning to regain the hope that perhaps he did not have to hide what he truly was from everyone.

But was Mister Graves happy?  

He’d been through a lot, Credence knew - but to some degree, he could never know.  He’d never had his identity stolen from him like an inexpensive jacket, he’d never been forced to watch as another malicious person paraded around wearing his face and skin, utterly helpless.  Well, the helpless part he felt on a daily basis - but other than that there wasn’t much, not that that would stop him from trying as best as he could.

“Is something...is something wrong?”  More so, he wondered if he had done anything wrong, and hoped desperately that it was not the case.

Autumn Preferences for Your Muse!

Rules: Bold what your muse prefers, and then tag whoever you wish. Tagged By: @muchmorethanmuses Tagging: @sorceressmaralane @soulfulauror @magiccaretaker @lupimorph @gigglcwatcrr @lesrevecrs @shypericn @witchesnevercry @quiirinus @ofhisbravery

1. go apple picking vs. go on a hay ride 2. scary vs. sweet 3. sweaters vs. boots 4. socks vs. mittens 5. bonfires vs. football 6. trick-or-treating vs. watch scary movies 9. bake pie vs. bake cookies 10. rain vs. fog 11. black cats vs. owls 12. ghosts vs. wizards 13. harry potter vs. halloweentown 14. go hiking vs. sleep in 15. cinnamon vs. nutmeg 16. reading vs. writing 17. hot chocolate vs. tea 18. live in a cabin in a forest vs. have it be fall 24/7 19. candy apples vs. caramel apples 20. blankets vs. pillows 21. roasted marshmallows vs. roasted chestnuts 22. coffee vs. apple cider 23. red leaves vs. orange leaves 24. braids vs. bows 25. scented candles vs. the smell of fresh baked goods 26. carve pumpkins vs. make pumpkin pie 27. pumpkin spice lattes vs. chai lattes 28. coats vs. oversized sweaters 29. beanies vs. berets 30. candy corn vs. peanut butter cups 32. jump in a pile of leaves vs. swing on a tire 33. corn maze vs. haunted house 34. bob for apples vs. visit a pumpkin patch 35. whipped cream on hot chocolate vs. marshmallows on hot chocolate

Despite his everlasting trust in Mister Graves, Credence sincerely doubted that he actually was, as the other had put it, a growing boy.  He’d not grown in years - it had always been the same.  Awkwardly tall, as gangly as a withering tree.  Nevertheless, he followed Mister Graves anyways, obedient as ever.  The promise of food and a warm bed seemed like paradise itself, and Mister Graves, well - he was his guardian angel of sorts.

“Thank you, sir,” he whispered, not even sure if his words would reach his protector - but he was grateful, and immensely so.