#i guess the bottom line is: remus does make sense in a way. but to me personally there’s a lot more that just. doesn’t work

[padfootastic]

hello! this ran away from me and got surprisingly long so, oops? 😅

i think the thing it comes down to is that bigotry doesn’t care about logic, so to me, remus’s plot is actually not confusing at all when you compare it to real-world marginalized groups.

overall, i’m sure there’s a registry of werewolves because governments love to keep track of that stuff, but whether or not it available to the public is debatable. the easy explanation is that it is not available to the public. but if it was, you’re right, how did people not realize the lupin in fifth period is the same lupin from page 90 of the werewolf registry? to that i say, when’s the last time you checked the Inmate Data Search by US state or the national sex offender registry or even Ancestry.com which is considered a important database and archive by the US government (this is all from the perspective of a US citizen so bare with me)(also not trying to relate werewolves with criminal activity and/or harmful actions, just couldn’t think of other registries)? what if your new neighbor is on one? a classmate or coworker? or is it that that’s not something most people think about, so they don’t use the tools, leaving the situation relatively unknown.

this could be the exact explanation for remus passing by unnoticed in school: i assume most teenagers don’t even know about databases like these and an adult would need to take them to the ministry anyway to access it. the parents likely wouldn’t even know a kid named remus lupin goes to the school unless their child tells them. if you’re wondering how the ministry let him into hogwarts, when segregation was made illegal in schools, ruby bridges still had to escorted by U.S. Marshals into what use to be a legally all white school. and then, most black families kept their children in schools they’ve always been in due to location, social stigma (escorted. by U.S. Marshals.), etc. the ministry likely let werewolves into hogwarts because of anti discrimination laws, but when people get killed by hate crimes and law is only as good as the enforcers, most families probably homeschooled their werewolf kids

as for how no classmates knew later once the war was over, i personally think james, sirius, and peter really overshadowed him once they were all famous for dying or betrayal. also, think of the most popular group in your high school, their names and faces in your mind. where are they now? maybe you still know one or two from mutual connection or they did something really big for the town, but the others? if they faded into life or moved places, most classmates probably don’t know what happened to them. of course you can also look them up on a database but why would you when they don’t affect your life?

also, i’m pretty sure it was only the order that was suspicious of him during the first war and the order did know of his lycanthropy but the order was never made public

and that’s only school. for his employment, just replace the word lycanthropy with incarceration and employment discrimination makes a lot more sense for remus. businesses do background checks on potential employees and it is generally encouraged to be upfront about criminal history because if they can’t ask or check, if they find out later they may do everything to fire you. if they can ask, you can’t lie. unemployment itself automatically makes it harder to find a job when it is hard to pay for survival needs and presentation needs (jobs require clean clothes and appearance)

also, incarceration is most similar to lycanthropy in regards to government interference and social stigma. but for an individual, remus, it more presents like a chorionic illness, abet not as difficult due to the once a month and few side effects thing. but still, like you said, few days off every month can be difficult to negotiate in retail or 9-5 with an employer that was probably already iffy about hiring a werewolf. and magic can do so much but so can technology and people with chorionic illnesses still disproportionately can’t make a living with jobs because that tech isn’t used to accommodate them

for the eccentric options, i think it depends on remus’s skill sets and previous experience. with his skill set, i know he canonically did well in school, but take me for example: i got A’s in all my science courses and you still couldn’t pay me to major in science. then, freelancing positions and areas like gringotts require connections to get you in the field and traveling positions require money from previous employment.

as for being a professor, again anti discrimination laws (labor laws have always existed, even in medieval times) would allow werewolves to be teachers so dumbledore wouldn’t have to do much. just keep it quiet from parents; there were plenty of teachers who were gay and if their employer knew and was okay with it, they knew better than to let the parents know

last thing, i don’t think any of this is too mundane or simple because i am just using examples of real life for a universal set in real life. discrimination and quality of life is the most complex and political problem simply because bigotry runs on ignorance. ruby bridges still happened in harry potter, there is still a huge homeless problem in harry potter, if only because she who shall not be named didn’t change that. i think the watsonion’s most coherent and canon explanation is that society develops as society will and people have better things to do than go through databases red-scare style.

i hope this is coherent! also if i got anything wrong about canon, please fact check me :)))

haha i will never turn down a long post!! (also,,,absolutely the wrong person to correct canon facts haha i’m v useless when it comes to that lol)

re the comparison b/w real world bigotry & werewolf discrimination, u bring up some great points! especially about falling through the cracks because who is out here wading through govt records, right? and also yeah, remus having to take a leave for a few days a month can end up being problematic, to the point of making employment tough for him.

so, i’m going to be honest, i don’t tend to like comparisons to the real world (altho it does make sense!) just bc i feel like the WW exists in such a bubble of it’s own. like, do labor laws really exist there? did they have socialist revolutions that led to the rise of worker consciousness and therefore, employers must adhere to certain norms? even something as basic as background checks feel sus to me because…how are they doing it? with what database? i do realise a lot of is grey (and not set in stone) bc the world building didn’t exist for this purpose but even ignoring my own aversion to it hehe, i think for me, the discrepancy comes about due to one major fact.

to me, the wizarding world is set up more like, say, pre colonial india than an industrialised european nation, if that makes sense. everyone seems to know everyone (atleast, the ones who’re going to hogwarts), what matters is who you know and what your skills are (to an extent) and ofc, your blood. there doesn’t seem to be a sort of…commercialised market system the way you assume is the norm today. the society is generally…slower, with less rapid development and change. similarly, magical technologies are also pretty basic. like, the two way mirrors are the closest they have to an instant communication device and even that seemed to be proprietary rather than the norm. owls take a long time and are also pretty limited in function and scope. they don’t seem to have any mass production sites.

all of this to say, that a lot of what we take for granted in our societies today seem to just be…nonexistent in the WW. this, of course, doesn’t mean that bigotry is nonexistent (in fact, such communities tend to show more exclusionary behaviours) but that it might not present/develop in the same way. that’s why it was so hard for me to imagine that if remus was on the registry, he wouldn’t also be clocked. especially if werewolves were still the bogeyman at that time and people were afraid.

but going beyond all that, my personal belief is that even if there was a registry, i don’t think remus was on it. like, iirc, lyall worked in that area somewhere? and i fully, fully, believe that they hid it from the world, similar to ariana and the dumbledore’s, and that’s why he was able to slip through the cracks. in fact, the others not finding out is definitely more likely than them doing so, and it’s because imo that was the situation they engineered. and, i don’t believe there’s any anti discrimination laws, because the amount of devotion and gratitude remus has towards dumbledore tells me that he believed it was a personal risk the headmaster took for remus’ sake. that it wasn’t ‘allowed’ and he became the exception.

and he went all the way til PoA before he was outed as a werewolf. it’s the only thing that makes sense to me with how the WW was set up. until then, he was just another wizard (with perhaps a higher dose of anxiety bc of having to hide such a large part of himself). so discrimination would be more implicit than explicit, imo (like how it is w ‘invisible’ vs ‘visible’ disabilities, maybe)

magic and technology…i don’t know if i’d be able to equate them, personally. tech is man made and therefore, operates w similar biases unless actively resisted. magic is just…there, to be harnessed by whoever. in that sense, remus probably had the biggest advantage any werewolf could’ve had- a wand. and the training to use it. which is why it confuses me that he was still doing so poorly. (but i guess, it can also be said that he wasn’t doing that bad in comparison to the other werewolves and what we see of him is him making use of that advantage, which the average werewolf is way worse off. so. both sides can be true)

but yeah, a lot of what i just comes from the way i view the wizarding world as fundamentally different from the muggle world, so the comparison wouldn’t fit properly. i would say the same if like, someone compared american and idk indian societies to such an extent, because bigotry manifests differently in both and what is true in one wouldn’t be in the other. and considering how…closely tied the WW is (which again, could be bc harry’s class size is so so small so it seems like everyone would be familiar with everyone)

if, however, one didn’t think like that tho- i think your points fit perfectly!

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

confiding over cuddles

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, background Roman & Remus. Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Analogical, both pre-relationship and during the relationship.  Warnings: Language. First scene has mentions of being outed, religious homophobia, the implication of the f-slur having been used (the actual word is never on the page), and could maybe come across as critical of Christianity although I intend it more as critical of the homophobia. All of this is kept vague and not gone into in great detail. In the second scene, there are a couple of lines that are implied to be suggestive, but no other warnings. Word count: 4657

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My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

analogical week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: Throughout the years, vulnerability has always been easiest for Virgil and Logan while cuddling.

Notes: Day 3 of Analogical Week 2021! @analogicalweek Yes, I’m posting it a day late, but I technically finished it before midnight last night, lol. Takes place in my Starlight Universe, does not need context to read.  Remus uses he/they pronouns in this universe. 

part 1 - nightmares “Virgil?” Logan said quietly, looking up from the textbook he’d spread open on the floor of Virgil’s dorm room.

Virgil flinched, startled in spite of the soft tone and not too eager for conversation. “What?” he mumbled, dragging his headphones off one ear. He wasn’t actually listening to anything—he’d put them on to avoid conversation—but apparently now they were having a conversation anyway.

“I’m sorry if I am overstepping, but you don’t seem like you’re doing okay.” Logan looked up at him with wide, earnest dark brown eyes. “If there is anything I can do to help, I would really like to.”

Virgil heaved a sigh, considering his options. He hadn’t had time to cancel their normal study session, and when Logan had picked up on his distress at the beginning of the visit, Virgil had insisted it was fine and Logan didn’t have to leave. Logan had taken him at his word and settled in, sprawling on Virgil’s floor while Virgil curled up on his bed and hugged his pillow, avoiding homework and everything else too, to wallow about—well. The reason he would have canceled if he’d had five minutes’ more notice.

On the one hand, it was kind of personal, and Logan was a good enough friend (not a crush, not a crush, not a crush—) that he’d certainly be understanding if Virgil said he didn’t want to talk about it.

On the other hand, Logan had offered to help, and the opportunity to seek comfort from a pretty, thoughtful boy with nice hair and eyes and lips and hands and—but this wasn’t a crush, so none of that mattered, obviously—well, regardless, it was a tempting opportunity.

“Can I talk about it?” Virgil asked in a voice that came out smaller and more vulnerable than he intended.

Logan nodded at once, closing his textbook and climbing to his knees. “Is it okay if I come up there?”

Virgil nodded, patted the space on the bed beside himself, and scooted over to make room. Logan joined him, clambering onto the bed and laying down beside him with a good few inches of space between them, propping his chin up on his elbows. “What’s up?” he asked, focusing all his attention on Virgil.

This close proximity had the unintended side effect of shorting out Virgil’s brain for a solid three seconds. “Uh.” He tore his eyes away from Logan’s face. “I… so I have this friend, right? He used to be my best friend. When we were kids. I haven’t really talked to him at all in a few years.”

Logan nodded.

“So, uh.” Virgil hesitated, fidgeting with his phone. “I guess somebody outed me to him. And he wasn’t okay about it.”

Logan sucked in a concerned hiss of air, half-reaching for Virgil’s shoulder and stopping himself partway through the motion. “Are you okay?”

Virgil nodded on instinct, thought about it, and then shook his head. “He texted me out of the blue about it and offered to pray for me.” His voice shook. “And I—I told him no thanks, I like being gay.” He swiped aimlessly back and forth on his homescreen, opening a folder of apps and then closing it, just so he had something else to focus on than the words he was saying. “He got mad. Called me a—a, a… you know.”

“Oh my god,” Logan murmured in a hushed, horrified tone, and this time he did put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “I’m so sorry, Virgil.”

Virgil let out a little hiccup of a laugh that held no humor but was a way to avoid bursting into tears. He drew the back of his hand across his eyes. “I blocked his number right before you got here,” he mumbled.

Logan nodded. “Good.”

“But he’s been messaging me on Instagram this whole time,” Virgil added with a grimace. “I haven’t been opening them, but…” Right on cue, a notification banner popped up across the top of his screen, previewing a message that contained more of the same stuff he’d been seeing flash across his screen for the last half hour.

“Block him there too,” Logan said instantly. “He doesn’t deserve your time.”

Virgil brushed at the corners of his eyes, swiping away the tears that were threatening to accumulate. “I—I don’t want to open it,” he admitted, voice cracking. “If I open the app, I know I’m going to read all of the messages, and I don’t want to.”

Logan was already shaking his head. “No, don’t read them, oh my god—please don’t read them, please don’t hurt yourself like that.”

“I don’t want to,” Virgil repeated, burying his face in the bedcovers for just a second to hide the tears he couldn’t quite hold back.

Logan’s hand cautiously crept from his shoulder to his back, where it began rubbing soothing circles between his shoulderblades. “Is there any way I can help?” he asked after a moment, his voice almost calm enough to hide his own distress. “I could block him for you, if you want. That way you wouldn’t have to handle the app at all.”

Virgil considered this. He didn’t like the idea of others going through his phone, ever, full stop. But he really didn’t like the idea of opening the Instagram app himself and seeing the little red notification in the corner and inevitably clicking it against all his common sense and scrolling through the messages, reading them over and over again, and maybe trying to reason with the guy about Virgil’s own humanity, even though all that would do was invite a dozen more paragraphs of hurt to read and internalize and argue about, and it would only turn into a vicious cycle of never-ending emotional damage. Not ideal.

And he trusted Logan. He still didn’t like the idea of handing Logan his unlocked phone, but it was a lot less bad than the idea of pretty much anyone else having that access, and it was probably way less bad than trying to do it himself and just hoping he’d somehow have the willpower to leave well enough alone when he knew he didn’t trust himself to do that.

“Can I watch you do it?” he asked, turning his head to the side so he could make suddenly-tired eye contact.

“Of course,” Logan said gently. “Whatever makes you feel most comfortable.”

Virgil worried at his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment, then unlocked the phone with a quick hard press of his thumb and passed it to Logan, wincing slightly.

“Instagram?” Logan asked, finger hovering over the app and waiting for Virgil’s confirmation.

“Yeah,” Virgil said.

Logan opened the app and, waiting at each step for Virgil’s next instruction, blocked the guy without opening any of the messages sitting in Virgil’s DMs. “Does he have any other accounts?”

“I don’t think so,” Virgil mumbled.

“I’m glad. Are there any other methods he has of contacting you that you’d like to block him on?” Logan offered the phone back.

Virgil accepted it gratefully, his shoulders untensing a little. “I guess Snapchat.” He looked up the account and blocked it. “I deleted my Facebook ages ago.” He drummed his fingers on his lips, thinking. “I don’t have a ton of social media, I think that’s everything.”

Logan nodded, visibly relaxing. “Do you need anything? Any kind of support, or anything?”

“I dunno,” Virgil mumbled. He rolled over onto his back. “It just… it sucks.”

“It really does,” Logan agreed.

Virgil forced out a dry chuckle. “Guess I didn’t need that many friends, anyway,” he said, trying hard to make the situation into something amusing. It didn’t particularly work. “It’s not like most people like me, what’s one less?”

“I like you!” Logan protested, his voice much louder than it had been for the last ten minutes. He froze, looking anywhere but Virgil’s face. “I, I like you a lot. You’re a very good friend,” he added, fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve, his expression flustered.

Virgil set that aside to overthink for ages later. “Uh. Thanks. You—you too,” he managed.

They were both very quiet for a moment, Logan’s fidgeting only increasing as Virgil chewed anxiously on the inside of his cheek.

“Is there anything you need right now?” Logan asked again, just as the tension between them began to become uncomfortable.

Virgil let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I don’t know… are you busy?”

“Not until my next class, which is at noon tomorrow,” Logan assured him.

“I don’t want to be a bother—”

“I enjoy spending time with you, and you are clearly distressed and I’d like to help if I can,” Logan interrupted, “and you are my friend and I care about you very much, and it is not bothering me to ask whatever you want. If I want to say no, I will.”

Well. He had covered all his bases when it came to anticipating Virgil’s hesitations.

“Would you mind staying for a bit?” Virgil blurted. “To help me keep my mind off it? I—I don’t want to be alone. I think too much.”

Logan’s expression softened into something so tender it almost hurt to look at. “Of course,” he agreed easily. “As long as you like.”

“Thank you,” Virgil whispered.

“Anytime.” Logan fidgeted with his sleeve a bit more, not looking at Virgil. “Um. Would you like to cuddle?” he asked hesitantly after a minute.

Virgil wasn’t sure he’d heard that right. “What?”

“There are several physiological and neurological benefits to—” Logan began, determinedly not looking at Virgil’s face.

“No, I believe you,” Virgil interrupted, and in a surge of daring, added: “Sure.”

Logan blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise. “Oh! Alright.” He shifted closer, carefully closing the gap between them like he was afraid of doing it wrong, and arranged himself against Virgil’s side with his head on Virgil’s shoulder and his arm draped across Virgil’s chest.

Virgil’s own arm curled around Logan easily, like it was meant to go there. Virgil ignored (mostly) his rapid heartbeat and how soft Logan’s hair was where it brushed against his cheek.

“Do you want to know something totally stupid?” Logan asked.

“Sure,” Virgil said, wondering where this was going.

“I’m scared of the space under my bed.” Logan half chuckled.

Virgil blinked. That had been kind of out of the blue. “What?”

“I’ve tried to rationalize it away. I know it doesn’t make sense.” Logan sounded half amused, like maybe he was trying to cover up some mild embarrassment with humor. “But ever since I was a little kid, it’s scared me. It was worse when I was little, I would have nightmares about it and everything. But it still makes me kind of nervous to just have empty space there. I like to fill it up.”

“That’s fair,” Virgil said. He understood irrational fears. “How come you’re telling me, though? Like, not in a judgemental way,” he added quickly, feeling Logan’s shoulders tense just slightly. “Just wondering where that came from.”

“Ah.” Logan relaxed again. “I am attempting vulnerability. You just shared what seemed like a pretty personal moment with me, and I know that can feel uncomfortable. I am trying to level the playing field a little.”

Virgil couldn’t help but smile. “That’s really sweet, Lo,” he said.

“I am just trying to be a good friend.” Logan shrugged one shoulder, but Virgil could hear the happy note in his voice.

“I was scared of going places by myself when I was little,” Virgil said. “Actually, that came from a nightmare, too.” He laughed a little.

“No, hey!” Logan protested. “Now it’s uneven again!”

“I don’t think that’s how vulnerability works,” Virgil told him, only teasing a little bit. “Friendship isn’t math, it doesn’t have to match on both sides. Besides, I got over that one, mostly. It’s all good.”

Logan nodded slowly in acceptance, rubbing his thumb back and forth across Virgil’s shoulder. “Alright.” He half sat up, but only took his glasses off and reached to put them on the sidetable, then lay back down, cuddling up even more cozily against Virgil once again, making a small noise of content.

“What have you been up to lately?” Virgil asked, his voice hardly above a whisper, because he needed there to be some kind of conversation. Not just to distract himself from the unpleasant stuff of earlier, although that was still a part of it, but also so that he could avoid examining the current situation too hard. Because Logan was just a friend, just a friend, and Virgil couldn’t afford to risk ruining a friendship as wonderful as this one with a big gay crush on his friend.

“Getting used to my new board position in the astronomy club,” Logan said. “And a lot of reading for my classes.”

“You’re the Vice President this year, right?” Virgil asked. Almost without thinking about it, he raised his hand to stroke Logan’s hair, which was just as soft against his fingertips as it had felt against his cheek.

Logan let out a soft sigh of content at the touch, nestling his head a little more snugly against Virgil’s shoulder, and coincidentally fucking melting Virgil’s heart into a puddle of goo. This whole not-a-crush thing was getting to be a serious problem.

“Yes, I’m the Vice President,” Logan confirmed. “I was the secretary last year, so I kind of know the ropes, but I have very different responsibilities this time. So that’s been interesting.”

“Tell me about it,” Virgil invited.

Logan did tell him about it, and then he asked Virgil what he’d been up to, and Virgil got to talk about a research project he was helping one of his favorite professors out with, and that led to telling each other stories about their favorite professors and classes (and some of the bad ones, too), and that led to stories about their friends, and Logan was looking up at Virgil with a soft gaze that Virgil could have stared into forever, and he really didn’t know what was up with Logan of all people’s sudden desire to cuddle, but he wasn’t asking questions because this was kind of the best thing that had happened in forever.

When, much later, the conversation slowly died down and Logan’s voice trailed off into a sleepy noise that he stifled against Virgil’s shoulder, scrunching his whole face up into a yawn, Virgil only tugged at the piled-up blanket he was leaning against until it half-covered the pair of them. Maybe the more responsible thing to do would have been to rouse Logan so he could go home to his apartment, but when Logan shifted closer to him and held him a little tighter, his eyes drifting shut, Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

And he’d meant for it to only be a brief nap, really he had. He hadn’t planned to drift off himself as well. He could’ve sworn he only closed his eyes for a second or two—but when he opened them, sunlight was streaming through the window, and Logan was still there, still in Virgil’s arms cuddled close against his chest. Logan was wide awake now, but he seemed perfectly content to just lie there and examine Virgil’s face, a funny look in his eyes and a tiny smile on his lips.

“Hi,” Virgil said blearily, blinking at him. Then he processed where they were and what had happened. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I should have woken you up,” he began, half sitting up, his voice coming out a sleepy mumble that probably wasn’t anywhere near intelligible.

“No, it’s fine,” Logan assured him, gently pushing him back down. “I don’t mind.”

Virgil was half of a mind to keep apologizing, but it was very warm and he was still barely awake and Logan was so soft and nice, so all in all it was much easier to just lie there and accept the cuddles.

“Are you doing better?” Logan asked quietly.

It took Virgil a minute to fully remember the events of yesterday and figure out what he was referencing. “Oh. Uh, I guess. Like, it still sucks, but I’m going to be okay, you know? And this is nice, anyway.”

Logan nodded, resting his head on Virgil’s chest as if to listen to his heartbeat. “Yes. This is very nice.”

[4 years later]

part 2 - dreams  “Come to bed,” Logan said. “You have been scrolling through Tumblr for the past twenty-seven minutes, you can do that just as well while snuggling me.”  

“I’ve been attacked,” Virgil said lightly, shutting off his laptop and turning around to face his boyfriend. Logan was sitting in bed in his pajamas, leaning back against the headboard of their bed, a book in his hands and the covers pulled up over his lap. Virgil smiled. “Let me go brush my teeth and then I’ll come cuddle you, babe.”

“Acceptable,” Logan agreed with an answering smile, his eyes flicking up briefly from the pages to meet Virgil’s own.

Virgil brushed his teeth in the little bathroom of the apartment Logan had shared with the twins in the two years since they’d all graduated college. Before reemerging, Virgil changed into the old t-shirt and flannel pajama pants he’d brought with him—he usually stayed overnight on the weekends these days, and this one was no exception.

Roman, sitting at the kitchen table poring over a wad of papers that were probably a script from the local community theatre’s latest production, waved at Virgil as he exited the bathroom. “G’night, Virge,” he called.

“Night, Ro,” Virgil responded, and for good measure, he added, “night, Remus.”

Remus, somewhere out of sight, cackled. “Have fun getting—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Virgil interrupted automatically, without any real bite, making his way back into Logan’s room and shutting the door behind himself.

Logan smiled at the sight of him, pulling back the covers invitingly. Virgil snagged his phone off of Logan’s desk on his way over, climbing into the bed and curling up with his head in Logan’s lap.

Logan let out a small, pleased sigh, resting his hand on Virgil’s shoulder.

“Happy?” Virgil asked, reaching up to touch Logan’s face.

Logan nodded. “Very.”

Virgil chuckled and half sat up so he could reach to kiss Logan, then settled himself back where he’d been and unlocked his phone, scrolling through Tumblr without paying too much attention. Logan’s hand came to rest lightly on the back of his head, and after a moment began stroking his hair.

He turned a page, then after a minute closed the book and set it down.

Virgil looked up. His boyfriend was gazing down at him, face scrunched up just slightly the way it always did when he was thinking hard about something.

“You good?” Virgil asked.

Logan started slightly. “Oh! Yes.” His hand, which had drifted to a stop at the base of Virgil’s skull, resumed gently stroking Virgil’s hair.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Virgil asked.

Logan was quiet for a beat, then met Virgil’s eyes. “Would you like to get married?”

Virgil choked on air. “What?”

“Married,” Logan repeated, a little shy this time. “You and I. Would you be interested in doing that?”

“I—” Virgil found himself at a loss for words. “I don’t know? Maybe?” He sat up, shutting off his phone and setting it on the sidetable. “I’m sorry—are you proposing to me in our pajamas?”

“No,” Logan said emphatically, frowning. “This is not a proposal. This is so we can talk about it ahead of time, so that if you do want it, then you won’t need to be anxious when I do propose.”

Virgil blinked, processing that. “Wow.” He reached over and brushed his thumb lightly across Logan’s cheek. “I love you so much, you know that?”

Logan’s brow smoothed out and his shoulders visibly untensed. “I love you too.” He put his hand over Virgil’s where it rested on his cheek, cradling it tenderly. He closed his eyes. “And you don’t need to have an answer right now. We can have this conversation whenever you like. I just… wanted to bring it up. Because I would like that, if you are also amicable.” He turned his head slightly and pressed a kiss to the palm of Virgil’s hand.

Virgil hooked a finger in the collar of Logan’s pajama shirt and drew him close for a soft kiss. “Come lay down and cuddle me properly, nerd.”

Logan obediently set his book down on the sidetable beside Virgil’s phone, pulled off his glasses, and set those down too. With some shuffling of limbs, the two of them lay down, Virgil curled up in Logan’s arms. To anyone else, Logan would have seemed perfectly relaxed, content to lay there and press the occasional kiss to Virgil’s forehead; but Virgil could sense the slight tension in Logan’s face. He was nervous, even if he was trying hard not to show it.

Virgil’s own thoughts were whirling. Did he want to get married? He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But they were both still so young. Marriage was so big. Even if they’d been dating for more than four years at this point, that was barely more than a blip in the really long run. And what if they found out too late that they disagreed on something important? What if Logan wanted to take out a huge mortgage, or move across the country, or have kids? (Okay, they’d talked about kids, and both felt super hesitant, not-yet-ready at best, about the whole idea. But what if Logan changed his mind?)

(But also… waking up to Logan’s face every morning. Waking up to coffee with Logan and sleepy yawns. Casual touches on the elbow or shoulder or wrist or waist or cheek throughout the day, little reminders of love that were almost thoughtless in their routine. A home that would be just theirs. They could get a pet, if they wanted. They could paint stars on the ceiling or walls. They could cook dinner together every night. They could stay up late watching old TV shows and making snarky commentary back and forth. They could be each other’s home.)

Logan was watching Virgil’s face intently, even as he did his best to play it cool. Virgil met his eyes. “So,” he began, struggling to find the right words for what he wanted to convey. “I—I don’t know what I want. Or. I guess I kind of do. But I’m nervous.”

“We don’t have to,” Logan said quickly. “I mean. Obviously. But I don’t want you to—to feel pressured, or anything, to say anything one way or the other or to have to even say anything at all or—”

“Hey,” Virgil interrupted soothingly as Logan’s voice sped into anxious overdrive. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Logan sucked in a breath. He nodded. “I—sorry.”

Virgil shook his head and leaned across the few inches between them to kiss Logan. “Babe, I just told you I’m nervous. It’s fine if you are too.”

“I’m not nervous—” Logan began. He cut himself off at the wry look Virgil gave him. “I—okay, fine. But it’s not a big deal.”

“Hmm, disagree.”

“But the whole point was so I could support you if you felt—”

“L. Babe. Light of my life. You get nervous when you’re vulnerable. I get it.”

Logan bit his lip and reached for Virgil’s hand. He held it tightly.

Virgil squeezed back and snuggled closer under the covers. “Anyway, uh.” He paused for a second to make sure he knew how he wanted to say it. “I—I still don’t know exactly what I want to say about that idea. But I know the answer is definitely not a no.”

Logan breathed in, not quite sharply enough to be a gasp. “Oh,” he breathed, letting go of Virgil’s hand so he could caress his face.

“Does that make sense?” Virgil asked. “Like, I don’t yet know how or when I want it. But I—I think I want to, eventually, and I really want it to be you.”

“Yeah,” Logan said, his voice coming out a little choked. “Yeah, that—that’s good.”

Virgil half smiled. “Kiss?” he asked.

Logan was reaching for him before he even finished the word, pulling him close and clinging to him as he kissed the breath from Virgil’s lungs like he never wanted to let go. Virgil wrapped his own arm around Logan, holding him just as tightly, and cupped Logan’s face with the hand that was trapped between the two of them.

“I love you,” Virgil whispered as they pulled apart, and now he was choking up a little too.

Logan pressed their foreheads together. “I love you so much.”

They were both quiet for a moment, holding each other close.

“I think it’d be nice to get one of those really fancy coffee machines,” Virgil whispered after a minute. “Someday. For our someday kitchen.” He enjoyed Logan’s sudden intake of breath and the way his eyes widened slightly at the word our. “The kind that can make espresso, and shit,” Virgil went on. “We could try out all different kinds of things. And I wouldn’t tell anybody how much sugar you always put in your coffee.”

“I put a normal amount of sugar in my coffee,” Logan protested, a smile quirking onto his face.

“L, I love you, but that is maybe the least true thing you have ever said in your life.” Virgil snickered.

“Shut up,” Logan whined, pushing lightly at Virgil’s shoulder with an answering grin.

Virgil leaned in and kissed his cheek. “It’s cute.” He hesitated for a beat. “What would you want? In your dream future?”

“You,” Logan responded immediately.

Virgil pressed a hand to his mouth. He absolutely should have seen that one coming, but he hadn’t, and the surprise made the pang of fondness in his chest all the sweeter. “Logan,” he managed after a minute.

Logan only grinned, looking very pleased with himself. “A coffee machine does sound very nice, too, though,” he added. “And space for you to keep an instrument.”

“Oh,” Virgil breathed, lighting up at the idea. “Yeah, that sounds really good. I’d want a library for all your stupid nerdy books.”

Logan put a hand on Virgil’s cheek. “I’d want a kitchen table that we both picked out together.”

Virgil grinned. “A couch to hold you on.”

“A wall full of art that we both like.”

“Windows so there’s light everywhere and you can see the stars at night.”

“A pantry full of our favorite foods.”

“A bed to—”

“Virgil!”

“Whaaat?”

“We were being cute!” Logan smacked his arm lightly. “Remus is a bad influence on you,” he accused, though Virgil could see he was trying not to laugh.

“I mean, probably,” Virgil allowed, grinning. “But maybe I was just going to say a bed to sleep in. And cuddle in. And perfectly innocent things like that. Maybe you’re the one Remus is a bad influence on.”

“I—” Logan struggled for a second, then broke down into snickers.

Virgil grinned, wrapping his arms around Logan’s waist and enjoying the sound of his laughter.

“Were you going to say something like that, though?” Logan asked, composing himself.

“Oh, no, absolutely not.” Virgil snickered. “You were right, I was going to ruin the cutesy vibe we had going on there, one hundred percent. But you’re really cute when you laugh, so no regrets.”

“Hmm,” Logan hummed, leaning closer. “You know when else I’m really cute?”

“When?” Virgil breathed.

“When I’m kissing you,” Logan murmured, and closed the gap between their lips.

Virgil kissed back, eyes fluttering shut and hands sliding a little more securely around Logan’s waist. In his opinion, Logan made a very compelling point.

[clearlynotjanus]

Moceit Appreciation Week :: Baking

Read on Ao3

Art by @nonchimerical​

tag list: @sanderssidesangsttrash @catalinaacosta @whatishappeningrightnow @the-snekwhisperer-world @varthandi @the-dead-and-the-decaying @serpentinesomebody ​

CW: Food mention, moral ambiguity Word Count: 2327 Genre: Hurt/Comfort Rating: Gen Ships: Moceit, implied if you squint Dukeceit

To support my writing & get access to exclusive content not posted anywhere else, consider subscribing to my Patreon.

          The flower shaped cookies sat mockingly on the stove, having long gone cold. Two tubs of white frosting had been placed on the counter with some food dye as well. Many times he had second guessed the unassuming vials of concentrated hue--was it too much? Just as many times he had stood, picked up a frosting container, rolled it in his hands, picked at the aluminum before convincing himself not to peel it back, not to sink his finger in, not to cope with Janus’ absence by consuming a gluttonous amount of sugar. 

          He’ll show, of course he would. Janus hadn’t forgotten or … ditched him like that before. Just because he was preoccupied with something beforehand doesn’t mean he was forcing himself to come, forcing himself to spend time with him, indulging him, patronizing him … Janus would never, he enjoyed stuff like this! Even if … even if it was just for the sweets. 

          “Oh dear,” Patton inhaled between his sugar-coated teeth, shaking his head down at the demolished tub of vanilla frosting.

          “Am I interrupting?” Patton jumped, hiding the nearly empty container behind his back, looking exactly like Pooh Bear after a honey binge, Janus thought. 

          “Janus!” Patton greeted, a little too much excitement and anxiety in his voice. “N-no, of course not, I was just,” He faltered, glancing at the cookies like they held an easier way of saying, I was waiting for you, thanks for not breaking my heart.

          “...Testing the frosting?” Janus teased, easing into the kitchen, amusement sly on his lips.

          “Yeah! Something, hah, something like that.” Patton chuckled down at the floor, a shoulder shrugging as he apprehensively brought the evidence forward. He weighed it nervously in one hand before grinning at Janus. “I guess it’s a good thing we had two containers!”

          “Mm,” He hummed down at his hands as he peeled his gloves off. A rare occurrence of course, but having spent plenty of time baking together, one Patton had at least slightly adjusted to. A patch of shiny scales that spread from Janus’ left knuckle up to his wrist gleamed with the movement of folding his gloves neatly on the counter. Occupied with the curiosity Patton felt observing something so … pretty, he didn’t notice Janus reaching with a bare thumb to wipe away a sizable glob of sugar from the side of Patton’s mouth until the sensation jogged him out of thought. Janus looked down at it before placing it between his own teeth. Despite the way Patton’s mouth gaped, Janus continued to delicately scrape the sugar onto his tongue. “A good thing, indeed.” He smirked at Patton, satisfied with watching the glow of his grin quickly turn into a scarlet blush. 

          “Y-yeah,” Patton breathed, absolutely dumbstruck as Janus turned towards the stove. Relieved at no longer being scrutinized so closely, his head fell; cool palms pressed to his burning cheeks and a ragged breath was pulled in as quietly as he could manage. Dully he registered the sound of bowls being placed on the counter, but they didn’t make sense through the ringing in his ears. 

          His thoughts raced in circles as he tried to decode the meaning behind that flirtatious gesture. Patton wasn’t stupid of course, but he was an expert at assuming far too much of others’ words and actions; a pro at falling in love with basic kindness. The habit made him think at least four times over about everything ever since Thomas’ last heart crushing break up. Janus had to know that, right? And if he did, that made him really mean, didn’t it? Why then, did Patton enjoy it so much?

          “...cold now, the frosting will be easier, right?” Janus paused for Patton to answer, setting the dye vials next to some arbitrarily chosen bowls. When the other didn’t respond, Janus turned just as Patton’s hands fell in a cartoonish motion. Janus caught the action in a blur, shaking his head back with a quirked brow. Patton blinked, eyes wide before catching up to the moment. 

          “Y-yeah, yes!” He nodded, again too eagerly, and assumed his position at the stove next to Janus.

          “Wonderful,” Janus clapped his hands softly together at his chest. “This should be easy then,” He observed as he turned his head to smile at Patton in a way that had red climbing up his neck again.

          Patton forced himself to inhale through his teeth and focus on the moment instead of how close they were standing.

          “Thanks for getting the bowls,” Patton reached to place the vial of yellow dye in one before handing it to Janus. Reaching for a bowl of his own, Patton realized he didn’t know which color he wanted to start with. There were so many to choose from! Patton tapped his chin as Janus took the remaining tub of frosting. The signature sound of the aluminum being pulled back accompanied the rest of Patton’s sentence, which was mumbled almost shyly. “I wasn’t sure if you would think mixing the dyes was too much effort.”

          “Says the person who insists on making the dough from scratch every time,” Janus snorted easily as he dolloped a spoonful of frosting in his own bowl, and then Patton’s. Patton bowed his head with a small bit of shame, but smiled at the way Janus teased him. “I know what I’m getting into every time I join you,” Janus continued, squeezing a couple drops of yellow into his bowl. Somehow Janus made the sound of a fork scraping against porcelain repeatedly not annoying. Patton didn’t know how he managed that; it always seemed like the second he held a utensil near anything, annoying noise was unavoidable. 

          “I guess that’s true,” Patton mumbled, finally settling on starting with purple. He planned to do a few of everyone’s favorite colors and let them know they were on the counter for the taking. Well, except yellow and green of course. Janus always did his and Remus’ himself. Carefully he squeezed a couple drops of blue and red into his bowl, tongue poking out the side of his mouth; Paton’s telltale sign of concentration. Knowing this, Janus let a few moments pass in silence as he began artfully scraping his pastel yellow mixture into a ziplock bag, which would eventually have its tip cut off to make piping the frosting onto the perfectly shaped cookies that much easier. 

          As Janus finished with that, Patton beamed at his perfectly purple colored frosting. The color had come out flawlessly, his concentration paying off well. “Making some for Virgil?” Janus asked conversationally as he held a ziplock bag open for Patton to begin spooning his mixture into. 

          “And Roman and Logan, of course,” Patton assured with a smile of appreciation as his tongue poked out once more.

          “Of course,” Janus sassed but fell silent again as he watched Patton make sure he got every inch of the frosting inside the bag. He wondered how Patton ever did this without him. Had Roman helped? He couldn’t imagine the superfluous Prince capable of staying still long enough to hold a bag like this. The idea of Logan helping was almost comedic. Perhaps Virgil then … The two did get on very well and the brood had a history of helping Janus in the kitchen, years ago.

          “Alright! Next color,” Patton cheered. Janus’ smile twitched and he busied himself with folding the bag of purple, squeezing out the air to be placed on the counter for later.

          The bowls were placed in the sink and the process was repeated with a couple of clean ones, now with Janus mixing the forest green with a hint of yellow to achieve the Duke’s signature lime color. He watched as Patton used about half the tube of blue for Logan’s indigo shade, complaining all the while that it wasn’t dark enough and looked too much like his own favorite baby blue. 

          Janus hummed as he observed it; it was true, the color was far too light. “Try a couple drops of this,” He offered, reaching and handing Patton the unopened bottle of black food coloring. 

          “Black?” Patton said almost indignantly. His bottom lip jutted out an inch as he looked down at the bottle, turning it in his hand.

          “Well, he likes dark blue, doesn’t he?” Janus questioned, wondering how on earth he could have offended Patton with the color black.

          “I guess…” He trailed off, glancing between the bottle and the pretty light blue in the bowl. “It’s just…” Patton paused, realizing his thought was a bit silly, but it felt like a good question. Janus never made him feel stupid for asking things at least, even if the answer seemed obvious. “Logan’s … on our side, isn’t he?” Janus quirked a brow, his expression devoid of amusement suddenly. “L-like, mine and …. and Roman’s… I mean.”

          Silence hung in the air for several seconds. Patton had begun regretting the question; usually, Janus had some sort of answer immediately. His mind was much faster than his, able to connect things instantly where Patton couldn’t even begin to see a relation. His explanations were always succinct, at least to him. This sort of pause was … rare, if not unheard of. He anxiously rolled the bottle in his hands, wishing he could just sink out and leave.

          Janus started with a quiet click of his tongue as his head turned to look at the wall behind the stove. “Since when is color indicative of that sort of thing,” Janus mused rhetorically. Another pause ensued and Patton wasn’t quite fast enough to draw his own conclusion from that line alone. He did start to wonder, however, if he had managed to hurt Janus’ feelings, and if that was why he was reluctant to answer.

          “Yellow doesn’t exactly scream evil, does it,” Janus said with too much venom on his tongue as he looked back at Patton and jabbed a hand almost violently at the bright gloves resting on the counter. Patton held the bottle to his chest, shrinking away as Janus’ anger showed. He didn’t like when Janus got angry, but he at least understood it. He knew he could be frustrating.

          “Neither does bright green, right?” Janus tilted the bowl towards Patton unnecessary before sighing. “Your side, my side,” He mumbled, walking away from the counter. Patton frowned at the ground as Janus reigned his frustration in. 

          He had a point. Yellow was bright and happy; the sun was yellow, dandelions, sunflowers … lots of good things were yellow; and green was everywhere. Not exactly the Duke’s shade of green, but green nonetheless, Patton guessed. Why had he never noticed it before? Between everyone, only he and Roman wore bright colors, but that didn’t make Virgil, in his black hoodie and equally black jeans, any less good than either of them! What did that mean for yellow and green then, if even a color as dark as indigo was to be considered light?

          “I’m sorry,” Patton sighed, shoulders deflating. He cautiously approached Janus’ back.

          “No, no,” Janus muttered, fingers pressed to his brow with a thumb on his cheek, a hand on his hip as he berated himself for showing so much of his aggravation. “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.”

          “I get it,” Patton’s tone smiled bitterly as he hesitatingly placed a hand on Janus’ shoulder. “I’m really frustrating and ask stupid questions sometimes.”

          “Pat…” Janus turned his head to frown at Patton. “That’s not…”

          “Forget I asked anything,” he squeezed Janus’ shoulder and nodded towards the cookies on the stove. “C’mon, we should finish up.”

          Janus stared at the wear on Patton’s face for a long moment. The air was sweet and not just because of the frosting on Morality’s teeth. There he went, hurting Patton again. Would he ever be able to stop?

          “Sure,” Janus deflated and reached up to place a hand over Patton’s on his shoulder. For a moment, Patton’s facade fell and the surprise in his expression was genuine, but the slip was only quick enough for Janus to catch. 

          The familiar routine continued, now silently as Janus scooped Remus’ green into a bag. Patton stared down at the black dye in his hand but only paused briefly before tearing it open and poising the tip above the bright blue frosting. Janus held his breath and it seemed Patton was doing the same.

          “I’m sure Log--” Janus started, about to reassure Patton with the idea that Logan would enjoy a cookie no matter its color, but was interrupted by two black globs falling into the bowl finally. Janus closed his mouth and watched from the side of his vision as Patton began mixing the color thoroughly; slowly at first, and then as the blue darkened to a familiar indigo, faster. 

          “Oh,” Patton sighed, soon smiling down at the bowl of perfect Logan-colored frosting. “It’s perfect,” He grinned at Janus, seeming to instantaneously forget their altercation.

          Janus’ smile back was softer, much more relieved than anything. “It is,” he nodded and reached for a bag to hold open once more. When Patton had finished scooping the frosting inside and Janus had turned to place the bag with the other two, Morality paused.

          “Thanks,” He mumbled to Janus’ back, hoping he would attribute the sudden appreciation to helping with Logan’s color. Really, Patton wasn’t quite sure what it was he realized, but he did realize something about the black and white way he viewed everyone; and that was thanks to Janus, as usual.

          Janus ran his hands over the ziplock bags laying atop each other. Yellow, purple, green, indigo, soon to have light blue and red together with them. The colors didn’t mean anything, even if they were obviously representative of a specific person here. Sure, they could theorize all day about why each color, but what did it matter? A little darkness in someone didn’t make them all bad, obviously.

          “Of course, dear.”

Chapter One || Chapter Three

[anxiouslyfred]

Painted Diving Gear

Summary: Remus is a diver and teaches it to tourists so of course occasionally some of the gear gets lost. That why his soulmate, genius that they must be, has learnt how to return the gear, designs painted onto the edge to claim it before losing them once more.

/\/\

The was a familiar oxygen tank sat in the middle of Remus's flat that morning.

Honestly it wouldn't be anything worth commenting on usually, except this particular tank had been lost a month prior, left behind on a hired van by accident. The company had claimed they couldn't locate it to return the item and from the painting on its edge that made a lot more sense now.

His soulmate must have received the gas tank at some point between him realising it was missing and contacting the company. Remus had been ecstatic the first time something he lost turned up back in his flat, just with a painting added onto the edge. It seemed the artwork was enough to swap ownership between them so far as whatever the magic moving objects between soulmates was concerned.

He didn't have much time to delay though, only just having gotten up in time to head to work. The tank was easily thrown into his trunk to take in with him and some ready roll icing was grabbed to eat as breakfast on the way in. Remus might not care for having breakfast but knew better than to dive with no energy, especially in the middle of the summer vacation period.

The Diving company was already open when he arrived, another of the team having opened up and started taking bookings for the day. The oxygen tank got a raised eyebrow when Remus brought it in.

“That soulmate of yours probably gets worried sick every time you loose one of those.” Janus offered but waved to the edge of the room.

They'd made something of a display of the equipment since it started coming back. Neither of them were sure what type of paint was used on the equipment or whether it was safe to be used in the oceans or not so erred on the side of caution. The last thing Remus wanted to do was accidentally harm the creatures and corals he dived down to see and show to tourists in small groups so unfortunately the scuba gear that got painted on and returned was just left to one side for the moment.

So far they had 4 oxygen tanks, various scuba masks and a few pairs of flippers all painted by whomever Remus's soulmate might be. The designs had started off as somewhat plain, simple swirls and patterns done over the front of them. Gradually, with each item returned the images grew more complex, from featuring ocean life, to spiders, until today's intricate design. The was an octopus wrapped around a pile of knives, most of which Remus could recognise as ones he'd lost throughout his life. It was almost as though his soulmate was attempting to paint an image of who they thought he was, and that idea thrilled him.

All Remus could tell about his soulmate was that they were a freaking genius who figured out how to return lost items when nobody was known to have managed that ever before.

“Nah, they don't. They wouldn't try returning to someone they think could have died losing an item.” Remus brushed the comment away, making sure the latest one was stood clear to see for any customers that walked in.

Janus was finally able to properly see the painting now it was down, smirking at the image. “And it seems like they even have a collection of knives to challenge your own. Must be a perfect match.”

“Once again wrong. That's my collection of knives. They just get to look after it for a while and it's even better than some of those rusting at the bottom of the ocean too.” Remus corrected, snatching their bookings diary from the counter to check if they'd be taking walk in customers today or if something particular needed setting up on the boat.

“Of course you lose more knives than you manage to keep, how could I be so misguided?” The sarcasm rolled thickly through the reply. “Does that mean they presume you are an octopus rather than a human then?”

Remus cackled, thrilled at the suggestion. “I wish I was. Those lovely babies are so brilliant, shame today's a boring day so I probably won't get to see any.”

“You never know, the next walk in could be an avid diver needing to rent equipment and get shown the most interesting places to dive.” Janus suggested, a wobble of his head betraying how outlandish he thought the idea was.

Remus just snickered, heading through to where the boat was moored so he could check everything was prepped for use.

The walk-in customer they did have unfortunately wasn't an avid diver when Janus called him back through to the shop, but a tourist hoping to learn something about diving because of something to do with their soulmate. The reason had come out in a mumble just as Remus got through so he didn't quite catch it.

“I can do that. There's some shallows in a quiet cove just around the coast I can teach you in. Come through and I'll get you set up with the gear in your size before we head out.” Remus had already walked through into the other room, expecting the man to finish staring at their displays and follow.

A few minutes later he was still alone and Janus poked his head through the door. “Your display of returned items seems to have broken our customer. Come and fix it!” With the order given he'd returned back to the counter.

Once Remus was back in the front of the shop the man was still gaping at the items, reaching out to follow the lines of the knives on the one brought in today. “Yeah, that's some pretty awesome artwork. My soulmate does it so they can return them to me, but since I don't know what paint was used we've been avoiding using them where possible.” He commented, resting his head on top of the customers trying to get their attention.

“I'd be a fucking idiot if I figured out how to return them and didn't also do research on what paints are used on diving equipment, or can remain in tact under the pressure and salt water of the ocean.” Came a snapped back reply. “Are you seriously trying to tell me that the first time I try to learn something about my soulmate I end up in your freaking shop?”

Remus stepped back just enough the guy could turn around, tilting his head. “Well if you're the one who painted them, I guess I am. Let's get you some permanent gear so I can properly teach you how to dive over the rest of the week, or however long you're in the area.”

“Well if this gets mentioned to the friends that dragged me on this holiday that might just be permanently. What's your name anyway, or should I just call you Knifapus?” The man asked, looking Remus up and down.

There was a snicker from the counter but Remus ignored it, shimmying a little. “You can call me anything you like, Spidat, but my name is Remus.” A number of the items his soulmate had actually lost had spiders and bats on them and most were dark despite the fluffy nature a lot of them shared; the nickname had come from a year where any words Remus could combine would be mixed.

“Let's stick with Virgil or something that uses real words, shall we? Are you serious about getting me permanent diving gear, cause I don't think I can afford that?” Virgil corrected, glancing over at one of the displays of the gear they had for sale.

“Soulmate privileges.” Janus called over. “It can come out of the company funds, but only if you actually are going to use it for more than a couple of days.”

There had never been a policy like that in the company before and Janus had actually insisted to his soulmate he couldn't give them a discount for the gear just to enable them dragging him out on the sea. Remus wasn't going to argue though. Diving had always been a way for him to share his darker thoughts without people giving him concerned looks, but it had been Janus's escape to isolate and calm down for years.

“And here, I was just hoping one of those soulmate privileges would be getting to use the equipment I so painstakingly returned.” Virgil's whine was exaggerated, but the twist of his lips and quirked eyebrows showed how entertained he was by the idea. “Honestly though, I have no clue if I'm going to join you diving much. Isn't it terrifying to get that deep underwater with no way to breathe if the oxygen tank comes loose or something?”

“I taunt death daily and he's yet to do more than wave while clearing up the devastation humanity is sending to the oceans.” Remus insisted, excited to share the experience.

Virgil groaned. “Damnit, am I going to have to play, 'Let's not die today' with you too? It's bad enough with friends running into busy roads because there's a dog on the other side.”

“You're the one that came looking for him, otherwise I'd sympathise.” Janus snickered.

“Let's try a small dive today and see if you could work up to coming on the deeper dives in a few years time.” Remus compromised, still bouncing between his feet and reaching forwards to tug on Virgil's arm.

“That we can do, I guess.”

[remywrites5]

For @casualmaraudering who is having a bad day. Have some artist!Remus schmoop. 

***

           Remus sat with his legs crossed in the center of his art studio, an unknown streak of blue paint on his cheek. He scratched his cheek with the back of his paintbrush, unsure why it was itchy to begin with. Sticking his tongue out in concentration, he smudged his thumb over one of the lines to soften it slightly.

           The sounds of a motorbike pulled his attention from his canvas just as it always did at 5:15 pm when Sirius Black returned from work. Remus glanced out the slightly ajar window, his head just barely poking over the sill from his place on the floor. Sirius was whistling what appeared to be Another One Bites the Dust as he made his way up the driveway to his front door.

           Feeling inspired, Remus grabbed his phone and pulled up Spotify, letting a playlist of Queen fill the room. He lost himself back in his art for a while until what sounded like hail on his window made him jump. He found a few small pebbles by his feet and went to the window to find Sirius Black standing underneath it.

           Remus put his hands up the bottom of the window and yanked it upwards. Sticking his head out, he found Sirius beaming up at him from his front yard. “Care for a walk?” Sirius asked, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

           Remus blinked a few times in surprise. Never mind that Sirius Black was unfairly attractive but they had never spoken more then ten words to each other despite being neighbors for the past two years.

           “Why?”

           Sirius shrugged in response. “You coming or not?”

           Remus considered for a moment and then spent another few moments wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Gorgeous blokes didn’t show up at your window every night for moonlit strolls.

           “Be right down!”

           Remus turned the music off on his phone and shoved it into his pocket. By the front door he crammed his feet into his sneakers before grabbing his wallet and keys. When he opened his front door, Sirius was standing on his front stoop waiting for him.

           “Overalls?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “Really?”

           “Shut up,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. He stepped outside and made sure his front door was locked. “They’re comfortable and I don’t care if I get paint on them.”

           Sirius walked backwards down the steps in a manner so smooth Remus would have thought it had been rehearsed, however he doubted Sirius Black was practicing on Remus’ front porch. He looked up at Remus expectantly from the few steps the separated them. Remus chewed his bottom lip for a moment and then joined Sirius on the sidewalk.

           “So…” Remus said, breaking the silence as they fell into step with each other.

           “So,” Sirius echoed, grinning mischievously. “Hi. I’m Sirius.”

           “I know that,” Remus said, playing with one of his longer curls by his temple. He really needed to get a haircut. “Is there a point to this?”

           “Does there have to be?”

           “Two years of pleasant greetings and suddenly you want to go for a walk.” Remus sighed and kicked as a rock. “Doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”

           Sirius turned and stepped in front of Remus, blocking his path. “Would you ever consider painting me?”

           Remus managed to keep his jaw from dropping but it was a near thing. “If that sentence ends with like one of your French girls I will hit you.”

           Sirius snorted. “I am actually French but we don’t have to go full nude on the first portrait.”

           “Oh you imagine there will be many, do you?” Remus sidestepped Sirius and continued walking. It felt a bit like running away from the handsome man who had just offered to pose nude for him.

           “Don’t you want to know why I want my portrait done?” Sirius asked, following after Remus.

           “Probably so the portrait can grow old for you and you can stay youthful for the rest of time?” Remus quipped over his shoulder.

           “You know,” Sirius said, catching up to Remus. “Oscar Wilde believed art showed more about the artist than the subject. What would you reveal, Remus?”

           Remus swallowed thickly and picked up the pace of his walking. “I want a milkshake,” he said, changing the subject entirely. “Would you like a milkshake?”

           “Remus!” Sirius called out, hurrying to keep up with him. “What’s the rush?”

           Remus didn’t slow down until they’d reached the little diner on the corner. Remus sat down at the counter, as sitting in a booth across from Sirius felt too intimate. Sirius sat backwards on the rotating stool next to him, his elbows on the counter as he lounged back, his legs crossed at the ankles.

           Remus ordered a chocolate milkshake for himself while Sirius got a strawberry one and a plate of chips.

           “You’re a strange one, Remus,” Sirius said as they waited for their order.

           “Am I?” Remus asked, pulling a napkin from the holder and beginning to doodle on it. Before he knew it he’d drawn Sirius’ mouth. He quickly sketched his eyes and nose so it wouldn’t be quite so weird. He always doodled when he was nervous.

           “You know you’ve got paint on your cheek,” Sirius said, grinning that same wicked grin. Remus found himself pulling out another napkin so he could attempt to capture it. “And it hasn’t bothered you in the twenty minutes we’ve been together. Not once.”

           “Shit,” Remus said, licking his palm and attempting to clean his cheek. “Hazard of the trade, unfortunately.”

           “Let me,” Sirius said softly. He dipped a napkin into his glass of water and gently began to rub at Remus’ cheek. “May I tell you why I want my picture done now?”

           Remus nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

           “When I was little my mother had our portraits done, it was a family tradition. Your portrait went on this wall that formed a family tree. Well when I was sixteen I came out to my parents and my mother proceeded to take my portrait off the wall and throw it into the fireplace. Symbolic gesture, right?”

           “Sirius –“

           “Last year my brother went into rehab and guess what? His portrait also ended up in the fire. She’s got high standards, that mother of mine, and unfortunately neither of her sons quite lived up to them. He’s getting out soon and he’s going to come stay with me until he feels like he can be on his own. I thought I would start a new tree, you know? Turn a negative into a positive. Start with my portrait and then his, if you’d be up for it. Then maybe my best friend Jamie, his wife Lily and my godson Harry. New family, new life, you know?”

           “Sirius,” Remus said, wrapping his fingers around Sirius’ wrist to still his hand. He didn’t know if the blue was off his face but he didn’t care. “Fuck, of course. I’d be honored.”

           “Really?” Sirius asked, his smile so bright and wide it made Remus’ heart clench. “It’s not a whim, by the way, although it might seem like it to you. I’ve been trying to gather up the courage to ask you for months.”

           “Why?” Remus asked, shaking his head in confusion. “I’m not exactly intimidating.” Remus gestured with his free hand to his paint splattered overalls.

           Sirius huffed out a laugh and broke eye contact. It was only at that moment Remus realized they had been staring at each other quite intently. “You know when you first moved into the neighborhood I was going to make you a cobbler. It was Jamie’s mum’s recipe and I tried so hard to get it right because it reminded me of home. But it was rubbish. I went wrong somewhere, I’m not sure where but I’m not great at baking. All that measuring, bleh.”

           “You were going to make me a cobbler…” Remus said, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

           “I wanted you to feel at home,” Sirius said, tucking his hair behind his ear. “I wanted you to stay, I wanted…”

           “Sirius?” Remus said softly, barely audible even to his own ears as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest.

           “I wanted to be your home, eventually. You were so cute and fuck I’m so gay and I left it too long. It got to the point where I didn’t even know how to say hi to you without getting fucking lost in my feelings.”

           Remus opened his mouth to respond but the waitress interrupted them by bringing their order. Sirius let his hand drop and quickly spun around to face the counter, his head ducked down as if embarrassed. He shoveled a handful of chips into his mouth as if he was trying to get himself to stop talking.

           Remus watched him for a moment with a bemused smile on his face. Sirius Black, the unattainable gorgeous bloke that liked to cut his lawn shirtless had been…pining for Remus all this time. “So what kind of cobbler was it?”

           Sirius began to choke in surprise at the question, thumping his fist against his chest. Eventually he managed to swallow, bypassing the straw to take a large gulp from his milkshake. “Blueberry.”

           “Maybe you should try again,” Remus said, playing with his own straw, dipping it in and out of his milkshake.

           “I did,” Sirius said grumpily. “They never came out right.”

           Remus bit his lip to keep from laughing. “So there were several cobblers.”

           Sirius made a funny noise in the back of his throat and then mumbled something that Remus couldn’t understand.

           “What was that?”

           “I said eleven!” Sirius snapped, biting a chip roughly. “I drew the line at an even dozen.”

           Remus turned to the side so he could look at Sirius. He rested his cheek in his hand and just stared at him in a mix of flattered and bewildered. “You made eleven cobblers that all turned out wrong?”

           Sirius shot him a look and then drained half his milkshake in one go, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “They weren’t good enough, okay? Sure they were edible but when has that ever impressed anybody? When Mrs. Potter made them they were amazing. I never quite got to amazing.”

           Remus took a chip and dunked it into his milkshake before popping it into his mouth. “What did you end up doing with eleven edible cobblers?”

           “I’d take them up with me whenever I visited my brother Reg,” Sirius confessed, taking a napkin and beginning to shred it with his fingers. “Do me a favor and let me wallow here for a while alone in how pathetic I am. I’ll pay for this.”

           “I don’t think you’re pathetic.”

           Sirius gave Remus a wary glance. “You don’t?”

           “A little misguided, perhaps,” Remus said, taking a pensive sip of his milkshake. “Maybe you just need a little help, not that I’m that good at baking myself, but two heads and all that.”

           Sirius stared at him in awe. “You want to come back to my place?”

           “For cobbler.” Remus said sternly, poking Sirius in the chest. “Don’t get any funny ideas.”

           “Of course,” Sirius said, slipping off his stool and going to the register to pay for them. Remus finished off his milkshake and went to the door to wait for Sirius. A few moments later, Sirius joined him, bounding over like an excited puppy. “Ready to be amazed?”

           Remus considered it for a moment and then laced his fingers through Sirius’. His face broke out into a wide smile matching Sirius’ own. “I’m ready.”

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Overgrown Metal

Series Summary:  Almost two decades ago, the fae rose up from beyond the veil with technology far surpassing the human race, quickly taking over after laying waste to nearly everything in their wake. Now eight paths cross to right the wrongs on both ends, working to uncover secrets that would have rather stayed hidden

Chapter 4: Snarling Dogs

Trigger Warnings: caps lock for yelling, swearing

Remy tried not to breathe in too deeply as he dodged and weaved around people and stalls alike in the crowded marketplace. Sellers shouted out their wares and prices for everything from the rare pilfered canned goods to...less than sanitary goods. Metal, body odor and sewage from a nearby line made opening ones mouth a less than favorable option making him extremely grateful he lived and worked with Remus and didn't have to earn a living up here. Adjusting his hold on the grocery pack slung over his shoulder he dodged a family looking through a selection of warmer clothes, the girl trying her best to swipe a pair of gloves unnoticed. He silently wished them luck. A family of thieves lasted only as long as their latest trainee failed to get caught.

Nearing the exit to the marketplace his shoulders sagged with relief, quickening his pace as he stairs came into view. Old and cracked as they were he was always surprised their little city lasted as long as it had; hastily made and as ramshackle as any other put together out if the desperate hope for a safe haven, the underground establishment boasted three levels all separated by concrete slabs taken from surface buildings and steel bars that were about the only steady thing about the place.

He had almost made it to the first flight of stairs when he heard a short cry coming from an alleyway close by. Whipping around he gripped the groceries tighter and wandered over in the direction it had come from. He knew he'd be chewed out by Remus for this but he always hated leaving anything curious alone, whether it be for gossip or guilts sake. Just a quick peek, he thought as he rounded a corner. Scope it out and then either let it be and have something juicy to tell his husband later or help someone who needed it and have something juicy to tell his husband later. Win win either way.

Finally spotting two figures at the end of a dim alley way between two storage buildings he squinted harshly as he set the groceries down and crept forward. One of them was saying something, and the closer he got the less he liked it.

"...be fine sweetheart. It'll be quick and easy and then they'll take care of you for the rest of your life. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"I don't want to." Remy's vision flashed red at those words, the taller man clearly leaning closer to the woman, caging her in his arms. He tried to be as silent as possible, debris scattered around making it hard to place his feet quietly. He had gotten only a few feet away when it seemed like the man was done playing whatever game he had going on, taking something out if his pocket and sneering down at his prey.

"I'm not so sure you have a choice." Remy had seen and heard enough, standing up and running forward quickly he brought his left arm up and swung back before pitching forward, throwing all of his weight to clock the man just right in the side of the head.

The woman shrieked as the man crumpled instantly, not without Remy wincing as a couple of his fingers starting sticking in place as the knuckles fought to adjust to the now bent frame. Shit, now Remus really would be mad. Though it hardly mattered at the moment, turning to the terrified woman with what he hoped was a friendly smile. He froze for a moment following her line of sight to his shining hand.

He flexed his fingers in a mock wave, mechanical digits creaking a bit from the impact they had barely endured. He chuckled nervously and put it in his pocket. "You like it? My husband got it for me"

Trying for humor seemed to be the key as she let out a nervous giggle, flicking from him to her attacker and back again. He looked down and nudged the prone man with his foot, an odd device that he must have dropped catching his eye. A stylized snarling dog insignia was engraved at the side of what almost looked like a dart gun, eyes widening as he realized what it was.

"He was going to chip you?" The other startled as she bit her lip and looked away. Putting the peices together he supposed it made sense. Society members sometimes came to lower settlements to scope out fresh meat for whatever it was they did to the people they indoctrinated. He had heard scant details from Remus from his own time spent in one as a child. He looked down his nose at the man. Hopefully he hadn't gotten a good look at Remy's face.

"Do you need an escort home? I promise I have better manners towards people who aren't trying to attack someone."

The woman shook her head, carefully stepping around both him and the man. "I'll be fine now. Thank you, for what you did."

With that she turned and ran, which Remy couldn't blame her for, you didn't really make friends in this particular city. Sniffing indignantly nonetheless he turned on his heel and made his way back to his groceries, hauling them up with his good hand and making his way home.

Niether of them had noticed the small, blinking red light at the end of the chip gun.

----

"You're sure this will heal?" Remus huffed as he tied off another stitch, the gaping wound in his patient's arm finally closing and ready to be bandaged.

"If you keep it clean and don't fuck it up again it'll heal just fine." He ignored the soft "language please" from across the from and focused on slathering antibacterial ointment over the wound before getting out a roll of gauze. "I'm the best in the business, you'll live. And if your arm does fall off I have plenty of replacements!"

He grinned as his patient paled somewhat, taking in the rows of neatly arranged mechanical limbs the small office was most known for in the black market. "Do you- do you get all that metal from the fairies?"

"Mmm, technically I guess. We get some of it from Hunters that come by and trade the metal for supplies, sometimes we trade for aluminum or dig around scrap vulture packs for odds and ends. One man's trash is another man's polished trash, and I'm the best there is!" Tying off the gauze with an of finality he turned as the door opened. "Remy you're- WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOUR HAND?!"

The unholy screech that left Remus' mouth left everyone in the room and a mile wide radius wincing from the volume. Remy, for his part, had the presence of mind to look at least a little ashamed, scuffing his toe along the floor and hiding the mangled, twitching limb behind his back. "I uh, fell?"

Remus' eyes darkened as he stood up. "Everyone out! We are now closed! Emile, the baggy!"

Scrambling around the desk Emile grabbed the patients to go bag which was swiftly grabbed up and thrown in their face. "Out! My husband is more important!"

"Remus!" Despite Emile's chiding the office was cleared relatively quickly as Remus stalked forward with his hand out.

"Groceries down. Walk and talk. Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt anywhere else? Where did you go? Wh-"

"Babes!" Remus snapped his mouth shut as Remy's protest and the lankier man sighed. "I got curious when I heard someone scream and ended up punching some dude in an alleyway for trying to chip a woman. Probs a Society member. They didn't see me, I just fucked my hand up."

Remus looked up as his hand was squeezed. "I'm okay."

Huffing he turned back to inspecting the ruined prosthetic, wincing as the other hissed in pain as he tried moving the digits. "Okay. Okay we'll...wrap these for now. You're damn lucky Emile and I have been working on something better for you."

Remy raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Well now I won't tell you because I'm pissed that my husband's an idiot without one brain cell to rub against his skull for some self preservation!"

Remy grinned and leaned back, accepting the pain killers Emile offered with a grateful nod as his fingers and hand were carefully wrapped to keep them relatively still.

"How much did you get for the scrap?" The question snapped him out of his thoughts and he pursed his lips as he looked over to the abandoned groceries.

"Enough." He didn't want to mention prices were starting to drop and it was getting harder to negotiate for fair ones. Food and materials were starting to get scarce and a lot of people were starting to talk about leaving their little society for more promising ones that didn't operate with such delicacy. He always knew it would happen eventually, but he figured their little family would be long gone by then.

Remus grunted in response and Remy closed his eyes tiredly. Navigating his way through all the levels and people for hours was always exhausting, he couldn't wait to go upstairs and slip into their bed for a quick nap before dinner.

"The bags under your eyes are big enough to hold the groceries themselves, go to bed. I'll be up in a few minutes." Remus punctuated this by flicking the tip of his nose, to which he only recieved a lazy grin in return for his thoughts being answered so quickly.

"Yes sir." Despite his exhaustion he winked playfully before getting up slowly and giving Remus a peck on the lips, waving quickly to Emile before turning and heading towards the stairs.

"And actually go to bed! No coffee!" Emile called after him as an afterthought, to which xe recieved a few low grumbles that xe hoped was in agreement. Neither xyr cousin nor cousin in law had the best sleeping habits, and their constant caffeine consumption did nothing to help it.

"We did actually finish that right? I forget if we did that or another project." Emile turned and smiled wryly.

"You really need to start using to do lists. We did them both at the same time, so yeah, Remy's hand is done. It's in the bottom drawer in the filing cabinet."

Xe started tidying up the office as Remus rummaged around in the cabinet. Biting xyr lip xe voiced a growing concern. "Do you think it's a bad sign Society members are starting scope this place out? We're pretty far away from the closest ones and those arent nearly as dangerous as some can be."

Emile almost wanted xyr words back as Remus stiffened, but the other only shrugged as he waved the hand he found back and forth. "It's fine. Those dogs go sniffing around everything they don't have their teeth in already. Probably just some recruitment that I'm very happy my brave and dashing husband discouraged."

"Right." Emile rolled xyr eyes and placed xyr hands in xyr hips. "Well, everything's cleaned up so I'm gonna head downstairs to file whatever papers you left."

"You're such a doll! I'll have dinner ready soon yeah? Remember to lock the door!"

"Already did!" Returning the kiss blown in xyr direction xe headed down to the basement quickly, blueprints trapped safely against xyr chest to sort through with all the others. Xe knew xe shouldn't worry but...with xyr cousin's history-

Xe shook xyr head quickly. It would be fine. It had to be. Xe had finally gotten a little bit of xyr family living under one roof for quite a few years now. No Society member was going to make xem fear that being taken away from xem. With determination burning xyr veins xe flicked on the light and turned towards the worktables.

Groaning xe set the stack xe was holding down with all the other and dragged xyr hands over xyr face. ADHD be damned xe were still kicking Remus' butt come dinnertime.

This work and others are also available on AO3!

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[vouran]

now i am going to share my wolfstar headcanons bc i got emotional and thinking about them keeps me sane

if it's too boring just read the last part please

remus:

178-180 (idk ft system but i think its about 5'10-5'11) and lean

after a transformation he loses weight beacuse he feels too tired to eat but always tries to gain back (in this house we dont like starving children and we protect them)

he studies for exams but starts only a week before

first class actor

real drama queen and full of sassy power bottom energy (i fight you with a sword)

"maybe we should add harmless flames- just for some... sparkles"

not inexperienced

definitely not inexperienced

i love ballet dancer remus au (i will find you if you take requests about it so-)

does eye color really matters... lets use gOLD

maybe a scar on neck but not on the face

large skeleton

does yoga to relax and think (its new)

7.5" dick i'm sensitive about it (i hope i used the right symbol(?))

WELL NORMALLY IM NOT A FAN OF HEIGHT DIFFERENCE

BUT

sirius:

187 (i'm guessing again but 6'2) and muscularity depends

crew cut (yes i am a sinner and i am proud of it)

listens classes carefully

gets angry easily

unpredictable

really clever but not a genius

i dont like him in leather jacket idk why

no tattoos

thinks fast but doesnt calculate much

dying for a loving family

suppressed pain

i dont like sirius a lot but he deserves so much more than just being a flying queer

backstories

SO LET ME TALK A LITTLE MORE

just because other people's headcanons don't suit yours it doesn't give you the right to annoy them rudely

say "i think it makes more sense this *argument line* way but still" respectively

you can mix a fanfic with your own hcs while reading and imagining it

personally i like bottom remus i don't enjoy fics when he is not and i don't write a comment like "remus is a bottom cut the shit" or sth like that

I JUST STOP READING THEM

OR READ ONLY NONSEXUAL PARTS

my english is not good enough to explain how happy i am with my decisions

have a nice day and don't be rude

[xomarauders]

Feelings of Inadequacy

—

(inspired by “don’t try to fix me (i’m not broken) by littleoldrachel ( tumblr: @little-old-rachel ) on AO3)

(TW: internalized acephobia)

Sirius could not shake the feeling that there was something wrong with him. He felt like he was an inadequate boyfriend toward Remus because the two of them had been dating for nearly two years now and they hadn’t done anything beyond kissing, which apparently was pretty abnormal compared to other couples. He’d started feeling this way after James had come to him for advice on how to seduce Lily, who he had been seeing officially for several months now.

“We’ve been together for awhile and I think we’re both ready to...you know...take it to the next level.”

Sirius did not know. He didn’t really think about there being another level. He and Remus had been dating much longer than James and Lily and Sirius felt perfectly content with their relationship. Remus would hold his hand and give him quick kisses that were very much satisfying to Sirius. He didn’t realize that it was supposed to lead to something more...

“Sorry, Prongs but I don’t think I’m the right guy to ask.”

“I can’t talk to anyone else about it, mate, it’s embarrassing. Just...what did you and Remus do? To set the mood?”

He looked at James with a confused expression. Was he supposed to have done...this with Remus? Is there a certain time couples do things like that? Sirius didn’t know and he didn’t really want to know. He was fine how things were. Was he not supposed to be?

“Remus and I haven’t...”

Sirius hoped he wouldn’t have to say it out loud. That James would be able to read his mind and just understand what Sirius was trying to say and leave it at that. James stared at him a moment before a look of realization came over him.

“Oh. Oh. You and Remus haven’t had sex yet?”

There is was. The words made Sirius’ stomach twist uncomfortably. Just the thought of having sex made him feel...weird. And the fact that James said ‘yet’ made Sirius realize that it was inevitably going to happen in the future. Or at least it was supposed to...

“No.” Sirius replied, feeling very small and confused. Remus had never once asked Sirius to go any further so he just assumed that Remus was perfectly content with how things were, just as Sirius was. But now he was worried that his boyfriend was unsatisfied with him...what if he wanted more? What if Sirius couldn’t give that to him?

James must have noticed the horrified look on Sirius’ face because he quickly shook his head and tried to reassure his best friend.

“That’s okay! Lots of people wait to have sex. I guess I just thought you guys had for some reason. It’s not a big deal, man.” James grinned reassuringly and patted his friend on the back. Sirius gave a weak smile in return but he still couldn’t shake the growing pit in his stomach. James didn’t understand. He wasn’t waiting to have sex, he just didn’t want to have sex. But he couldn’t tell James that. He would think Sirius was a freak if he said that. So he just smiled and hoped that he wasn’t broken. When the time came, he would be ready to take that next step with Remus. He just had to wait. It would come. Wouldn’t it?

—

It had been three days. Three days since James had talked to Sirius about sex and during those three days, Sirius had tried to build up the courage to ask Remus about it. Every time he found a good moment to bring it up, he’d get a nauseous feeling in his stomach and panic. Remus must have noticed how anxious Sirius was acting because on the fourth day of Sirius’ strange behavior, Remus took it upon himself to figure out what was wrong.

“Siri, are you okay?” He asked one night as they ate take out together on the couch in their small flat. They lived together but they hadn’t had sex? Sirius felt like even more of a let down when he thought of it that way.

“Fine.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend. It wasn’t like Sirius to be so quiet all the time. He could tell something was on his mind and whatever it was had been bothering him. Remus just couldn’t figure out why Sirius wouldn’t talk to him about it.

“I can tell something is bothering you, you know.”

Sirius took a deep breath and set his food aside, suddenly losing his appetite. It was now or never. He couldn’t avoid the conversation forever, especially since Remus was starting to notice that something was up.

“Should we...should we have had sex?”

Remus blinked at his boyfriend. Of all the things he thought Sirius might have said, he was not expecting that. He noticed how tense and nervous Sirius looked as he stared down at his lap, unwilling to look Remus in the eye.

“Sirius, there’s no right or wrong time to have sex. What brought this on?”

“But there is a time? At some point you’re supposed to have sex?” Sirius asked in small voice, ignoring Remus’ question. His voice cracked slightly as he spoke and Sirius cursed himself internally for letting his emotions get the best of him already.

Remus shifted closer to to Sirius, taking his boyfriends hands in his. Sirius continued to stare down, biting hard on his bottom lip to keep from crying. He couldn’t tell Remus that he didn’t want sex. He couldn’t tell Remus he was broken because he would leave. Of course Remus would eventually want sex. He had said there was no right or wrong time, but all Sirius understood from that was that there was supposed to be a time.

“Sirius? Sirius, love, why are you crying?”

“Remus...I...I think I’m broken.“

Sirius began sobbing, his body shaking violently. Why was he so fucked up? Remus would think he’s useless now, just as he should. Sirius was damaged goods. He didn’t work properly and now Remus would know and all he could do was sob.

“You’re not broken. Siri, look at me.” Remus cupped Sirius’ face gently, forcing Sirius to meet his gaze.

“Why on earth would you think that? Who told you such a thing?”

“Remus don’t you want sex? Eventually?” Sirius was desperate. Part of him hoped that Remus would say no, that he didn’t want sex, that he didn’t need that. He hoped he would tell Sirius how happy he was with how things were and that he wouldn’t change a thing.

“Well, yes I suppose. But only when we’re ready. When we both want it.”

“What if I never want it?”

There it was. The words Sirius feared to say out loud. Surely Remus would leave him now. It only made sense. Sirius could no longer satisfy his needs and he might never be able to. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the disgusted look on Remus’ face. He didn’t want to see the look of realization on Remus’ face as he realized how utterly useless his boyfriend was.

“Oh, Sirius...”

Sirius was surprised when Remus pulled him into a hug and began stroking Sirius’ hair. Tears were still streaming down his face, wetting Remus’ shoulder profusely.

“I am not with you for that, Sirius. I am with you because you are such an amazing person and you make me so happy. That’s why I love you. You are not broken.”

Sirius blinked. Remus didn’t think he was broken. He pulled away from his boyfriend, giving him a skeptical look.

“Remus, I don’t think you understand. I...I don’t think I want to have sex. That’s not normal. I...I am broken.”

Remus shook his head, his own tears falling freely down his face now. He felt terrible that his boyfriend had been thinking about himself in such a horrible way, that he thought he was broken. It hurt Remus to think of Sirius believing that.

“Sirius, being asexual doesn’t mean you’re broken. You’re just...different.”

“Asexual?”

“A person who has no sexual feelings or desires. It sounds like what you’re describing. And it’s okay if that’s who you are. I still love you, no matter what.”

A wave of relief came over Sirius in that moment. He wasn’t broken. Remus wasn’t going to leave him. His sobs turned into sobs of relief and Remus held him close, whispering reassuring things into his ear.

“I’m not broken.”

—

Sirius had told James and Lily that he was asexual the following day. Remus stood by him, holding his hand for support. They both hugged him and told him how much they loved him and how happy they were for him.

His and Remus’ relationship stayed the same. Holding hands, cuddles and gentle kisses. They sat down with one another regularly to discuss what Sirius was and was not comfortable with to be sure no lines were being crossed and Sirius couldn’t believe how great Remus was throughout it all. It was still so shocking to him that Remus stayed but he would just remind Sirius of all the real and important reasons he fell in love with him.

And Sirius believed him.

*****

hello! so i kind of wrote this to show that people who are asexual can and do have healthy relationships. i’ve always liked the idea of asexual/demisexual sirius and so i wrote about it.

sirius’ experience in this story does not ring true for everyone!

not all asexual people have the same feelings. asexuality has a very wide spectrum and everyone is different and wonderful in their own way 💗

requests & asks are open

💗- kat

[cat-vase]

Hi if my Discord server has to put up with this I’m posting it here too. It’s under a cut only because it’s long and rambly and not edited and it’s talking about a fusion between Deceit and Remus, which for some reason created Regret.

So. My brain decided to make a Deceit and Remus fusion be Regret. I'm not putting this in hcs bc I don't...... hc it (I feel like any fusion with Remus would have to be a lot more impulsive, and honestly this would be a cartoon villain sort of character if anything) But! My brain decided to go with Regret and I guess I'm going to try and explain why at 4am bc I've even sort of made a vauge character design at this point So!! I know Deceit is really self preservation but this doesn't work if he..... is....... so just ignore that I guess? Again idk what I'm doing this will be gone when I wake up later today I know Regret is super similar to Anxiety, with Anxiety being "bad feelings at stuff that's going to happen" and Regret being "bad feelings at stuff that already happened" but....... they're still different! Why does Deceit and Creativity make Regret? Bc!! Regret is a feeling, maybe anger, maybe sadness, maybe guilt, at something that happened. And it doesn't. Go. Away. It gnaws at you and keeps on telling you over and over again that you could've done that better, you messed up, you could've done that different and it would have made things less bad now. And you try to make excuses that "I couldn't have done it different, it's fine the way it is" but that's lies. Again!!! Similar to Anxiety but!!! It's different I think!!!Regret would have...... six arms bc they both can have 6 arms. Two of the hands (the middle hands) would have gloves but the others wouldn't. Idk the glove color. Maybe black. They have a floor length cape!! The top side is black but the underside is dark green (like a dark forest green!) and kinda shimmery. They don't have a hat but if they did I'm feeling top hat vibes? OH or a cloak!!! The hood instead of a hat!! Where Dee's snake eye is is instead a scar going over it, rendering it blind and gray, the other eye's color is split horizontally, yellow on top green on bottom. Idk about eyeshadow I feel like it'd be too much but maybe not. Their mouth is stitched shut!! They communicate telepathically!! They also use a lot of hand gestures (and body language) bc they..... have a lot of hands. Idk whether to give them scales or not?? Not on the face but on the body in patches maybe. I haven't thought much further than this I just need to get it out of my dumb brain. Oh!!! They also cry black (like ink!! or black sludgy/kinda thick motor oil!!) bc I said so. It goes in perfectly straight lines down their face. It's really weird it's kinda like a robot. I don't have a name for them yet bc it's a very uncomfy fusion for the both of them? Dee doesn't like all the intrusive thoughts and Remus doesn't like how sobering and serious it all is. However they can stay fused for a while bc it reminds Remus of when he was fused with Roman and he doesn't wanna give that up yet. I don't have a name yet or anything but this is probably just a one time thing bc it makes no sense??? Idk?? I know Regret is really only a Bad feeling but Dee and Remus are also deemed Bad so whatever.

[annaizscribbling]

alright @hyperfixated-homo this took like an hour but I had a blast.

I have thoughts to respond to your thoughts!!!!!!!!

Oh my goodness gracious. First of all, I want to truly thank you from the bottom of my little writer’s heart. As sincerely as I can say, this is the most rewarded I’ve ever felt in regard to my writing and this was such a pleasure to read over and over. I apologize for how vague I’ll have to be in most of my response, but that’s only because I can’t ruin the mystery. 

Oddly enough, some small part of me is excited for when I finish the fic, that way I can rant endlessly over all the tiny details and hints and metaphors, but no time for that now. I get to do it later.

Firstly, I too adore writing Logan and Virgil’s brotherly relationship. I melt a bit every time I write a scene with them, so if it seems like I give them a tiny bit more screen time during the mundane down time, well, it might be my bias.

I’d also like to say that I really really liked the way you sorted the sides into categories. I cannot say if the play aspect is entirely correct, but the sorting system is quite clever. Not only does it indicate each character’s awareness, but also how much control they have. And that’s pretty good thinking if you ask me.

There have been quite the variety of theories on what the overall reality is. Dreams, The Imagination, mental break, denial, performances, and even more. I find each one interesting, and I like how people come to their own conclusions and what hints/scenes they use as evidence. Even the tags have become clues to scrutinize. It’s so much fun to watch go down here and in the comments section. (It is especially fun to me because I have had a character directly say the truth three separate times.)

If you want even more to dissect, take this artwork. It’s absolutely riddled with clues that might help, or might just seem random now, but will be pretty fun later.

And the plot. Ah yes. The ever-elusive plot. I had the ending in mind from the very first chapter, and almost completely fleshed out by the second. It’s gotten tweaked slightly, but it has remained very concrete, and I drop so many hints that will begin to make sense the moment we get to a particularly important scene. I guess this my way of assuring everyone that it is not willy nilly random. There is a plot line that we are creeping towards. I promise guys.

You’ve described Patton perfectly. He’s the perfect father. Wise, kind, and an excellent parent. Too bad he’s a wreck in every other way. I like the Clueless Character category, because it’s quite fitting, for the most part. I absolutely support scolding Patton for just being a bad dad sometimes, letting Logan get hit, letting the kids beat each other up, letting Janus do all kinds of stuff without lifting a finger in protest. Not a good look. BUT only slightly in his defense, it ties in to your next point about Patton being an incredibly unreliable narrator.

It's easy to forget that Patton is very very sick. Maybe only physically in part, but Patton has spent a long amount of time severely depressed and completely (?) isolated. The beginning of the fic describes as much. He is not mentally well, like at all. His entire view on reality was quite warped, so both his judgment and his perception are both very incorrect at times. Don’t cut him too much slack, but it does play into it. This … place, is definitely wrong, but it is in part Patton’s unreliability.

This world does revolve around Patton. Can’t say why or how, but yes. It does.

Ooh. I can’t say too much on Virgil outside of compare this relationship to the current canon one. He’s quite confusing here, because he has a special role. He’s different from the rest. He’s not like,,,,, the other sides. Clueless Character? Yes. But different.

I love Remus so very much. Just so so very much. I kind of just accidentally invented him as a cryptid seer chaotic petty character of sorts, and that’s just my brand now and I love it. He is very much Aware, he likes being aware, and he’s going to rub it in your face as long as he can. (I love that you love him in Low Battery, he’s my son okay. He cares but he’s also mean, like lovingly.)

And Logan. Logan. My baby. My son. My tiny little man. He deserves none of the pain I put him through but that’s what he gets for being my favorite. (and also crucial to the plot or whatever). Janus hates this kid so much lmao. I think of Logan as a character with a switch he cannot control, do with that as you will. I’ve said before that the sides are still very tied to their function, so the twins are still at their core, creativity, Logan is logic/truth, Janus is deceit/self preservation, and it plays into their relationships.

Roman is much more complicated than he seems, for all the reasons you listed and pretty much all of the recent episodes. His relationship with Patton is complex and teetering. The fact he slid under the radar for you means he was doing a good job. He definitely fits the Director category.

And Janus.

Janus, Janus, Janus.

He’s not what he seems and exactly what he says.

 I love your theory. I love all of it. The wrong the right and everything around and in between.

It’s like 1:30AM. I’m tired now. I have work tomorrow. But this was such a pleasure

New chapter of Just Out of Reach is nearly complete! Sorry for the wait guys! ;)

[philipronans]

something tangerines (2/7)

it’s sunday, which means it’s something tangerines day!!

this was meant to be a fun, happy fic and for the most part i think it still is but just be warned that there are mentions of homophobic language via snape bc he’s a grade a citizen.

as per usual there’s james/sirius in this part, although it’s mostly done to piss snape off, so it doesn’t have to be read that way??? idk if you wanna go on believing they weren’t at least 90% In Love that’s your prerogative

part one | part three

.

2007 The classroom they decide to use for the Christmas party is an old one, tucked away on the bottom floor of the art block. The building itself is a relic of a time long passed, looking like it belongs in a BBC period drama more than as a functioning art block. But no matter how pretty the outside might be, the inside always smells musty; hundreds of years of recycled air packed into tight hallways and tighter classrooms. James’ nose wrinkles as they step into the room. It’s usually used for Drama classes, and the combined stink of age and teenager sweat invades his personal space pretty much immediately. Two years of secondary school should mean he’s used to it, but it still sucker punches him every time. Sirius coughs behind a cupped palm as he toes off his shoes. He kicks at them in a futile effort to make them line up straight, but all he gets for his trouble is untied laces and mud on his socks. James watches him for a few moments, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles. He looks away when Sirius glances at him, pretending to be interested in Benjy Fenwick making rude gestures at Bertha Jorkins. The huff Sirius lets out suggests that he hasn’t bought it, but James is already strolling across the room, hands tucked in his pockets.

Sirius follows him, because Sirius always follows him. They’re like magnets, drawn together regardless of anything standing between them. Or so Remus says. Remus, who is already sat in their usual place by the fire door, his gangly legs stretched out in front of him. There’s a book in his lap, long, thin fingers playing with the corners of the pages as he reads. He looks up at their approach, frown morphing into a small smile when he sees who it is. Befriending Remus had been an endurance test in every virtue James knows. Just when he’d thought he knew every vital thing there was to know, something else had revealed itself and knocked him off kilter. He hadn’t been above using the onion line from Shrek to prove his point on multiple, separate occasions.  “You’re late.” Remus says, pragmatic as almost always. He closes his book, top corner folded neatly when he slips it back into his bag. He raises an eyebrow when neither of them answer, and James shrugs noncommittally.  “Got held up.” Is all he offers, because there’s no way he’s telling Remus that Flitwick kept them back for flicking elastic bands at the back of Lucius Malfoy’s head. Again.  “‘Course you did.” Remus says, eyeing them as dubiously as a thirteen year old can manage. Which, James figures as he shifts around uncomfortably, is a lot. Sirius flops down next to Remus, shrugging out of his coat and scrunching it up for a pillow. There’s a tiny Christmas tree in the corner, half of the lights are either broken or missing, and the ones that aren’t are barely functioning. Sirius looks at it disdainfully, eyes narrowed as if the sight of it personally offends him.  “What are we even here for?” He grumbles half-heartedly. He lays down properly when James lowers himself to the floor, and barely complains when James rests his head on his stomach. “No one wants this stupid party; we could have just finished for the holidays yesterday.”  “There’s that Christmas spirit.” James says, voice muffled by the arm he has thrown over his face. He shifts slightly as his glasses dig into the bridge of his nose, and yelps when Sirius pokes him.  “Christmas can bite me.” Sirius says. There’s an edge to it, soft and subtle as it might be, and James lowers his arm to his chest.  “You still going to France for the holidays then?” He tries not to sound disappointed, because the sense of loss he feels at the idea of not seeing Sirius for three weeks is stupid. It’s not even like three weeks is that long, in the grand scheme of things. But being without Sirius is what he imagines waking up to find yourself missing a limb would feel like; he can function (regardless of what his mother says, he’s not completely hopeless), but it’s difficult, the world feels more oppressive, more hemmed in.  “Yeah.” Sirius grunts. He doesn’t seem to notice the hand that works its way into James’ hair, fingers gently combing through the tangled mess. “I don’t even know why; they hate it. I hate it. Reg hates it. It’s just three weeks of us being pissed off at each other.”  “Misery loves company.” Remus murmurs. He’s leaning on his hands, head tipped up to the ceiling as he studies the cracks in the plaster. “At least you’ll get to go outside.”  “At least you’ll have people to talk to.” Sirius counters, but he looks sheepish, and he pats Remus’ knee sympathetically. Remus’ proposed stint in hospital for testing is a black cloud on the horizon, creeping ever closer no matter the three of them try and pretend it isn’t happening.  “I can’t wait for three weeks of being asked the same questions four times a day.” Remus smiles, as much as Remus ever smiles anyway, lips twitching at the corners but never quite pulling up.  “Hey,” James says, reaching over Sirius’ skinny chest to nudge at Remus’ hip, “at least you’ll have me coming to see you.”  “The biggest gift of all.” Sirius can’t avoid the fingers jammed into his side because James’ head is pinning him place, so he lets out a bark of laughter.  “Shut up, you’re just jealous you have to wait until January for your present.”  “If you’ve bought me another Terry’s chocolate orange, I swear to God, James.” Remus says warningly. James tilts his head so he’s looking at Remus upside down, and frowns.  “One time. You try and be nice one time and see what it gets you. Two years of bullying. See if I bother this year.”  “You left it lying on the radiator.” Sirius says, body shifting under James’ head as he shrugs. “And were surprised that it had melted?”  “I wasn’t a smart eleven year old, alright?” James says defensively. “But never fear, Lupin, it’s not a chocolate orange.”  “Because that fills me with confidence.”  “It should. I’m great at presents.” Sirius snorts, the sound completely undignified, and it sends the three of them into giggles.  “When d’you reckon Slughorn’s lot are gonna show up?” Sirius asks when they’ve finally calmed down.  “Buggered if I know.” James answers around a yawn. “Wish they’d hurry up though, I’m hungry and they’re the ones bringing food.”  “Classy.” Remus says, lifting an arm to cushion the back of his head.  “Well, we all know you want them here for the dancing.” Sirius grins. James’ hand lands on his wrist, in a pathetic attempt at a high five. Instead of trying again, he just leaves it there with his fingers measuring the fluttering of Sirius’ pulse under his fingers. Sirius keeps very still, as if scared that moving will alert James to what he’s doing and stop.  “Remus,” James says thoughtfully, fingers tracing patterns into Sirius’ wrist, “if I gave you a fiver would you ask Dorcas to dance?”  “Not a chance.” Remus’ reply is rapid-fire quick. It comes out of him like a shot, rocking his body with the force of it, and they all stop for a moment to stare at each other.  “I mean, only if you’re sure, Lupin.” Sirius says with an almost straight face. It takes him mere seconds to break, face cracking into a smile despite the obvious effort to contain it. Remus laughs, a quiet huff of a thing that fills James’ chest with satisfaction. “If you buy me a coke, I’ll think about it.”  “Just one? You cheap bastard.” James sniggers. Remus hums, not really bothering to deny it. Even if he were, the door opens not long after and in trail the unhappy looking faces of 9HS. James isn’t sure… anyone… likes 9HS. They’re a form group made of thugs and liars, each and every one of them guilty of at least one case of bullying. They’re all growing up to be the worst kind of bigot, and James hates them more than he’s hated anything. Why 9MM is forced to spend time with them is anyone’s guess, but the faculty of Hogwarts Secondary School seem determined to make their students suffer at any and all opportunities. The air in the room seems to disappear when they enter, the atmosphere tense and uncomfortable even as they kick off their shoes and settle down on the other side of the room. Lily Evans bounds across the room, from where she was standing with her friends Marlene and Dorcas, to stand in front of one of them. Severus Snape is, in James’ opinion, one of the worst of the lot. He has a way of twisting his way out of trouble; feigning ignorance and innocence to the things he does, even when there are witnesses.  “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.” Lily says, smiling. James wishes he could block this conversation out of both his retinas and his eardrums, but they’re standing right there, so there’s not much he can do besides grit his teeth and ignore the way his blood is boiling.  “Slughorn let us out earlier than he said he would.” Snape answers, and if the look he shoots over his shoulder at Mulciber and Lestrange is uneasy then Lily doesn’t appear to notice.  “Well, you’re here now, I s’pose.” The smile remains but it becomes a little strained at the edges when Snape does nothing but stare at her for a few moments. “Or you can. Stay. With your friends.”  “No, I.” Snape’s words seem to trip over themselves, and he has to stop for a second before trying again. “No, I’ll be over in a minute. Promise.”  “Okay.” Lily says. She turns on her heel, shoulders slumping slightly when she meets Marlene’s eye. She catches sight of James and Sirius still tangled around each other and snorts, completely inelegant. “Comfy?”  “Quite.” Sirius says, grinning cheekily up at her. “Wanna join?”  “As tempting as that is,” Lily’s lips twitch, eyes creasing at the corners, “if I get down there I’m not getting back up.”  “A shame.” Sirius lets out a mournful sigh, stroking a hair through James’ hair and huffing when said hand is batted away. “It’s nice.”  “Poof.” It’s not loud, is the thing. It’s quiet, clearly not meant to be heard, but whilst James’ eyes might be shit, his hearing is not, and he freezes. He clambers to his feet, joints popping as he stretches and he levels an unimpressed look at the boy in front of him.  “Something wrong, Snape?” He asks, voice quiet and stern. It means trouble, and Sirius stands up immediately, ready for wherever this might go. Lily hasn’t moved either, has turned back to watch them with her arms crossed tight across her chest.  “Nothing.” Snape sneers, and it’s an ugly look. One full of hate and scorn. “But if you’re going to be gross, take it somewhere else.”  “You’re still here, so why should we?” Sirius says, shifting so he’s shoulder-to-shoulder with James. James still hasn’t let go of his hand, and it’s only because he can feel how sweaty his palms are that he can tell James is nervous. Snape narrows his eyes into a glare, which would have a lot more effect if he weren’t so scrawny.  “Now I know you don’t know what it’s like to feel love, Sniv, but that’s no reason to take it out on other people.” James says, voice managing to sound almost kind, even as his knuckles tighten around Sirius’ fingers.  “Potter,” Lily begins, stepping forward, ready to intervene when and if necessary, but Snape cuts her off.  “At least I don’t repulse girls to the point I have to turn to boys.” Snape says, sneer still in place even as his face pales.  “No, you just repulse everyone. Equal opportunities, and all that.” Sirius snaps back, voice tight. James snorts and squeezes his hand. Sirius squeezes back and stares at Snape in annoyed defiance.  “You’re disgusting.” Snape eventually settles on, lips pressed into a thin line. “People like you are disgusting.”  “That’s rich coming from you, Sniv.” James clears his throat, very much aware that Lily is standing not too far away and that he must be careful in how he says things, for her sake if nothing else. “Heard you said some nasty things about Ameena Patil the other day.”  “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” Lily shoots him a disapproving look, and steps back a little. It means she’s closer to James, and he is sorry for this, but attempts at comfort wouldn’t be welcome right now, so he keeps his hands to himself.  “Heard you made her cry. Making an eleven year old cry; that’s real big of you.”  “Gentlemen, I trust that there aren’t any problems over there.” McGonagall’s voice floats across the room, and James turns his head to see her standing in the doorway. She has her hands on her hips, a ceramic mug filled with tea hanging precariously from two fingers, and how she’s not spilling it is honestly magic.  “None at all.” Sirius says smoothly, angling himself so his arm’s around James’ waist, and he’s placed himself in front of Snape. “Just a difference of opinion.”  “Undifferentiate.” McGonagall says, voice brooking no argument, and it almost makes James smile.  “Of course.” He meets Sirius’ eye, sees the mischief in them and nods. It doesn’t matter what Sirius plans to do, he trusts him enough to go with it. Sirius leans forward, eyes boring straight into Snape’s, and presses his lips to James’. It’s not that James had been expecting it, exactly, but he isn’t surprised. So it doesn’t take him long to lift a hand to the back of Sirius’ head and lean into it, noses bumping and glasses scratching as he moves. There are no butterflies, and no fireworks. There’s just warmth, and hot air, and the brush of Sirius’ eyelashes against his cheek. But it’s good. It’s enough.  “Thank you, gentlemen.” McGonagall says, and it makes James pull back enough to look at her. She’s got an eyebrow raised, but there’s a tilt to the edge of her mouth that makes him think she’s fighting a smile. Benjy wolf whistles, sending those from 9MM into amused titters. The other side of the room looks on in varying levels of disgust, and Sirius smiles at them. James’ gaze flits to Lily, and she’s watching them, her brow furrowed. She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, and then meets his eye. She seems surprised to find him looking at her for she flushes lightly and ducks her head, before shaking herself and stepping back.  “I’ll be over in a minute.” Snape promises, and Lily offers him an aborted attempt at smile. It looks far more like a grimace than anything, and she shakes her head.  “It’s okay, you can stay with your friends.” With that she calmly walks back over to her own friends, head high as she goes. James watches her go and can’t help but feel that he’s let her down somehow.

[golemqueen]

One-shot: The Tragedy of it All

When Sirius Black broke into Hogwarts castle on Halloween, twelve years after James and Lily were murdered, he went to find Remus Lupin. Canon compliant (I hope!).

ff.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12553035/1/The-Tragedy-of-it-All

ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11361594

Full text under the cut. 

Remus couldn’t bring himself to attend the Halloween feast.

Every fiber in him was exhausted from last night’s transformation, every inch of him wanting nothing more than to turn in early, perhaps with a cup of tea and an old book. At least, that’s what he told himself the reasoning was. If he was honest, it was because of the last Halloween feast he’d attended.

Sirius and Peter had bewitched the floating jack-o-lanterns to sing Christmas carols; James had transfigured the Great Hall’s ceiling so fog hung low over the tables, the occasional flash of lightning illuminating the room. He and Lily had sat shoulder to shoulder, squinting through the fog to try and make out what they were putting onto their plates.

“What part did you have in all this?” he remembered her asking, holding a dinner roll up to eye level for inspection.

He had responded, something along the lines of “Don’t drink the pumpkin juice”. She, of course, having no sense of self-preservation and an infuriating about of curiosity, proceeded to down her glass, and for the rest of the feast joined the majority of Hogwarts students in emitting black and orange bubbles from her mouth.

Something fell over in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, jolting Remus out of his memories. Pressing his hands to his face briefly, he stood and went to investigate. The door to his office opened onto a small balcony overlooking the room, dimly lit at this late hour, and initially nothing seemed amiss.

Until he noticed the shadow at the bottom of the stairs.

“So,” said a voice from Remus’ dreams. “You did finally become a teacher, Moony.” For a split second, nothing but blank shock registered in Remus’ mind. When he saw who it was, gazing up at him from the classroom floor, his first instinct was to fling himself down the stairs, sore joints be damned, and crush Sirius Black in a hug.

But that was no longer possible.

Remembering where he was, when he was, Remus raised his wand. It was a half-hearted gesture, more out of requirement than real fear of threat. Because if he were to be attacked by Sirius Black, Remus didn’t think he would be able to defend himself. Would be able to hurt the man—for there was no denying he was a man now—whose face was submerged in shadow, whose voice was full of regret and tired humor.

He didn’t know what to say first. He should send a Patronus to Dumbledore, alert the school. He should stun Sirius, kill Sirius, but he didn’t. Remus just stood there, staring.

“Why are you here?” Remus heard himself say. His voice was hoarse, like it usually was after his vocal chords were bent out of shape by transformation, but there was something more. Something that sounded a little too much like heartbreak.

“Would you believe me if I said it was to see you?”

“No,” Remus whispered. A lie.

Sirius took a step forward, into the light. His hair, once so carefully groomed, was lank and matted, hanging to his elbows. Torn, frayed, graying robes. His once-handsome face sallow and thin. Sirius’ bedraggled and broken appearance was what struck Remus the most. Sirius was a ghost of himself, and it was entirely plausible that this ghoulish man had indeed killed his best friend, because this ghoulish man could not be Sirius Black.

“Don’t move,” Remus said, pointing his wand again insistently. He hadn’t noticed his arm falling, the shock of Azkaban’s effect weakening his limbs. “Don’t take another step towards me.”

Sirius held up his hands. “Remus. You need to listen to me—”

“I don’t need to hear anything,” Remus spat, his despair and shock melting into pure rage. Maybe it was the proximity to the full moon, but his usually calm disposition was giving way to an anger that was as foreign as it was invigorating. “You killed them. You killed them! James—Lily—Peter—did we mean so little—did we mean nothing?” His voice was a hiss, his normally eloquent manner of speech reduced to shards of words and fragments of phrases. Remus’ lungs felt on the verge of collapse, fury shaking his limbs, and he fell to his knees, drowning in confusion. He wanted to kill Sirius, he wanted to throttle him, he wanted Sirius to embrace him, he wanted Sirius to reveal that it was all a joke, James and Lily and Peter were alive, he wanted Sirius to attack him, he wanted Sirius to kill him, he wanted to let it happen.

Sirius had somehow ended up in front of him, hands tentatively outstretched. “Please, Remus. Let me explain—”

Remus was on his feet again in a heartbeat, the anger in his veins surging forward. His wand was pressed between Sirius’ eyebrows. “Get out,” he said. “Before I call Dumbledore. I don’t know how you got in here, unless...” Remus’ eyes widened as comprehension dawned, and he wondered how he continued to underestimate Sirius’ genius, even after all this time. “The Grim. Harry mentioned he saw a great black dog—Merlin, Sirius, that was you?”

“You can’t tell,” Sirius said quickly. “If you tell them I’m an Animagus, they’ll know you had something to do with it.”

Footsteps outside the doorway, shouts out in the corridor.

Remus made a decision. It was instinct, years of playing lookout, years of trust and laughter and love that he could not, would not forget. No matter how hard he tried.

“Get in.” He grabbed Sirius’ shoulder, roughly shoving him into his office and shutting the door. “Muffliato.” He turned back to Sirius, who was gazing around the interior as though he’d never seen anything like it before. “Give me your wand,” Remus said.

Sirius didn’t argue, passing it over. “Thank you,” he said.

“What’s going on out there? Did someone see you?”

“I...guess you could say that.”

Remus pressed a hand to his forehead, and it was like they were sixteen again, arguing about some stupid prank Sirius had pulled. He didn’t let himself think about what could happen, the consequences of his actions. Just for this moment, he let himself pretend. “What did you do?”

“The Fat Lady wouldn’t let me in.”

“You’re not a student. You don’t have the password.”

“Usually she loves me.”

“Sirius, you’re a wanted murderer.”

“You had to remind me?”

Remus found himself smiling, and that was the worst part of it. He turned towards the tank with the grindylow, watching the creature to hide the tears springing to his eyes. “You said you would explain.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “Of course. It might be...a little hard. So bear...bear with me, please, Moony—”

A harsh knock at the door. Remus and Sirius stared at each other, eyes so wide it seemed the world was reflected in them.

“Remus? Remus, are you in there?”

“McGonagall,” Sirius said, wistfulness creeping into his voice. That voice...the regret...it was intense guilt, but the kind of guilt only the innocent have. Guilt for factors outside their control. Guilt for what they could have done.

Remus yanked open his wardrobe, shoving Sirius unceremoniously into it and shutting the door. After casting the most impenetrable protection spells he could think of (self-preservation, he rationalized), Remus quickly refilled and reheated his teapot, just in case of Priori Incantatem.

He was always covering James’ and Sirius’ asses, even now.

Remus flung the door open to reveal a harried McGonagall. “Sorry,” he said, trying to hide how flustered he was. “I think I fell asleep. It’s been a rough few nights...” he tried to add a wry twist to his lips, like he didn’t know what was coming. Like he didn’t know the turmoil with which the castle must be boiling over.

“Black is in the castle,” she said. Her face betrayed no emotion, no fear. But there was a flicker in her eyes Remus could only describe as pain. “He attacked the portrait of the Fat Lady, we’re moving all the students to the Great Hall. All the teachers are supposed to patrol...” Professor McGonagall trailed off as she took in his haggard appearance. “Remus,” she said, but it sounded like a sigh. “Go back to sleep. Dumbledore won’t mind.”

“It’s quite all right,” Remus said quickly. “Of course I’ll be right down.”

“No,” McGonagall said forcefully. “You will take care of yourself, Mr Lupin. Besides...” she lowered her voice. “Severus is trying to convince Albus that you’re somehow helping Black into the castle, given your...history.” She had the grace to look apologetic. But Remus knew it was genuine.

His heart gave a lurch at the semi-truth. “All the more reason for me to help in the search.”

“My answer is final. You will go to bed. You may not be my student anymore Remus, but you’ll listen to me, if you know what’s good for you.” With that, she turned and left, back down the stairs and out of his classroom.

Remus shut the door to his office. “Well,” he said to the seemingly empty room. “It would appear you’ve been spotted.”

“I don’t have much time,” Sirius said, tripping his way out of the wardrobe. “I don’t have time to tell you everything, Remus, but you have to believe I’m innocent. You know I would die before betraying any of you.” He peered into Remus’ face, and it pained Remus to see how much of his youth had been sapped from him by the dementors. “You do know that, right?”

“I don’t know what to believe,” Remus said heavily. “Why are you here, Sirius?”

Sirius’ face darkened. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Harry?”

Sirius’ head jerked up. “No. Yes. I’ve been watching. Not in a creepy way—though, I guess, everything I do now is creepy.” He gave a humorless laugh, more of a croak. It clanged around Remus’ chest like a physical thing, battering his heart. “Harry...is he happy? Does he have friends?”

Remus didn’t want to answer, but something tugged the words out of him. “Sometimes,” he said. “The dementors affect him more than most, but given his past...” he saw a flicker of pain on Sirius’ face. “He has friends. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.”

It was like someone had lit a fire behind Sirius’ face, and the light shone through his eyes. It was the only part of him that truly looked alive. “Weasley? Molly and Arthur’s youngest?”

“Second youngest, now. They have a girl, named Ginny.”

“A girl,” he said, marveling. “They’re all in Gryffindor?”

Remus found himself smiling again. “Naturally. Ron and Hermione argue all the time, about his rat and her cat...it makes me miss school.”

“His rat,” Sirius whispered, and Remus had lost him. “Of course.”

“Sirius?”

“I have to go,” he said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you more. I have to go.”

Remus’ eyes narrowed. “You owe me more than that.”

“I don’t know if I can see you again,” Sirius said, but his mind was a million miles away, Remus could tell. He had that faraway look, like he always had when planning something. “But I swear to you on—I swear to you on Harry. I will tell you everything that happened. I promise.” He stepped forward, and the intensity in his gaze was back. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely.

Remus nodded, closing his eyes and swallowing. He heard Sirius transform, heard heavy paws padding across the room to bat at the door handle. Remus opened the door for him, waiting until he was out of the classroom to shut the door again.

His room looked exactly as it had not ten minutes ago, before Sirius entered his classroom and turned his life upside down. Remus eyed his wand. Could he Obliviate himself? Could he bring himself to do it?

The answer, it turned out, was no. How could he make himself forget, if there was even the slightest possibility that Sirius was innocent?

If Sirius was innocent. That glimmer of hope, that ray of possibility Remus had never allowed himself to see. It now seemed more feasible than ever, because why would a guilty man act as Sirius had acted? If Sirius was innocent, then what happened on Halloween twelve years ago?

Halloween.

Sirius had broken into Hogwarts to find him on the anniversary of James and Lily’s deaths.

It could have been a cruel joke.

But Remus suspected—no, hoped—that it was because, like Remus himself, Sirius didn’t want to be alone on the anniversary of the night their worlds were blown apart.