#please let me know what u thought!

[lynn-tged-posting]

so i've been working through the tged webnovel (really, really slowly) (but im getting there!) (it's been REALLY fun i love their banter so so much i wish there was more of it in the webtoon)

and i keep thinking back to chapter 43, where lloyd is surveying the wetlands and arcos comes with him

i don't really have much new insight, i just think about their interaction in this chapter a lot, especially since it's one that doesn't show up in the webtoon adaptation

arcos going out of his way to spend time with his son, and making him a lunch that he knows his son loved, all as an unspoken apology

because "how could he", right? how could a father hate his son and only start to love him again when success has been found? that's so haunting to realize; that someone you loved so much, someone you raised and nurtured, someone you knew the favorite foods of and why, could become someone you hate. and then, the son you once raised, the son who became a stranger, went and grew up without you.

did i give up too soon? did i abandon my own son? ... what kind of father does that? ... right?

and so he does what he can to offer repentance. he takes time out of his day to engage with what his son is doing. he shows that he still remembers his son, the boy who would rather eat boiled eggs and tomatoes over any other dish. he offers it all in a basket, carrying the love he feels he should've given to lloyd a long, long time ago.

... and it's not even the original lloyd frontera who receives it.

we don't get to know what suho is thinking in this moment, but i think his silence speaks volumes.

... because "how could he", right? how could this fraud in another man's body accept this silent apology that isn't truly owed to him? this man, this baron, this father, is asking for forgiveness when he had every right to be angry with the original owner of this body. and he doesn't even realize, because how would he possibly know his original fate? only you do.

this wasn't meant for me ... right?

but suho doesn't reject him, either. he doesn't interrupt arcos, he doesn't leave. they sit together and eat boiled eggs with honeyed tomatoes in silence.

it makes me wonder what suho is thinking about, what he's feeling, what he's remembering...

because (and call me crazy, call me speculative) heaven knows the love language of an asian parent.

here's some cut fruit. here's your favorite snack. here's dinner. i've brought it here to you.

you're working so, so hard. i'll support you, i'll be here. don't worry about anything else, just keep growing.

i love you, i love you, i love you, attached to every plate.

"this was your favorite food when you were young. ... i should have given you as many boiled eggs and tomatoes as you wanted."

and again, it's a little bit of speculation from me, but i think that's why suho doesn't say no, why he lets arcos make this apology. it's a piece of what he misses most.

and so they both leave a little bit healed. "the basket was lighter on the way home. and albeit very slightly, their steps became lighter as well." it might not have been between the right souls, but it's a weight lifted nonetheless.

... all this to say that i am absolutely MOURNING that this didn't make it into the adaptation!!!

i understand that with comic adaptations, there are going to be some cuts to ensure pacing and workload stays reasonable, but this would've been absolutely devastatingly emotional (/pos) to witness visually,

because what would lloyd's (suho's) face look like? what expression would he make, can we visually see how he feels? and arcos, what does he see when he looks at his son? fatherly love and solemn regret, painted all over his face, what does that look like to the adapter? to the artist? to us?

and in general too, we lost the characterization and relationship of arcos to suho; i really, really wish it made it in :(

end post

[sewellove-deactivated9782]

MARK??????????

[leclerced]

wait cute idea imagine one of the drivers takes their mother to the ballet, like maybe charles because that sounds like something he would do. but i also like max a lot because the idea of him with a ballerina is sooo cute i love it so so so much. either way, he sees the lead when she comes out and thinks she is the prettiest woman he's ever seen so he keeps going back to see her. he gets her name from the playbill to check what nights she's performing so he won't go on a night where the understudy is performing in her stead. even her name is pretty, he thinks. and then he feels weird for knowing her name and the nights she's working and how he's been to see her perform three times and it's definitely weird if he asks her out now but he has never wanted to know someone as badly as he's wanted to know her since he saw her enter the spotlight, literally.

he knows he could get any girl he wanted when he goes out, but he finds a pretty ballerina who he can't instantly sweep off her feet. he has no way of talking to her in the first place. the only way he can see her is on the stage. he looked her up on socials and debated following and messaging but that was the easy way out and there was no guarantee she would see it and respond, or even care. but if could find a way to approach her in real life? that's something he could work with.

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[palms-upturned]

Sorry for being late today coming online, a lot has happened and I am trying to think about the best way to organize this blog going forward. For now though I will try to get the list updated quickly and read through my messages/@'s

[s0livagant]

Ok girlies I need ur opinion. Noah kahan merch won my poll from the other day but I’ve actually been talking abt getting boygenius merch for even longer sooooooo I need ur help deciding

[homosubtext]

ok. does omi omi use pet names for tsum tsum or no. ur opinion will influence mine

why are u treating my opinion like it’s the One Truth. The Word Of God 💀😭

but anyway….. the answer is yes but also no. I think he does but there are conditions.

i know you didn’t ask about atsumu but i’m going to start with him for comparison purposes. atsumu is a nickname/pet name guy. clearly. i mean look at him. but beyond the “omi” nickname and it’s derivatives, i think he uses a lot of pet names for omi like babe, sweetheart (i have STRONG opinions on this one and it’s backstory but i won’t get into that here), darling, hun/honey, etc. i think he uses them regularly and at any time. but i think he also gets Silly With It a lot and comes up with weird pet names for kiyoomi just to get a reaction out of him.

kiyoomi on the other hand is a little different. I think he will use pet names like baby, my dear (used kind of sarcastically but kind of not), love (rarely), etc. i think kiyoomi probably finds a pet name for atsumu he really likes and he uses it regularly, BUT. he uses them only when they’re alone. the idea of calling atsumu “baby” in front of another living soul is so mortifying to him, he needs to take deep breaths to calm down just at the thought of it. in public it is “atsumu” or “miya” (literally no matter how long they’ve been together kiyoomi will still call him miya sometimes. atsumu doesn’t like it).

[oceanwithouthermoon]

seeing my mutuals make fun of me with other people (especially where i can SEE IT) makes me feel sooo awkward like i thought we were buddies hi what is the problem...

[malleleothreesome]

i wish i could have a silly little day on tumblr but I have to read my 80 page HOA document to see if the boomer condominium overlords will ALLOW me to get my new dishwasher (that i bought on black friday like a true, miserable adult marching towards death) DELIVERED AND INSTALLED on the 23rd as expected or if I have to cancel the delivery because there are too many rules for me to abide by and my soul is simply too tired to jump through the necessary hoops to comply.

[moonshine-nightlight]

Selfish - Part Three

Eisha felt bad complaining to her friend Mariella, since she was always putting other people’s problems above her own. She felt worse that, no matter how much she appreciated Mariella listening, she’d rather be living out some of the naughty fantasies about her instead. If she wanted to stay Mariella’s friend, and get some of her delicious cookies, she needed to keep those thoughts to herself.

But can she?

Urban fantasy; friends to lovers, Naga, FxF, SFW, (3/4)

[Part One] [Part Two] Part Three [Part 4 - NSFW]

For once, Eisha didn’t let her mind tell her that she was imagining the mild tremble to Mariella’s voice as she said, “Just being here with me is more than enough.”

Eisha had wanted to tease Mariella about the cookies, wanted to see how much she could push to get her to accept her compliment. And then as she ate the genuinely delicious cookie, something even more appetizing wafted her way. 

The scent of Mariella’s arousal. 

Eisha had scented hints of that aroma before, but never so strongly and never when they were alone. There was no writing off what it meant or who it could be for. Eisha felt reckless and greedy enough to decide to do something about it because if Mariella actually did want her, well, perhaps the risk she always assumed her feelings were to their friendship was less than she thought. Just the idea that Mariella wanted her back, that Eisha could have her, was enough to warm Eisha up on long nights.

Scenting the evidence was nearly enough to break her control on its own. The strange itch beneath her skin had only gotten so much worse as the night wore on. Eisha knew she had made the correct decision coming to Mariella after her bad day and now… Perhaps she could get more than just their usual night. 

Eisha found herself fighting the instinct to wrap her tail about Mariella’s legs, to slide up and around her, pulling her as close as she could. Wrap her arms around the slighter woman and then tilt her head back for a kiss.

The impulse was so strong Eisha’s hands shook.

The pulse that normally captivated her when she went dancing beat through her. And she wanted. She wanted Mariella spread out underneath her, caught in her grasp, more than she ever had before. More than when the thoughts flit through her mind when they hang out together before she shoved them away, more than the thoughts that she steeped herself in privately at night in her bed, more than she thought possible. 

Apparently all that was needed to break her control was that first real taste of Mariella’s arousal, of her desire for Eisha. 

After that, for better or worse, Eisha wasn’t leaving tonight without at least knowing what Mariella’s kiss tasted like too.

Eyes fixed on Mariella like the prey she now was with Eisha’s decision, she watched as Mariella carefully wiped down her counter with a single minded determination that did not appear to be helping her get herself under control anymore than Eisha was able to. 

Perfect.

A glance at the oven confirmed it was off, so Eisha slunk back to bridge the space Mariella had created. “So sweet,” Eisha said, pitching her voice into a purposely tempting mix of low and enticing. “But while you might fool the others, you can’t fool me.” One of Eisha’s hands landed on the freshly cleaned counter to Mariella’s left. “You have needs too. Wants at the very least.” 

Eisha’s seduced people before—she only never tried it with Mariella because she didn’t think it would work. With her other hand, she curled a bit of Mariella’s wavy brown hair around her finger. Brushing her hair to the side, Eisha leaned in close to rhetorically ask, “Don’t you?”

Oh, yes. Eisha’s tongue flicked out to taste the fresh wave of arousal that emanated from Mariella. She tracked the shiver that went down Mariella’s spin, the goosebumps that erupted on her skin. Mariella was definitely more than receptive.

“Ei—” Mariella started to say, her voice almost breaking before she seemed to marshal herself. Her attempt at nonchalant was a good effort as she said, “Of course I do.” She slid to the right, out of Eisha’s proximity once more and helpfully towards the living room, away from the kitchen. 

Mariella was wringing the slightly damp dishcloth when she finally turned around, her back to the counter now. Her pupils were blown wide and they widened when they took Eisha in. Eisha didn’t know how she looked, but she did know how she felt: hungry. “I—There are always little things, sure, but I’m good, really. I’m happy with my life right now and I don’t need anything more.”

Eisha scoffed as she moved closer. “I didn’t just say need. I said want. Sure, everything is fine,” Eisha practically spit that last word, evidently she wasn’t as calm as she was pretending she was to herself. She just wanted Mariella to admit she was as desperate as Eisha was.

Closing back in on Mariella, this time she put her left hand down and brought her tail up on the right. The fingers of her right hand ghosted along Mariella’s cheek. “Don’t you want more than just fine? I’m happy to help,” Eisha said with a smirk, leaning in closer, delighting in the way Mariella couldn’t look away, the way her breathing deepened and her scent stayed just as strong, if not stronger. “Come on, Mariella. Be a little selfish.”

Mariella’s arousal was so thick in the air that when her tongue slipped out to lick her lips Eisha couldn’t help herself anymore. She tilted Mariella’s face up with a hand on her chin and dipped down to sample her directly. 

Eisha hummed into the kiss. Mariella must have sampled some of the icing too because she tasted sweet with a hint of nutmeg. Mariella gasped into the kiss, dropping the dishcloth and grasping onto Eisha’s waist, fisting her clothing to keep her right there. Eisha’s fangs drop, but they don’t stop her from pressing her advantage, not with Mariella holding her against her, opening up for her.

Mariella’s mouth was searing and she whined, needy, as she moved into Eisha’s heated kiss as best she could. The only spare thought Eisha had that wasn’t about how delightful Mariella felt against her like this was cursing herself for waiting so long. 

Her hand moved the counter to tangle in the dark, loose curls of Mariella’s hair, holding her steady so she could intensify the kiss. Mariella seemed intent on melting in her arms, so Eisha turned them enough that her tail could support Mariella’s lower back more effectively than the counter.

Eisha pulled back enough to get a gratifying glimpse at Mariella’s flushed face, open mouth panting, before she grazed her fangs along Mariella’s neck searching for the best spot to mark while Mariella caught her breath. It didn’t take her long to find a spot where Mariella’s neck met her shoulders that caused Mariella to moan, shuddering closer to Eisha in response.

Eisha felt satisfaction flow through her as she carefully sucked, needing to see the physical proof of what Mariella’s allowing her, needing to know it will still be there later for Mariella and herself to see. Mariella moaned, clutching her closer in response.

Slowly, once Eisha had the spare thought, she began herding them out of the kitchen and into the living room. The only brief interruption was when Mariella unclenched a hand from Eisha’s silk top to cup the back of her head, urging Eisha to come up for another kiss.

Losing herself in Mariella’s kiss, Eisha set to work making sure that Mariella never wanted another to do so. Paying careful attention to how Mariella responded to a nibble on her lower lip, a light suck on her upper one, the slide of Eisha’s forked tongue in her human hot mouth that Eisha never wanted to leave.

The next time Mariella needed to breathe, Eisha didn’t give her much space, dotting kisses on her cheeks, worrying the shell of her ear, drawn back to her lips like a magnet even if Mariella was still drawing in air too quickly. Not that Mariella seemed to mind. The half lidded look on her face was all Eisha needed to feel supremely satisfied with herself, to know she was more than convinced.

It was enough to make Eisha remember herself when her tail hit the wide leather couch she’d forgotten she was aiming for.  Between her hand and the end of her tail, Eisha picked Mariella up, who helpfully wrapped her legs around Eisha’s waist without a second thought. Mariella let out a small whimper, her hips stuttering against Eisha’s torso in a move that drove Eisha wild with its unselfconscious need. Guiding them to the couch, Eisha didn’t even pause as she focused back on plundered the smaller woman’s mouth.

A dizzyingly delightful amount of time later, Eisha drew back enough to ask, her own voice pitched even lower and silkier than before, “You sure there’s nothing you want?”

“Smug jerk,” Mariella gasped, not sounding truly annoyed, her voice rough with desire. Eisha wanted to do whatever she could to keep Mariella sounding like that. “Yes, I want whatever you’ll give me. Please.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[ashmp3]

why is it finding a suit thats not 1. black 2. oversized 3. with cigarette trousers close to impossible. where do you guys find them i am losing my mind

[padfootastic]

Saudade

You can also read it on Ao3

x

Remus knew he was a coward.

It’s why he always preferred to blend in. He couldn’t afford not to. It’s also why, to his eternal shame and regret, he’d never bothered to even question the circumstances of Sirius’s imprisonment. His betrayal.

Because he knew if he looked even slightly below the surface, it’d shatter.

(He’d shatter)

Because he wasn’t just a coward, was he. He was also helpless.

No.

Powerless.

He was powerless.

It didn’t matter if he knew Sirius was innocent, if not of the murders then definitely the betrayal (because he knew, didn't he, that Sirius Black would never—as long as he had breath in his body, magic in his veins, life in his heart—do anything to hurt James Potter. It was a fundamental truth of life. There were five exceptions to Gamp’s law of elemental transformation, the sun set in the west, and Sirius was unfailingly loyal to James. Isn’t that how it's always been?)

Because even if the truth was not what it seemed, he couldn’t do anything about it.

So he lived his lie. Didn't bother to look past the newspapers blaring the inevitability of a Black turning to the dark side. It validated his own feelings, his mistrust, his circumstances.

It was a profoundly selfish act, but it was all Remus could do.

x-x-x-x

There was…one moment when he tried, just the bare minimum, really, in hindsight but it was enough to, if not soothe, then push down the constant guilt gnawing at him.

“Mr. Lupin.” Dumbledore looked down at him through his half moon glasses. “What can I do for you?”

Remus didn’t know whether to appreciate the even tone or not. In the past month, his entire life had collapsed around him. He’d gone from being part of a whole, one of four, to completely alone. Even putting one step in front of the other was getting too much for him and on some days, he forewent even that small action. Laying in bed, contemplating his entire life and how it went so wrong in less time than it took to blink—that was all he had the energy for these days.

So to hear Professor Dumbledore refer to him like that, almost pleasantly, as if they were still back in school and Remus had just bumped into him in the corridor—it was equal parts relieving and maddening.

He chose to ignore that for now, though. He had enough going on without discovering new things to be bothered about. Not like he had the energy for it, either.

“Headmaster, I—“ Remus gulped nervously. Now that he was here, it felt much more daunting than he could have imagined. What would he even say?

“Yes?”

Remus took a shaky breath and tried again. “Professor, are you—is it completely without doubt that Sirius—“ He couldn’t finish the sentence but he knew the other man understood what he was trying to say.

“Mr. Lupin…Remus,” Dumbledore started gently, and already Remus was regretting this little excursion. “I know the past month can’t have been easy for you. I wouldn’t even presume to understand how bad it must’ve been. None of us thought that Mr. Black could…” He trailed off, eyes staring at a door behind Remus. He didn’t think he’d imagined the sadness that flashed in his eyes, a meagre reflection of his own agony.

It was only a momentary slip, though, as his eyes hardened and steel coated his next words. “But what’s done is done, despite the tragedy of it all. Mr. Black made his choice, and now it is time for you to do the same.” He gave a sad smile, a damning one that spoke of his finality in the matter. “It is always harder to be the one left behind, Mr. Lupin, and your fate is one I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. I can only hope that you find the strength I know you have in you, and use it to move on from this episode.”

Remus could only sit there, stunned and numb and feeling like his skin was tearing itself apart from the inside, the way it did on full moons except worse.

An episode, Dumbledore said, as if he wasn’t talking about his family, his entire life. As if this was a schoolyard skirmish, an encore of that horrid ‘prank’ in fifth year, one he could forget if he so wished to. As if it was that easy to carve away the parts of himself that were entwined with the rest of his brothers (which made up most of him— mind, body, soul, and magic). As if he would even want to.

Remus didn’t try again after that, not with Dumbledore and definitely not with anyone else. If the man who was their leader seemed so sure, then who was Remus to go against his word?

(He’d never regretted anything more in his life, perhaps with the exception of the belief that caused this in the first place)

x-x-x-x

They didn’t talk about it.

At first, there was the whole thing with Pettigrew and being on the run and everything that came with it. Once that got sorted, though, there was no excuse other than it was easy.

Easy to ignore the ache in his heart when the distance between them reared it’s ugly head.

Easy to turn away when he saw the way Molly and Dumbledore treated Sirius in his own house, because isn’t that what he’d been doing so far?

Easy to stay away, altogether.

Sirius never brought it up either. Perhaps on purpose, too, because the pain in his eyes never lessened. Remus could pick out multiple instances where he opened his mouth to say something before abruptly shutting down.

That was another difference. Pre-azkaban Sirius wouldn’t have hesitated like that, not with Remus.

It only drove the knife further in. But did he have anyone to blame but himself?

It was just after Hogwarts had closed. Harry, who’d finished his fifth year, had gone back to the Dursleys but not for long because in a turn of events no one could have predicted, Sirius’ case had completely upended itself in the aftermath of the DoM debacle. Remus still didn’t like to think about it, how close he—they’d come to losing Sirius (again) and how it was only sheer dumb luck—a rock that made him stumble sideways instead of back—that saved him from falling into the Veil.

Perhaps the only positive of the evening was the Minister seeing Sirius Black fighting unequivocally for the Light and against the Death Eaters. In Remus’ opinion, it would be quite some time before anyone forgot the image of escaped inmate Sirius Black laughing at Bellatrix Lestrange in a strange parody of his actions fifteen years ago. The cold laughter juxtaposed with the deadly spells he’d been aiming at his cousin was enough to stun everyone not in the know and that was how an enquiry had been conducted into the case, leading to where they were today.

Remus, however, had spent every minute he could hiding away, even more than before. He couldn’t bear to show his face at Grimmauld Place—the idea of seeing Sirius actually sent a wave of shivers down his spine.

But, as he’d always known, his time did run out.

x-x-x-x

“So are we talking about this then?” Sirius’ voice is tired, perpetually exhausted as it seems to be these days.

They were sitting at the dining table, cups of tea long gone cold in their hands. It was the first time in months Remus has allowed himself to be in the same room as Sirius (it shouldn’t be like this. it never was before. how did it all go so wrong) and the other man wasn’t stupid. Even if Remus hadn’t initiated the conversation, he knew they’d have it. Of course it was Sirius who poked the sleeping dragon. He had always been the braver of the two. Of course, if it was a competition, then James Potter would’ve come leagues ahead of either of them, his passion and intensity unmatched.

(But James isn’t here right now and that’s really the cause of half their problems, is it not?)

Sirius was…quieter, more focused, but plenty brave enough. If Remus allowed himself to think about it, it’s no surprise he brought it up first. In fact, it’s more surprising that he hadn’t so far.

Still. “Talk about what?” he regrets the words almost as soon as they slip out of his mouth. Sirius only looks at him steadily.

Of course he knows what this is about but it’s easier to cling to what you’ve been hiding behind all this while, is it not? But is it fair, to him? More importantly, is it fair to Sirius? Does he not deserve an honest answer, an honest friend?

It’s that which pushes him to try again.

“I-I didn’t mean that.”

“Sure you did, Remus.”

“Alright,” he amended. “I shouldn’t have meant that.” And that at least is true. It gets a wry smile out of Sirius.

“There’s a lot I shouldn’t have done,” he continued, which neatly drives the mirth away. Remus looked down, at his fingers, the bitten down nails and ink stains, so he didn’t have to stare into the consequences of his actions.

‘I should—apologise.”

“Do you want to?”

His head snapped up, the sting of the comment settling under his skin like an itch. How could he think—? One look at Sirius’ face, however, devoid of any malice or cruelty, and the indignant feeling in him dies out as quickly as it rose.

It was a fair question. He hated the fact but couldn’t deny it.

How would Sirius know about the hundreds of hours he’d spent screaming and crying and begging someone, anyone to turn back time, to make things better, to give him a second chance?

Sirius couldn’t know about the time Remus hadn’t been able to get out of his house for seven months, two weeks, sixteen days straight, surviving only on dry crackers and tepid tea and stale bread and feeling guilty for doing so. He’d spent the entire time staring blankly at the sickly green wall of his bedroom, living in a haunting loop of his memories and wishing he was back in them.

Sirius hadn’t seen any of that.

(Would it have made a difference, if he had, Remus thinks. They weren’t indicative of anything but his own guilt, certainly didn’t stem from any moral conviction in Sirius—and what value did it have for someone who was being tortured day and night? living with the knowledge that he’d been left behind without so much as a second thought?)

It’s not something he’s thought about before—in those fantasies where everything is as it was before. Sirius apologises, Remus apologises, they hug it out and it’ll all be better again—but now, now he can’t help but wonder about the efficacy of platitudes.

He hated Sirius’ matter of fact resignation even more, like there was no other way for Remus to react except defensively. (It wasn’t always like this. The Marauders, James & Sirius, they’d always been his biggest believers. They’d made him capable of touching the sky and the stars and everything in between and Remus has been untethered ever since that fateful halloween. There was a time, when anyone expecting any less of Remus—even himself—than they should would’ve gotten all of Sirius’ hackles raised—‘our Moony’s worth a dozen of you and you should only be so lucky to get to see that’—so it stung particularly bitterly when it was the same man expressing this apathy.

The juxtaposition of the two Sirius’ in his head was enough to give Remus a headache at the best of times, let alone now.

So he takes a deep breath, lets the feeling wash away, and nods.

“You don’t have any reason to believe me, and I don’t blame you for it, but I do. Want to, that is.”

Sirius didn’t reply but Remus continued, undeterred.

“I didn’t for a long time. I didn’t want to, not at all. Because it would be my fault, you know? And I was so tired, Sirius, god. I was exhausted trying to keep up this pretense. I just needed to get the burden off.”

Sirius just looked at him, silent. Remus could see the way his eyes flick around the room, however, and how his fingers trembled ever so slightly. He might’ve been out of Azkaban but the signs would last a long time.

“What made you change your mind, then?” There's a note of curiosity in Sirius’ voice and Remus cannot articulate the relief that fills him at hearing it. Anything, even anger or blame, was better than that bland apathy that made his skin itch.

The question itself makes him pause, however. Because he’s guilty, nay, he’s ashamed of the answer he’s about to give. He contemplated shutting up, or perhaps leaving the room altogether, and it takes longer than it should for him to banish the thought.

“Remus?” Sirius asked again and it’s the knowing look in his eyes that made him close his eyes in defeat. He should’ve known he couldn’t have avoided this. This was a man who knew him better than anyone else who’s alive right now—how could he ever have thought he’d be able to hide things from him?

So he takes a deep, fortifying breath. Releases it slowly, grounding himself in the process.

“When I came to Hogwarts.”

“The time I broke out?

Remus tilts his head in the barest hint of confirmation. Sirius nods like he’d expected that.

Again, Remus wanted to be offended—but how could he?

“How’d you—“

—know?” Sirius finished. Remus nodded, a sharp, jagged thing that’s barely an answer.

Sirius smiled ruefully. It looked wrong on him, like a shirt stretched out and shrunk back down with a charm. “Because I know you, Remus. And though it hurt, I always knew you didn’t believe in me, at least not at the end there.

I’ve had nothing but time all this while. Time to think, to wonder where it all went wrong, what I could’ve done—time even to curse James out,” he lets out a hollow chuckle at that, one that Remus echoes because just the idea of Sirius cursing at James is so absurd, there’s nothing you can do but laugh at it, morbid though it may be in the moment.

“And the only thing I can think of is how bad we messed up. I don’t— you know the worst part about this, Remus?” Sirius asks, in his tired, broken voice. Just hearing it makes him want to flinch and hide away. Instead, he brings himself to give another shaky nod.

“I wouldn’t have cared one bit if you’d thought I was a mass murderer. Hell, even being a Death Eater could be believable under the right circumstances and you were away so long, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d entertained the thought.”

Remus waited for the ‘but’ with his heart in his mouth, tasting ash and regret and guilt. He knew what was about to come, had wondered the same thing hundreds of times, going round and round in circles with no relief to be found.

“But how could you ever, even just for a second let alone 12 years, think I could do that to Ja—“ here, his voice broke, unable to even finish the name. Sirius’ trembling hands clenched into fists, hard enough that he could see the knuckles losing color. The words were just as devastating as he could have imagined, if not more. Coming from another’s mouth and not just whirling in his thoughts, it seemed even more damning in the light of day.

And that was just it, wasn’t it. It was this that confirmed what Remus had known from the moment he’d been made aware of Sirius’ innocence.

There would be no forgiveness here. The most he could hope for was closure, perhaps a chance to clear the air, as it were, and that was only if Sirius was feeling merciful. Which, when it came to James, he seldom did. Remus would know; he’d seen the aftermath of what happened to those who dared touch James Potter.

And Remus? Ne hadn’t just hurt Sirius—that was almost inconsequential in the larger scheme of things—no, Remus’ biggest mistake was besmirching the legacy, the honor of James Potter.

Sirius had destroyed people for far less.

It was this realisation that weighed heavy on him, head bowing until his chin touched his chest, unable to hold it up anymore, not knowing what to say and unsure whether he should.

“I can forgive you almost anything, Remus, you know that. I wouldn’t have cared one whit about anything else but that you could think that—that anyone who knew us could—it was that, more than the dementors, more than the crazed prisoners, more than the taunts and insults and torture, that’s what almost broke me in Azkaban.”

A sob broke out from Remus’ chest, ugly and desperate and entirely unfair on his part. Sirius didn’t need his guilt, nor his despair. Remus didn't deserve to be unhappy in front of him. He had made his own bed and now he was to lie in it. He couldn’t even be happy about the hint of steel he could hear underlying Sirius’ words, a faint echo of his past self. Because the implications it held for him were devastating. Remus knew he wouldn’t lose Sirius completely—they had too much history for that, but he’d lose everything that made Sirius him. He’d been spoiled, allowed into the small, small circle of people Sirius truly let in, and he knew there would be no going back. There would be perfect civility, and amicable conversations, but he’d never have his Sirius back. He’d get the Sirius Black the rest of the world saw, the one with the impeccable masks, who was always in control—but not Padfoot, never Padfoot anymore.

And that was to be his penance.

“I am—I truly am sorry, Sirius. You’d never know how much. I just—I couldn’t—I don’t think I’ve taken one full breath since that night, everything was too fast and I couldn’t think and I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t used to being alone anymore,” he said, leaning forward desperately, wanting to explain (not justify, never justify), not wanting Sirius to leave thinking this was—this was what Remus wanted. because he didn't, never could’ve imagined things ending up like this.

It was almost humbling, this ignoble end of the Marauders. They’d considered themselves untouchable, rulers of the world, sitting atop a throne only they could see. So many promises, a seemingly unbreakable bond, the best of the best.

And look at them now.

All of them in varying stages of decay, dead and dying.

“And I know, dammit I know that doesn’t count for shite. But please, I just—you have to know—“ his hands pressed together, pleading, as the words came out in a defeated plea, “I never meant for it to be like this.”

“The worst part of that,” Sirius smiled, small and broken and not even worth a shadow of his usual brilliance. “is that I know you mean that, Remus. I believe it too.”

A second passed, then two, before he delivered the final blow.

“I just wish you’d fought for us the way we had for you.”

[crossbackpoke-check]

V random but I’m in my Brockpetey feels could I listen to your 46 60 playlist!!

of course!! the first playlist i mentioned in the tags is actually not mine—it belongs to ash @notthequiettype and is a soundtrack to their wonderful fic Lake Rules (go read it if you haven’t already!!! highly recommend!!!)

annnd this one is my personal brockpetey vibes playlist

happy listening!!!

[jrueships]

STOP they're so cute !!! i love them they're so cringe (lovingly) 🥰🥰 green and gup's awkward lil smiles.. alpeys :] in full force here!! Jabari faded into the lighting like a hallway spirit trying to peek into the photo 😭

GO GO GOO garuba GOOO!!!!!!

[katierosefun]

[wakes up in a cold sweat] i have got to watch treasure planet

[dandyshucks-moving]

proship ppl don't always like the shit you mentioned. You meant comship lol.

This is the only thing I'm ever going to answer or say about any of this subject on here. This blog is literally just a very silly and self indulgent space where I'm having fun, and I despise this subject in its entirety. The only reason I am answering this is to have something to point to in case it ever comes up again so I don't have to say anything further.

I could not give less of a hoot about the label somebody uses. If you think fiction has no affect on reality, and/or if you think creating (in any form) jerk-off material about kids is even remotely okay or normal, then I need you to leave and block me. Doesn't matter what label you use - just block me so I do not interact with you. I'm not interested in arguing; at the end of the day, underage and incest fiction make me incredibly uncomfortable, and that's reason enough to avoid it.

The reason I specified any label at all in my pinned post is because I think sometimes people skim through pinned posts to find that word specifically so they know if somebody is safe to follow or not. I included it to be easily visible so people will know I'm safe to follow. I'll probably take it out honestly at this point to avoid ... [gestures at this ask] happening again, and if someone can't be bothered to read through the post and see my clearly laid out stance, then that's on them.