#illyrienne

[wlkingcontraindication]

Hey Andy, it's my best friend Izzy's birthday today (@wetherebelskies) and I was wondering if you'd be able to wish her a happy birthday? It'd mean the world to her, she really admires you x

Andy: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @wetherebelskies!!!!, I hope you have a wonderful day!

[comecesario]

Hey loser (I'm little-village-witch btw)

OMGYOU’RESOSWEETTHANKYOU!!

if I’m one of your favourite blogs send me a “hey, loser”

[bleedinglikeaninkbomb]

The Last Marauder (Part One)

At five years old, Remus Lupin was precocious. He didn’t believe in the monsters under his bed… even when the mean neighbour kids put them there. Every full moon, he would climb out of his bed, being as quiet as possible, just in case his mum or dad might hear his little feet padding across the cold wooden floorboards. His dad said that the most dangerous and deadly monsters came out on the full moon, that there were things worse than death. Remus refused to believe that anything could hurt him. His dad was the smartest man he could ever imagine, and knew every spell there was to know. His mom was the most beautiful woman in the entire world, and nothing could ever hurt her or the smile she perpetually wore. And besides, there was just… something about the full moon. The way the light was almost as powerful as the sun, but completely different. Remus would just sit there on the bay window seat for as long as he wanted, peeking through the curtains and wishing he were on that moon, swimming in the light. He knew what magic was, but this was a whole other level of it. Something even wizards as adept as his father couldn’t tame.

A shadow crossed the street. Remus blinked, and there was nothing there, but he hopped off the window anyhow. Sure, he liked to think he didn’t believe in the monsters, but he was still only five, and his heart was skipping wildly in his chest at what he thought he might have seen. He had forgotten to shut the curtain all the way, and a glimmer of moonlight slanted across the floor, lighting on his bed. He shut his eyes as he clambered back under the covers, trying to ignore the way the window creaked against a slight breeze. He didn’t want to call out to his parents because he knew that there couldn’t possibly be anything there. He curled up into a ball, tears leaking out of his eyes until he finally drifted off into sleep.

He didn’t wake up pleasantly. The thing that actually woke him was probably the snout that was grunting and snuffling up to him from the end of his bed. But the first thing he was aware of was the rancid stench of rotting meat rolling off the creature in waves. Immediately, his heart kicked its pace up, and obviously the creature sensed it. It let out a growl. Remus whimpered. Where was his father with all his spells? His mother with her smile and warm arms that chased all the bad things away? The creature moved closer, and Remus made an impulsive move, rolling out from under it and onto the floor. “DADDY!” He screeched as loudly as his little voice would allow. “HE-” But he was cut off by a body six times larger than his own slamming into him and pinning him to the floor. Claws dug into his sides, puncturing his skin. He was now crying, and all he could make out was a horrendous maw yawning above him, the rotten meat breath wafting over him as tears streamed down his face. He heard footsteps running up the stairs and over the next few years he’d think about that face and be certain that the creature had been grinning as it ripped into him.

[bleedinglikeaninkbomb]

The Last Marauder (Part Two)

 Six years later, and Remus had his teeth gritted. Shirtsleeves pulled down by clenched fists, and him trying to desperately sink into the collar that was too big for his scrawny neck like some kind of turtle.

“Come on, lad.” Lyall said, but his voice was just as stony and nervous as Remus felt. Sure, Dumbledore had promised everything would be fine, but the eleven year old just couldn’t see his way to believing him. A quick mental calculation and he realised that there was no way he was going to be able to have a compartment to himself. There were too many students and students-to-be milling about on the platform.

“Mama. I don’t mind not going.” Remus looked up at his mother. Hope had changed in the last six years. She still smiled, but it was a drawn one. Her skin was grey and her eyes heavy with worry for her only child. “Don’t be silly, Remus, of course you’re going. You’ll have an amazing time.” Like Lyall though, her voice didn’t hold the sincerity it should have. Other families on the platform were smiling and laughing, everyone helping each other to get trunks onto the train. Remus’s own trunk was sitting forlornly on a trolley. Even his brand new owl had picked up on the atmosphere of the little family and looked downcast. There were ten minutes before the Hogwarts Express would be pulling out of the station, and yet Remus still hadn’t made a move to get on. Half of him was hoping the train would pull away and he’d be forced to go home and continue his life of secrecy. The other half remembered just how sturdy a castle would be. How Dumbledore had promised to protect him. How his mother had looked lying in her bed, abdomen wrapped in bandages.  

“Mama,” he had sobbed, “Mama, I’m sorry!” Every day since the full moon after his ninth birthday he had come in here, crying and wishing he could take it all back. And every single time, his mother would pat the space in the bed beside herself, and break a bar of chocolate in half for them to share. “It wasn’t your fault, my darling, and I am healing fine.” She would say. “Look how much better I’m doing today!” And he would curl into her side, ever mindful of her injuries. She would run her fingers through his sandy hair, and they would listen to the Wizarding Wireless Network while they ate chocolate.

“Hello there!” A boy already dressed in Hogwarts robes strode up to the small family. He had a yellow tie and a shiny badge with a big ‘P’ on it pinned to the front of his robes. “Would you like any help getting your trunk onto the train?” Hope automatically smiled and thanked the lad, whilst Lyall chewed nervously on his lip and Remus shrank back into his parents’ shadow. “Um, okay. Thank you.” He almost whispered. His mother pecked him on the head and hugged him tightly. This was their goodbye. Lyall briefly embraced his son, before Hope pushed the young boy off in the direction of the prefect now pushing his trolley. “We love you.” She gave the same strained smile. Remus just wondered if he’d manage to accidentally kill himself before someone else at Hogwarts got hurt.

[s-t-a-r-c-o]

punk!Adrien is brilliant, I love him! (even more than usual) But you can damn well bet that even if he had purple hair and super distinctive tattoos, Marinette STILL wouldn't figure out he was Chat. I swear their cluelessness keeps me up at night

Chats tattoos would be covered, but Adrien would look like a massive fucking fanboy and i love it

[vimpse]

To the anon looking for hair retextures, absaurus (absaurussims-tumblr-com) uses textures/colours that are really similar, if not the exact same

Here you go, anon :)

[gwaypositivity]

Hey, I think I've seen you answer questions like this before, so... I was wondering if you knew if mcr ever performed any of the songs from conventional weapons live? I've been looking but I can't find anything, annoying bc they're some of my faves

I’m pretty sure they didnt unless you count The World Is Ugly, but I think the album version was different than the live version.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TsYKl3tIqDs

[killjoyheadcanons-blog]

(before I start I haven't read the novel yet so if it's mentioned there, sorry) What d'you reckon is the protocol/system for getting a killjoy name? Do the killjoys pick them out themselves, or are they given to them? Does everyone have one, or do some people still go by their normal names?

The way I see it, being a killjoy is about being you because that’s the biggest “fuck you” you can give to corps like BLI, so you choose your name, and if you wanna keep going by your given name, that’s just as fine too.  I imagine that the reason most people decide to give themselves new names is because the names they were assigned at birth were essentially chosen by just another brainwashed Battery City citizen