colouring this show will kill me

Misc. sentence starters.

Modify pronouns and wording as necessary! Some may be slightly unsafe for work / sexual in nature.

“Why did you come here when you knew I’d only send you away?”
“I thought I made it clear I didn’t want to see you.”
“I look at you, and all I can think about is how much better you deserve.”
“Why haven’t you left me yet?”
“The things I would do for you terrify me.”
“Nobody likes a tyrant. Show the people you can be reasoned with.”
“Your people will only tolerate so much.”
“If you want to ruin your life, be my guest, but leave me out of it.”
“Can’t you touch anything without breaking it?”
“Please don’t leave me. Please.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll do anything.”
“My life was grey before I met you. Now it’s so colourful I can barely stand it.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I’d do anything for you. I’d kill, lie, cheat and steal for you. You wouldn’t even need to ask.”
“For the purposes of tonight, you and I will be taking on certain roles. You are not to break character under any circumstances lest you blow our cover, is that understood?”
“I am not here to make friends. I am here to offer you something you cannot refuse.”
“You don’t have to play coy with me - what do you really want?”
“You really fucked me over, you know. You really messed me up.”
“You piss me off so much sometimes I can barely stand it.”
“Why are you like this? Why do you have to ruin everything?”
“You really would do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”
“I like the way you beg, boy.”
“Do you drop to your knees for everyone that shows you attention, or am I a special case?”
“Shh, it’s okay. I know how much you need this. I know how much you want to be wanted.”
“I can think of better uses for that mouth of yours than back-talking me.”
“Just let go. It’s alright, I’ve got you.”
“Don’t talk. Just open your mouth.”
“Tell me what you want from me.”

so I drew this a while ago and never finished because partway through they revealed straight Jaal and I lost all spirit. now they’re in gay limbo


I just wish you would have consulted with me first!
Well, I didn’t!
I could’ve made calls.
I wanted to take care of it myself.

His Colours

I absolutely love this. I’m unsure about the quality but the idea - I’m in love. I can imagine this boy with his colours and his grin so clearly and he’s already managed to tug at my heart over the few days I’ve been writing it. I truly and deeply hope you enjoy it. Please enjoy.

The trees smile down protectively over the shrubbery and dirt, they block out the sun to the best of their ability but the sun manages to glare through the branches every once in a while.

It’s peaceful, which is why I enjoy spending time hidden and surrounded by nature, miles from any human contact. I sit between to gigantic roots, my flask balancing on top of the left one like a first-rate acrobat and my backpack resting at my feet.

I’m a tiny fraction of the forest. I barely makes one whole percent, and the idea of it fills me with contentment, along with a dash of curiosity. Wondering just how far out the trees have taken over and made the land their own, I’m left to scan my surroundings.

It’s murky in every direction, but the darkness doesn’t take over until much further away, as though there’s something in the far distance that someone doesn’t want me to see, so they result in blacking it out, erasing it from my vision.

The odd bird will chirp high up in the trees and - in the opposite direction - another will attempt to imitate it. This happens so often that I become used to it and its effect weakens so that I’m no longer startled by it as I was to begin with.

I’m content as I sit under the tree, feeling its hard bark pressing into my back, and I take a sip of the hot chocolate that stays heated and creamy within my flask. The sweet smell of chocolate would probably be feeling my senses if it wasn’t for the dirt and wood having such an effect.

There’s a slight gush of wind and it causes the bushes nearby to dance against it. I try to tell myself that a chill runs down my back because of the sudden wind, not because of fear creeping into my stomach.

The time ticks by and the air gets colder with each minute that passes, although I hardly notice because I become so involved with the words of Stephen King, they’re printed beautifully across the pages but they turn into one whole blur as my eyes swing from left to right.

There’s another shaking of leaves ahead of me, but my mind and my body know not to be afraid at this point so I don’t move.

Wendy and Danny Torrance are shopping for Christmas presents in the world within my book, and I find myself adoring Jack Torrance, despite knowing things are taking their time to go down the steep hill. My heart drops into my stomach and my neck cracks from the force of lifting it so suddenly when I hear the snapping of twigs ahead of me.

The darkness is a curtain, stopping me from seeing more than fifty feet in front of me. It only heightens the panic that I thought was nonexistent. Cautiously, I close my book and rest it on the tree trunk beside me. I watch the darkness and wait.

My heart is alive and angry. It’s threatening to slide up my throat and in my mouth. I swallow and get the feeling I’m going to throw up, I rub my hands together slowly as a stupid attempt to distract myself.

Whether it’s my imagination - with my panic having a say in it also - or my ears telling me the truth, I’m not sure, but I hear a low growl coming from the black. A gasp betrays my secret vow to keep as quiet as possible and leaves my lips.

Before I can do anything, (not that I had any smart plan in mind) there’s a movement too clear to have been a trick of the light, or my imagination. A set of black boots appear out of the shadows; they’re layered with dried mud splatters and the laces - maybe once as yellow as the sun - are now frayed and a mix of dark green and a light brown. While my eyes are inspecting them, they move closer to me. 

The black boots are followed by black jeans that seem to fit securely around the legs. There’s rips and tears that don’t look like the usual you see on teenagers; I don’t think these ones are voluntary.  The skin beneath them looks unusual but I decide it’s likely to be because of the darkness clouding my vision.

I’ve been too busy collecting tiny bits of insignificant features that I didn’t realise the pressure that seems to be increasing on my back. I’ve been leaning back so much that the bark of the tree is digging into the skin between my shoulder blades, I assume it’ll leave marks for a few hours.

I chance a glance at the figure once more and see a set of eyes staring at me, burning into my entire being. They looked as though they were glowing.

It’s silent for some time, although I can hear my heart thumping violently inside of me skull and my ears are starting to ring. The figure is getting closer.

I want to scream and run as fast as my legs can carry me, I want to cry out for help, but all I manage to do is part my lips, expecting some coherent sentence to come out.

“What are you doing here?” the figures asks and a shiver - that is definitely not caused by the wind this time  - shocks my spine.

The moonlight decides to help me by casting a soft light on the figure. I can see the top of their head shines a caramel colour and the hair swipes back with a messy look. I’m not able to keep my gaze on their hair because almost instantly, something else catches my eye.

Along the skin, red marks glow like a fire in full force. The patterns don’t see to have any specific form but instead, random and unsystematic across every inch of visible skin.

“Answer me.”

The breath hitches in my throat as though someone has reached down into me and stopped me from being able to do anything but stare with panic. My feet feel glued to the dirt layering the ground.

“I-I, I wasn’t doing anything-“

“You shouldn’t be here. These aren’t your parts. You’re mundane, a normal.”

To this, I can’t help but frown. The boy didn’t seem to attempt to ease his disgust at the words ‘mundane’ and ‘normal’ to avoid offended me. Despite this, I’m too terrified by the whole situation to bring it up.

The boy - whose age seems to show the closer he gets, I can see the darkness under his eyes and the frown set onto his forehead, but his skin looked smooth and ironed out - watched me closely with dark eyes. They were dangerously close to being completely black.

“What’s your name?” he asks, and when his pink lips part, I can see his canines are sharp and glistening white. A silent gasp travels up my dry throat.

“I was taught not to talk to strangers, never mind going around and telling them my name willy-nilly.” I surprise myself with the amount of strength behind my words.

“You’ve already shown you’re incapable of following rules; you’ve spoken to me plenty a time already.”

I ignore his remark and catch another glimpse of his arms. The marks infesting his arms were no longer just red, but yellow and black also. Maybe I just hadn’t noticed them previously.

“What did you mean by ‘mundane’ and ‘normal’?” I take the risk of asking, and in response, I see the boy’s unlighted eyes staring into my own.

“Well,” he starts. “The official definition is the lacking of excitement or interest- dull even, but I implied that you’re ordinary, you’re normal. Human.”

At this, I laughed. I can tell it took the boy by surprise because the scowl lifted off of his face momentarily while he raised an eyebrow. “And what are you? Some kind of abnormal being?”

“I’ve been called that before, yes, but that’s not my official title.”

I scan his face for some sign of amusement but find nothing. The level of confusion within my body sky-rockets and I’m uncertain of my strength of containing it. The atmosphere seems to change ever so slowly, and being able to see the full figure of the boy, it makes it less daunting and I’m able to stand somewhat confidently.

“What are those on your arms?”

He looks down at them as though he was only just noticing they were there. The red appears to be fading but I can’t be sure due to the dark.

“My marks,” he mutters proudly. “Pointless and a rather weak strategy, but I think they add a little something.”

“Is that how you know I’m human? Because I don’t have any of those?” I ask slowly; weirdly, not wanting to wipe the pride off this boy’s face.

He nods, “and you humans have a different scent. Yours seems to be attempting to mix with the scent of sandalwood and dirt.” He clocks the flush that rises to centre of my cheeks and the shock in my expression. “Although I assume that has to do with the fact that you’re strolling around the middle of the forest in the early evening.”

“What’s the problem? Am I not allowed to be here? Is there some kind of law that says humans aren’t supposed to mix with your - supposedly - different kind?”

“Of course not, each of us merely agreed to stay away from each other when we clashed a few hundred years ago. If you looked, there’s a high chance you’d see a sign saying ‘keep out’ in big black letters at the entrance to this place.”

After being stood in the open space for so long, the boy walks over to my spot between the two tree trunks and sits down. When he bends his leg I can see the swirling patterns through the rips in his jeans.

“So, you’re not human?” I question, taking a step forward.

“No,” he replies. “But I have no way of showing you and quite frankly, I couldn’t care less whether you’re convinced or not.”

The razor-sharp teeth and the near-black eyes and the colours of his skin, still fading and appearing and changing, they’re all doing an incredible job of convincing her that this wasn’t a dream, and he was most definitely not human.

“What are you going to do? Kill me?”

“Don’t be stupid, I don’t have any of my torture weapons with me,” he states calmly and lets his pointer finger twirl around the lid of my flask. “There’s nothing I can do. You haven’t really done anything wrong, besides trespassing.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t, I didn’t mean to-“

“Forget it. You should count your lucky stars it was me who found you and not someone else, they’re not so forgiving.”

I bite my tongue and take a seat at the other side of the tree trunk. It becomes a wall between us. I grab my flask, snap the lid open and take a sip. I’m thankful to be able to feel the warm liquid seeping into my system and heating my body.

I’m unable to believe mere moments ago I was contemplating running for my life when this boy seems harmless, (I call him a boy due to the fact that I’m unsure as to what he is.)

“Would, would you like some?” I ask politely without thinking and I can feel my cheeks buzzing softly.

“What is it?”

“It was hot chocolate, but now, it’s more lukewarm chocolate.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t.” He looks between the flask and my face, probably seeing my hesitant wonder. “My system wouldn’t have it. It could either have minor affects, a little bit of throwing up and spitting blood here and there, or I’d drop dead in a matter of hours. I like to think of myself as a bit of a chancer, but a hot drink doesn’t seem worth it.”

I’m given more information than I expected, and all I can do is nod, pulling the flask slowly into my lap. “So, those marks, how’d you get them?”

“Do you always ask a lot of questions?” He turns to look at me. I don’t think his facial expression has changed once yet.

I’m taken aback and I cower like an abandoned puppy. “Sorry,” I mutter.

It’s quiet for a moment and I can see the boy tracing the patterns on his skin. The yellows are burning bright now and the red seems to be being replaced with browns and greys. I’m itching to know what he’s feeling.

“I’ve had them since birth, I was born with them,” he murmurs, not looking at me.

“They’re quite pretty,” I say, biting the edge of the flask now.

He chuckles. “Thank you, human. I have to say, your skin is quite boring.” He grins and I’m able to be given front row seats to the view of his sharp teeth. I wonder how much damage they could do.

“I have to agree with you on that. You must feel artistically beautiful all the time with those things.”

“Not really, because while you’re seeing these for the first time, they’re normal for my kind so they’re not a big deal. It’s nice to have them appreciated though.”

Orange seeps onto his skin, moving from his fingertips to his elbows. I watch it happen in complete awe.

His colours radiated slightly now, and I could see pink creeping up his neck due to his cheeks flushing, not the patterns. He looks embarrassed and I can’t understand why. He folds his arms over each other. The orange and the yellow and the brown and the grey are the only colours that I can see; everything is being dominated by the darkness except his colours.

“What do the colours mean?”

He sighs and I cringe, knowing I’ve asked yet another question. “It’s difficult because colours can mean a lot of different things. For example, that orange is me being cheerful because I liked the idea of someone appreciating my marks, and that brown- it’s fading now, but that was boredom. The grey was me being uninterested, but look, now that the conversation has steered towards me, it’s fading.” The boy flashes a playful smirk and runs his slender fingers through his jungle of hair.

“And what does the yellow mean?” I ask, pointing to the colour burning bright on the back of his upper arm. He cranes his neck to find it immediately.

“Oh, that’s hunger. I’m starving.”

I remember that I have a chocolate bar in my bag and gently reach to grab it as it sits at his feet. I rummage through it but pause instantly.

“W-what do you eat?” My hand is wrapped around the chocolate bar, but I wait for him to speak.

“I love dead bird with a side dish of human fingers, and some blood for drinking.” I think he sees my body retract and my face drop because he laughs loudly. The yellow spreads and I assume that it means something different. “I’m kidding, what’d’you got?”

A big gush of relief washes over me and I pull the bar out of my bag. He takes it without another word and unwraps it. I sit back against the tree and let the silence take me under. Hugging the flask to my chest, I listen as the boy devours the chocolate bar gratefully. It’s still fairly dark in the forest, but the boy illuminates the space around us with his colours - blue, yellow, orange and a hint of red blend glimmer on their own accord.

Media with LGBT Characters

I promised I’d put together a list of tv show and films based on everyone’s recs last night. This isn’t extensive, just what people said would be gay things to watch in the middle of this tough time. 

TV Shows

  • Skam
  • Eyewitness
  • The Get Down
  • Brooklyn Nine Nine
  • In the Flesh
  • Cucumber
  • Banana
  • OITNB (be careful with this one)
  • How To Get Away With Murder
  • Carmilla
  • Sense8
  • The L Word 
  • One Day At A Time 
  • Wynonna Earp
  • Yuri On Ice
  • Shadowhunters
  • Please Like Me
  • Buffy the Vampire Slayer (later seasons)
  • Queer As Folk
  • Supergirl
  • Crazy Ex Girlfriend (supporting cast)
  • Orphan Black
  • Cuffs
  • San Junipero episode of Black Mirror
  • The OA


  • Pride
  • Carol 
  • Blue Is the Warmest Colour 
  • Wilde
  • Brokeback Mountain (sad)
  • Total Eclipse 
  • Imagine Me and You
  • Saving Face
  • Rent
  • But I’m A Cheerleader
  • A Single Man 
  • 4th Man Out
  • The Way He Looks
  • The Celluloid Closet
  • Happy Together 
  • Paris Is Burning
  • I Killed My Mother 
  • Weekend 
  • Big Eden
  • Moonlight
  • Shelter
  • Show Me Love
  • Lilting
  • Holding the Man
  • The Normal Heart (very sad)

I know not every single one is happy so please ask me and I can tell you about the ones I’ve seen. Feel free to add to this post or let me know if you have shows or films to rec! 


Ideally, Chell would certainly be played by two actresses of colour. Very few people auditioned for the show, and we literally cannot help that. 

I wrote the show, and I *personally* see Portal 2 as a metaphor for abusive relationships. I do not see it as an opportunity for inserting lesbian romance at all, because GLaDOS abuses and tries to kill Chell. For me, Wheatley’s betrayal and Cave’s betrayal mirror each other. Chell reacts by becoming stronger, GLaDOS reacts by turning that same behaviour on someone else, because it’s all she knows. She makes Chell leave because she is incapable of having a friend, at the end of the show/game. It’s tragic. 

My personal experience is with heterosexual men abusing a woman. I think that kind of story should be told more often. That’s what I set out to tell. 

I don’t see Chell and Wheatley’s relationship as romantic, or Cave and Caroline’s, really. Both are terribly abusive and awful, as is Chell’s relationship with GLaDOS. It’s not a matter of inserting ‘ships’. 

The story is not romantic at all.

But that’s just, like, my opinion, man.


“ We’ve improved the lives of savages all over the world. ”
“ No. Listen. That’s not what I meant. Let me explain. ”
“ No, I’m not letting you leave. ”
“ What you mean is, not like you. ”
“ If you kill him/her, you’ll have to kill me, too. ”
“ Look around you. This is where the path of hatred has brought us. ”
“ This is the path I choose. What will yours be? ”
“ Is this bottomless pit a friend of yours? ”
“ It’s the gold! They have it and they don’t want us to take it from them. ”
“ Well, I’ll just have to take it by force then, won’t I? ”
“ Who’s a good doggy, hmm? Who’s a good doggy? ”
“ You must choose your own path. ”
“ Do you think we’ll meet some savages? ”
“ How dare you! Untie me at once! I’ll have your heads for this! ”
“ I’ve never been a popular man/woman. ”
“ I don’t know what those back stabbers at court say about me. ”
“ We must be all squeaky clean for the New World. ”
“ Going back is his only chance. He’ll/She’ll die if he stays here. ”
“ It’s just a handshake. Here let me show you. ”
“ From this day forward, if there is to be more killing, it will not start with me. ”
“ It’s dangerous out there. Tell her/him that. ”
“ Don’t be frightened. My bark is worse than my bite. ”
“ The only thing they feel at all is greed. ”
“ Beneath that milky hide, there’s emptiness inside. ”
“ They’re different from us, which means they can’t be trusted. ”
“  We must sound the drums of war! ”
“ All you’ll own is earth until you can paint with all the colours of the wind. ”
“ Lately, I’ve been having this dream and I think it’s. ”
“ You see what I mean? Once two sides wanna fight, nothing can stop them. ”
“ Look, we don’t have to fight them. ”
“ They know the land, they know how to navigate the rivers. ”
“ It’s better than hardtack and gruel, that’s for sure. ”
“ They don’t want to feed us, you ninnies! They want to kill us! ”
“ This is my land! I make the laws here! ”
“ Sometimes our paths are chosen for us. ”
“ But maybe we should try talking to them. ”
“ But it is not that simple. Nothing is simple anymore. ”
“ For what? This? I’ve gotten out of worse scrapes than this. ”
“ I’d rather die tomorrow than live a hundred years without knowing you. ”
“ No matter what happens to me, I’ll always be with you, forever. ”
“ It’s a trick, don’t you see? ”

Taming the Rogue

Request: by @random-fandom-fangirl2112​: I was wondering if you could do a smut were the reader is a rogue wolf and has been since she was 5 and everyone thinks she’s an alpha but she’s really a beta? And one day Scott and Stiles encounter her and they’re all nervous and Derek senses their distress and shows up? You can finish it how ever you want just make it smutty please? Sorry this was so long!!!

Word count: 3068

Author’s note: I tried to depict the wolf side of the werewolves authentically, including being instinctual and the such. I hope I managed! c: I also hope you will be satisfied with how your request turned out, @random-fandom-fangirl2112​! Thank you for the amazing request ❤️

Warnings: language, smut, soft description of wounding someone

I’m running in the woods.

I can feel as the fresh, cold morning air fills my lungs with each inhale, the dry leafs and thin twigs cracking and breaking under my bare, soft paws, claws sinking into the loose earth, Sun is just barely bargaining on the horizon, painting the inky sky a pale purple. The forest is quiet, save for the few morning birds that are chirping. The taste of blood of my latest prey is seeping into my mouth.

This day is going to be the same as the others; I hunt, travel from state to state, maybe shift back to being a human like I do a couple times a year, then change back to my wolf self as soon as possible. I will watch the sunset, then sleep and repeat – as always.

By twilight, I arrive to a town which, according to the city road sign, is called Beacon Hills. I pass through the trees of the preserve in a slow, lazy strut, allowing myself to give in to the predatory instincts within me. I feel my muscles starting to buzz with renewed energy gradually, in sync with the air getting darker and darker.

I find a quiet spot in the woods and sit to allow my body to regain control over itself. After the past few days that I spent in a hustle and bustle, I crave silence and calmness around me. An owl flies to a branch of a tree near me, it creaking a little as the bird settles itself. A moment later, it begins its low humming song.

It’s nearly a full moon. The pale celestial body casts everything in a silver shade, while repressing the lights of the smaller stars surrounding it. My eyes fall closed as I give in to the serenity that engulfs me, but it’s soon destroyed by two males in the distance.

Irresponsible fury takes over me, muzzle opening on a sinister snarl, the animal side of me demanding bloodlust and carnage.

Without a second thought, I take off towards the source of the voices, paws barely making a noise in the fallen leaves as I’m approaching. I come to a halt behind a bush, ducking down, fur on my hunches straining up, that snarl still on my lips, a growl rumbling in my chest, eyes glued to the two boys. One of them suddenly puts his hand up in front of the other’s chest in order to stop him. He looks attentive, wary.

I flex my claws against the moist earth. I get ready to attack.

“Did you hear that?” he asks.

“What was I supposed to hear?” replies his friend, glancing around carelessly. He moves his flashlight along with his gaze.

“Rustling,” comes the answer. “I could have sworn I heard something.”

“Well, Scotty,” says the guy in a chatty tone. “Seems like your same ol’ senses aren’t as good as they used to be. They are playing a trick on you.”

“Stiles, this isn’t funny,” Scott chides him. “My ears have never mislead me yet.”

“It’s probably just Derek lurking around somewhere. He promised to be here soon after all.”

He still doesn’t seem to be affected by his friend’s warning. I decide it was enough of inspecting them, and now it’s time to take action – my nose scrunches up in a loud snarl before launching at them.

They both yell loudly.

“Stiles, watch out!” Scott shouts, grabbing Stiles by the arm and hauling him away from me. He nudges Stiles behind himself so that he’s the one facing me now.

“Holy Hell!” he exclaims. “I thought besides you guys there were no wolves in California any more!”

“I did, too,” Scott assures, exchanging a threatening look with me. He extends his claws, ready to protect Stiles if necessary – and who am I to let him down when he’s expecting a fight? I scoff at him, still driven by that visceral rage that took over me not long ago, then attack him.

Due to the wolf in me, I instinctively go for the ankles to try and grab him by his joint, so that I can get to his neck then, but I have to realize he has fine reflexes and swift moves, making it so much harder for me to take him down.

My wrath wells up, extends and takes control over my actions, supplying me with enough power to manage to tear at Scott’s arms, leaving deep wounds in his skin, dark blood erupting. He yelps in pain and stumbles backwards by a few steps, his eyes flashing golden and fangs elongating.

I jump towards him again, but I’m tossed to the side mid-air. I immediately roll from my side to my feet, turning around to see who prevented me from continuing the combat we’ve started.

I snarl at him, to which his response is to howl right back at me.

The sound shakes my bones, my fibres, my cells, my mind – my entire being. I tremble with the urge to give in and to just obey, but I try to ground myself in my human side so that I could maybe overcome the stupor I’m in and keep up with what I’ve gotten myself into.

However, as soon as the man realizes my intentions, noticing how my muscles are flexing under my fur, ready to attack, his eyes glow an imperative ruby red and he howls at me authoritatively with all he’s worth.

My brain goes blank, and the only thing that registers is that a weak whine dies on my lips before I collapse to the ground helplessly, dry leaves enveloping my bare skin. My bare human skin.

I’m trembling. I’m human. I’m weak. I’m vulnerable. I’m exposed. I’m helpless against the hunters. I’m ruined.

I’m human.

The next thing I know is that something warm covers me.

“She’s a werewolf?” asks Stiles, shell-shocked. “I totally thought she was an actual wolf!”

“Technically, she was,” retorts a low voice above me, tone just this side of sarcastic. Hands touch my arms through the material that wraps around my body, attempting to guide me and help me up.

“Is she an Alpha?” asks Scott.

“No,” replies the newcomer. “She wouldn’t have changed back otherwise when I roared at her.”

I allow him to move me, his palms resting on my upper arms through the leather jacket he put on me, only for me to break out of his hold abruptly, fangs and claws extending immediately.

“Leave me alone,” I snarl. My vision goes black and red, letting me know that my eyes are now glowing in their vivid icy blue colour. The two teenagers take a tentative step back, whereas the man snorts.

“Sweetheart,” he starts mockingly kindly, infuriating me more. “I don’t think you grasp the concept of who has the upper hand here.”

“Usually cocky bastards like you can do nothing besides showing off their non-existing power,” I spit out, disdain seeping into my words. He angers me with his bare presence – he angers me because he forced me to change back. A smirk appears on his face.

“Wanna test it out?”

I don’t even spare time for a verbal response – instead, I go straight for the kill, attempting to sink my claws into his chest where his important bundle of muscles is relaxing and contracting, pumping blood to provide his system.

Just before I could lay a finger on him, he vanishes from my sight. Then apart from a sharp pain at the back of my head, there is nothing but black void pulling me down into a dark abyss.

. o O o .

I wake up several hours later. I can hear soft noises filtering through the ajar door that leads to the bedroom I’m laying in. I notice that I was dressed at some point while I was unconscious – now I’m wearing an oversized T-shirt and a thong. I’m not used to being dressed any more, having spent the majority of my years in wolf shape.

I creep out of the bed and start a mute beeline for the front door to leave. I sneak out through the door, finding myself on an aisle. It’s dark, but my vision is perfect during nighttime as well, so it isn’t an obstacle for me.

I sneak towards the stairs and descend them, but before I could land a bare foot on those that lead to the heavy-looking metal entrance, a voice startles me.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Fuck you,” I shoot back, not even turning around. I choose to ignore the guy – he’s not a freaking royalty offspring, dammit –, and walk up to the door to escape, but I’m yanked back down from the second step. He turns me around harshly, aggressively hauling my body as though I were a doll that he can play around with as he pleases.

“I was expecting at least an attempt to kill me by way of thanking me for dressing you up,” he grits out through his teeth, looking positively fuming.

“I didn’t ask for it,” I point out, trying to wriggle my wrist free with no success; his fingers are as good as metal vises curling firmly around me. “Let go.”

“I’m not letting you go,” he says sternly. “I’m not going to allow you to go on a killing spree on my territory.”

“Oh, how protective of you,” I roll my eyes mockingly.

“Clearly you have behavioural issues,” he assesses. “You Omega have no idea how to show respect to an Alpha.”

“I see someone isn’t used to being ignored,” I singsong with a wicked smirk.

To wipe it off of my face, he shoves me into the wall. I yelp as the harsh collision knocks my breath out of me, and I find myself face to face with his scarlet glowing eyes. I flash mine at him in return.

“Won’t you ever learn your manners?” he growls at me.

“Not for you,” I whisper, kicking his legs to toss him off-balance and then pushing him away from me with my free hand. I manage to drive my foot into his side before he could catch up to me. The next time, however, he catches my leg and shoves it to the side. Instead of falling to my back, I make a somersault backwards, pushing myself up with my arms to stand again.

He immediately makes an attempt to sink his claws into my sides, but I get away from him by twirling a couple times, getting behind him and granting myself a clear shot of his vulnerable neck. I grab him, making sure the tips of my claws are biting his skin, only to throw him to the ground. Without missing a beat, I step on his chest to keep him plastered to the floor.

I smirk down at him, arching a brow, hands on my hips.

“Are you giving up yet?” I ask, rubbing my toe to his shirt in a cocky tease.

“Never,” he replies, taking a hold of my ankle and pulling at it, making me fall down onto his body. Instantly, I position myself to be sure I’m still the one being in charge – which means I’m straddling his pelvis. When his palms find my hips, a fuzzy hotness starts coiling up in my belly, urging me to unconsciously bite at my lower lip.

That, and the sudden spike in my scent inevitably chases out a reaction from him; his hands start rubbing at my skin, massaging it tantalizingly slowly, inviting my pelvis to dance along with them – and it does as I set up a slow roll with it, bracing myself against strong shoulders under me.

Our breathing is elevating, sighs coming out gradually louder, hearts starting to beat faster. I can almost hear as his blood is rushing through his veins, flowing south rapidly. I can’t help the small noise that leaves my lips as I grind down against him, feeling his developing erection nudging me.

“Holy –” he mumbles, voice barely above a whisper. Partially out of being turned on, partially out of craving payback, I allow my claws to sink into his sculpted shoulders, earning myself a hiss of pain from him. Dark stains of blood spread crawling in his shirt in a deformed circle around my fingertips, but he doesn’t care about it, just growls at me before tearing the material over his head.

“As obnoxious as you are, I gotta admit you’re hot as fuck,” I compliment, making a slow drag with my middle against his. He groans at the feeling, claws elongating, too.

“You have a pretty nice body yourself,” he says in return, a smug smirk playing on his lips.

“And what if you don’t get to see it again, baby?” I breathe into his mouth, just barely touching his pink flesh with mine. As soon as he tries to catch my lips in a kiss, I draw my head back, smiling down at him wickedly. I arch a brow. “Did you honestly think I’m that easy to seduce?”

“Stop teasing me, or I’ll have to take the initiative,” he says.

“Oh? You sound like I’d actually let you do that,” I comment, dragging my index finger down in a slow tease in the valley in the middle of his upper body which is dividing his pectorals and abs, going dangerously low. His jeans are riding low, granting me a clear shot of his black boxer briefs he’s wearing underneath. The two veins leading into his underwear are prominent and impossible not to notice. He makes a needy noise in the back of his throat.

I reach under myself, cupping his rapidly hardening erection in my hand through his pants, to which his response is to buck against my hand.

“Holy freaking shit, just –” he rasps. I lean down to whisper into his ear seductively, fingers flexing on him, “What, baby? What do you want me to do?”

Out of the blue, his eyes seep into their illuminated scarlet colour, his fangs elongating as he flips us over in a sudden surge of renewed power. I make a surprised noise as my body is moved – but he’s still not satisfied with having me under him; he also twirls me around to lay me on my belly.

When I turn my head to make a comment or two at the change in position, he murmurs, “Shut up” into my skin, even before I could get one sound out, leaving biting kisses and stinging nips all over my jaw, neck, and cheek, chasing out a whine from me. My inner wolf is loving this treatment.

On raw instinct, to try and seduce the male on me, I push my ass up to rub it against his bulge, letting my claws out and dragging them down along the floor under me, leaving ten lines there.

The next moment, I can feel him fumbling with his jeans, quickly ridding himself of them, pulling me flush to him with a palm spread over my lower belly. His hand starts inching up on my stomach, taking the T-shirt with it, soon finding my breast and kneading the soft flesh, making me whine wantonly. His length is poking me, only the thong and his briefs dividing our skins from the desired contact.

He begins rutting against me, his groans, pants and faltering breaths all directed into my ear, hotness spreading my insides.

Do it, dammit, or I swear to God I’m going to claw your eyes out,” I growl, need taking over me. He snickers against my shoulder, still covered by the tee he put on me, before shoving his briefs down and away, doing the same with my thong.

“See, you can submit, you just gotta be tamed accordingly,” he husks into my ear. I snarl at him, but it ends up morphing into a needy moan instead of a threat when he fills me in one swift, hard thrust.

He cages my body; my chest is squeezed to the ground, ass raised, claws digging into the floor as I can do nothing but fucking take it, meeting all his punishing pushes, back arching, his voice in my ear asking, “Will you submit to me now?” to which my response is to bare my neck involuntarily, signing submission.

His teeth sink into my flesh, sucking a massive lovebite into the surface, making me cry out in a high-pitched tone. His arms are bracketing me on both sides, his hot exhales lavishing over my back, burning me as though lava were licking over my nerves.

“Say my name,” he grunts in a low tone. “I want you to say my name as you cum.” My lips part to tease him, but he finishes with, “Derek. Say it when you come.”

Derek reaches down to rub tight circles around my clit, multiplying my pleasure. I shake violently as my orgasm hits me abruptly and intensely, crying out his name like he wished for, pulling him right in with me to white oblivion when I clamp around him, his fingers entwining with mine as both of our nails leave marks in the ground.

He drags his tongue up on the side of my neck, rolling his hips against mine a couple more times, making me bite my lip at the sensation, eyes fluttering closed. Derek then pulls out of me as soon as we’ve ridden out our highs, only to carry me over to his bed where he lays me down and scoots in next to me, covering us with the blanket. I don’t understand why he does this, but I let him – I merely want to wait until he’s asleep so that I can sneak away.

The fact that he has a strong arm wrapped around me is a factor that makes my plan a tad harder to implement, but I’m determined to carry it out anyway.

As soon as Derek’s breathing is slow and evened out, I squirm out of his hold. I take off the T-shirt he gave me, then I tiptoe my way over to the metal door, sliding it open carefully, trying to make the least amount of noises awhile.

I barely shut it behind me before my body morphs back into that of a wolf’s and I take off into the night.

A Pear In The Rocks II

Author: AvengeSuperWhoLock

Word Count: 1488

Pairing: LokixReader

Summary: A family dinner with the Avengers. Loki will still only talk to you. Tony is intent on getting as drunk as possible. Natasha is hoping for it all to burn to the ground. Bruce and Steve are just trying to keep their heads down. Clint is hoping the food is good. And Thor makes a surprise appearance. Meanwhile, you’re the one that has to keep everything from falling apart - what could go wrong?

A/N: I had been so kindly asked for a sequel to A Pearl In The Rocks by the beautiful @fairytalesexistxx. Unfortunately, there wasn’t really anywhere for the story to go, so this kind of just spewed out onto my keyboard. So … enjoy?

Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Keep reading

The originals makes me uncomfortable and after a few seasons, a lot of Discourse and finally putting words to gut instincts I had about many shows and their treatment of poc, here’s my conclusion

This white supremacist’s wet dream vampire family and the way they treat the denizens of this town that is comprised of mostly soc (supernaturals of colour fwm) is very self insert for their villain apologist audience

Just the way I see fandom talk about the black “antagonist”, excuse me “opposition” might be the better word here, marcel gerard, is all I need to know about this show’s fans. The animosity towards an otherwise sympathetic character who by all accounts has been loyal to these people but has suffered at their hands immeasurably because he’s been deemed time and again as Other, a character who is now understandably disillusioned and vengeance-filled after a series of devastating losses at their hands and continued slights from a group of people he thought cared for him, a character who struggles with identity and autonomy, because he was a motherfucking slave and servant boy, and just wants to control his own destiny for one minute damn, a character who doesn’t constantly want to be benched and discounted and cast in the overlong shadow of his white benefactors… marcel is such a complex study in humanity, ego, love, fear, avarice, inherent goodness, all of it, so you’d think he’d be a “cinnamon roll” to be protected at all cost, but no, because we know why

Like ol boy wants justice for himself and his, but any move he makes against this aryan dynasty is met with coded gems, the most popular of which usually calls for either
klaus ~his sire/pseudo-father~ to kill him or
for some halfass subplot to kill him or
for him to ‘learn’ his place because The Family always wins or
for him to stop whining because of course his feelings are inconsequential (when what they really want is a circle jerk abuse of White Power forever never mind what that would do for this show’s narrative…shit would’ve been cancelled after season 1 do not kid yourselves)

All this basically boils down to what I already knew but just needed to put into words. Klandom’s desire to see characters of colour submit to their white favs who do evil and suffer no real consequences is how they feel beyond television. It’s this family’s right to victimize simply because they’re all white and conventionally attractive to the white gaze and lore carried over from its sister show made them OP and untouchable

The originals and its undertones re: marcel, reminds me very much of all the ways Bonnie Bennett used to get shit on in the vampire diaries, the way its fans used to complain about her (and surprise surprise want her killed off), even before she had arcs of her own and interactions with characters outside being of magical service

This is all just a reminder that I can’t have nice things where tv is concerned as a person of colour, specifically as a black woman 🙄

Fanfic: Where the Darkness Never Fades - Part 2

Title: Where the Darkness Never Fades

Summary: Feyre’s cover is blown at the Spring Court, and she is now on the run. Trapped between decisions, Feyre must find a way out, or get caught against her own will.

 Part One        

Feyre’s POV

Dim stars floated throughout the night sky. The wind was brisk and carried jasmine scents. I stood in the House of Wind, looking down at the bustling city below. 

Velaris, my home. I inhaled and exhaled slowly, taking in every moment. The kids ran happily through the streets, chasing one another. Young and old couples dined with each other. 

Mor, Azriel, Cassian, Amren and Rhysand enjoying themselves at Rita’s. 

On a spur of moment, fire shot through the sky, landing on multiple shops and setting them on fire. The people of Velaris ran for their lives, mothers picking up their children and those who could not escape, burned alive.

The sight before me was abhorrent. Yet I stood there. My hands on the railings of the balcony. Unable to move or speak. 

I watched the inner circle scramble towards safety, almost dying in the process. Immediately Rhys, Az and Cassian shot up in the sky, preparing for fight. 

Only this time, my water wolves couldn’t save them. My strength couldn’t be there to protect them. 

I watched the artists corner disintegrate into ash. 

I saw the heart of Velaris collapsing. 

Hybern’s armies invaded the city, collecting hostages ad torturing those to dare to stand up to them.

I was silently screaming, my body still as a statue. I flinched when multiple, dozens of ash arrows slashed and pierced through Rhys, Az…

I rise with a heavy thrust. I guess these nightmares will never leave me. I exhaled a long breath. The bed I laid on was cold, very cold. Almost like ice. The clothing I wore was still the same ripped dress I ripped earlier, and a wound with clotted blood. Luckily, it was bandaged up not to bad. 

I don’t remember much, only the necklace Tamlin presented me and running through the Spring Court manor, and a surprise meet and greet with that backstabbing–

I quickly brought my hands up to my neck. To my relief, it was gone. 

I stood from the ice cold bed, to my surprise, found my hands bound together with manacles. I sighed. What have I gotten myself into?

The room I was situated in was made of rock, likely a dungeon cell of some sort. Possibly a dungeon cell at Hybern, or Spring Court. 

Hybern. Thinking of his name, let alone saying it was a curse. I walked about the dungeon cell, my wound on the side of my body aching from pain, hoping to find a way out, but there was only a small window near the ceiling of cell, and the only entrance was the one that kept me in here, bound and weak. 

I tested to see if any powers would form, but none did. Must be the work of the manacles. 

In the distance, footsteps erupted from the ends of the hallway. I could hear the pieces of armour clashing against each other as the figure walked closer to my cell. 

I plumped back onto my bed, waiting for my next battle.

Tamlin stood at the door of my cell. 

He unlocked the door, and his brows narrowed. “Come with me now.” A command.

“Where am I?” I seethed at him. This was the man who I would kill without regret. Without mercy. Tamlin stepped into the cell and grabbed me with one hand and placing his other hand over my mouth. 

“You do not get to speak unless you’re told to. You only get orders. Those orders must be done. Courtesy from the King of Hybern, for letting you live this long.” He drawled.

He let go of his hand from my mouth as I was led up hundreds of steps, indicating that the cell I stayed in was quite deep underground, but not deep enough to block out the light from the small window I have come to know for a couple seconds.

I exhaled and inhaled slowly, trying to calm my nerves. At least my expression was strong. Tamlin turned his head over, observing me. From the corner of my eye, I saw anger and frustration, but that slowly became worry and sadness.

We gradually entered a room, clean and tidied up, but not so extravagant. At least it is suitable. Maybe I could find something I could use to my advantage to escape. 

Tamlin stood in the door way, his hand clutching the sword that hung on the side of his armour suit.

“You have 20 minutes. Change and be ready. You are to meet the king.”

I lifted a brow. “You expect me to change when my hands are still bound?” I lifted my hands to show proof. Tamlin sighed and unlocked them without hesitation. Then, he left, shutting the door behind him.

Once I was left alone, I cleaned myself up. 

The wound was more bad than I though it was. The cut was deep, so so deep. I found extra cloth in the room and bandaged myself more. 

A wine red dress laid on the bed. 

No, no, no, no, no. 

Not red. Not the colour of the innocent fae I killed with the ash dagger. 

I could have vomited on the dress Hybern, Tamlin, or Ianthe, wanted me to wear. They couldn’t care less. They have all the money to grant them whatever they want. 

It seems as if they want to dress me up to watch me die.

I snatched the dress with pure rage. 

Thank the cauldron Rhys spoke through the bond the exact moment.

Feyre.. His voice was music in my mind, my ears.


Where are you, I know what happened. I’m coming. 

No, yes. I don’t know if you should.

What do you mean?

Hybern knows who I am. I am prisoner. Ianthe cut me with a knife…

Anger roared down the bond, leaving me with shivers. 

How. Dare. She. Are you sure you don’t need me and the others to come? 


Feyre, you’re ill. But, say name my name twice and I’ll be there. I’ll slaughter everyone on the spot.

I climbed into the sickening dress. Gladly, it fitted me. If only it was in a different colour. Deep blue, or glittering black.

Three knocks sounded at my door as I combed my hair and lightly put it up. If they wanted me to look decent, I’d give them it. This was a game I was familiar with. Deceive and kill.

I strode over to the door and swung it open. Tamlin stood there, waiting.

“Are you going to put those manacles on me again?” I nagged.


Tamlin motioned for me to follow right behind him. We walked down a long corridor. It was like walking through a goth cathedral at Hybern’s castle.

We walked through two open grand doors that led to the throne room. Now this, was what I was familiar with. 

A shiver went down my spine as I remember Rhys and I being separated, Cassian’s wings shredding, my sisters being turned to fae, and the hole in Azriel’s chest.

The King of Hybern sat on his throne of bones. He looked down at us with devilish eyes. 

“Welcome Tamlin, and your pet.” 

I sneered at him, teeth bared. 

He motioned Tamlin to stand beside his throne, and stopped me in my tracks. Sentinels slowly orbited me. A predator and their prey, only the roles have switched this time round.

“You will do as I ask,” He drawled. It felt like living Amarantha’s trials again.

“And if I don’t?” I challenged, my voice a bit shaky. Suddenly, the scent in the throne room became familiar, as if I was back at the Night Court. 

Mor, Azirel, Cassian and Rhysand emerged from the darkness. 

He said he was coming. And I told him not to. 

Hell as caught me once again.

anonymous asked:

can i please request a continuation of andreil & a missed call? like fluff with a hurt/comfort recovery part? love your writing!!<3

YEAH it’s time for my favourite part <3

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five)

Andrew comes up from unconsciousness like it’s deep water.  

First, tiny streaks of light, growing to a glow.  Then, all at once, sound and smell.  It feels like he gasps, but he thinks it probably comes out like a sigh.  He breathes in, deeply, lets it seep out slow.

“I’m angry with you,” says the voice he would know anywhere.  Andrew blinks his eyes open, squinting at the glare.  There’s a touch at his face – a hand, blocking the light.

“Are you?” he asks.  His voice grates in his throat.  “I’m not dead.  Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Keep reading


Teddy Lupin liked to wonder around school grounds when it was late at night. In his third year his godfather had given him a family heirloom that many of his peers would kill to get their hands on. Harry had made him swear he would never tell anyone because if Minerva McGonagall found out that Cloak was in her school again, she would have Harry’s head on a silver tray, served at the next Halloween feast. 

Teddy knew he had a tendency to get in trouble but he was very good at getting out of them, too. Now that he was a Prefect, he actually could wander around the castle late at night without being disrupted but he was bored. He had been everywhere in the castle, knew every way in and out, knew each hidden room thanks to Uncle George and his godfather, now he wanted to go outside and get a closer look at the Forbidden Forest, he had this feeling inside him for the past month that he had to go there. He wanted to go to the Forbidden Forest ever since Harry told him about how his father and his parents ran around the forest on full moons. He had been to Shrieking Shack in his fourth year after Harry told him how to get in there, there were claw marks everywhere and old piano and a broken bed but it was his father’s home during full moons  and Teddy went there when he missed his parents more than usual, especially on full moons when his headache came to a point he would feel like his head would explode.

It was a few days before the full moon and Teddy had patrol that night, he planned to sneak out of the school after his patrol was done and wander around the Forbidden Forest for a change. He had tucked the Invisibility Cloak under his robes as he walked the same route he always did. First around the Hufflepuff common room, then to the kitchens to have some chocolate, next Slytherin dungeons and then Gryffindor common room, finally Ravenclaw tower. 

After he looked around to see if there was anyone around or if there was any of the pictures awake Teddy pulled the Cloak around himself and vanished instantly, he realised he was getting a little bit too tall for the Cloak but he would rather crawl on the floor than give the Cloak back to Harry simply because he didn’t fit. 

Teddy loved Hogwarts during spring, the weather was a bit chilly at night but he didn’t mind, perks of being the son of a werewolf was that he was warm whatever he did. Teddy slowly walked by Hagrid’s hut which still had it’s lights on, he was probably still trying to contain the Nifflers that got loose earlier that day when a Gryffindor girl ignored Hagrid’s warnings and kept her necklace on.


Teddy turned around to see who was calling his name, it was a whimper but it was most definitely his name.


It was coming from the Forest so Teddy not so slowly walked into the darkness. There were small beacons of moonlight that found their way in through leaves but other than that it was pretty gloomy. 


It was clearer now, it was like it came from the ground. Teddy looked down and took the Cloak off as he reached for a stone that shined a little bit brighter than others. Teddy put the stone in his right hands palm in examined it, turned it around, checked from each perspective but couldn’t find anything peculiar about it, he turned the stone once more and the stone brightened before it started letting out something what looked like grey smoke.


Teddy knew that voice, he had heard it before when McGonagall showed him memories of his father in the Pensieve and he slowly lifted his gaze back up from the storm.


Remus Lupin was standing right in front of Teddy with a smile and right next to him stood a woman with pink hair who he knew was Nymphdora Tonks, what else could explain his blue hair.


“Wotcher, Teddy?” said his mother grinning widely, Teddy knew her from Harry’s memories and Mrs. Weasley’s long talks about her. She looked better then everything he had heard.

“I– How?” asked Teddy as he stared at his parents for the first time in his life.

“That stone you are holding is the Resurrection Stone, Harry had dropped it during the Battle of Hogwarts,” explained Remus as he stared at his son like he would disappear any moment. “I’m sure he told you about that.”

“Yes he did,” replied Teddy, thinking about how Harry told him what his dad said to him before Harry dropped the stone, he had made him tell that story maybe ten times and watched the memory countless times. “So you are real? I am not imagining you?”

“No, love, we are very real,” replied his mother as her hair turned a vivid blue, he ran his hand through his own blue hair and grinned at her.

“Thanks for this,” he said as he walked a little bit closer to them. “So, um, how are you?”

Teddy had so much he wanted to ask but he didn’t have the words for it and after he asked how they were he felt stupid, it was an unnecessary question to ask since they didn’t have much to do.

“Forget about how we are doing, you are a Prefect now!” chanted Tonks, her pride could be heard clearly. “And, you are a Hufflepuff!”

Teddy and Remus both laughed softly at her excitement, he could see that he got his dad’s smile and body but his mum’s everything else.

“Um, dad, I was torn between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff but the Sorting Hat–”

“What are you talking about? Hufflepuffs are amazing, they are smarter than most Gryffindors are for sure,” interrupted Remus a warm smile on his face and then he turned to Tonks. “I’m starting to think Andy puts something in the water.”

Both of them laughed and Teddy couldn’t help but feel like someone just stabbed him in the heart, this was what he had been missing his all life, this was what he would have had if they survived. Sure he loved the Potters and the Weasleys but this was his real family and he couldn’t help but want them back.

“What’s wrong, Teddy?” asked his mum pulling him from the trance he was in.

“What– I–?”

“You play with your rings, our rings, when you feel down,” explained Remus. Teddy did not see that coming, how did they know he wore their rings? “We have been watching you Teddy, we are here with you even though you can’t see us buddy, we are always here.”

Remus was pointing at Teddy’s heart, of course they were there but he wanted more, having them in their heart was one thing, talking to them and joking with them was another.

“It is not the same,” objected Teddy barely whispering, he could feel his eyes watering and his hair changing colour as they always did when he was sad. “It’s just not.”

“Teddy your hair–”

“Yeah it turns black when I’m sad, I have no idea why.”

But his mum was laughing uncontrollably and his dad was just staring at him in awe.

“What’s so funny?” babbled Teddy angrily, “Why is she laughing?”. Black wasn’t that weird or funny considering the hair colours he usually chose.

“It’s just that black hair and the Black genes you have, you reminded us of someone we know,” replied Remus still not tearing his eyes away.

“Someone we know?!” yelled Tonks in between her laughing. “Sirius is going to kill you once more for that.”

“What do you want me to tell him?”

“You look like Sirius Black, darling, Remus’ soul mate and first love,” stated his mum, without a trace of jealousy on her face.

“Harry’s godfather? Oh I kind of figured that out from all those memories Minnie showed me,” said Teddy nonchalantly, his father looked relieved. 

He never cared for what they did or what they were, Teddy always cared about the fact that they were his parents and they were perfect. He remembered how fondly Harry talked about Sirius and if his father never got over him, well that wasn’t really a problem because he didn’t have to, just like Teddy would never get over the absence of their parents. He could see that his father loved his mother, he knew that death was never expected and shit happened, he knew better than most. The fact that he loved Harry referring to him as his eldest didn’t mean that he forgot his actual parents, he would never do that.

This was what Teddy wanted, to talk to his parents about stupid stuff and laugh with them, ask for their advice every now and then. He didn’t understand how Harry left the stone here and didn’t keep it, just to talk to all the people he had lost. He was going to hold on to the stone, he didn’t have to be as brave as Harry was, he could talk to his parents every now and then when he needed to. As he was thinking this through Remus opened his mouth like he had read Teddy’s mind.

“Teddy, you need to promise me you’ll leave that stone here or give it to Minerva,” pointed out, he suddenly looked very serious.

“What’s so wrong if I want to talk to you every know and then?” protested Teddy. “All the other kids get their chances to talk with their parents, why not me?”

“Because it is dangerous Teddy,” said his mum with a worried voice. “You are a smart boy, you have heard about this stone before, you know the story. We may be real, you may now be talking to us but you can’t waste your time talking to the dead.”

“Don’t say that,” begged Teddy, the reminder was like a shot in the head. 

“We listen to you, when you want to talk to us, just because you can’t see us doesn’t mean that–”

“Yes it does,”  he interrupted his dad, feeling his anger rise in him. “Every damn full moon I shut everyone out and try to sleep through a head ache. I like my meat almost raw just like Uncle Bill does. My hair changes colours, my face becomes whatever I want it to be. Everyday bloody day is a reminder that I am your child without even meeting you.”

“Do you know what it feels like when Mrs. Weasley talks about you or McGonagall compares me to you? I can’t say anything because I don’t know you. Out of all the people in the world who got to meet you, only your son didn’t. People tell things, people know your shells. I don’t have Sirius, James or Lily to tell me about the real you, dad, without the bloody wall you put up against other people. Grandpa didn’t know you like they did, he tried and I am thankful but he is aware that all he has is you as a son and not as a Marauder. At least I know how mum was raised and have some of her in me but you, I need to get to know you.”

“Not like this Teddy, I’m sorry,” apologised Remus as he tilted his head to the side, he could see their resemblance each time he moved. The long limbs, the way they both wore their hearts on their sleeves only if they wanted to, he was so painfully Remus Lupin’s son that he hated it, he almost hated that he reminded everyone who his father was, how much it must hurt them, too. “You know why we did what we did, we wanted you to have the best future you can have, we never really meant for you to grow up without us and you should know that it hurts us as much as it hurts you.”

“You are not aware that we didn’t get to meet you either, love. When we want for you to give the Stone back, we are making a hard decision ourselves, too.”

“You really can’t control if I keep the Stone or not,” challenged Teddy.

“We can’t control if you keep it or not but we can control how we are and if it means that you’ll let the Stone go, that’s exactly what we will do,” said his mum, looking nothing like her usual cheerful self. Teddy never knew that she had it in her and he felt a little scared.

“I may give it to Minnie, I can’t promise anything.”

“Teddy!” scolded Remus. “Also, don’t call your Professor Minnie”

“Oh, so it’s alright when Sirius does and I can’t do it?” complained Teddy as he couldn’t help but laugh, he never had anyone tell him off for calling her that. “Next, you are going to tell me to stay out of trouble.”

“Why yes, I am,” said Remus as he furrowed his brows. “You really should be careful, I don’t know what Harry was thinking giving you that Cloak.”

You planned pranks for the Marauders and you tell me to stay away from trouble. Remus I-was-a-prefect-but-who-cares Lupin tells me to stay away from trouble. Mum, do something.”

Teddy hadn’t realised up until now that his mother was doubled over laughing at them and they just stared at her as she tried to catch her breath.

“Do whatever you want, love, don’t listen to him,” joked Tonks as she smiled widely.

“You really should go back to the castle buddy, Forest is never safe at this time,” said Remus warily.


“The longer we take to go away, the worse,” added his mum. 

“You are a strong boy Teddy, you can do this, go make us proud and don’t forget, we are always with you,” said Remus, his eyes stuck on Teddy’s face.

“We love you so much and don’t you ever forget that,” reminded his mum, he had never seen her cry before and he felt like he never felt anything more painful than seeing her like that.

“I love you, too,” whispered Teddy as he fought the tears trying to escape his eyes. He gave the stone a one last squeeze before he put it in his pocket. He slowly walked up to the castle and just as he made his way to the Hufflepuff common room, it was too late to pull the Cloak over him now.

“Mr. Lu–” 

McGonagall was staring at him like she had seen a ghost. 

“Where were you?” she demanded as calmly as she could but Teddy could swear her eyes were filled with tears.

“Um, in the forest,” said Teddy as he reached for the stone, deciding if he should give it to her or not. “I was talking to my parents, Professor”


Teddy held out the stone for Minerva to take, she took it immediately and examined it. The one thing his parents asked him to do, he just couldn’t say no.

“I’m sure you heard about it ma’am, the Resurrection Stone. My dad made me promise I would give it to you.”

“Have you seen yourself, Mr. Lupin?” asked McGonagall softly as she pushed Teddy to somewhere he could see himself.

His blue hair was gone now, he had visible locks of blondish hair and amber eyes that burned like fire, he looked so much like his dad, he thought he turned the Stone without realising.

“I know you miss them Mr. Lupin but I wish I could explain to you how much you are like them without even realising,” said McGonagall, she was smiling at Teddy with warm eyes. “Now off to bed and visit me tomorrow after your patrol Mr. Lupin, I have something to show you.”

Teddy nodded and went back to his dorm thinking about how the time will pass until it was 10 o’clock tomorrow.

Burned- Part Two(Marliza Fic)

Note: what’s this?? She wrote a second part??? OH YES!

Warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing(I think), and being a terrible sister

Tags: @secretschuylersister @steiiarrs @butlinislin @maybe-mikala @queerenbian @ham4fan-fiction (I think that’s it pls tell me if I missed you)

Word count: 3063(considerably shorter than part one but hey)

I walked forward and putting my hands on the back of a chair, locking my elbows. “What do you mean she’s ‘missing’?” I asked, looking from Philip Schuyler, to my parents, and to the man with the 5 o’clock shadow.

“By definition, ‘missing’ tends to mean absent from home and in a place of unknown whereabouts,” 5 o’clock shadow man answered, who was apparently a walking dictionary. “And in this case, Eliza has been missing since last night, which is a commonplace state for her, yes?”

“She’s always been running away. First it was Maryland– she spent an entire week in Chesapeake Bay. The only damn clue about where she was was a book about the start of the American colonies in Maryland. Then it was New Jersey, Weehawken, actually,” Philip said, breaking off with a scowl. “I don’t understand how Angelica turned out perfectly and Eliza is… not.” I repressed the urge to bring up the simple fact that Angelica slept with her sisters boyfriend. Which, by definition, would make her very not-perfect.

“Philip-” my mother began, but was cut off.

“I can only hope that Peggy turns out like Angelica– she was the dream to raise, never caused trouble, always home by curfew. She’s a good person.” As he said those words, I couldn’t help but to think of the box of condoms sitting in the drawer in her nightstand, and I knew that he would most definitely not find Peggy perfect after those were found.

“Eliza’s a better person than Angelica ever will be,” I muttered, in the vain hope that no one had heard me. No one seemed to, and Philip continued on. Finally, 5 o’clock shadow man/walking dictionary man cleared his throat.

“Maria, I’d like to have a word with you,” he said, crossing his arms and pulling a pen from his breast pocket. “Would it be alright to have a word with her, alone?” He asked, more to my parents than to me.

“I don’t see what Maria could possibly know that could help you, sir,” my father answered.

“With all due respect, Richard, Maria saw Eliza at school– a place where her father rarely saw her. Maria could have some information for me that will help out in maybe finding Eliza and bringing her home safe.”

“Now, hold on,” Philip interjected. “I dont want Eliza living in my house again. She’s eighteen. She has a boyfriend, and I’m sure Alexander or Angelica would be more than happy to let her stay,” Philip announced. “Frankly, I want to focus on making sure the last of my girls doesn’t run away a month from the last day of school.”

“So, is that a yes?”

I lead 5 o’clock shadow man/walking dictionary man into the little office that my father spent most of his day slaving away in. I sat down on the desk, kicking my legs and looking down at the worn carpet, while my soon-to-be interrogator sat in the cracked and worn office chair pushed in the corner of the room. I could remember spinning around in that chair until I was dizzy and couldn’t stand straight.

“Maria, I know that you know something that you aren’t telling your parents, or Mr Schuyler,” he said, pulling out a notepad from the inside of his immaculate suit. “I’m Mr Lancaster, by the way.”

“Maria Lewis,” I replied, even though he already knew my name. “What exactly do you think I’m not telling you?”

“I think that a girl surrounded by people– people that she feels don’t understand her, or are against her– is going to turn to the girl that has everything she could ever wish for.” None of what this man was saying made sense. Eliza had everything– a boyfriend, her sisters by her side, friends and good grades– but that’s where it finally hit me; Eliza may have had everything, but everything didn’t seem to want to have her. “Eliza felt alone in the crowd, and you were never in a crowd but you were so not-lonely that Eliza found someone she could turn to. Am I right?”

“Not too far off, I’d imagine.”

“Good,” Mr Lancaster leaned forward in his chair, writing on his notepad. “Now, something goes wrong. Eliza gets in a fight with her boyfriend or has a disagreement with one of her sisters– something small. Then, she decides she can’t take it the way it is, and up and disappears.” I very much wanted to interrupt, because your boyfriend cheating on you with your older sister, your best friend, is not a small and petty thing. Not to someone who had spent 99% of their time with their older sister, trading secrets and telling jokes. For the girl who burned every person but one that came too close, and having that one burn her? This was not a small thing.

“And everyone has to have an outlet, right?” He seemed to want a reply, so I nodded. “Good. Now what could that outlet possibly be?” He looked at me for a moment, and in that bundle of seconds I knew that he thought one thing– he thought that I knew where Eliza was. He had thought up the most ridiculous solution possible, and he seemed to believe it to be true.

“I dont know,” I answered, then added, “sir,” for good measure.

“I think that outlet would be the one girl that Eliza could trust. And I think that girl is you,” he said. “Correct me if I’m wrong.”

“If you’re assuming that I could possibly, by some miracle, know where Eliza is,” I began. “Then you are so far off the tracks that I’m not even sure if you started on them in the first place.” Mr Lancaster almost cracked a smile– almost.

“My guess, is that you know where she is. You just dont know it yet.”

“How could I possibly-”

“I’ve worked every case for this girl– that’s five total missing person cases for the same girl that can’t seem to choose a place and stay there like the good girl she should be,” he started. “And in people like that, there’s always an accomplice. She can’t bear to sit still for long enough to plan this all unless she starts it in her head and writes down exactly nothing.”

“Eliza has never once asked me to be a part of anything that she’s done.” This, of course, was a lie.

“I dont think so,” Mr Lancaster replied. “I think you’ve been part of one, at least. And I think I know what it was.”

“I dont know what you’re talking about,” I replied, thankful for my skill of keeping a level-head. Mr Lancaster shook his head, and pulled a phone out of his pocket. He pulled up a photo, and handed the phone to me. The picture showed the light blue e spray painted onto the wall in Peggy’s room, the identically coloured m next to it, albeit smaller. My shoulders slumped.

“Look, I don’t know what you two managed to do last night, I don’t know who you went after, but I certainly would like to know,” he began. “And I would also like to say that I wouldn’t wanna be those people.”

“You can’t tell my parents.”

“As long as you two didn’t kill anyone, then the story stays with you, me, Eliza, and that creepy clown painting in the corner.” And so I told him. I told him about Eliza somersaulting through my window, about lying to my mom to get tacos, about going to the store and going to Angelicas and going to Alexander’s and going back to her house before burning the love letters at the campgrounds. I told him about dropping Eliza off at some time past midnight. I told him about Goodbye, Maria. instead of Goodnight, Maria. After I was finished telling, his face stayed in a way that said he was not quite finished listening.

Finally, he said: “Maria, why did Eliza go after her sisters and boyfriend?” And suddenly the still listening face made sense.

“Angelica slept with Alexander. Several times.”

“And Peggy?” Mr Lancaster asked.

“Peggy knew, apparently.”

“Well,” Mr Lancaster said, leaning forward and rubbing his face with his hands. “This is definitely a new one.”

Mr Lancaster finally seemed satisfied that I had offered every bit of information I had, and he left with Eliza’s father. “What an assface,” I said, after Mr Lancaster and Philip had left. “Abandoning his own daughter.”

“It seems like Eliza abandoned him,” my father interjected, and I wanted to reply but didn’t seem to know how. Instead, I went upstairs, ignoring Jane Eyre.

Mammamiaitsmaria: Quinn, Sarah, you better get the fuck online right now before i explode

NotSarahJessicaParker: the mighty Quinn hath been usurped(she got grounded)

Mammamiaitsmaria: Eliza ran away

NotSarahJessicaParker: isn’t this the twenty millionth time?

Mammamiaitsmaria: no, Sarah. But I was the last person to see her before she disappeared

NotSarahJessicaParker: That certainly adds to the mysteriousness in all of this

Mammamiaitsmaria: I want to find her

NotSarahJessicaParker: we all do. I gotta go, I’m being summoned

I watched Sarah’s icon change from a bright blue to a grey, signifying she had left. I closed the chat room, and shut my laptop, tilting the back of my head over my chair and blowing out a breath through my teeth.

I knew full well that Eliza would not be found until she wanted to be– she was too smart and non-stop for that, and any fault in her planning was always noticed. She was too well put together to be discovered before she had her chance to see everything and take it all in. Her mind worked like a constantly-changing jigsaw puzzle, making her forever the enigma.

“Maria, dinner!” I groaned, turning out of my chair and rushing down the stairs. I helped myself to some of the spaghetti sitting on the counter, and sat down at the table with my parents, mid-conversation.

“The car had much less gas this morning than it did when I came home,” my mother said, tucking some of her loose curls behind her ear. “I know that Maria went out for a bit, but this was a drastic change.” I ignored them, knowing that it was better for my fate if I couldn’t process what they were saying. She finally came to a conclusion and changed to subject, and the political talk began again and I fully ignored them. I finished eating walked back into the kitchen and put my plate in the sink, before rushing back upstairs and poking through Jane Eyre before taking a shower.

I pushed my wet hair away from my face and stared at myself in the mirror. I still looked the same, but I didnt feel the same. It was amazing how an event can so drastically change the way you look on the inside, but your outside seems exactly the same.

I dragged myself into bed, rolling away from the window. Even though I knew it wasn’t going to happen, I desperately wished that Eliza would push open the window and somersault into my room one last time.

“So, Eliza’s gone missing?” Quinn asked, as soon as I walked into school. Her trumpet case was hanging loosely in her hand, and her glasses were falling down her nose. “Sarah told me,’ she added, before I could ask.

“It sure seems like it.” I reached up, fixing Quinn’s glasses.

“Why do you want to find her?” Quinn questioned quietly.

“Because I was the last person to see her before she up and disappeared. Wouldn’t you want to find her if that was the case?” Quinn was silent for a moment, before nodding.

“I have to get to band,” she finally said, and rushed off, her trumpet case swinging behind her. I considered following her and sitting in on the early band rehearsal just to listen, but I decided that getting to class early and reading some more Jane Eyre. I beat the bell to my seat, and sat through the slowly-ticking clock. Finally, the cass ended and I was free for another ten minutes. I knew that Sarah and Quinn had second period together, so I could meet them outside of the band room and walk to their class, and still have enough time to get back to mine.

I met Sarah and Quinn outside of band, and we made it halfway to their classroom before the last person in the world we expected to walk up to us, walked up to us. She stopped in front of our trio, holding her colour-coded folders against her chest like a lifeline, her short-cut curls falling in her eyes, and her face pulled down from lack of sleep.

“Hi,” Peggy said. “I assume you know that Eliza has gone missing?”

“We’re aware,” Sarah answered, a new kind of tone in her voice, and it was in that moment that I remembered Sarah’s completely, totally, unadulterated crush on Peggy Schuyler.

“Do you also know about what she pulled in my room?” Peggy asked, caution in her voice. “Because I still haven’t been able to clean it all up.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

“What did you– oh, you’re the lowercase m, aren’t you?” She gave a half smile or realization, and let out a breathy laugh.

“That would, in fact, be correct.”

“I figured as much,” she said. “So, what exactly did Eliza have you help her with?”

“I’m not exactly sure you’re the kind of person that Eliza would want me to tell, Peggy.” Her face fell, and the slight hope that had ignited in her eyes dimmed.

“If it has to do with Angelica,” Peggy began, tightening her grip on the folders. “Then I didn’t know.”

“How would you not know? Angelica is your sister,” Quinn butted in, raising her eyebrows.

“Because no one told me,” she answered. “But John knew, and as soon as I found out I dumped him. I can’t believe Angelica did that,” Peggy muttered, tapping her foot against the ground angrily.

“Well if John-” Sarah began, but Quinn stomped on her foot, effectively shutting her up.

“I told Angelica what I thought about what she did. I told her to put our sisterhood aside and that I’m not standing at her side. I’m with Eliza on this one, she didn’t deserve this.” Peggy’s eyes were shining with unshed tears, and in that one moment I couldn’t think of anyone I wouldn’t want to be less. Peggy had somehow lost both of her sisters in the span of twenty-four hours, both of them at the hands of the other, and it left Peggy alone.

“I believe you,” I finally said. “Come to my house after school, and I’ll explain everything. Okay, Peggy?” She nodded, and muttered something about needing to get to class before hurrying off, her folders still pressed to her chest.

“I’m gonna ask her out,” Sarah said, as soon as Peggy was out of our general area.

Quinn looked at her dumbfoundedly. “No,” she said, as thought this was the obvious answer, and shook her head a little.

“Do not do the stupid thing,” I counseled.

“Imma do the stupid thing,” Sarah said, and walked away.

“She’s not even going in the direction of our class,” Quinn said, flabbergasted. “The complete and utter disregard she has to what’s going on around her amazes me sometimes.”

My mothers car was absent from the driveway when I arrived home that afternoon, so I knew that she had to be working late. Peggy had told me to expect her sometime around four, so I had just enough time to eat something before Peggy got here to discuss Eliza.

I devoured a pop tart, and read some more Jane Eyre, before the doorbell rang and I answered it. Peggy was standing there, and had pulled her curls out of her face. “Hi, and thanks, Maria.”

“It’s no problem.” She walked in, and stopped at the livingroom.

“Where do you wanna talk at?” She asked, turning to face me.

“Do you want to go up to my room, that way if my mom comes home while we’re talking, she doesn’t interrupt us?” Peggy nodded, and I let her follow me upstairs and into my room. She sat down crossed-legged on my chair, and I set of my bed, dangling my legs over the endboard.

“So, what was Eliza’s master plan?” Peggy asked, and I explained how Angelica had told Eliza about the affair. I told her how she came into my room, and brought me along to buy some things and execute some pranks.

“Oh, shit,” I suddenly exclaimed, slapping a hand to my forehead. “There’s a box of condoms in the drawer in your nightstand. Eliza was hoping that your dad would find them and tear you a new one.”

Peggy had noticeably whitened, but only said, “noted.” I took her silence as a cue to continue, and so I did. She stopped me at the part about the campgrounds.

“Eliza burned the letters? And you let her?!” She exclaimed, colour coming back into her cheeks.

“Peggy, you didn’t see her at the campgrounds. She was devastated, and nothing was going to stop her.” Peggy blew out a breath through her nose, and nodded at me to continue. I finished by telling her about Goodbye, Maria. and Peggy looked at me strangely.

“That’s it?” She asked, her face scrunching up in confusion.

“That’s all I know.”

“She had to leave clues,” Peggy said, pulling at her hair with both her hands. “And I think she left them for you.”

“Why for me?” And even as I asked it, I knew the answer: Eliza had no one else. Her boyfriend and sisters had wronged her, and they were the only people that she truly seemed to love. And so, she somersaulted into my window and brought me along because I was all she could have had left.

“She didn’t trust Angelica and I, and she obviously didn’t trust Alexander. So who better than you?” Peggy answered, letting her hands drop from her hair as she shrugged.

“What do we do now?”

“Now?” Peggy repeated, and a smirk lurked in the corners of her mouth and eyes. “Now we look.”