#struggled with Rem's hands a little

[captainhysunstuff]

Light breaks the news to Misa that he's leaving forever. Eh, Rem's cautiously happy.

Previous

Influences below.

Script/behavior references inspired by/stolen from Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends:

Light's stream of shut ups are from "Dinner is Swerved." I can't find a direct link to that specific clip. It's when Mac and Bloo steal Duchess's bedsheets and mattress so they can safely escape out a window, and Bloo just quickly repeats shut up to her over and over to prevent any argument. I have Light use that same strategy to keep Misa from objecting.

Misa's disbelief is inspired by Bloo's at the end of this clip from "Everyone Knows it’s Bendy": link

[luveline]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩���𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky. 

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely. 

Total quiet. 

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?” 

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?” 

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?” 

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…” 

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?” 

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.” 

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.” 

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh. 

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated. 

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry. 

“Spencer?” you ask quietly. 

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?” 

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?” 

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups. 

“Where are you?” 

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him. 

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.” 

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?” 

“Where was I?” 

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed. 

“Still where?” 

“Did you hit your head?” 

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.” 

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk. 

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.” 

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.” 

“…What?” 

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.” 

“I annoy people.” 

“You don’t annoy me.” 

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here. 

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?” 

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection. 

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?” 

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly. 

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.” 

“Am I in trouble?” 

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?” 

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.” 

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says. 

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room. 

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark. 

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly. 

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!” 

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer. 

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask. 

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again. 

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.” 

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath. 

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers. 

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger. 

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year. 

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.” 

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.” 

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.” 

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!” 

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity. 

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.” 

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly. 

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says. 

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway. 

“I don’t want to be alone forever.” 

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates? 

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess. 

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.” 

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol. 

“She kind of looked like you.” 

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.” 

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.” 

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” 

“Is that why you make all your jokes?” 

“What jokes, babe?” 

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.” 

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?” 

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.” 

“Spencer, you remember everything.” 

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.” 

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him. 

You’re happy to. 

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled. 

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse. 

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully. 

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally. 

“Can I come home with you?” he asks. 

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.” 

— — 

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.” 

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.” 

“So you want three?” 

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.” 

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time. 

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?” 

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him. 

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory. 

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that. 

The avocado is making him feel sick. 

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?” 

“I think I'm gonna throw up.” 

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes. 

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button. 

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.” 

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.” 

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.” 

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now. 

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said. 

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say. 

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again. 

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.” 

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. 

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask. 

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

[moonstruckme]

hi!!! wanted to req a poly! marauders x reader where the reader has never had anything inside before so like first time fingering if that’s okay 🫣 totally okay if not, love your work!!!! <3

Hi my sweetheart I’m so sorry I held onto this for sooooooo long but thank you for requesting I love you ! And thanks to @mareagirls for helping me out when I was struggling with the choreography haha <33

cw: smut mdni, fingering, inexperienced reader

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 837 words

Sirius, you think, is treating this all very casually. He’s lying on his stomach between your bent knees, legs kicking idly behind him while he circles your entrance with a finger. 

“Baby.” He looks up at you. “Could you stop being so nervous? I cut my nails for you.” 

“I’m fine,” you say, a bit affronted. 

Remus chuckles. His two fingers move over your clit in rhythmic, dedicated passes. 

“You’re all tensed up, sweetheart,” James clues you in. He’s lying on your other side with one arm cushioning your head. It’s almost like you could be going to sleep, except one of your boyfriends is tormenting your clit while the other attempts the breaking and entering of your cunt. 

“Not breaking,” Sirius had said when you made that joke earlier, looking at you in horror. “It’s going to be fun, not torture, you freak.” 

James’ other hand goes to your side. He gives you a little squeeze, and you gasp, ticklish. “See?” he asks. 

“Jamie,” Remus scolds, but he’s smiling. With his free hand he rubs the underside of your thigh, trying to calm you back down. “You don’t need to worry, dove. We’ll start slow, and we can stop anytime you want, yeah?” 

“I just don’t know how it’s going to feel,” you fret, shifting on the mattress to get comfortable again. 

“The point’s to find out, isn’t it?” Sirius is looking at you like he really wants to know. He holds up his index finger as though to exhibit it. “I’m only going in with the one at first, and slow like Rem said,” he vows. “It shouldn’t hurt.” 

“Definitely say if it hurts,” James agrees. 

You chew your lip, nodding. Sirius’ expression softens. 

“Just tell me if you don’t like it,” he says earnestly. “Say stop and I’ll stop, okay?” 

“Okay,” you say. 

“Good girl,” Remus praises, leaning sideways to kiss the top of your knee. His skillful fingers never stutter.

Sirius makes a soft sound of agreement, and then he slips one finger into your entrance. 

You’re prepared to be shocked, but he’s right; it’s not a substantial intrusion. You almost don’t know it’s there at first, until he swirls it around experimentally and a little “oh” stumbles out of you. Your hips shift. 

“Yeah?” James noses at your cheek, smile audible in his voice. “Not so bad, huh?”

“No,” you agree breathily. 

Sirius grins below you, planting a big kiss on the inside of your thigh. “That’s my girl. You’re so tight, sweetheart, fuck,” he groans, wriggling his finger against your gummy walls. “And your little cunt is so pretty. Next time we should do this with a mirror.” 

“One step at a time,” Remus tells him mildly. But when you push your hips upwards, he obliges you, increasing his pressure on your clit. 

“S’that good, honey?” James’ lips are warm and soft against the column of your throat, teeth barely there as he suckles at your skin. “Do you like having Pads inside you?” 

“Yeah,” you answer him again, voice pitching slightly when Sirius slips another finger inside you. Your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Shh.” James presses a gentle kiss over the mark he’s left. “You’re okay, sweet girl.” His murmurings, sweet and lovely and too quiet for you to understand, trail down your chest until he finds something he likes. His arm slides from beneath your head, hand finding your shoulder and resting there with a soothing weight. 

You know patience isn’t in Sirius’ nature, so you appreciate the restraint he’s using with you now. His fingers sponge in and out of you at an easy pace, shallow and careful. When you find it in yourself to open your eyes, he’s watching you from beneath his lashes, using your expression as his guide while he works you open. 

You moan when James sucks hard at a spot on the underside of your tit. 

“Don’t bruise her,” says Remus, still sour from the mark that’s yet to fade on his left pectoral. 

“Sorry.” James pulls his mouth from your tit, smiling at you sheepishly. “Is it okay if I leave you a pretty little mark, my angel?” 

“No kissing up to get what you want, either,” Remus grumbles, but you nod, and James goes back to what he was doing, albeit more gently. 

“You’re doing so good.” Sirius is leaning his cheek against your thigh now, seemingly lost in his own sort of trance. The weight tips your leg outward so that Remus has to grab your knee to keep him propped up. “So good for me, baby. Now,” his eyes gleam, and you know the look of it well enough to be both excited and a little bit nervous, “how would you like to try the feel of something else inside?” 

“Oh,” you say, caught offguard. “Um, I don’t think I’m ready for…” 

“I meant my tongue, sweetness.” 

“Hey!” James pulls his lips from you with a wet suctioning sound. “No fair, you’ve had your turn already! I want to go.”

[applestorms]

L can be such a possessive character at times. he always strikes me as the type of person who is deeply aware of everything that he owns, both in a more literal sense and metaphorically-- like, he knows what money he has and how to use it, what resources are readily available to him and what he has to be sneakier to utilize, the habits and tendencies and emotional states of individuals and world governments both. the DN musical really puts an emphasis on the more computer-y aspects of how his brain functions, which isn't as obvious in the manga/anime but i think still works well as a way to follow his thinking. it's kinda what near does too: everything is a factor to them, every tiny detail a new opening to optimize for the best results, every person and location and object a part of a puzzle waiting to be solved. and as a part of that, L is deeply aware of every and any little thing he may or may not have control over, and exactly to what degree.

his habit of stealing titles as depicted in the LABB murders novel is such a good example of this. ryuzaki, eraldo coil, deneuve. he eats people alive and then takes their names for himself like some kind of fucked up fae or trickster god, creating new masks and personas to hide behind from the remains of the people he's devoured. i have to wonder if he would've used the title of KIRA for himself had he won-- i can hardly imagine what kind of power such a title could hold if held in his hands. of course, he could've just used the defeat of KIRA as a way to build up the L title even further, offering up the body of a dead god like perseus showing off the head of medusa. but L is so emotionally attached to the kira case, i struggle to see him allowing it to fade from existence so thoroughly as near does, even if it is only kept close on a private level...

this is part of why i think it genuinely makes a lot of sense that L's ultimate win state would include capturing light to some degree. even if the memory of KIRA somehow manages to fully disappear from the public consciousness, there is no fucking way L is letting light yagami out of his grasp. honestly, the moment that L truly loses this game is not when he starts investigating misa while still under rem's watch, not when light gets back his memories, not even when he dies, but the moment when he allows light to be freed from the handcuffs. the moment when he allows the other members of the task force to turn off the cameras and keep him from watching light and misa talk in the lobby. the moment when he gives up, lets light yagami go outside of L's personal sphere of control, is the moment when L starts the clock ticking down to the end of his own life.

this is one of the key ways in which i see light as a true equal and parallel to L, as after L's death he, intentionally or no, continues the same tradition and takes L's title for himself, twisting the two sides together into the L-KIRA amalgamation. only, the L title functions a little bit differently than every other persona or title that we see in the series-- because L's true name is L. that's all that he is. on a literal, legal, and emotional level, i don't think that L is anything more than L. he is the world's greatest detective, he's an incredible, weirdo super genius, but he does not afford himself much more than that, barely allows himself personhood or humanity outside of his work. light was the one to ultimately defeat L because he did not just put a stain on his character (as BB attempted), did not just kill him, but stole his very identity and took it for himself.

one of the biggest contradictions of L's character that i think you must accept should you attempt to portray him accurately is that he is both deeply detached from humanity while also having all of his work and effort and life be focused around saving it. it's one of the ways in which he is an exact opposite to light-- where light relies on humanity for external validation, to be Seen, while also looking down on it as dumb and immoral and spineless, L is so separated from it that he barely exists as a person, all the while dedicating almost every action he takes to helping it. remember: for all the emotional turmoil that wammy's house and the legacy of L may put on the kids living there, ultimately it's entire existence is nothing more than L's logical solution to his potential demise. if he dies, the world goes down with him, all of the cases that are yet to happen and he is yet to solve being left in the air. he has the foresight to set up a fail safe, but not to consider the emotional implications of what being that fail safe might feel like, how high the price of your own humanity is if you are not already alienated from it, the inability to have your own name on your gravestone-- though perhaps some of the blame also falls on watari's shoulders in this case, philanthropic old bastard that he is.

imo, playing his game really got it right in presenting L and light as one and the same, synonyms on either side of the mirror. in every action they take they are both so selfishly selfless, playing the game for themselves and their own pleasure but plastering the needs and will of humanity on top of it. L isn't invested in saving humanity for the sake of humanity-- he just likes the thrill of having the stakes raised so high. hard to shit on ryuk for wanting entertainment when the humans he finds are just the same as him.

[rosieswriting]

More than what you see

Remus Lupin x reader

Summary: You need to remind your boyfriend how much he is worthy off once again after a terrible full moon

Note: English is not my first language so it probably has some mistakes! It´s pure fluff with hurt/comfort from reader to Remus because i just love this prompt so much.

Words: 1.4K

He was barely holding himself together; shoulders slumped as he leaned against the cold wall of your bedroom. Still, as you reached for him, he shifted, pulling his torn sleeves down over the raw skin on his arms.

“Don’t. I’m fine,” he muttered, but the words lacked conviction, his voice barely a hoarse whisper. He tried to tug the tattered fabric tighter, as if hiding the wounds could somehow shield you from seeing just how much he was hurting.

You knelt beside him, hands hovering just inches away, waiting. He took a shuddering breath, eyes fixed somewhere over your shoulder, guilt flickering in them. “You… you shouldn’t have to keep doing this,” he mumbled, voice cracking as he finally let his head fall back against the wall. He was quiet for a moment, then added, “I don’t want you to see me like this. Not… every time.”

You bit your inner cheek at his words, your own heart aching for him. “But I want to be here for you. I want to help you,” you said slowly and softly, making sure not to elevate your tone. “Please, let me help you.”

He looked up at you; it still felt surreal to him to have someone in his life who wasn’t annoyed or bothered by his condition, even after years of friendship and months of dating. He just looked at you for a moment and nodded, allowing you to care for him.

You smiled softly and grabbed the hem of his shirt, slowly and carefully beginning to take it off him, the new scars along his chest revealed.

“It’s not like I prefer you with clothes anyway,” you muttered playfully, trying to lighten the mood as you let his shirt fall to the floor and reached for the med kit beside your bed.

He looked away, trying to hide a hint of a smile as you joked. It definitely helped reduce the tension. “Shut up,” he muttered back.

He tried to relax as you gently tended to his wounds, first disinfecting them and cleaning the dried blood from his chest and arms. “It’s not that bad, really,” he mumbled, wincing only slightly a few times when the cloth touched a particularly painful spot.

He was trying to downplay the whole thing, acting like he wasn’t struggling. He didn’t want to bother you or make you worry. Even so, the fact that you were here with him, taking care of him, made his heart fill with a different kind of comfort.

“Rem,” you called out softly. “I worry and heal freaking birds when they have a broken wing or something. You clearly went mad if you think I won’t help my boyfriend,” you teased him.

Remus raised an eyebrow, giving you a deadpan stare. “I’m offended that you’re comparing me to a bird,” he joked back, appreciating your playful banter. “You’re too good for me, you know that, don’t you?” he muttered, the smile that was beginning to form at the corners of his lips fading a little.

You finished healing his wounds and set the med kit on the table next to the bed before sitting in front of him, looking at him.

“I don’t know that. What I do know is that you don’t give yourself enough credit. I’m only good for you because you’re good for me. That’s how we work,” you spoke softly, brushing his hair out of his face.

He let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes. Of course, he had his moments of confidence and self-acceptance. Still, on days like this, his self-esteem hit an all-time low, and he couldn’t help but feel like you were doing too much for him.

“But I’m a werewolf,” he pointed out in a low voice. His mind kept telling him that someone as good as you should run as far away as possible from a creature like him, not stay and care for him.

“You are Remus Lupin,” you said quickly and softly. “You are my friend and my boyfriend. Being a werewolf is part of you, but it doesn’t define you. You are you, and you happen to be the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

He swallowed hard at your words, feeling a mixture of emotions welling up inside him. It wasn’t as if no one had ever said something kind to him; thanks to Merlin, he had wonderful friends. But those words coming from you always hit him hard. He still hesitated to believe them, though. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Rem,” you mumbled softly, your own heart breaking at how he couldn’t see himself as you did. You cupped his face softly and made him look at you. “You know me; if I even thought for a second that you were a monster, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be dating you, and I wouldn’t be telling you how amazing you are. But I am here because you, Remus Lupin, are nowhere near a monster. Not even close.”

He closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of your soft hands as you cupped his face. Your words were like a warm caress that soothed his aching heart, but he still struggled internally to let your message sink in. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he muttered, opening his eyes and looking into yours. “You deserve someone who’s normal, someone who isn’t a walking time bomb.”

“I know what I’m worthy of,” you cut him off softly, not wanting him to keep talking down about himself. “I’m worthy of someone who loves and appreciates me. Someone who’s with me at all times, who cries with me when something bad happens, and who laughs with me when something good happens. I’m worthy of love and devotion. Of someone who’ll come to me the moment I call them, even if they’re doing something important. Of someone who makes me feel safe,” you spoke sweetly, caressing his cheek. “And that someone is you.”

Remus was quiet for a few moments, his eyes locked on yours as he took in your words. Each sentence was like a knife, tearing down the walls he’d built around himself. He swallowed hard against a sudden lump in his throat. “You do deserve that,” he managed to say at last.

“And you give me all of that and more,” you let out a short laugh. “Merlin, I used to think I was such a loser, Remus. Really, I always thought nobody would ever have the patience to even try to date me. But then you appeared, and you were you. You were the only one—and still are—who lets me ramble for hours about silly things. You’re the one who makes me feel loved. No monster could ever do that.”

His heart clenched at your words. The thought of you thinking of yourself as a loser tore at his soul. How could you, the kindest, sweetest, and most generous person, ever think something like that? He reached out and took your hands in his, holding them tight. “You are not a loser,” he murmured softly. “You are vibrant, caring, and everything good in the world.”

You smiled at his words and squeezed his hands. “So are you, and it pains me that you don’t realize. I love you, everything about you.”

Remus’s breath hitched at your words. The feeling of your hands clutching his and your smile washing over him left him lost for words, unable to find the right response to express just how deeply your love affected him.

“I love you too,” he choked, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours. “More than anything in the world.”

“I will tell you every day that you are not a monster until it gets into your thick head, do you understand me, Lupin?” you mumbled softly, teasingly.

He let out a soft chuckle, a mix of amusement and affection. “Trust me, you’re loud enough that it’s impossible to ignore what you say,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, making you roll your eyes in playful banter.

“But in all seriousness,” he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, the tension and lingering self-doubt slowly melting away. “I’ll try to stop beating myself up all the time.”

You smiled widely at his words. “Can I kiss you now?” you asked playfully, making him chuckle.

“Of course, dove.”

He leaned in, closing the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a slow, soft kiss filled with reassurance and love.

The next day, when you went off in the afternoon to spend time with your friends, he went to a jewelry shop and bought an engagement ring.

[bellaxgiornata]

A Favor from the Devil |Chapter One|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Mom!Reader Word Count: 2.2k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; Domestic abuse, depictions/mentions of sexual assault, struggles with past trauma, canon-typical violence, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut (possibly more warnings to come)

Summary: Between working cases at Nelson, Murdock, and Page and combating crime as Daredevil in Hell’s Kitchen at night, Matt had little time for much else. Until a new neighbor moves in across the hall and you attract his attention with your odd behavior. But when your quiet four year old doesn't just befriend the Devil–she unravels his biggest secret–Matt only grows closer and more protective of the both of you. Inevitably he learns the truth of your past, but that's not what surprises him most. It's a favor you ask of the Devil–a favor that initially leaves Matt conflicted.

a/n: This is a story I've had in my head for quite a few months now and have steadily been working on for a bit for myself, but now I've decided to share it. I've spent quite a bit of time outlining and fleshing out the story--more than I usually do. As always, feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @kee-0-kee @dethspllz @a-half-empty-g1rl @senjoritanana

“And that's the end,” you said. 

Closing the book in your lap, you glanced up from the brightly colored illustrations of animals on the back cover to your daughter who sat clutching Barnabas, the stuffed teddy bear that she never went to bed without. Her eyes had grown wide and hopeful as they held your gaze–a look you'd long since become familiar with. It was the same one she always gave you when she was about to stall in an attempt to avoid her inevitable bedtime. And it often worked on you, whether she realized it or not.

“Again?” Evelyn asked softly, a little hand reaching out towards the book. “Please, mama?”

“Cricket,” you replied gently, glad to hear she was stringing more words together tonight despite the excitement of this evening's move. “I've already read it five times now. I think it's time we put it away for tonight and you get to sleep.” 

Evelyn's face fell at your answer and the sight pained you. It didn’t help that you knew just how anxious she'd been the entire weekend with all the big changes you both had going on yet again. She'd spent the past week barely saying more than a single word because of it.

“The book will still be here tomorrow,” you promised her. “We can read it again then.”

“Helps me sleep,” she whispered.

The growing frown curving her lips downwards and the little crease forming between her furrowed brows tugged at your heart. Especially with how she looked so small tucked inside the too-large sleeping bag you'd recently purchased at a thrift store. It looked as if she was being swallowed up by the giant purple thing considering she didn't even take up half the length of it. 

Sighing, you felt your resolve fading the longer she stared up at you with her pleading eyes. With everything that you'd both been through over the past few months, and how you'd already felt guilty for all of the things you'd done wrong and hadn't been able to give her–which included an actual bed to sleep in once you'd gotten this apartment–you knew you wouldn't be able to resist that look. The very least you could do was read the book to her for a sixth time.

Leaning back once more against the bedroom wall behind you, you settled in for another few minutes on the uncomfortable floor. “Alright,” you relented. “I can read it just one more time for you, cricket. But then you've got to promise me something. Can you do that?”

The expression on her face changed, her small nose slightly scrunching up as her head turned to the side. “What?” she asked.

“Promise me that you'll actually go to sleep when I'm done,” you said, reaching a hand out to lightly ruffle her hair. “Because it's late and you've got your first day of preschool in the morning. Remember?”

“Oh,” she whispered, visibly sinking lower into the sleeping bag. 

You frowned. She'd been nervous for that, too.

“Hey,” you said, your hand smoothing her hair before coming to gently rest along her shoulder. “You'll have fun there, I promise. I know it can seem scary going somewhere new, but you've been doing a great job adjusting to all the new things we've been through already. And you'll make friends, Evie. It'll be alright, I promise.”

The doleful look on her face didn't waver despite your attempt to comfort her. You hoped that beginning preschool tomorrow in conjunction with yet another move didn't set her back to nonverbal responses again. Guilt burned inside of you at the thought of how much your previous situation had led her to become so timid and quiet, afraid to use her own voice. It didn't matter that everyone at Hope Haven had tried to reassure you that none of what you'd been through was your fault, that you had done everything you could when you could. That didn't stop you from still feeling wholly responsible.

You should have seen it coming. Should have done something sooner.

But that was in the past now.

“And after work I'll pick you up and bring you back home with me,” you told her, trying to lighten her mood. “We can eat tonight's leftover pizza for dinner. And maybe I can get us some ice cream on the way home. How does that sound, cricket?”

Evelyn's hands began fidgeting with the edge of her sleeping bag, rolling it up between her small fingers. Her eyes remained downcast, avoiding yours. You knew she often fidgeted when she was anxious, a habit that just seemed wrong for a four year old to have acquired.

“Is this home?” she asked. 

The ever present guilt in your stomach burned, your chest tightening at the unexpected and loaded question. You hated that she worried about things that no four year old should be worrying about, too. Another thing that was all your fault.

Expression softening, you nodded. “Yeah, Evie,” you answered, your hand dropping down to wrap around her little one that was still fidgeting with the edge of her sleeping bag. “This is home. We're staying here. Hopefully for a long, long time.”

Glancing up at you from beneath her lashes, you could see the expression on her face had yet again changed. This time she was staring up at you with a look that you absolutely hated seeing on her little face. One full of fear and uncertainty. A particular memory flashed through your mind at the sight of it and the acid in your stomach had a wave of nausea hitting you. Eyes briefly dropping down to the scar across the back of your right hand, you tried to fight back the tremble that had begun in it.

“We're safe?” Evie asked.

Attempting to swallow down the lump that had formed in the back of your throat, you nodded. You gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, though it felt like your heart was shattering in that moment. Because after all, it had also been your fault that it had taken so long to get the pair of you somewhere safe.

“Yes,” you stated, your trembling hand gripping the book in your lap tighter in an attempt to calm the quivering. “We're safe here. Don't ever worry about that, alright? That's for me to worry about. And I will always make sure you're safe. You hear me? Always .”

There was a long pause before she very slowly nodded her head just once. Your left hand patted hers tenderly, sending her what was meant to be a reassuring smile. You hoped it had been, because you'd been doing your best to appear more put together than you actually felt lately. You didn't need Evie to be worrying about anything else.

“So,” you said, trying to change the topic, “I guess we should get back to finishing our bedtime story, huh?”

Evie nodded vigorously, pushing herself more upright in her sleeping bag, her expectant eyes on you. You sent her another smile before clearing your throat and focusing back down on the book in your lap. Opening it once more with your still quivering hand, you tried to push the bad memories from your mind as you began to read in an animated voice. 

It wasn't until four pages later that you'd glanced up at Evie. She had leaned over to see the pictures in the book while you read, all traces of fear gone from her face. Instead, she looked enraptured in the story that you knew she had completely memorized by now with how often you'd read it to her. There was a ghost of a smile on her face as she cuddled Barnabas tightly to her chest. And in that moment your heart felt full of hope.

Running a hand across your forehead, you paced your way around the mostly unfurnished apartment you'd just moved into this evening. The sparseness of the place was truthfully embarrassing. Currently all you had was Evie's sleeping bag, a blanket and lumpy pillow set aside by Evie’s bedroom door which would be your bed for the foreseeable future, and the empty boxes tossed around what would someday hopefully be a living room. For now it was just a large, empty room beside the small, empty kitchen.

As you paced around another overturned, half-broken down cardboard box, your shoulders dropped. You'd managed to pack all of Evelyn's and yours’ belongings in those boxes now lying discarded on the floor. Just six boxes fit your entire life. You certainly hadn't had much when you'd grabbed Evelyn and ran those couple of months ago. Just one garbage bag filled with mostly her clothes and things with a few of yours mixed in. Though even if you'd had time to pack more, there wouldn't have been much else to bring with you because neither of you’d ever had much to begin with. 

And now here you were struggling to afford the very little you had as it was, no matter how desperately you were trying to stretch your measly new salary. It pained you to not be able to provide properly for you and your daughter. You remembered how you’d felt that very last night you'd stayed at Hope Haven, the women's shelter that you’d be forever grateful for taking the pair of you in and helping you start your new life. 

Long after Evelyn had gone to sleep on your last night there, you'd laid awake in bed crying quietly to yourself as you stared at that damn purple sleeping bag mocking you from across the room. You’d felt like a terrible mother–for more than one reason. As tears ran down your cheeks, you’d vowed to save up to buy Evie a bed, doing whatever you needed to until you could. You'd give her that at least, even if it meant skipping meals whenever you could to save the extra cash. But honestly, you found yourself already often having to skip meals just so you could afford to keep Evie fed.

Pausing in your aimless pacing, you came to a stop beside one of the large windows in the living room. Placing a hand against the cool glass, you looked outside at the city. Your eyes inevitably found their way to the massive billboard positioned on the building across the street which hung at precisely your apartment's height. But fortunately for you the eyesore was more directly across from the apartment next door to yours, making it less noticeable and disruptive from your view. Though you had no choice but to feel grateful for the hideous thing because it had been the sole reason you'd gotten such a reduced rent in the first place. Otherwise you'd never have been able to afford a place in a relatively safe area of Hell’s Kitchen.

As you blankly stared outside at the billboard, watching the advertisements change from one to the next, you hoped things would be different here. Better. Because both you and Evie needed that. Your daughter needed a stable place to live, one she felt safe coming home to for once, and you desperately wanted to provide that for her. With every fiber of your being you hoped that this place would finally become the home you'd been struggling to create since the day she was born.

Pushing away from the glass, you rubbed at your tired eyes. It was late and you knew you should probably get some sleep yourself now that Evie had finally fallen asleep a little while ago. But the prospect of sleeping on the cold, hard floor with nothing but a singular blanket and pillow didn't sound that appealing. You certainly weren't rushing to get to sleep yourself. 

Making your way back across the apartment, you reluctantly picked up the blanket and pillow from the ground. Carrying both of them over towards the closed door of Evelyn's bedroom, you set the pillow down. With both hands you tossed the blanket out, splaying it wide across the floor. You realized it was probably ridiculous sleeping in front of her bedroom door like this, especially because there was another bedroom, but it made you feel better. Because laying here, you knew that you were between your daughter and anyone who might come through the front door–namely one person in particular. 

Not that he even knew where you were.

Beginning to lower yourself to the floor, preparing to get some rest, movement caught your attention out of the kitchen window across the room. You stopped instantly, head spinning fully towards the window as you sat half-crouched like a startled animal. Adrenaline and fear spiked through you as your eyes caught a shadow darting across the neighboring rooftop. For a moment you could have sworn the shadow had been shaped like a person, but as you scanned the rooftop now, you didn't see anything at all.

Shaking your head, you blinked hard a couple of times as you finally sunk to the floor. You had to have been seeing things because you were overtired and on edge. That's all it was. There was no reason for someone to be running along a rooftop late at night.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Reader has pcos because the girlies need rep too

Remus comes into the house and finds you laying in the floor curled up in your blankets, a bottle of water and the stuffed turtle he got for you recently.

“Any reason you’re on the floor, dovey?” He’s just come back from work, a short pop in just to make sure he’d handed in all his stuff so he could make the most of the weekend with you.

“Cramps,” is all you can manage and he nods, stooping down so he can touch your forehead.

“Want me to make a cup of tea? I think we’ve got chamomile and lavender still.”

You shake your head and a series of cramps attack you worse than before.

“Baby,” Remus’ voice is all sympathy as he sees tears pool in your eyes. “I’m gonna make it for you,” he says quietly, his thumb wiping away the tears that tumble down your cheeks.

He’s gone a total of five minutes, and comes back to you struggling to sit up. “Do you want painkillers, dove?”

You shake your head, “We don’t have any of the ones I usually take and I don’t wanna make you go out again.”

Remus tuts but helps you onto the sofa, handing you the hot cup of tea and sitting beside you.

With ease that only comes from familiarity and routine, Remus takes your calves into his lap and start massaging them.

“Thanks Rem,” this is a regular occurrence, though it does confuse you. Your legs get numb every couple of days while you’re menstruating and Remus works hard to encourage circulation into both your legs so that you don’t end up laying on the floor.

“S’nothing, least I could do was make you feel a little better,” he kisses your temple. “Hate that you’re hurting so bad.”

You lay your head on Remus’ shoulder, “I think it’s a cyst too, that’s why the pain is so terrible.”

Remus only coos, rubbing your back because he knows there’s not much he can say that’ll offer aid.

“Think a heating pad will help?” You shake your head.

“It’s not so bad right now.” Remus chuckles.

“I love that you think I can fix anything baby, but I don’t want you hurting.” You nod, but don’t let him get up as you sip your tea.

“Not hurting. Maybe in ten minutes,” you reason.

Remus doesn’t mind sitting and waiting but he’d much rather have the heating pad on and ready for when you need it.

“Can we watch ‘10 Things I Hate About You’, in the mean time? Haven’t watched it in forever.”

“Course we can dove,” he kisses your forehead. “We can do whatever you like.”

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6.2K Warnings: Use of the word fag in a derogatory way. The person that does it gets told off for it. Prompt: After the day you've had, you could really use a drink, if Rem let's you go through with it, at least. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 31: Strange Magic

You walked all the way to the common room as fast as you could, you were hoping your little talk with Reggie hadn’t been so long that it would have Lily and Remus worrying about you. Once you arrived, the lady in the portrait gave you a bit of a scowl. 

“It was you, wasn’t it?” 

You were taken aback. “Me? Whatever did I do?” 

She arched an eyebrow at you, looking rather displeased, “You gave the password to that pretty Slytherin girl and her younger friend.” 

“No,” you said with a head shake. “I’m not friends with the Slytheri–” 

“Hey, Star Seeker!” You heard Minho’s voice from behind. “You gonna let me in or what?” 

You winced at that, the fact that Minho had his quidditch sweater on only aggravating the situation further, the lady gave you a look and you shrugged. “I don’t ascribe to the whole house rivalry we’ve got going on.” 

“That’s right!” Minho said as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him. “We’re transcendent mates.” 

“What?” You asked, turning to him with a frown. “Transcendent mates!?” 

“You’re telling me «chowol chingu» doesn’t have a literal translation that makes sense in English?” You shook your head, you might have studied many languages, but you had no idea what chowol chingu meant. “Like, umm…” Minho seemed to struggle to find the right words, trying to think of a time when he heard someone say something similar,  “Best chums?” 

“You almost blew my head off in the game today!” 

“Not my fault you were on the other team,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, I wasn’t nearly as bad as Barty.” 

You laughed. “Best chums then, all right,” you said as you shook your head. “Will you let us in?” you said, turning to the lady in the portrait with the same charming smile you used to convince Remus of silly things. 

She pursed her lips, rolled her eyes and took a deep breath before leaning her head down, “Password?” 

You smiled, “Boneless phoenix wings.” 

The portrait opened up like a door and allowed both you and Minho to get in. “It’s so much less hassle to get into my common room,” he said with a sigh. 

You hummed, “Yeah, your brick wall is nice, a lot less talkative, but the Lady on the portrait is a taste you acquire.” 

“How do you know about the brick wall?” He asked, a little confused. “Wait, it was you!” 

“No it wasn’t,” you said with a frown and looked around the room, Tom wasn’t too far. 

“It had to be you, and it makes so much sense omg, you little–” 

“Tom!” you called, the boy turned to you, and you shoved him onto Minho’s face, Minho was terrible at keeping secrets, and you weren’t about to spill the beans about the prank onto him, “Minho was looking for you, go ahead and talk,” You said with a smile before you scurried away. You noticed the blush on Minho’s neck as he threw you a desperate look and you just shrugged and shot him a wink. 

You slipped towards your room, Lily had found some nice clothes for you on the bed, and you smiled and changed into them. It was a pair of snug corduroy pants and a thick sweater. It was stylish and yet simple. You cleaned up and changed into the clothes, walking downstairs trying not to cause too much attention, skidding past some with your head low until you reached the spot where Remus stood. Near the fireplace, with a cup in one hand and a plate in the other, he was wearing a quidditch sweater that fit him snuggly, perhaps a little tight. 

“That’s not yours,” you said when you approached. 

“Sirius gave it to me, said it fit the spirit. Left it with a note on my bed and everything.”  He did not mention what Sirius had written in the note, “Wear it if we win, give it to Vix and cheer her up if we don’t”.

“Romantic,” you joked, Remus rolled his eyes, trying to avoid your gaze. “Suits you well.” 

“Must be for my dashing good looks.” 

“Oh… and it came along with Sirius’ personality.” He chuckled at your joke and finally turned to look at you again, almost allowing himself to get lost in your eyes. “You saved that for me, yeah?”

“In my pockets,” he said, hands still very occupied with food and drink. 

“Which one?”

“Back, left,” he said automatically, not realising you would reach down and grab it “Oi! That’s the right,” he complained as you dug your hand in his pocket, brushing his arse and making him panic slightly. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled and went for the other pocket “Should’ve specified which left.”

“There’s only one left!” he said in disbelief as you pulled the little flask out. 

You shrugged “Never been good at knowing which is which.” 

“Or… you just wanted an excuse to touch my arse.” 

“Oh no!” you said ironically, “You’ve discovered my evil scheme. All I wanted was to get a good feel of those round butt cheeks.” Remus almost choked on his drink from the laugh that got caught in his throat, you smiled and extended the small flask towards him. “Cheers mate,” you said before taking it to your mouth and drinking a few big gulps.

Remus left the plate on the mantle and pulled the flask off your mouth, “Hold up, slow down little witch!” The Firewhiskey was rather strong, he was sure you’d be tipsy in no time.

You looked at him reproachfully, your lips were wet and looked incredibly juicy before you gave them a lick and collected the remnants of alcohol from them, he forced himself to look at your eyes instead “Rem!” you reproached. 

“Uh-uh,” he shook his head as he raised the bottle above his head. “You tell me what this is all about and then I give it back to you.” 

“I just need a drink.” 

“Because of the fall? The monster in the swamp? Whatever you’ve got going on with Nightshade?”

Fucking perceptive werewolf best friend “No.” you said with a loose shake of the head, he realized you were being honest. 

You sighed and reclined against the side of the chimney, staring at him through your lashes with an expression akin to a reprimanded puppy. “Can I please…?” He shook his head and raised an eyebrow expectantly. “I had a talk with Regulus.” 

Remus’ eyes narrowed on you, lowering the flask as he looked at you in shock. “If he said something to you that–” The werewolf seemed about ready to throw punches, even if he didn’t think too bad of Reg in the first place, he also saw in him all the things of Sirius you did. 

But you shook your head, and he could see the contrition in your eyes, “He didn’t rat us out.” 

Remus tilted his head to the side, just a little, prompting you to continue. You let out another deep breath and looked to the side “So then how did…?” 

“He said they got an owl,” you explained, “Must have been the creepy wizard from ‘El Maleficio', I get chills from the memory.” 

“That’s the muggle but then not actually muggle magic shop, correct?” 

“Where we bought the animagus recipe and this,” you said as you pulled out the necklace Sirius had given you.

“He still has the mark from it.” 

“The mark?” you asked with a frown.

“I’ll tell you about it later.” Remus wasn’t sure if telling you about the bIood magic linked to it was a good idea, “So the man sent a note.” 

You shut your eyes at that, and your frown deepened. “They asked Regulus, he lied and then they– they gave him veritaserum.” 

“Oh.”

“And then there was the letter–” 

“The one you burned down.” 

You nodded, “I hadn’t gotten a reply to any of the letters I sent to Sirius and I was angry and sad and–” you sighed, “he said the letter explained it all.  Poor Regulus thought I was mad at him even if I knew– And I’ve been treating him like dog shit…” You let your head fall back with a groan. It crashed onto the wall, a little loud for Remus’ enhanced hearing and he worried. 

“It was a situational thing.” 

“I could’ve been more rational,” you said as you opened your eyes again, a reproachful tone directed straight at yourself. “Attempt to be a decent person–” 

“You’re already one of the nicest people I know,” he said “Stupid selfless if you ask me.” 

You threw him a look, a half-smile on your lips “I’m not selfless.” 

“Says the girl that was ready to be eaten…” 

“I wasn’t ready to be eaten! I was thinking of a different approach!” He raised an eyebrow and you pushed him back playfully, “Can I please, please get my flask back?” 

“Drinking your sorrows away is not a great habit.” 

“What do you mean sorrows? I caught the snitch, I should be celebrating!” 

He took a long sip of the firewhiskey before passing it over to you. “Don’t gulp it down again,” he warned. 

“Ugh, you’re such a mom,” you replied as you took a sip.

“A mom?!? Not a dad?” 

“Daddy maybe,” you snickered, he rolled his eyes at you but smiled regardless.

At some point, Marlene discovered you in the corner and dragged you to dance with her, you barely had time to hand the flask to Remus before she was prompting you to shake around in the improvised dance floor. After a while, you started to feel the strain in your shoulder and decided to lie down instead. But you were stopped by Nox, who waved at you from the side to get closer. 

“Hi!” you greeted, “Glad you and Comet made it.” 

He nodded in response and then hesitated as if he wanted to say something “Do you,” he scratched the back of his head, “Fucking Neil, I’m getting him for this,” he mumbled. “You see, some kids from my class and a few others who’ve joined decided to make a mini quidditch game.” You hummed in response. “Each of the teams we formed will be allowed to invite one of the pros to the game.” 

“One of the pros?” you asked, an eyebrow quirked. 

He nodded, “Yeah, one of the members of the quidditch teams…” he took a deep breath. “Would you… would you like to be in our team?” he asked.

You simply nodded, “Sure!”  The fact that James wouldn’t be too happy about you over-exerting yourself didn’t even cross our mind “Who’s the other player?” 

“It’s Alex Wood,” he told you “You’re friends, right?” 

You nodded, “It’ll be nice to see him as a keeper before the official game.” 

Nox shook his head “Oh no, he’s… he’s not going to be a keeper, he’ll play chaser.” 

“Really?” You asked, a little shocked. 

“Yeah, it was part of the rules, so the game was more balanced. We were thinking of making you a seeker, but well, it wouldn’t be very balanced, would it?” 

You raised your eyebrows “If that’s your way of complimenting my seeker skills Nox, I’ll take it gladly. Especially from a Slytherin.” 

“As if you needed more compliments than you already have,” he scoffed. “Anyway, how do you feel about being a chaser, or a beater?” 

“Well…” you said, rolling your wounded shoulder unconsciously.

“Can’t do beater sorry,” Sirius said as he wrapped one of his arms around you, placing his hand near enough your wound, not to hurt you, but to remind you. “She needs some time to recover after the fall.” 

“Puppy you’re back!” you said as you leaned onto him. “How was detention?” 

“Humdrum, as you’d expect,” he replied, not giving it too much thought. “If you need a beater I could fill in for her.” 

“Oh no,” Nox shook his head calmly. “She can be a chaser, it’d better actually, I believe, Solacis wanted to be a beater.” 

Sirius tilted his head, and Nox swallowed “Anyway, that was what I wanted to ask, I’ll give you more details about the game during the week,” he said before scurrying off. 

You turned to Sirius, “You threw him the look.” 

“You shouldn’t be playing quidditch,” he responded simply and squeezed your arm a little. “You should be resting instead.” 

You shrugged, “We won.” 

He nodded “Peter told me,” he said with a slightly displeased nod and leaned the butterbeer he had in his hand towards you, “Want some?” 

You took it from his hand and gave it a sip, “Did he tell you about…” 

“The way you fucking jumped off your broom? Of course, he did.” 

“Nosy little rat,” you mumbled. 

“And you think I wouldn’t have found out?!?” 

You shrugged. “I didn’t jump off, by the way… My broom was being coursed, I would have fallen down regardless, I just thought I’d have higher chances of getting the snitch if I leapt towards it.”

“And your counter jinx didn’t work?” 

“What?” You asked, head snapping his way, eyes opened wide.

“Your counter Jinx? I assume it wasn’t working because–“ he noticed the surprise on your face. “You did try to use a counter jinx before jumping off your broom, right?” You looked at him, dazed.  “Starshine…” 

You gave him an apologetic look, “I guess I just didn’t… I needed to get the snitch.” 

He groaned, laying his head on your shoulder. “You do know counter jinxes, right luv?” he asked, turning to look at you, still from the crook of your neck, his breath tickling over your soft skin. 

 You swallowed, the closeness making you nervous. “Well… I mean I know a few, not a specific one but–”

“I know a couple, I’ll teach you,” he said determinedly. “We’ll practise next time we go flying with James, I’ll be trying to throw you off and you’ll have to counter it. It’s advanced wandless magic, but if anyone can master it, it’s you.” 

You leaned down and gave him a small peck on the temple, “Thanks Pups.” 

“Pas de problème,” he said simply. 

“Sirius we need to move,” James said as he gripped your boyfriend from his jacket and hauled him off your shoulder. 

Your boyfriend groaned at the loss of your touch, “James, next time you cockblock me like this I will hex you.” 

“McGonagall is coming,” James said simply.  Sirius’ breath hitched. 

“What’s wrong with that?” you asked. 

“She gave us specific instructions to go straight to our room,” Sirius explained.  “Said if we didn’t, we’d be in detention for a lot longer.”  

“Invisibility cloak?” you asked looking at James, he shook his head and you took your wand out, disillusioning them both at the same time, “Go, I’ll distract her.” 

“Thanks, Vix,” you heard James say quietly.

Then felt a hot breath on your shoulder. “On the hideout we used for Marlene’s party after Maggie’s gone to check our room, I’ll take the cloak.” 

You turned to him with a smirk, even if you couldn’t see him, and nodded. Then you moved towards McGonagall, who was looking around the heads of students in the common room. 

”Professor!” You called, she turned to you, hesitant, as if she still needed to find something, “Professor I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” 

She sighed and turned to you, “Yes, darling?” 

You smiled at her, charming and apologetic, “If I’m distracting you then–” 

She shook her head, almost feeling bad at herself for not giving you the necessary attention, “Are you alright? That was– it was a nasty fall you took on,” she grimaced. 

And then you remembered, she was going to be a professional player but fell off her broom and got injured, you instantly felt bad, your fall must have brought back a lot of memories, “I am,” you responded quickly and changed the subject. “But it’s… It’s actually about transfiguration… I thought you would ask Remus to help me with tutoring?” 

She looked at you a little taken aback, “You didn’t ask him yourself?” 

You shook your head “I should have?”  

“Well, since you were in classes together. And you seem to be really close, I assumed you had already… Never mind, would you like me to ask him?” 

“Uh… no, no, I suppose I can just do it myself.” She frowned but nodded, and then gave a step as if to go back to searching “Wait!” you said, a little worried James hadn’t gotten to his room yet. 

“I’m…” fuck what do I even say, “I’d like to know about contraceptive potions.” The professor seemed visibly scandalised at your question, “For a friend,” you added meekly. 

She gave you a rather stern look, I’ve fucked it up, I’ve fucked it up, but McGonagall just sighed and nodded. “It’s only natural to be curious about this stuff,” she started approaching the subject in a rather neutral and tentative tone. I really fucked it up. “Especially when it’s not a subject included in the curriculum. And believe me, I have been trying to include it for the longest time.” 

You held back a gasp, looking at her surprised, “Wait, really?” 

She nodded, “Generally I gather the Gryffindors in the last year to teach them the basics before they go out in the world but I suppose since you’re dating Mr. Black, and Merlin knows that boy is rather… eager–” You winced, way to throw poor Sirius under the bus. You already knew how to brew the potion, you’d gotten the recipe from a book Marlene had borrowed, given to her by her older sister, and you certainly didn’t expect to have that kind of talk with Minnie, but you had to pull through, for your friends. “So I suppose you could come to our next meeting, of course you’d have to get a letter from your parents stating you can do so, since you’re still under age.” 

You nodded, trying to settle the small frown that had formed on your face. Now you’d have to find a way to fake a letter from your mom or something, “Of course,” you said, “thank you very much, Professor McGonagall.” 

She gave you a look and sighed again, “Is there anything else I can help you with?” 

You realised you were still blocking her way, and you shook your head “No, no… I’m sorry,” you responded and moved out of her way, looking at the way she disappeared through the stairs. You took a deep breath and sat on one of the sofas. Head laying back as you processed what had happened until you felt the pressure shift beneath you. 

You turned to the side and smiled when you spotted him, he had a glass of something that smelled alcoholic in his left hand “Hey Pete!” 

“You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Must have hurt.”

“Prick!” He said with a laugh as he shoved you with his shoulder and then proceeded, “When I was 10 my parents got me my own cat.” He said. You knew he was going to continue talking so you let him. “And we rubbed the kitten on my sister’s older cat so she would accept it as part of their family.”

You nodded, frowning a little as you tried to process what he’d said “I don’t have a kitten.” 

He frowned and then realised his statement might have been a little ambiguous. “Oh, well… I mean, you know how Moony chased you fiercely last moon and he’d been chasing after you earlier too. Like, in the previous moons he’d been absolutely relentless, wanting to get in the castle, almost impossible for Padfoot and Prongs to control. I think… well I think it might be because of the way you smell? I mean I’m not nearly as good as Pads with the sense of smell but… you do have a rather strong scent.”  

Your frown deepened. Strong scent? “Should I be offended?” 

He shook his head quickly “NO! I don’t mean to say that you smell bad!” He was stumbling with his words “I’m just saying it’s distinctive… especially for us, probably a lot more for them since they’re canines too.” 

 “So… bottom line is, you’re saying I should go rub myself into Remus?!” You asked incredulously. He flushed. But then you thought about it. It wasn’t that far-fetched… “I’m around you guys all the time, the smell should already be there already anyway, right? Didn’t seem to help last Monday either.”

Peter shook his head “You’re not around us in animagi form.” 

“Oh, so I’m supposed to turn into a fox and then go rub on Remus? Cross my paws he doesn’t eat me on the spot?” 

“Not Remus! You could rub on Padfoot or- Prongs…. I’d say me but I’m way too small,” He explained “That would give you the smell of the pack.” 

“Right…” you trailed off “And that would work? As in, if I go around, trying to get Sirius’ scent all over me, the wolf won’t try to eat me next time he sees me?”

“It’s worth a shot?” Peter said with a shrug “I mean it’s that or he’ll keep looking for you. You know once a werewolf catches a scent it’s… impossible to stop it. And you’re dating Sirius anyway, so take it as quality bonding time.”

You reclined on the sofa, trying to take all the new information in, the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. Perhaps it really could work. Remus sat beside you a little after “Saw you talk to Minnie, everything all right?” 

You groaned at that, letting your head fall back again as you reached for the flask in his hand and brought it to your lips, taking a sip and feeling the taste burn your throat. You sighed, “I need to falsify a letter from my mum.” 

Remus raised an eyebrow “Why?” 

“I asked Professor McGonagall about contraceptive potions,” you said reluctantly, as you shut your eyes. 

Peter, who seemed shocked, was the one to speak next ���Oi? Yes I’m coming!” he said as if someone had called him and then stood up and fled. 

Remus on the other side, had tensed, but you were way too fucking preoccupied with the memory to notice. “For you and Sirius…” he acknowledged, almost bitterly, “we could’ve gotten them in the restricted section,” he added, trying exceptionally hard not to clench his jaw.

You turned to him in shock, “What?! I didn’t ask because I needed them! I needed to distract Maggie so Prongs and Pads could run off to their room, couldn’t think of anything better. I already have the recipe anyway, Ma– it was given to me.”

“Oh,” he managed to say then, as if your answer made the whole thing better. “You want help with it?” 

“With what? The fake letter or brewing the potion?” You asked, diverted. 

Remus shrugged, managing to slip back into a chiller demeanour somehow “Both?” 

You laughed, “That’s incredibly kind of you Rem,” you responded. “I’ll tell you when I require help… For now, though, I just need a drink,” you said as you took another sip and then remembered the conversation with Maggie again “Ugh, she now thinks we’re nothing but horny teenagers.” 

“She’s not wrong,” he teased with a smile and you elbowed him in response.

“Arse.” 

You then felt a tug at your hair, you turned around and there was nothing. You narrowed your eyes but took another sip. And then you felt it again. You knew who it was in an instant and stood up. 

“You leaving?” He asked as you did, not being able to mask his disappointment, even just having you beside him made him feel better. 

“Mhm,” you said as you bit your lip, not wanting to prove his point, “I’ll go get some snacks, want some?” 

He shook his head, and you started walking to the hideout. Sirius was just behind you, using the cloak to hide, his hand firmly pressed to your shoulder. You looked back, and then the two of you attempted to slide inside the tight passage, but there were already two people inside. And those two people were snogging. You pulled back, stepping on the cloak and causing it to fall from Sirius’ shoulders. The four of you staring at each other in complete shock. Two of which were a lot more mortified than the rest. 

You, being distracted by the situation, did not feel the way Sirius’s hand on your shoulder tensed. And since your back was to him, you also didn’t notice the way his eyes had gone wide or the way his breath hitched on his throat. 

“Oh hey Sly Sprite, wanna join in?” Tom joked as he stared at you, Sirius, somehow overcoming the initial shock gave him a murderous look, the same he had used on Nox earlier, the Black family scowl, but it seemed to have no effect on the boy. “You can join too handsome,” he winked. Earning a slap on the shoulder from Minho.

Sirius, who had been enthralled in the sight, was instantly taken aback by Tom’s words as you spoke, “Sorry to bother you boys, we’ll find a different place to snog.” You had a very apologetic look on your face as you grabbed the cloak from the floor but Minho grabbed onto your arm, eyes pleading. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him,” you told him, “Not a soul will find out.” 

“You promise?” He asked, still apprehensive. Tom, who had looked diverted up until that point, seemed to understand the delicacy of the subject for Minho, and placed a hand on his upper arm reassuringly. 

“Sirius is trustworthy, as much as Sly Sprite, no one will know unless you want it,” Tom said, he was now rubbing Minho’s arm reassuringly.  

“Yes, that’s true,” you agreed, “I’ll talk to him Min, just enjoy yourself, and um… maybe put a spell up so this doesn’t happen again.” You then grabbed Sirius by the arm, and covered the two of you with the cloak.

Minutes stretched into silence as you and Sirius moved away from the spectacle, the sounds of the party fading into the background as you pulled him towards a different direction. 

Up until then, Sirius Black had never seen two boys kiss. And he was experiencing things he was so not supposed to be experiencing after it. You were still dragging him towards a different section, your hand intertwined with his as you sorted through people, as he stared blankly ahead. You didn’t stop until you were both hidden on a small section near the back of the spiral staircase that you knew was also another snogging spot, but a lot less used because of how cramped it was. You didn’t mind being so close to Sirius though, you never had.

“Tom and Minho, they’re… fags?” he said once you cast a muffliato around the two of you.

“That’s an awful word to use,” you reprimanded with a frown, Sirius seemed to be taken aback by it. 

“Gay.” 

You tilted your head, making a rather unconvinced hm, that just seemed to confuse Sirius even more, the scene of Tom and Minho kissing replying on his head over and over and over again, sometimes with them, sometimes with different people being the ones kissing. That was the one that scared him the most. 

“Well, technically Tom is Bi but–” 

“By? By what?” 

“Bisexual… or pan I think.” Your brain was a bit cloudy with how much you’d had to drink, and you were so not expecting to have this conversation with Sirius “He just doesn’t give a fuck about gender.” 

“And Minho?”

“I think he only likes boys, but I’m not sure, we didn’t talk much about it.” You admitted with a shrug “As you can see it’s a rather delicate subject for him.” 

“And you knew? About both of them,” he said with a frown. “Why did you know?” 

You shrugged, “Tom told me, with Minho I sort of guessed, and he spilled the beans about… never mind. You are aware absolutely no one can find out about that, right?” 

“But why? Rock singers… they too– I mean. Why do they hide it?”

“Cause people will start calling them fags if they don’t,” you said as if it were obvious. “Sirius if you were gay you wouldn’t go out and announce it to the entire world.” And then you thought about your words, and let a long sigh escape your lips “or perhaps you actually would.” 

Sirius seemed to think about it for a moment but didn’t say a thing. “So you can like men and women at the same time?” he asked, brow furrowing as he tried to process the information. Of the entire conversation, that had somehow slipped into his brain, and it would mull it over and over again since you mentioned it. He didn’t know. 

“Yeah,” you responded with a shrug, “I like girls too, sometimes,” you were not expecting to admit that to your boyfriend, but apparently that firewhiskey had been strong enough to let it slip by.

Sirius was surprised by that revelation, so surprised he almost let go of the initial wave of shock that had gone over him and the images that would play on his brain over and over again. Of Remus in the library, of him and Remus in the library. 

His initial reaction faded into a warm smile, and he chuckled lightly, this new discovery about you allowing him to forgo his thoughts only for a second, and mask them with humour, like he was accustomed to, "Well, that's interesting. Any particular stories you'd like to share?" He had an eyebrow raised, a cheeky smile on his lips. 

“Sirius.” You admonished. 

He shrugged, “What, it’s kind of hot.” 

You huffed out a laugh and turned to the side before looking back at him, half diverted that such a revelation garnered said reaction. Perhaps you should have expected it, you were dating Sirius Black after all. 

If you had been a little less drunk, and a little less tired from the fall just hours ago, perhaps you would have noticed the way Sirius’ eyes moved rapidly from one side to the other as he was thinking, how he asked about bisexuality with such a careful, and controlled tone, as if trying to sound casual and hoping his nerves wouldn’t betray his thoughts. You would have seen the way you stated you were also bi, had given him a sense of reassurance. As if his thoughts were somehow a little more acceptable now.

But you were exhausted, the fall, the talk with Regulus –that you still had to mention to Sirius– the talk with McGonagall, you were barely holding yourself together at that point. With so many things weighing over your shoulders, too preoccupied with Minho being found out and McGonagall’s thoughts of you that you missed most of it. Letting yourself be easily fooled by Sirius’ half smile and flirty wink.

Eventually, you turned your head back, looking at him straight in the eyes, and adopting a more grave tone “Sirius, nobody will know of what happened in that closet except for the two of us, deal? Not James, not Peter–” 

“Not Moony–” he finished. 

You were about to tell him Remus knew but thought better of it, Sirius was so naturally curious he’d want to know why he did, and there was no good way of explaining it.

“Yes,” you confirmed. 

“Okay,” he said simply. “No one will know.”

And then there was silence, something between a rather awkward situation and both of you deep in your thoughts. Sirius’ mind slipping back to the library, and the images of things that had never happened and could never happen, because he loved you. He was certain of that, and whatever the hell was going on in his brain must have been nothing more than his overactive imagination thinking of silly things. Silly tall things with big broad shoulders and brown-golden eyes. Silly things that smelled of books, chocolate and sometimes cigarette smoke. Silly things that he shouldn’t be thinking about but his stupid brain insisted on putting at the forefront of his head. 

You had, at some point, gravitated towards him, letting your head fall on his shoulder with a sigh, but didn’t say anything more. He found he liked you being close to him like that. Even if you weren’t kissing, he always liked having you close, holding your hands, or giving you hugs, and you had always been eager to return those affections. 

You were perfect, from your smaller frame to the way your breath tickled his neck, from the way your hands intertwined with his to the tip of your shoes clashing against his own. He looked down at you, at your eyes shut, resting on his shoulder, your lashes curling upwards and making you look absolutely angelic, he was sure it was one of the prettiest sights of his life, and yet his mind insisted on switching, the perfect image of you laying on his shoulder replaced by flashes of a taller figure in the library.

To his taller frame and his light brown lashes, to his warm breath and the way his large hand had covered his mouth. It was silly, you were perfect, and Sirius was sure, undoubtedly sure that he loved you like he hadn’t loved anyone in his entire life and yet, he kept thinking of him.

He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he barely realised when you let out a long and silent yawn, let alone when the rhythm of your breath steadied or when your body slumped slightly a little more into his. Only noticing when you let out the lightest, most heart-warming snore he’d ever heard. He turned to you, your peaceful sleeping figure, and smiled at himself, admiring the way your eyes would tremble slightly, and the way your cheek pressed against his shoulder forcing your mouth into the tiniest of pouts. 

He chuckled “ Starshine! Did you fall asleep?” he teased. 

Your eyes opened up slowly, a frown etched on your face as you looked up to him. “No,” you lied shamelessly before yawning. Sirius’s little smirk just grew a tinge more. 

“Come on,” he said as he patted you on the arm. “You should get some sleep, you must be really tired.” 

You shook your head, or attempted to do it at least, only managing to shake it a little “I wanna be at the party… I wanna be with you.” 

Sirius could tell you were a lot more sleep than awake, especially since you were complaining like a toddler, he wished he could get you on recording. “I can’t be at the party,” he reminded you softly, his deep voice echoing in your ears soothingly. 

“Then just with you. I like it here.” 

“In the cramped space under the stairs?” 

You nodded with a confirming hum, “You’re warm.” 

Sirius nuzzled his head into yours and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. “If the fall is not making your bones creak by the morning, then sleeping while standing up in the most cramped little snogging hole in the entire common room will, come on, let’s get you to your room.” 

Your frown deepened “Party popper.” 

Sirius had never been called a party popper in his entire life, in fact, he’d go as far as to say he was always the life of the party. But eventually, you woke yourself enough to pull back and stare at him, your eyes still hooded with sleep and tiredness, not having had a minute of relaxation in almost the entire day, and being close to Sirius had somehow gotten you to let all your walls down and rest, maybe it was the dog in him, like a service dog or something. 

“You’re cute,” you said suddenly, and Sirius was so surprised that he went red. “Really cute,” you added with a satisfied smile. 

He chuckled a little afterwards, “I’m going to start thinking you’re not only sleepy but also seriously drunk.” 

You frowned, and yawned again “I’m neither,” you insisted. 

Gently, Sirius wrapped the cloak around the two of you and guided you up the stairs, you had leaned your head on his shoulder and drifted between sleep and awake a couple of times as he walked you up the staircase. When you were finally in your room he gave you another look, you lifted your head from his shoulder and tilted it the other way “What’re you looking at?” 

“At my stunning girlfriend,” he responded 

“Mhm?” 

“Mhm,” he confirmed, “go to bed now, you’ll feel like shit in the morning. I’ll tell James you’re not flying–” 

“I AM flying!” You complained, waking up enough to argue.

“You’ll have a hangover tomorrow–” 

“I had only like–” you counted with your fingers, but gave up after you finished with one of your hands, “A few sips.” 

“You’re a lightweight then, go to bed.” 

You scoffed, “Sirius Black, if you’re gone by the time I walk down in the morning because you convinced Prongs that I’m not coming, I’ll wake up Remus and tell him it’s your fault.” 

“Remus?” 

You nodded, “He gets pissed if he doesn’t sleep his hours and you’re working on your magical theory project with him tomorrow, he’ll be pissy and make you work extra.” 

Sirius frowned, “You little minx!” 

You gave him a satisfied smile, “So keep that in mind before leaving tomorrow. Besides, you promised we would practise counterspells.”

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A/N: Well, the cat's outta the bag. A few chapters ago you were talking about Sirius figuring out Vixen is bi and I had already written this chapter, I kid you not, it was so hard to keep my mouth shut hehe. Side note: more of Sirius' gay panic, it's one of my favourite things to write ngl.

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[mothlady-garden]

My two cents about the anatomy of the Angel Arm & some of the Gate

Last update: 01st November

Spoilers for basically the whole story

• Core starts to form in the Ulna

• The core is formed first in the ulna, of independents through either physical contact with a trigger or a triggering biochemistry that is found in stressfully situations, if willingy or not.

can also be triggered though Plant-Song (presence of Knives in a close distence in JuLai)

Hardening of the skin and partial melting and with clothing (assimilation of matter into body)

Prominent Plant markings appear on the whole area

• Tissue growth around the core follows this

• Groth before Structure

• Solid and dense at first

• Changes from solid to more feathery

• Winglets develop, which will provide stabilizers/visor

dominant side seems to differ from individual to individual

Arm Design

• 4 Structural Supports:

• 2 act like heart muscles, which can achieve contractions and expansions -that's propaply whats been his lower arm

2 maybe be the same but didn't need to spread

massive core

• 2 lower growths for stabilization to better shoot at city's (fuck Knives)

• 2 floating rings-one at the very front and one at the tail of the Arm while charging (most likely for energy concentration and To polarize the energy in one direction

• 4 Faces Encased in Forearm

• Depict 2 men, 1 woman, and 1 angel?

• Wing-like Structure, Bat and dragonfly wing crossed

• Probably finger bones transformed to extend as wings from the arm

Muzzle Design

• The tip has parallel striped bands evoking muscle fibers or connective tissue for stability

• Feathers form at the end, which may subconsciously formed for resisting maximum recoil and hurting of Knives

Smaller "Backfire-prison-break" version

• Later in the manga, a small and compact version of the Angel Arm is used.

• No secondary sexual characteristics appear.

growth of another 4 faces at the elbow part, they appear more deformed

• New growths act as counterweights for upper and lower parts.

• Hand behaves like an end of the arm with plates of bone that help to control the release of energy.

• Golden Angle Alignment, its design probably has the Golden Angle, about 137.5°, which may help reach energy and structural optimisation

Symbolism of the four faces and different genders

•There are four faces: two? men, one woman, and one angel. This could be the manifestations of humanity in their various facets, such as strength, compassion (Rem) the struggle between human and godhood

• Perhaps the inlayed male and female figures are indicative of the balance between masculine and feminine character traits of him

Vashs first Angel Arm

realease seems to aktivate a part of thier brain that is responsible for pleasure, adds to the impression that the Fith Moon Incident was way worse than on first sight

The structure is less smooth, which may be due to the missing inexperience with the newly developed body part. Similar to certain animals, whose bone surfaces appear blocky or rough—such as in birds or dinosaurs, where these structures serve as anchors for tendons, muscles, or scales—the rough texture here could also be the result of incomplete adaptation or development bc of the inecpirience with his power

more feathery than later apprances

very small core with a single little wing on the (later would have grown) angel part

feathers spread on arm to upper torso

Additionally up to 2m (6.5 feet) long feathers grow out of right shoulder

Small faces grow on the upper arm above the core without any distinguishable features

Shoulder feathers will grow up to 5m (16ft)

Feathers seem to be more like Primaries (more for ranged actions like protecting or maybe fleeing)

Further characteristics of his arm in the trance like state and a few ramblings about Vashs phycology

possibly a mental hellscape when using the gate connected to one's mind

No Plant-Marks appear

matter seem to be more flesh-like than the other versions

Self image displays several eyes mouths and disformed bodyparts

Doesn't seem to follow a order, spreads like a Tree into more and more parts

human and snake like with tongues and even carnies

similar are also apperand in Knives pardon

10+ tentacle like growths at the former hand part

~15 deformed finger like growths

the deformed faces seem to be in pain from his selfharm -same nerves system

he tried to scratch his arm of at the schoulder area (where a emmense scar-cut in his skin and muscle is)

Survivor's guilt in relation to traumatic experiences or PTSD will, more than likely, involve self-image at its core. In having survived a tragedy, he is overcome with an immense amount of responsibility and guilt for having lived while others have died. More often than not, this is attached to the guilt associated with being unworthy of having survived, leading to feelings of low self-worth (for example jumping into line of fire or not healing his scars if subconsciously or not) and or blame being placed upon one's self. This may result in distortion of their self-concept and in the feeling of being undeserving of happiness or unable to move further in life.

PTSD can exacerbate this guilt through intrusive memories, flashbacks, and hyperarousal, whereby the survivor is pressed to continually relive the event in question. This inability to escape such mental relapses can further promote feelings of helplessness that will degrade one's self-esteem and reinforce negative self-judgments. The latter, in turn, can promote further avoidance behaviors, such as dissociation or emotional numbing, possibly counterproductive for trauma processing and creating a self-sustaining cycle of repression.

Another coping mechanism we see, is repression this can even more strongly compound the problem. By excluding painful memories or emotions from consciousness, survivors skip confrontation with guilt or trauma in a straightforward way. Yet, this usually leads to internal conflict because the unresolved feelings of the survivors continue to impress their subconscious, confusing them, self-doubting, and fragmenting their identities. The usually resultant picture is that of a deformed negative self-image, alienated from one's real self.

Ultimately, his past actions and unresolved trauma may trap him in a cycle of guilt, anger, and self-hate. This inner conflict, combined with toxic relationship with his brother, could leave him emotionally isolated, struggling to reconcile the good he tries to show with the darker parts of his past, unable to find peace with himself or others.

Also in the Book of Revelation, Revelation 13:1 is a kinda similar thing discriped: “And I saw a beast rising out of the sea, with ten horns and seven heads, with ten diadems on its horns and blasphemous names on its heads.” (ESV)

Vashs Gate in the elevator-arc

Clothing seem to intigrate itself into the skin

Carnies growing

iris and pupil seem to dissappear

components of the eye may have regressed to better adapt to the environment of his sisters

a huge number of featers maybe bc not controlled use of his gate

a wide variety of feathers from small to Primaries like, partly because Merly and his body needed protection?

power to connect to one's mind much like the feathers of his dying sisters

Perhaps bc of a special frecency plus some kind of Mykorrhiza so transfer signals interspecies

Primary Wing

the growth of a wing seems to be triggered by a flee instinkt (in Vashs case)

4 sections, one extra on the back for horizontal range -from fused together limbs?

Vash Angel wing in the end and defence mechanism of the Gate

2,5 meters long, bird like minus the Coracoid

Sooo he's got feathers that protect him like I'm my food, as seen right after the elevator-arc

Speed of his Gate 1

If a shot’s fired at you from 4 meters away, you’ve got almost no time to react. Bullets typically travel at speeds ranging from about 300 to 1,200 meters per second, depending on the type of gun and ammo. At 4 meters, that bullet’s gonna hit you in a blink—literally. For a rough estimate, if the bullet’s speed is, say, 340 meters per second (a typical handgun speed), it would cover 4 meters in roughly 0.012 seconds. A blink of an eye takes about 100-150 milliseconds. So yeah, by the time a human even think of moving, that bullet’s would have already hit its mark.

Speed of his Gate 2

Extreme elegance is key to dodge bullets (as seen in the Legato fight)

At this range roughly of 3 meters, a bullet traveling at 800 to 1,000 meters per second is gonna reach you in about 0.003 to 0.004 seconds. That’s less than the blink of an eye, hell, even thinking about dodging would take longer than that.

With multiple angles and those rounds coming at you that fast, you’d basically need to start dodging before they even fired. We’re talking some ultra-instinct, superhuman reflexes here.

Trigun: We have some of the most powerful characters in seinen hehe

Power of Vashs Gate-Bullets

Trimax Vol 12, Chapter 08: Lights

the shots seem to inplode like a black hole

Anti matter bullets explanation (As seen in the battle against the Arc-Collective)

If a single shot could destroy 7% of the Northern Hemisphere of a habitable planet, we are dealing with a weapon of cosmic-scale power. The energy released in such a shot would far exceed any terrestrial weapon, venturing into the realm of exotic physics. To put it into perspective, to annihilate an area of around 14 million square kilometers, the energy output would need to be on the order of 10^24 to 10^27 joules, which rivals phenomena like gamma-ray bursts or the Sun’s total output over several hours.

The cartridge contains exotic matter capable of distorting space-time enough to form a micro black hole. This might involve the use of antimatter or even negative mass to reach the required density and energy concentration. By collapsing the mass-energy within the cartridge through an exotic quantum process, a micro black hole emerges, which can either evaporate through Hawking radiation or expand, depending on the stabilization mechanics used. Luckily for them he's made them evaporate after a second.

To control and limit the effects of the micro black hole, the bullet employs gravitational confinement techniques or manages Hawking radiation to ensure the black hole persists for just long enough to cause catastrophic damage. It uses quantum field manipulation to create a gravitational gradient, holding the black hole in a state of quasi-stability before allowing it to collapse in a burst of energy.

The transfer of matter across dimensions occurs through a temporary connection to higher-dimensional space, such as in brane cosmology theories, where our 3D universe interacts with a higher-dimensional structure. When matter is drawn into another dimension, a transient wormhole or topological defect, like a cosmic string, forms, allowing matter to be siphoned off.

This process resembles Kaluza-Klein theory, where compactified extra dimensions permit the energy to escape from our familiar three-dimensional space-time into the higher-dimensional realm. It’s as if the explosion opens a drain that lets matter flow out of thier universe, erasing the affected area from existence.

Imagine it as pulling the plug on a bathtub; the water (representing matter) rapidly drains into an unseen reservoir (the higher dimension), leaving behind a chaotic disturbance on the surface (massive explosion and gravitational disruptions). It doesn’t just destroy; it erases a portion of space-time itself.

Explanation part 2

If he limits a shot to a maximum diameter of 50 cm and a duration of 1 second, while ensuring that it does not cause terraforming-scale damage, then we’re dealing with some extreme physics constraints.

Energy Compression and Containment

To achieve such massive destructive power within a confined space of max 50 cm, the energy would need to be incredibly dense and compressed, using some form of exotic energy state or quantum-scale manipulation. We might think of a process similar to creating a quark-gluon plasma, where matter is compressed to such high densities that conventional atomic structures no longer exist. This would allow for an incredibly high energy concentration without needing a massive physical size.

Control Over the Shockwave

To prevent the shot from causing terraforming-level damage, the shockwave dynamics would have to be controlled precisely. This could involve using fields or containment mechanisms that limit the expansion of the blast wave to a very small effective radius, absorbing or dispersing the energy beyond that point.

For example, a localized gravitational field could be used to constrain the energy within the 50 cm radius, causing the shockwave to rapidly lose intensity beyond that point. This would result in a highly concentrated but short-lived explosion, powerful enough to cause intense localized destruction without spreading its effects over a larger area.

Duration and Rapid Energy Dissipation

With a duration of only roughly 1 second, the energy release would need to be extremely quick and then dissipate almost immediately. One way to achieve this could be by utilizing a form of Hawking radiation or controlled quantum tunneling, allowing the energy to decay rapidly into other forms of radiation or be siphoned off into a higher-dimensional space right after reaching its peak.

This approach would make the explosion appear like a brief, intense flash of destruction, where the peak intensity lasts less than a second, followed by rapid normalization of the local environment. There would still be a violent local effect, but it would be contained to prevent any significant alterations to the landscape.

Think of it as a controlled fusion explosion, where the fusion reaction is ignited but then immediately halted by a containment field, causing the released energy to dissipate almost as soon as it appears. It would be like a microburst of a star’s energy, contained and then extinguished just before it gets out of control.

The shot would feel like a brief, intense thud, with a powerful but contained shockwave that wouldn’t extend far beyond the immediate vicinity, preventing large-scale geological or atmospheric effects. It would still be lethal within its limited range but without causing collateral damage on a world ending scale.

To be added:

Knives Angel Arm and Gate

possess more animal like traits

Pant markings seem to appear more regulary maybe a matter of practice to hide them

height 50 meters?

length to the space ships round about 311 miles (500km)

theory about his worp usage of the higher dimension

he's creating a cut in the reality goes into the higher dimension and reappears at a different place propably with exotic matter (warping space-time)

Characteristics of his wing

struckture reflects his gate (what even is is purpose as independent beside his twin)

Phycological factor

does he has the need to harm humans trough his true nature

The Ark-Collective

First sister to be absorbed seems to trigger growth of multible tumors, some kind of autoimmune response

at first 2 wings, they possess more bones

It has its own gravity field

The Ark is organic in composition and, in structure, would be much like a biological entity that achieves buoyancy, from certain deep-sea life forms to large organisms with gas-filled cavities. In its advanced organic material, there is a percentage of gas pockets or low-density compounds, enabling it to stay aloft in a dense atmosphere. The organic superconducting materials of the combined might also serve to create strong magnetic fields upon activation. This highly developed organic structure creates these fields for the lifting effect on objects in a certain radius. It apparently has the ability to emit or manipulate antigravitons-particles that act against gravity-and such an ability would reduce gravitational pull on everything in a localized area. In creating a small field around itself, it is essentially working against or neutralizing gravity. The Ark also has the possibility of causing local distortions in gravitational fields, creating a sort of "bubble" that decreases the pulling power of gravity on objects around it, hence allowing it to levitate them. In such a case, the bio-machinery of this organism would need high energy density structures, such as muscle fibers, that store energy and afterward release it. Their cells would need organelles with very high output energy, which would be able to store energy and afterwards release it to build force or fields. These cells function like biological equivalents of batteries or power cells, generating very powerful bioelectric fields. The Collective amplifies bioelectric potentials to considerable magnitudes to generate site-specific magnetic fields, or any other force-related phenomena that are powerful enough to levitate masses. In its domain of quantum biology, the entity uses quantum effects for levitation or lifting. It taps and channels energy with high efficiency through processes somewhat related to quantum coherence in photosynthesis. Presumably, this biological use of quantum interaction enables the it to achieve the very fine control over force fields and manipulate gravitational pull on a quantum scale, thus enabling the lifting forces.

lower part resembles a flower🌺

So my theory is that Vashs power is to delete/absorb/take matter into the higher dimension and Knives is to add/give materia into the lower dimension.

Feel free to comment your own thoughts.

Also, I was listening to that while making this🔥:

Have a good day

[pixiel]

Help Rem/Pixiel afford a Wheelchair!

I asked before looking for advice on getting a wheelchair - the best advice I've gotten so far is to open up my own fundraiser on GoFundMe to help me afford it! So here's my story explaining why I need the help;

I would be really thankful if you reblogged this post even if you can't donate yourself!

(explanation/story under the cut!)

Hi! My name is Rem / Pixiel. Some of you might already know me as the person who made the first Old Tumblr fix after the layout change! I haven't talked too much about myself online, so for those of you who don't know me let me talk about my health a little bit; I have Hypermobile-Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, Arrhythmia, A floppy heart valve, balance issues, Suspected POTs & MCAS - and a myriad of other smaller comorbidities to go with it. I have daily pain in my wrists, hands, knees, neck, shoulders and hips. Basically all over my body! I tire easily due to my heart problem and have to take extra care not to injure myself. I’m currently someone who uses a cane (a really fab looking one!) but while it helps me get around the house and to and from the shop a few doors down the road - going beyond that around town often results in me having a lot of pain in my hips and knees, usually leaving me unable to do anything for the next couple of weeks - struggling to move around the house and get things done due to the pain. This is something I’ve put off for a long time, but I think it’s time I got a wheelchair. Unfortunately, as I am on benefits barely covering the cost of living, this is not something I can afford on my own; especially now that the government is trying to change the rules and make it more difficult for disabled people to afford anything or put us on vouchers. I need a wheelchair that is light enough for me to move and fold, one that isn't too bulky, as my rented house is not wheelchair accessible - as well as being a powered chair, as with my wrist pain I'd unlikely be able to use a manual chair without injury. After doing my own research I really love the idea of the "Monarch Carbon Lite Powerchair" though I'm currently working with a mobility provider to find the perfect chair for me! If you can help me pay towards my new Wheelchair I will be incredibly thankful! Please share and help me be able to afford it - so I can go out and about and live my life without injury and pain holding me back!

[running-with-kn1ves]

What do you think about a yandere male that only turns yandere during the full moon?

Doesn't necessarily have to turn into a werewolf, but every full moon, it brings out the possesiveness and psychotic urges.

Like, I imagine that he's the sweetest and fluffiest and softest bf ever. A gentle giant. Couldn't harm a fly. Then as the full moon gets closer, they start to slowly change. Maybe, they start being more aggressive around others? Idk go crazy 🤣

(Maybe add some pervertedness/nsfw if ur up to it? no pressure ofc)

I really like the idea of yanderes being almost like a different breed of creature, gradually getting worse as each full moon draws near, going practically mental once it finally occurs and nearly mauling their darling.

It's worse if he's a so-called gentle giant-- that gentleness is ripped away, only to leave an empty husk of a man that has the power to crush you. He's normally the sweetest thing, kind to all those that you pass, and acts completely enamored with you-- he's so soft, you almost think that if he weren't his current intimidating size, he would be bullied for his passiveness.

He's not very verbal in expressing clinginess or needs during his stages of normal self, and may hesitate to bring up something he's upset with, whether it be seeing you with someone he finds threatening or if you reject his advances of physical comfort. He's able to tolerate such things in everyday life.

but once the moon's nearly at its routinely wholeness, there's a change in his behavior; he's become... temperamental, irked with every move you make that he doesn't like. Whether you forget to kiss him goodbye in the morning, or you tell him that you're going out for drinks after work with some overly friendly coworkers, he's become agitated and upset, getting jealous that you'd choose them over him.

Once the full moon finally reaches its completeness, getting out of the house will be a struggle within itself. He's not letting you go anywhere-- the emotional manipulation is drawn up to the max, and he can't help but use fake tears or past injustices to keep you with him. He can't help but ramble on how much he loves you-- how its because he loves you so much; he can't take it.

All he wants is for you to kiss him and make it better, to let him keep you suffocatingly close, to pay attention only to him. And if anyone dares get in his way, then he'll make them pay hell.

NSFW under the cut

For our yan boyf its not if, but when he pounces on you. He's so easily prone to getting too handsy with you in public, no matter the company kept near. You've made the mistake of bringing him to a party, and had to make some lame excuse to bring him home early, your boyfriend undoing your pants buttons moments in from the front door.

The deep bitemarks on your shoulders were painful, but there was a certain lull to the way he loved you when he was like this. He always gripped you so tightly, like he was afraid you'd slip away if he didn't keep you close enough. Whether it was an arm wrapped around your waist as he pounded inside you from behind, or two hands gripping your thighs as he kept you bouncing atop of him, he was always leaving bruises, most of which were unintentional.

You're truly lucky his sex drive isn't utterly relentless, though its definitely far higher than you ever expected. Usually, it was averagely persistent, never so much that you felt used. But during these episodes lately, he was consistent-- and insatiable, it seemed. You refused to go out on a date with him during these times, knowing he'd always need to find a place to fuck you midway, too entranced by your sex appeal, and too ticked off by those who decided to stare at you.

But the deeper he gets in taking a hold of you, the more regretful he becomes. He mutters "I'm sorry's" over and over, though keeping his relentless thrusts in play. He has little patience for foreplay, and understands how rough he can be when these episodes occur; he doesn't always remember how much strength he has, leaving him to mumble sorrowful apologies the rough morning after.

[ddejavvu]

Could I request reader struggling with homework/being unmotivated and Remus being sweet and helping her get through it <3 thank u

You're back on tiktok. For the fifth time since you started your assignment an hour and a half ago, you're on tiktok, slouched in your chair and pointedly ignoring the work in front of you.

"Dove," Remus tuts, working diligently on his own assignment, "That's not homework."

"I know," You groan, face just a tad too close to the phone screen, "I dunno, Rem. Just can't do it."

"Well it would help if you put your phone away," He gives you a knowing look, "Give it here, angel. I'll hold it so you don't get distracted."

"No!" You whine, clutching the device to your chest, "It's mine."

"But you're not getting any work done! I'm only trying to help," He laughs at your insistence, "The only way you'll get anything done is if you put the phone away."

"I still won't want to do it," You grumble, sighing miserably into your hands, "Remus, I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm hopeless, I'll never finish my work."

"That's not true," He stands from his chair, circling your own to plant his hands firmly on your shoulders. He peers down at your work, "That's not going to take you long, darling. And when you're done, you'll feel so much better. Like you've accomplished things, like you haven't sat on your phone all day."

He plucks the device from your hands at the mention of it, and you don't make an effort to fight back. You know he's right; it's the reason you're not getting anything done, but you'd rather distract yourself than do work you don't care about.

"Come on," He pats your shoulder, sticking your phone securely in his pocket, "How about when you're done, we go out to the shops for dinner. And you can stop in that little boutique you've been wanting to look in? You can pick a treat, on me."

"Really?" Your eyes shine as you glance back at him, and he nods with a lazy grin.

"Yeah, dove." He presses a kiss to the side of your head, "Get your work finished, and when you're done, we'll head out. Deal?"

"Deal," You gush, sitting up straighter in your seat, "Thanks, Rem!"

"Mm-hmm," He hums, heading back to his own seat. He intends to get back to work himself, but he can't help staring at you, stealing glances whenever he can manage. Apparently you're just as distracting to him as your phone was to you, and he uses his own cell to snap a picture of you working. You look fantastic when you're concentrated, he loves the way your tongue pokes out from between your lips. He's always proud of you, but as he sets the photo as his home screen, he's extra proud that you'd muscled through your lack of motivation, and he's happy to offer you a treat to keep it up.

[babyflorencee]

Do I make you nervous?

Remus Lupin x fem!Reader

I was over at my boyfriend, Remus' house, in hopes of spending some time with him since he's been busy with school work. But it's been a couple of hours and he still hasn't given me any attention. "Remmy," I said, trying to get him to look up from what he was reading.

"Remus." I said again, after he ignored me the first time.

"Yes, love?" He asked, spinning around in his chair.

"Hi," I said, now realizing I had no idea what to say.

"Is that all?" he questioned, a confused expression painted on his face.

"Can you pay attention to me. Pretty please?" I implored him, giving him my best puppy dog look.

"Come here darling," he said, stretching his arms out for me.

I got up from his bed, walking over towards him, taking a seat on his lap as his arms wrapped around me. He spun back around, resting his chin on my shoulder so he could continue to read his paper. "Remmy." I whined, crossing my arms.

"I'm sorry love, but I have to finish this, then I'm all yours, I promise."

I let out a sigh, before getting off his lap and walking over to his bookshelf, grabbing the first book I saw and going back to his bed.

An hour has passed, and my body was sprawled out across his bed, the duvet was soft against my skin as I struggled to stay focused on the book. Since my eyes kept adverting back to Remus, who was still sitting at his desk working on a English paper. I let the book fall shut with a frustrated sigh, before tossing it aside and crawling under the duvet, deciding to just go to sleep since I was tired of waiting for him.

A little while later, I woke up to the sound of thunder, groaning in annoyance as I rubbed my face, trying to get my eyes to focus, before looking at the wrist watch, wondering how long I had been sleeping for. I let out a sigh at the fact that it had only been an hour. I sat up, about to yell at Remus again, when I realized that his desk was empty. Growing anxious, I looked around the room once before slumping down into the pillows, pulling the duvet up to my chin.

I attempted to fall back asleep, since it was pretty obvious he wasn't going to give me any attention today. I was half asleep when my eyes shot open, startled by the weight of somebody on top of me. I looked up to be met eye to eye with Remus. He was hovering over me, his arms propping himself up so that he wouldn't completely crush me. "morning babe," he said, chuckling a little at my startled expression.

I looked away, not wanting to see his face since I wanted to be mad at him for ignoring me earlier. "Come on love, look at me," He whined, putting his fingers under my chin, and forcing me to look up at him.

"pretty please," he asked with a pout. When I shifted my eyes away from his, he began kissing my neck and collarbone, trying to get me to give him attention. I tried to hold back a moan as he began to suck and bite down on my neck. "Rem," I said, putting one hand on the back of his head, pushing him more into me.

After a while, he brought his head up from my neck, grabbing my chin once again, his eyes hungrily adverting from my lips to my eyes, as he bit down on his bottom lip. I swallowed on nothing, trying my absolute hardest not to look in his eyes.

He brought his mouth down to my ear, "Do I make you nervous?" He whispered, trying not to laugh. 

"Maybe," I breathed out, feeling my face heat up.

He smiled proudly as he rolled over to my side, getting under the covers as well. "Good," he said, pulling me into his chest, as he closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to cuddle and to go to sleep.

[dwindlinghaze]

moony's song

(remus lupin x reader)

summary: yours and remus's relationship throughout the years.

contents: the kind of fluffiness that makes me cry, little fighting, getting married at the end, two years age gap, no magic mentioned, lyall lupin (rem's father is not a bad person here), not proofread!!!

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"happy birthday!" the whole room cheered and urged you to blow the seven candles. it was your seventh birthday.

remus hugged you tightly, muttering birthday wishes in your ear. "happy seventh birthday. thank you for being my best friend and thank you for being you. i'm so lucky."

you hugged him back, his figure taller than yours. he loved how he can feel like he's protecting you by the tiny height difference.

you glance up at him, looking at his eyes that resembles the starry night. it shines like the stars, the pretty lights.

and remus looked at you too, feeling himself blushing and reddening.

their two fathers were on the room right besides the stairs, the two men looked at each other knowingly at their respective children.

"they're growing up and falling in love," your father joked, earning a laugh from his other companion.

"i wouldn't surprise me if they ended up marrying each other. those two are inseparable since we moved here. glad my son has an amazing best friend that keeps him alive," lyall spoke.

hearing these, hope and your mother smiled as they rolled their eyes playfully, whispering "oh my my. ". it was undeniable that you and remus are destined to be together. whether it was platonic or romantic, you two are soulmates- if there's such things as soulmates.

remus was there when you were struggling to colour a colouring book. he was there to help you. he took your pencil colours and make the plain white and black paper into rainbows.

when you were bored, he lets you draw on his arms with those markers your mother bought. you let him style your hair the way he wants. he picked plants, flowers, and leaves for you when you're running wild in your father's backyard.

you two completes each other.

your friends back at school thought remus would beat you up in every playtime days. judging by the fact that he's two years older than you and he's much tougher. but he never did. he never did.

you know him enough to know that despite his formidable appearance, he's a whole sweet and gentle person behind the facade.

"hi, angel," he calls you angel because he thinks heaven sent you to him to make the small block wide town of his world less lonely.

"hi rem," you said back. "what are you doing after school?"

"um nothing," he said as he took your books off of your hands so he can hold it for you. "i was thinking we can hang out. my mama bought a new plant and she said we can help her gardening."

"oh sure! i'd love that," you smiled. he can get lost in your eyes as simple as sinking ships on water; so inviting.

"hello! no staring!" you joked.

"sorry!" he held his eyebrows up, making a face.

later that afternoon, your mother was walking with you on the way to remus house. "bon aprés-midi hope!" your mother beamed.

"bonjour!" remus replied in a very poor french accent.

his mother laughed, nudging his side, "it's in the afternoon, remmy. bonjour means good morning."

"well, i'm saying good riddance," he replied as your mother chuckled at the boy.

"where's y/n?" remus asked. his eyes looking at every direction.

"boo!" you jumped to his back, making him fell to the ground.

"hey!" he yelled, clutching his stomach in laughter.

"hello," you replied back, unfazed.

then the four went off to gardening. you and remus were on a team, he's the one to shovel out the soil and you were the one to put the plants overtop.

after hours of work, you and remus laid in the grass, facing the sunny sky with your eyes closed and forehead glistening with sweat

"sunny days remind me of you," remus said, still closing his eyes.

you felt your heart tugged at his words. he always has his way into your heart, and you would let the door open for him every time. "hmm? why so."

"because," he paused. "because you're like sunshine. you know, i read a book once and the character told this other person that they reminded them of the sunshine because that person makes days so much brighter and warmer."

"remmy,i'm happy i've met you," you confessed, feeling slight anxious.

"rem..."

"yeah..?"

"i think i'm in love with someone," you said. his heart was jolting.

"who?" he spoke shakily.

"captain america..." you answered, much to his disbelief. "i'm gonna marry captain america."

"you can't marry him. that's impossible." he insisted.

"it is not," you replied playfully.

"yes it is. he doesn't live here and your parents will not approve it because he's as old as your grandfather. he doesn't know you. and he shouldn't too because y-" he stopped.

after few second you said, "because what?"

"nothing, never mind."

"have you ever kissed anyone?" you asked after a long while, feeling anxious at the thought.

"like they do on TV?" he blurted. now his heart was drumming out his chest all of a sudden.

"uh huh."

"no."

"maybe we should. just to see what's the big deal," you said, uncertain but determined.

"but i don't know how," remus said, embarrassed.

"me neither," you replied. "let's try."

"okay.." he lifted himself up from the grass and helped you up too. "like this?" he placed his hands on your shoulders awkwardly.

"i think we should close our eyes," you suggested.

"then i will not be able to see anything."

"just do it."

"okay okay," he said, voice trembling.

"one, two, three?"

the two leaned forward and forward until their lips met in a brief and barely touching kiss. then you two sit back in surprise, breaths unstable.

"say something, it's too quiet," you said, fumbling with your fingers anxiously.

"umm ummm," remus tried to come up with a topic.

and just then your mother called, telling you to go home because it's getting late.

"don't tell this to anyone please?" you said. "it's not that i hated it. i just don't want people to know."

"yes yes i agree uhm definitely okay."

"see you tomorrow then?" you asked, standing awkwardly besides the tree.

"okay, see you!" remus said. you turned your heels to head out the yard and just then, you heard remus calling your name.

"yes.. what rem?" you faced his direction.

"would you think of me?" he asked.

"for what?" you asked cluelessly.

"well, if you don't get to marry captain america," he sent you a sweet adoring smile.

"i would."

the he ran off to the trees, you shaking your head, admiring him as he ran.

just two kids, you and him.

time skip☆

you were now sixteen when suddenly, you weren't that little girl he used to see.

you have moved schools when you were entering middle school, now you're only able to go back to the small town once in every month.

you were now more mature. older and wiser even just in a span of nine years. many differences and maturity have shown as you got older. you held yourself in such grace that leaves remus' thought of you lingering around.

you and remus send each other messages everyday. there's not a day in which there's no message from you nor remus.

although you 'changed', he's still remus lupin. his eyes still looks like the starry night. it shines like the stars. the pretty lights.

"hi rem, i missed you a lot," you said as you reached over to him, kissing both his cheeks.

his hands flew up to the spot where your lips were, blushing underneath. "i missed you too, how is school?"

"other than us not being able to see each other every weekdays, it's going pretty well," you told him.

"well, i'm glad you're back here anyway," he said happily, not having the patience to wait to catch up on each other. "mum! y/n's here!"

"oh! gracious look at you! i just saw you a month ago and you're now like a brand new person!" hope beamed.

"trust me, i'm still the same person that feeds stray cats on the streets," you joked.

"we missed you so!"

"so do i!"

"i'll let you two have your moment," hope grinned as she walked away from the kitchen.

"hi," you whispered, feeling nervous somehow.

"hello."

"are we just gonna say greetings now?" you joked, trying to make the situation less awkward

"well- no. i think there is something, and i need to tell you," remus said.

"yeah? what is it? you can ask or tell me anything."

"is there someone out there?" he questioned, growing uneasy.

"as in..?"

"like boyfriend or girlfriend?" he elaborated.

"no. no one has made me feel things since," you said.

"since what?"

"since you," you sighed, your shoulders felt lighter, like a weight that has been pounding down at you has been lifted in mere seconds.

"oh my god- are you really?" remus asked, the uneasiness now turned into something different.

"well yes."

"well i've been wanting to tell you this for so long and you just made it a hundred times easier. angel, i'm in love with you. i have always been. i know that 'feelings' you mentioned earlier might not be as strong as love but i love you. so much every passing day. and if you're not ready for anything yet, that's fine! i will wait until you are."

"remus- i love you too," you said, crushing yourself to his figure as he wrapped his arms around your frame.

you two stayed quiet, neither one wanting to break the comfortable silence. but then remus started to laugh, shaking his head.

"what's so funny?" your head perked up in interest.

"just- how simple and comforting this is. i have been worrying for so long and you just made my worries go away by saying that you love me too," remus said.

"remus i'm not only 'saying' i love you. i do love you, really!" you clarified.

"i know, angel," remus said, rubbing your back soothingly. "this is the part where we should kiss. like in the TV."

"yeah," you laughed, remembering your first kiss with the boy. "i'm still inexperienced."

"same here," he said. "let's practice then."

"remus!" you laugh, hitting his chest in a joking manner. "i wouldn't mind if we do."

then he kisses you for the second time, nine years apart.

it was tender and uncertain but still giving butterflies.

"was that better than our first?" he asked.

"yes, but we need to improve don't you think?"

"absolutely," he replied before connecting your lips to his again in a soft and gentle but sweet kiss.

on the other room, your father and lyall was looking at the two of you knowingly. "i used to joke about the two of them, growing up and falling in love. i never believed they'd actually be falling in love."

your mother smiled, and roller her eyes. feeling happy for the two because she knew from the start that this will happen one day. and it did.

things seemed to go smoothly in the relationship. he is the best person and a gift. he loves you so much, more than life itself probably. every month you go back, he's there waiting for you at your parents house.

although long distance relationships are hard, you two had made it work. even though there are ups and downs.

at 2 am riding in his car, the atmosphere was different. there's something there that wasn't there before. and shouldn't be.

remus has been acting off these past days and you noticed. even his mum does too.

you worried that his feelings has faded and that he doesn't want this kind of relationship. one where you're constantly gone, leaving him alone on the creek bed of his town while you're back at school three hundred miles away.

"love?" you spoke up, trying not to burst into tears.

"yes?" he said, eyes on the read still, glancing at you for only a mere second.

"is there something you're not telling me?" you asked.

god damn it. you knew remus way too much. you can read him like a magazine. "you shouldn't worry about it."

"okay...," you said. then a ringing silence filled the air "do you still love me? or like even?" you asked in such uncertainty that dropped his heart.

"of course i do!" he scoffed. "why wouldn't i? what leads you to this conclusion, angel?"

"i just feel like there's something off," you admitted "please just tell me about it okay?"

"okay."

"okay," you said. "so are you going to tell me about it?"

"um, yes and no."

"why?"

"i don't want to pressure or worry you," he said nonchalantly.

"i worry about you everyday, this won't change a thing i promise. if it's something that i did, i'm sorry, and i will fix whatever the problem is."

"you want to hear the problem? well, here goes- i sometimes feels like i don't even have someone. you. you're so far away and i'm so lonely and hopeless back here. in this small secluded town. i feel like i have nothing for me on my plate.

"you're out there, discovering things while i'm here waiting for you like a dog. i'm sorry. i'm not jealous or anything. if anything i'm so happy and joyous that you've got the opportunity but what am i doing here? i'm seventeen and has no plans!"

he is now rambling, raising his voice. he has never done this.

"please calm down!" you raised your voice slightly. "you will find something, just trust me!"

"and you know what bothers me too? i have been wanting to have someone to talk to about my problems but i have no one. not even you! every time i tried calling your mobile, you always say you're doing assignments and stuff. all i want is just time to spend with my girlfriend!"

"well i'm sorry! i'm not the one that sets assignments to students!"

"well of course you're not, genius," he scoffed.

"hey what's with you? i don't even know you!"

"no, the real question is: what's wrong with you? you barely have time for me anymore and when you do it's during times like these. way past midnight at two am!"

"remus stop the car!"

"what?!" he hit the breaks abruptly.

"i don't want to be here right now. you know damn well that this is not my fault. i have things to do too! at the end of the day, i always send back your messages. i'm still trying everything to balance my life. please, let me-" you opened the car door and jumped out.

"angel, what are you doing? it's not safe to walk around here at this time!"

"just like you said, this is a small secluded town, nothing will hurt me! my house is near anyways, just don't follow!" you ran straight to your home leaving remus in the dark street.

but he didn't stay there. he isn't going to make things wrong with you. he knows what he had said was just out of stress and you don't deserved to be blamed.

he arrived at your house, knocking on the door. of course no one answered because it's past midnight and your parents are fast asleep, though he knew you're behind that wall and awake.

he didn't come home. he stayed outside on the porch, back against the wall until the morning light. he couldn't bring himself to walk home. he was ashamed. he couldn't even sleep that night.

"remus?" you asked, voice cracking.

remus jolted up from the floor, his back painfully still. "oh angel! i'm so sorry for last night! please let me fix things up! please! hear me out," he said, tears spilling down his cheeks.

"come to my room, we can talk there," you said.

"okay," he entered before following you to your bedroom. "i'm sorry okay. last night was all so stupid! i didn't mean a thing i said. i know you're busy and stuff and i'm no one to tell you what to do. you should focus on yourself and your future, i don't want to be a burden. i just missed you. i missed you so much everyday and i worry with all the things in your life that you're going to forget me one day."

"rem," you spoke softly, pulling his hands to yours. "i love you. i will never forget about you. you're ninety percent of my mind. even one time i almost write your name in my paper test because i was thinking of you. i didn't knew how much i've been pushing myself to the point where you feel neglected. trust me i don't want you to feel that way."

"i know you don't," remus sent her a weak smile. "i'm sorry for putting all that on you."

"there's nothing to be sorry for!" you assured him. "lay down, darling. your back must hurt."

"it is," he groaned.

"just come here, lay in my bed," you insisted, pulling the covers to keep him warm. you kissed his forehead, as you lay down next to him.

"i love you, good night," you said, pressing your lips to his when he closed his eyes.

"you know it's eight am in the morning and i'm not going to sleep," he said.

"did you sleep at all?"

"um i don't remember," he mumbled in your arms before he was off to dreamland.

"right.." you chuckled, pulling him closer to you as he sleep.

time skip☆

a few years has come around. now you were twenty seven and he was twenty nine.

after these years, you have graduated, renting a place near your hometown while also working on your dream job. remus was there all along.

you both were sitting at your favourite place in town. a bench right beside the manmade waterfall.

remus looked at you, searching for something in his pocket before he got down on one knee.

as he pulled out a ring, he shakily spoke. "i have been thanking the gods and whatever's up there for sending me to you. i couldn't imagine a life without you in it. you showed me colours i can't see, and secret languages i can't speak with anyone else.

you make me live. you're the one who taught me how to love myself. i remember how lonely i was back then until you came. you've been my guiding light. i want to do everything, only if i'm doing it with you. if you ask me for the moon then i will pull it to earth and set it in our bedroom. y/n will you marry me?"

"i will," you cried, taking deep breathes shakily. "remus, i love you so much, i can't even-"

"shh no need to explain. i know the feeling too," he pulled your in his arms. the world seems like it's rotating in slow motion, the only people there is the two of you. no one else matters.

the the whole town came to the wedding, though it is a very small town so it's not a lot people. you walked down the aisle with a veil over your head.

you looked perfect. you are perfect.

remus has tears glistening is his eyes as he watched you walk gracefully. your mom and remus' cried.

he said "i do" and you did too.

you reminisced the day you two met, retelling the stories back to your baby daughter while rocking her on the very front porch.

"i met your father when i was really young," you chuckled, your first born daughter in your arms as you peered over to look at your husband who was wiping the table. "we did stupid things, but we did them together."

"you know, i always thought i would marry captain america one day. and sometimes i even cry because i know i couldn't love anyone else more than i do to captain america. but remus- he's something. i love him even more than anyone and i'm glad i didn't marry captain america!"

remus overheard your conversation, a smile on his face. "hey, i should be celebrating the fact that you love me more than usa guard!" he joked as he kissed your head. "look at you! you're so pretty. you've got your mother's eyes!" he tickled the baby on your arms.

"she's got your bone structure i think," you said.

remus laughed as he wrapped his arms around you from the back, his chin resting on top of your shoulder.

seventy years passed, you still looked at remus the same way you did eighty years ago. his eyes still looks like the starry night. the stars that shine in the sky, the pretty lights.

"happy eighty seventh birthday my darling," remus said, kissing your wrinkled cheeks. all your wrinkles and your white hair doesn't matter to the love you and remus have.

he taught you how forever feels like.

and this, this love is so alive even after all these years.

[ravenssilver]

Until you find me hiding, silently I wait.

1.3k words of aeon just wanting to help, and dew feeling bad.

cw: aeon’s anxious as always, dew has a nightmare, aeon is referred to as younger and little but he is very much fully grown

part one part two part three part four

under the cut, if you please <3

Aeon shouldn’t have been awake.

He should’ve been asleep hours ago just like everyone else was. He was just as exhausted as they were, so why in Lucifer’s name was he still awake?

A pained whimper and a quick shuffle of sudden movement sounded from across the aisle.

That’s why.

Aeon could feel the Dewdrop’s distress pouring out from the behind the fire ghoul’s privacy curtain, creating a thick fog of darkness that reeked of trauma.

Another sudden shuffle and Aeon had to peak out from behind his curtain, scared Dew was about to fall out of bed.

Aeon glanced around desperately, hoping a ghoul that Dew actually liked would wake up and help him out of his fear. When Aeon didn’t sense a single shift in consciousness from any of the the other ghouls, he swallowed harshly and got out of his bunk, shuffling over to Dew’s.

He slowly pulled Dew’s privacy curtain back, his tail coiling around his ankle when he saw Dewdrop’s eyebrows pinched together, tears leaking from his closed eyes, rolling down his temples and the bridge of his nose. He could see Dew’s eyes rapidly flitting back and fourth behind his eyelids, making Aeon’s stomach twist up with anxiety.

Aeon knew that he shouldn’t do this; that Dew would be so incredibly upset if he found out Aeon was even thinking about helping him out of his terror.

Still, Aeon couldn’t let someone in his pack struggle when he knew exactly how to help.

Aeon took a deep breath and looked down at his hands, smoky purple fog flowing from his fingertips as his quintessence sparked to life in his system.

With another deep breath, Aeon gently touched Dew’s temples, following the path Dew’s mind took to REM sleep.

Suddenly, Aeon’s breath was knocked out of him and an emotional pain like no other shot through his nervous system.

Aeon definitely shouldn’t have done this.

Flashing images of an interaction he and Dew had a few days prior crossed his mind’s eye as he finally arrived at the nightmare Dew was having.

Dew, dream Dew, was yelling at dream Aeon. Really yelling. Aeon couldn’t hear the dream, but he could see the smoke slowly pouring from between Dewdrop’s bared teeth, the tears pouring from his dream self’s lilac eyes.

The fear in those lilac eyes.

It reminded Aeon of an interaction he and Dew had exchanged a few days prior in the green room of a venue. Though, Aeon didn’t remember Dew screaming like he was in the dream. Sure, Dew could get snippy, but he never yelled at Aeon.

Aeon felt Dew’s emotions in his brain in reaction to the dream. Panic, adrenaline, fear, and guilt. The quintessence ghoul had no idea what sort of meaning this dream had, but the way it made Dew feel so awful made him feel awful himself.

Aeon watched as dream Dew continued screaming at his dream self, a frown etched on his face as Dew kept whimpering in his sleep.

Every time dream Aeon flinched, another whimper would leave Dew, the Dew Aeon was able to touch. He watched how dream Dew waved his arms around, his hand coming too close to dream Aeon, making him flinch and cower away from the seething fire ghoul.

It was when, in the dream, Dew swiped at the little quint with his claws that Aeon knew he had to get the borderline hysterical ghoul out of the dream he was stuck in.

“Dew,” Aeon whispered urgently as he gently pulled his consciousness out of Dew’s. “Dew, wake up…” Aeon poked at his shoulder, tears of his own welling in his eyes as he watch Dew begin scratching at himself. Aeon was quick to pull Dew’s claws away from himself, only to gasp in pain when Dew clutched onto him instead, jolting awake.

Aeon held his breath, his lilac eyes meeting Dew’s flaming ones. He watched the fight or flight induced anger in his eyes melt into recognition and then shame. Aeon swallowed harshly, trying not to let his hands shake as much as they were in Dew’s piercing hold.

“Aeon..” Dew whispered after a moment. Another harsh swallow came from the little quint before he nodded, taking in a shaky breath as his stomach churned with anxiety.

“Are you okay?”

Dew’s eyes widened slightly at Aeon’s words, though he didn’t exactly know why he was surprised. Aeon had always tried to gain Dew’s attention and acceptance. Whether it was Aaron hovering close to Dew after he was summoned, or doing small tasks for the fire ghoul that would make his life easier after Dew made it clear he wanted nothing to do with Aeon.

“No.”

Aeon’s stomach twisted up into a ball and gave plenty of room for his heart to drop all the way to hell when he heard Dew’s response. His mind immediately began racing, trying to piece together questions that wouldn’t annoy Dew, but would let the older ghoul know that he was there to help.

He just wanted Dew to be okay. He didn’t have to like him, he didn’t even have to tolerate him. Aeon just wanted Dew to be okay.

“I’m sorry.”

Aeon’s mind went silent. He stared at Dew, shell shocked.

The younger ghoul fumbled for words, but Dew just shook his head, looking down at Aeon’s hand before slowly taking it in his own, brushing his thumb over Aeon’s knuckles as tears began to slip from his eyes again.

“Don’t say anything, please. Just.. I’m sorry, okay?” Dew spoke, his voice breaking as he tried to hold back his tears. Aeon would’ve walked away, he was so used to Dew snapping at him every time he was around while the fire ghoul was being the slightest bit vulnerable, but Dew wasn’t letting his hand go.

Aeon just stood there, listening to Dew’s request and not saying anything. He looked down at his feet, letting Dew continue to hold his hand and brush his thumb over his knuckles.

“Swiss sleeps like a rock if you want to go be with him… What you saw was a lot..” Dew muttered, catching Aeon off guard yet again. Dew knew that he used his quintessence to see his dream?

After a few moments of tense silence, Aeon shook his head and began slowly climbing into Dew’s bunk. Dewdrop tensed and backed up into the wall of the bus, making Aeon freeze and wait for any kind of sign that Dew wanted Aeon to leave.

When Dew didn’t give one, Aeon slowly continued into the bunk. Dew remained tense as Aeon settled next to him, the younger ghoul resting his head on Dew’s shoulder.

Dew’s mind was full of replaying memories of the many nightmares he had experienced, ones much like the one Aeon had just pulled him out of. It was jarring to Dew that Aeon was doing this. The fire ghoul was convinced that Aeon was terrified of him. How was this even possible.

Though, when Aeon relaxed and closed his eyes, Dew realized that the little quint wasn’t as scared of Dew as he thought. Sure, he was maybe a bit nervous, but never scared.

“I’m not who you want me to be, I know..” Aeon whispered, the words he wanted to say next getting stuck in his throat.

Please stop pushing me away.

Dew sat in the silence Aeon left when he didn’t finish his thought, knowing that it would be a while before Aeon finished that sentence out loud.

Dew didn’t respond to Aeon’s spoken words. He didn’t know how to.

Instead, he slowly wrapped his arms around the slightly taller ghoul, sighing softly as Aeon tucked his head under Dew’s chin.

Dew closed his eyes, draping his tail over Aeon’s waist and twining it with some of Aeon’s own tail, as well.

“Goodnight, bug.”

“Goodnight, Dew.”

[deludedfantasy]

There’s a thread you can follow through this early part of the story and that’s living up to your parents’ expectations. 

Although the reader doesn’t know it yet, the woman Vash dreams of on the sandsteamer is his mother. The dream, and Vash’s subsequent conversation with Kaite where he explains his philosophy, stretches back to Rem and the promise he made to her. He hopes to live up to her expectations and, with his every action, keep her memory alive. That’s a large burden to carry, especially because Vash considers every person in the world his responsibility. But there’s nothing more important to him than doing good by the woman who may as well be his mother (as we later learn).

Kaite is in a similar bind, though he’s far more conflicted than Vash. He’s desperate, he needs money, and his father died leaving him, young, alone, and penniless. So Kaite gives up the only thing of value he has, the thing his father worked his whole life to build, the sandsteamer. In the process, he gives up on his father’s wish for Kaite to do good and build something with his hands. He thinks it’s too late for him to fix this, but Vash believes otherwise. As long as Kaite keeps trying, it’s not too late to fix this, to live a life his father would be proud of. (And it's not like Vash is telling himself this because he's immensely full of guilt about July or anything like that).

In one way or another, everyone in Trigun is trying to live up to something, whether it’s their own expectations or that of their parents. They are haunted by the choices they make and their failures to live up to familial expectations. 

But, I think, the narrative we’ve seen up until now gets disrupted in the Little Arcadia arc. Between Kaite and Vash, there was a lot of focus on duty and what they owe to others, to the people who raised them and left them far too early, when they were too young to have a good sense of the world or how to make their way through it. 

While we don’t know if Meryl’s father is still alive or not, in Little Arcadia, she struggles with her own actions and how they would be perceived by her father. She doesn’t write to her family as often or as in detail as Milly does, worried about what they might think of her bloody and dangerous adventures. What would they think of this life she’s taken up, so different from her prim and proper office job? She thinks she’s cold and callous for not getting angry when Badwick pointed a gun at his parents, for not immediately jumping in to do the “right thing.” She does eventually stand up for what’s right and help the family keep their little slice of Eden. But I think what the father says to her after the stand off is important. 

He tells her, “Choose your own path, and walk it with confidence. All of life is connected. You must live your own life, and your parents will live through you.”

It’s a bit of a change from how we’ve seen Vash relate to this idea of familial duty. He thinks he must walk in the path Rem set out for him and it’s the only way for him to live up to her. But maybe that’s not true. Maybe simply living your life, the way you want to, in the best way you can, is all you have to do. When your parents love you, they just want to see you alive and happy, in whatever way that looks for you. 

Hearing that, Meryl is finally able to write a long letter to her family, detailing all her exploits. She’s proud of the life she lives and what she does, and that’s what matters most. But that leaves the reader wondering, if Vash is walking this path for Rem, is he truly happy? Did he really choose this life of his own will? It’s an interesting question, one I don’t have an answer to. I think Vash’s decisions and the things that set him on this road are complicated, and that in some ways, he’s too responsible of a person to ever step back and let things happen. I think he believes he doesn’t have another choice, regardless of whether that’s true or not. But I do know is that he believes in the life he lives and that has to matter for something, because it’s what keeps him going.