#i put a white border around the first piece and realised i could totally make it into a sticker if i had an etsy page

[steeloptic]

ouhhhh my toxic old man yaoi brainrot

[draqcnheartstrinq]

His Comfort

Sirius Black x Reader

Requested: Anonymous asked: Hey there, could you write a Sirius x reader where she's suddenly failing in class and sort of breaks down, becomes sad and distant and Sirius cheers her up and just makes her feel better??? Thanks cutie💛💛

Word count: 1.846

Note: Sadness and breakdowns are a pretty big topic in this fic, so if you’re not up for that then this isn’t a fic for you. Also, I’m sorry it’s not gender-neutral... I tried but for this fic it just wasn’t possible, the anon asked for a she/her so I made it that.

(I’m not native English so if there are any mistakes that bother you, don’t hesitate to send me a message!) Enjoy! (and thank you to the lovely anon for the first ever fic request! I hope this was what you imagined...)

“(Y/N).” Simply her name felt like a magical spell rolling off the tip of his tongue. Face so magnificent and flawless, he swore there wasn't a person, or creature, that could be more breathtaking. Sirius wasn't the type to fall for one person in particular, let alone finding himself in this deep state of pure adoration. He didn't want to acknowledge the sensations at first, these quickly developed feelings frightened him, not having an explanation for any of them. But the soothing effect of her voice taking over his mind and senses when she spoke was overwhelming, beautiful and a totally new experience for the young Gryffindor.

The one thing he was sure of right now was the fact that he wanted more. More than just the sound of her voice to listen to. More than just her face to look at. More than just her presence beside him.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The papers were thrown around her desk, ink was spilled all over her hands and white blouse, books were scattered across the ground of her quiet dorm room. (Y/N) held her fingers over her lips, cupping them and silencing the quiet sobs that left her sore throat. Many of her grades were on the edge of failing, some had already crossed that border. And no matter how hard she tried and studied, she would need a damn miracle to get through this year of Hogwarts. She slid herself down the wall until her bottom had reached the floor, no longer did she suppress the tears as they flooded down her cheeks. The feeling of self loathing came seeping into her already distraught mind, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to get to the next school year without guidance from others. The problem was simple; she didn’t know who to ask for help. Her own classmates already had enough work of their own, she didn’t want to bother them with more. Her teachers had explained the lessons over and over, she didn’t want to bother them any longer either. Her parents would be so disappointed and concerned, she didn’t know how to bring them the news. So she sat there, breaking down with only the sound of the rain as her company, only self-pity covering her trembling, aching body.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Walking through the halls and corridors the next day was a challenge. Her breakdown still wavered through the back of her thoughts, threatening to show itself every time she entered a different classroom. The anxiety of people knowing about her situation, judging her for the low grades she scored, it made her cower away and hide behind more books and assignments. She distanced herself. (Y/N) told everyone who asked, that she was okay, that simply the stress of school got to her head and it was nothing to worry about. Even her friends didn’t get to hear the truth behind her odd behaviour. Surprisingly everyone believed her lies as well. They thought they understood the stressful feelings. But they really didn’t.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Sirius had come to accept his love, finally. After what felt like ages of figuring things out, of denying the heavy sensations that clouded his fast beating heart, it finally fit inside the other puzzle pieces. He liked her, probably loved her more than anything. James, Remus and Peter had told him so many times before, before he even realised himself.“We told you didn’t we, Padfoot?��� James mocked, smiling at his own little comment. “Yeah, yeah, I got that already. You can stop shoving it in my face”, Sirius would answer, because no matter how right his friends were, he was still his stubborn old self. “Where has she been all this time anyways? I haven’t seen her the last few days except from in class”, said Peter with a questioning look on his face, “I mean normally she’s almost always around…” “Apparently she spends a lot of time in the library ‘nd in her room lately, studying or something, Lily told me,” James spoke up again, “haven’t you seen her Moony? You spend a lot of time in the library, right?” “I do, but no… ‘aven’t seen her either.” All four of them sat in silence for a while, confused features plastered on their faces. “Just take the map and search for her on there”, Remus eventually said like he could slap the other three across their faces, “what did we create it for otherwise?” The other Marauders looked at each other with rolling eyes and expressions that basically meant: “Why didn’t we come up with that?”

Immediately after opening up the map,(Y/N)’s name sprung into Sirius’ eye. She sat in her room, in front of the only window, Alone. As her name bopped up and down, above the two unmoving footprints, he couldn’t help but think she was avoiding her friends, avoiding him. He could feel his heart shrink at the thought.

“Well, Padfoot, I guess we’re at the point where you’re meant to go and ask her out”, James bluntly said. “I think that’s an amazing idea, Prongs”, Peter added. And both of them pushed their friend out the door, even Remus couldn’t resist his grin.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Two knocks were placed on the other side of the door, pulling (Y/N) out of her trance. She quickly held her head straight, away from the window where it previously rested. The heat radiating from her body had befogged the glass and the pattern of her stray hairs was cleared out.

“I’m coming, hold on!” she said. Her voice broke, reminding her once again of her sore throat and the tears that stained her face. Before opening the door she wiped them, drying every single trail with her sleeves.Immediately after turning the doorknob around she was met with Sirius’ characteristic grin. His eyes seemed to sparkle a little more than they normally would and his dark hair framed his face in their usual flawless way.

“How did you get to the girls dorms?” The question hesitantly left her lips, shaking and almost braking again. The boy’s eyebrows pulled together in slight confusion as he noticed her uncomfortable state, red eyes, trembling hands,... He could read her like an open book, always had been able to, so when he laid his eyes on her for just a mere second he already noticed the troubled air that hung around her figure, but also the entirety of her room.

“Sirius?” “I’m sorry, Doll. Can I come in please?” he asked, forgetting about (Y/N)’s previous question. He didn’t wait for an answer, just walked in, closed the door behind him whilst keeping himself faced towards her the whole time. He stayed like that, staring at her with his back pressed against the door. Only when she started rubbing her arm and awkwardly looked at her feet did he continue the conversation again.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” His hands found their way to her arms, pulling her closer to his frame. “Nothing, really, just school stress and I’m a bit tired. I appreciate you coming in but I was actually about to go to sleep so…” she lied, she so obviously lied, not daring to look him in the eyes. He placed his fingers underneath her chin, forcing her to make eye contact. “I know you weren’t”, he whispered. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, one dripped down her soft cheek. She knew keeping secrets from Sirius was only putting off the inevitable, he got to know the truth either way. It wouldn’t surprise her if he already did.(Y/N) broke down again, fell right into his arms whilst holding onto his grey shirt tightly inside her fist, tears spilling over her lashes.

“I can’t, Sirius. T-this year, it’s… It’s just…” “Easy now”, he spoke softly next to her ear, “let’s get you on the bed, okay?”

As they passed the cluttered desk, still embracing one another, he looked over the many books and almost black pages from all the cramped and hurried writing. Afterwards his gaze lingered on the windowsill where a recently used blanket and a tiny pillow were sprawled out. At last his focus went back towards the girl in his arms that seemed to desperately need his comfort. He could easily read the reason behind the girl’s distress through her demeanour and messy room.

They placed themselves on the bed, laying down, facing each other. The distance between the pair was too big for Sirius’ liking, so he scooted closer to the shuddering girl, placing his arm around her waist whilst pushing his body as close as possible and tangling his legs through hers. She hugged him back, laying her head against his chest, hearing his steady heartbeat.

“You don’t need to worry your pretty little head, beautiful”, he comforted in a hushed voice. “Sirius, my grades, they’re failing and I’m almost at the point of not being able to turn that around.” Her tears stained his grey shirt as he kissed the top of her head. His presence, his comfort made her feel better almost instantly. “But you haven’t reached that point yet, you can still do it.” “Or I can just… give up.” “That’s not an option when you have an amazing friend called Sirius Black” he answered, chuckling in the process. The sound of his laugh made the girl’s ears perk up, happiness tickling her senses, adoration filling her heart.

“What are you going to do about my grades?” she questioned him quietly. “Well, love, we both know that James, Remus, Peter and I are some amazing wizards that would love to teach you our tips and tricks.” “I don’t want to be a bother, Siriu-” “You aren’t! I’m offering you our help and you’re going to accept it whether you want it or not.” He looked down into her eyes again and winked when seeing her astonished features. “It would just be a valid reason for spending even more time together.” His smirk grew wide at the rosy cheeks that now accentuated her still teary eyes.

For the first time in weeks a tiny smile was spread across the girl’s face, all because of the little comfort Sirius had to offer. “Let us help you, (Y/N)”, he muttered against her forehead leaving little kisses there as well. She could feel his fingers drawing little circles on her back and waist, his nose bumping against hers as their stares met once more. “Okay”, she breathed out. The delicate breaths that left through her nose tickled Sirius’ lips and jaw, making him sigh in content.

They stayed like that, a faint smile was captured on her face, never leaving, the whole night long. Sirius made sure her roommates didn’t wake them, putting a silencing spell over the bed. The young man had totally forgotten about the actual purpose of his visit, but that could wait. His feelings could wait. ‘Cause the girl he loved most was in need of his presence, in need of his comfort. And that was far more important.

[thefoolsloop]

But for your husband, he is noble, wise, judicious: SNM Shanghai, show no. 2

**(Spoilers for Nurse and male new character loops; but, again, not for any 1:1s. The Nurse’s loop can have a lot of interaction in it, so I have tried to be vague about this, except where necessary to convey the intensity of the loop. As before, I’ve changed the order of scenes in each loop, and tried to be suggestive of the content, rather than descriptive. However, the new story can’t really be discussed without giving away some of the basic content, so once again I apologise if I spoil anything. If you think you’re going to Shanghai soon, I would wait on reading this write-up until you’ve seen the show at least once. Otherwise, continue and enjoy.

PS I’m trying to keep these write-ups to below 2,000 words. It’s not going well.)**

I knew the pain was coming.

When I went to New York to see SNM in 2015, the pain began on day 2 and intensified to a crippling level on day 3. I figured the pattern would be much the same in Shanghai, and so it proved. No one knows what causes my migraines, but fatigue appears to be a significant factor. Jetlag, stress, and a self-guided walking tour through the French Concession, all put a pressure on my body that forced it to the point of rebellion. STOP. REST. NOW.

But not quite now. The pain is brewing, but I think I can make it through a show. I’ve not yet seen Miranda’s Nurse and, although the Nurse in New York was a loop I could take or leave (its development from loop to loop is fascinating, but there’s an awful lot of downtime in between), I just know Miranda will do something special with it. (As it turns out, I am not to be disappointed.)

But first, the ballroom, just to see who’s there. Some potentially interesting performers to follow but Sam is not present tonight, and there’s no one whom I can’t safely save until later. So I climb four flights of stairs, and find myself in the hospital ward.

There she is, a mere scattering of white masks in attendance. She and the Matron (Tang Tingting, known among the cast as “Tangtang”, so that’s how I’ll refer to her) are busy. They are folding bedsheets, and this goes on for a while: stretching, folding. I’m conflicted: on the one hand, this is not scintillating viewing, though it’s arguably marginally more engaging than the top of the Nurse’s loop in New York. On the other hand, I’m with Miranda, and I would watch Miranda read out a telephone directory. In fact, I would watch Miranda read a telephone directory to herself. Why? Because she would find a way to make it gripping.

(Let my praise of Miranda not obscure my admiration for Tangtang. Her performance as the Matron is a masterclass in subtlety. Of all the Chinese cast, she is one of the highlights.)

So these sheets are being folded and it’s mildly diverting, until I realise that they’re being folded into a shape. A very familiar shape. A shape which represents one of the themes which runs through the Shanghai show, and whose significance is so far lost on me. The sanction on spoilers prevents me saying more, but this is a subject I’m keen to pursue with fans and cast as much as I can, because it’s absent from New York and its presence here in China seems utterly incongruous.

But now it’s time to move, because the room is suddenly filling with characters, and the new scene I caught a glimpse of yesterday is gearing up. It’s a scene I can’t watch (especially with a migraine slowly burgeoning), so I leave the room until it’s over. When I go back in, I’m faced with a tableau of devastation and tragedy, and it’s clear this is one of the must-see moments of the new production. Sadly, for me, it’s a must-not-see, or I shall end up in a real hospital.

**SPOILER FOR 1:1 SELECTION (BUT NOT THE 1:1 CONTENT)**

Omar is here, his storyline having been recast to incorporate the new events. He leads the entire company to a small room, where he selects for a 1:1. To my surprise, though, it’s not a 1:1 with him. It appears to be a 1:1 with the Nurse. Gah, an opportunity lost. OK, next loop maybe.

**(SPOILER ENDS)**

Omar leaves the room, locks the door and pockets the key with an air of finality. He seems satisfied, smug even. He strides off, followers in tow. I’m left on my own, waiting for Miranda to finish her 1:1. But she emerges sooner than I expect, and from a different door. We’re alone together in the corridor. She pauses, looks at me. Her stare is direct, challenging; her expression disdainful. The flicker of recognition I caught yesterday in the ballroom has disappeared. There is no flirty witch tonight. Then she hands me the towels she’s carrying, tilts her head as if to say, “come on, then”, and leads the way back to the hospital.

From that moment on, she owns me. Every action I take is dictated by her whim. We proceed through a series of interactions (moving beds, hanging up jackets, holding things), no doubt mundane to watch for those not involved; but for me it’s a series of duties I must carry out perfectly for fear of punishment. No matter what I do, she seems dissatisfied; not once does her expression alter from contempt, bordering on disgust. The impression given is that she didn’t want this job, she didn’t ask to do this job, and since I’m here I might as well make it easier on her - but I shouldn’t expect any thanks. Only a few times does her aura change: the table dance, the 1:1s (yes, more than one), a new scene with the new characters.

(A brief digression on this new scene: it’s utterly beautiful and charming. Everything I found wanting in SNM New York is present in this scene: compassion, affection, gentleness, beauty. One of the highlights of the Shanghai show, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I only wish I was at liberty to tell you what it is.)

(Miranda’s Nurse, taken from the show programme. I’ve not been able to find this at a higher resolution, would be grateful if anyone can supply it.)

She fills out a medical form, tears it off, hands it to me. I don’t know what to do with it. For several minutes I walk around holding this bloody piece of paper, trying to perform the interactions with one hand. Eventually she turns away, and with relief I fold it and put it into my back pocket. As I’m doing so, she turns back to me and presents me with her medical bag. My hands are full. Another white mask steps in and opens it. She glares at me with a look bordering on hatred. You had one job… Despite this I appear to be forgiven, as she delivers me both 1:1s (I was going to say more about them - without spoilers - but things written in print cannot be erased; let’s just say Miranda put a lot of trust in me).

Miranda’s table dance deserves singling out. As with her Sexy Witch bar dance, the control she has, the range of expression she displays, the almost inhuman ability she has to defy gravity with her body (imagine raising your entire body from flat on your back to a 45-degree angle without the use of your hands, then returning to horizontal - I mean, just try it), the risks she takes, the total dedication and immersion into character she has… it is almost impossible to describe a Miranda solo without finding the words inadequate. You simply have to see it.

As I’m watching her perform this dance, her left shoe flies off. She finishes the routine, slides to the end of the table, lands directly next to me, fixes me with that look of stricture, and holds up a finger. “Wait!” her eyes say. She dips to the floor and slides the shoe on, dextrously tying the laces, as if this was all carefully rehearsed. I know it’s not, and I fear she’ll miss her next cue, but all is well - it takes mere seconds. Then, as if rewarding me for waiting, she hauls me off to a 1:1.

I stick loyally with her (she gives me no choice) until the beautiful new scene I mentioned earlier. Since Ben is involved in this scene, however, and since I haven’t seen this story in full, I decide to follow him from this point (thereby spoiling Miranda’s plans for me, as she reveals a few days later - but more on that in another write-up).

Ben’s character - is it sufficiently common knowledge yet that we can safely refer to him as the Husband? - is utterly lovable. A well-meaning man, constantly at the mercy of people who manipulate and beguile him, his intense good nature shines through his narrative thread. Eager to please, he finds himself tricked, seduced, bullied, pressured and ultimately almost destroyed by the forces around him. He’s the only Husband I spent time with on this trip, so I can’t say how the others played him, but after his cynical, snarling, despairing Conrad in TDM this is a major departure and testimony to his versatility as a performer. Ben’s interplay with Omar is one of the highlights of the show; the former naive, vulnerable, trying to do his best; the latter manipulative, cruel, tyrannical and two-faced. Again, how other performers present this two-hander I can’t say, but these two old friends (who would rarely if ever have shared a scene in TDM) are right on each other’s wavelength.

I’ll say more about them in my next write-up, which starts with Omar, but Ben’s Husband loop gives me good insight into the new story, which has a charming narrative thread and a beautiful, heartbreaking final scene - to say nothing of THAT scene which everyone’s talking about, which I can’t witness, but which sounds like the kind of jaw-dropping, mind-expanding experience Punchdrunk prides itself on (oh, and there’s also another new scene which I’ll cover in the next show’s write-up). I do wonder why something like this couldn’t have been incorporated into New York - might yet be - but that’s for a different post.

I feel bad not giving Ben as much time in this report as I’ve given Miranda. But there’s too much about the new story I can’t reveal, and my relationship with Ben throughout the loop is distant and observational, not collaborative like with Miranda.

With those loops over, I wander the space looking for something to catch my imagination. I catch a few moments of Omagbitse’s Bald Witch, who is powerful, bordering on terrifying, with a rawness and vividness arguably missing from other interpretations. But I lose her in the crowd, and it’s time to move on.

The pain in my head isn’t getting any better. I try to spend some time with the Porter, hoping I can sit on one of the chairs in the lobby and catch a break, but he’s never there when I wander through. The crowds are getting tiresome, and I only catch glimpses of scenes from behind people’s heads. Eventually I calculate that the Nurse’s loop must be coming towards its conclusion. I find the Nurse and the Matron together upstairs. Like the evil twins in The Shining, they march in lockstep through the corridors and rooms, as if on a mission. When they get to the Macbeths’ suite they take advantage of their employers’ sudden absence in a way I won’t reveal but which is very amusing. Then they tidy up in conspiratorial fashion, as if aware all this is going to be played out again tomorrow. Finally they turn and look at the audience.

I’ve positioned myself for a final moment with Miranda, but it’s Tangtang who catches my eye. She takes me down through the crowds to watch the finale, then escorts me silently to the Manderley, where we part company without a word. Her bearing is quietly controlled, her face as impassive as her co-conspirator. In New York the Nurse and Matron seemed to be long-lost sisters eventually finding each other; in Shanghai their relationship seems much more equal, more like co-workers engaged in pulling the strings of the top floor activities.

My head is throbbing dangerously, and I’m wondering how much of tomorrow I’m going to lose to my illness. I bid my fellow westerners goodnight. But on leaving I find myself in the company of Omar and Fania, and they are so delightful and engaging that I lose another hour in conversation. Omar in particular is a mine of information about TDM, about Punchdrunk-style performance and about his experiences as the Fool, obviously a subject close to my heart. By the time I’m in bed it’s gone midnight and I have lost any chance of seeing any of Shanghai tomorrow. But: for two days with Miranda, and more besides? Worth the sacrifice.