Latest Posts by scatteredbeans - Page 4

Sinner

I’m too loud for god. too gay. too lustful. too woman. too human.

Today is a holy night.

My mother sits and prays her night away in hopes of a better year.

I’ve been in my bed for two weeks.

drowning in work,

so suffocated in my sadness I cannot get to it.

But my drowning is normal.

My lust is silent.

And as long as my legs are covered and my hands are unseen, as long as my pain remains hidden under the sheer black bandages that are draped over my shoulders, no one will care.

My bones are hollowed, my organs emptied, my hair has fallen victim to the hunger. 

So god, will you take me?

Spare me your bullshit and let me die.

let me rest.

I was begged to pray today, to spend the night reading and pleading. 

Well, this is it. This is me pleading, this is my prayer.

I write this as I sin. I write this as I dream of the pleasure of a woman’s touch. As I dream of a queer love, a new love, a lustful love. But you should know that, you made me carry this love, then you punished me for it.

Yes, I am a sinner, I proudly choose hell, I choose its fumes, its pain, its heat. and I would do it again, and again, and again.

Because I write this as I sin. I write this as I fantasise about the sound of an ocean enveloping me or a rope hugging me into my final dream. I write this as I feel the peace of death comforting me because I know that her kiss makes me dirty.

I welcome its filth. 

everyone drop what you’re doing and watch this

how do people not have gay thoughts ?

Lesbians are in love with Taika Waititi because he gives us the love our fathers never did

They say love’s supposed to show up on your face. It’s one of the reasons I can never look you in the eyes for too long.

~ Either you see right through me, or you see what’s right in front of you. I don’t know which one of those terrifies me more.

i’m grateful that i can allow myself to be enamored with you while you nap on my bed. i can quietly study the parts of you: the skin of your leg propped up near your hip in an attempt to get comfortable, the curl of your hands around one another aside the pillow. if i could paint, i would use infatuated strokes to capture this moment: you as you are right now, perfect, unchanging, forever on canvas.

i did not fall in love with you recklessly, nor like you fall asleep now, but walked into love with you eyes wide open. i observed you quietly, from a distance, for weeks on end, with nothing but my own yearning to keep me company. i learned the ways that you move, speak, breathe, imprinting each mannerism on the backs of my eyelids. it only made it more momentous when you finally looked back without averting your eyes.

hello, grey.

i just had a question of sorts???

its just well, do you ever feel left out?? or like you are missing out on stuff?? how do you cope with it??

wish you a good day.

hi sweet anon. first of all, hearts to you--if you are currently feeling this way, its never fun ❤ uhm, idk what i have in me regarding advice but...ill do my best?

short answer-- yes. Fomo is a real thing, feeling left out and excluded is real. i think i am older and therefore...i tend not to feel this way much anymore (last time i did was probably when my nephew was born and i wasnt physically in the room delivering the baby and the waiting room just didnt cut it).

But a much younger grey DEFinitely felt this way. Not being asked to dances, not being able to attend certain things because i prioritized studying and learning.

How I cope?

At the end of the day...Im my favorite person to spend time with. I love my own company and if someone else doesnt want to share my company with me...thats their loss!

I make art, I make my own party, I make my own event for just me (or call up my friends and do it with them). Its okay to sit in your feelings, and feel hurt and take care of that--and you can nuture yourself through a butt ton of self love. What do you LOVE? What do you NEED? To support yourself through the feels?

When i feel like im "missing out" (ex: like a social gathering because i stayed home or wasnt invited and i just see the photos on social media or something), I make sure that whatever Im doing is STILL important to me. If it is-then alright.

If its not....do something that IS. (or ya know...just show up anyway. Nothing matters)

(this prompt was sent to someone who wasn't me ((thank you @lunapwrites and @impishtubist for this)), and i...ran with i...feel like i should apologize? also hoping i did it justice <3)

about 5k.

-

They gave out pamphlets.

Leaflets.

Pastel-colored booklets with images of smiling children plastered on every side, hoping to bandage bad news the same way they bandaged injuries. But Remus’s arm kept on bleeding through the dressings and his mother hadn’t stopped crying. There was no way to put a bandage on this bad of news.

Your kid is a monster, better get used to it.

Remus didn't remember a lot about the first few weeks after he was bitten, aside from the pamphlets. He wondered if any of the children had just been turned into something they never asked for or if they had merely caught a cold. In any case, the pamphlets were left around his house, his parents gathering all and any reading material they could find in hopes of figuring out how to make this new...thing...more bearable for their son. The way they talked around it, through fake smiles and stickers that matched the color palette.

Remus also remembered what the Healer had told his parents when they thought he had been asleep. The side effects that weren't in the booklets.

Chronic joint pain

Vomiting

Hyperhydrosis

Fatigue

Early death. Shortened lifespan.

And that last one, Remus remembered loud and clear as he stared at his three new friends, his three best friends, that he made at boarding school who weren't tiptoeing around the secret Remus had managed to keep for all of half a year. Too clever for their own good. Too caring. Too much time on their hands.

Or they had gotten too close.

"You all don't....know. You don't get it," Remus said, looking down at his hands as he sat on his four-poster, knees tucked under his chin. He tried to remember the last time he looked down at his fingers and didn't see bandages and bruises, only to find he couldn't.

"No, we do get it!" James said indignantly, staring at him with hazel eyes and glasses too big for his face, "You're our friend! What else is there to get. You're not a monster, you're not a big scary thing, you're our friend."

"Best friend," Peter agreed, and Remus looked up from his hands to see the small blonde boy nodding. Remus's eyes looked to Sirius, who had been quiet as the nervous confession spilled out of Remus's mouth, mumbled and garbled and Remus was sure he had drooled at one point. Arrogant, privileged Sirius Black, was quiet and listened, dark, thick eyebrows knitted together softly. And even after James and Peter continued to cheer him up, make him laugh, make him feel like maybe they did get it, Sirius stayed quiet and Remus would catch him glancing at him every so often, with the same look that Remus couldn't read.

Until they were alone in the bathroom, brushing their teeth, James already asleep and Peter close.

"Are you going to say anything?" asked Remus finally, "If you're...I know what you must think, I know--"

"Oh, please, go on, tell me what I think."

"You think I'm...dirty. No good. Half-breed. Don't you? Too proud to say it, especially not since James was so good about it, and Peter too. It's all over your face."

"I don't think that."

"Then say something!"

"What can I say?" Sirius asked softly, "What do you want me to say?"

"I dunno..."

"James already told you we're still friends, so you've heard that bit. Peters told you we'll wait up for you on full moons and take good notes during class. If you want to hear that I agree, then you've got it. We're still friends and I'm the only one of us who takes legible notes and you know, I....don't sleep so, the staying up part is already done."

Remus softened the arms that were wrapped protectively around his body--the last barrier he had between himself and his friends--dropping stupidly to his sides in front of Sirius Black who was perhaps the only person Remus had ever met who could maintain any sort of dignity in a dressing gown. "You don't have to."

"Shut up."

"Why have you been so quiet?"

"Why have you?"

"You're frustrating, you know. Answering my questions with questions when I'm the one who basically revealed the world's biggest secret today! I'm the one who's....sick and whatever! I'm allowed to have kept that to myself, you of all people should know what the worst looks like."

Sirius's eyes darkened for a split second and then it was just gone, replaced with an easy half-smile, "You're so dramatic, really?"

"I'm telling you all, you don't get it! It's not just a once a month thing--"

"Then tell us."

"I could die early, you know. You want to be friends with someone who could die when their sixteen? I could keel over next year for all I know!"

"Well...currently, I'm also friends with," Sirius held up his hand to count on his fingers, "Peter, who burps Irish folk songs, Marlene...who has more hair than I think anyone should and talks so fast I think she could win an award, James who does morning affirmations--"

"You've done them a few times," Remus grinned a little looking down at his feet.

"I will deny it. And then...my little brother, who is...ten and an artist. He paints." Remus laughed again this time a little louder, a little hard, "It's...watercolors? I don't know, he sends me cards sometimes. I've never had friends before this year, I'm not sure how friendships are supposed to go but...you fit right in with what I've gathered so far. Bloke who dies early."

"...Is...that better or worse than an artist?"

"Better. Definitely better."

--

Remus didn't think of the pamphlets again, not for many years. Because he made it to fifteen and suddenly there wasn't just Remus, there was Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Because he made it to seventeen and fell in love with the boy who had told him he was definitely better than a ten-year-old artist though he had substituted silk dressing gowns for sweatpants and nights in Remus's bed. Remus never let himself make plans, convinced they were going to fall apart anyway and he'd find himself in a hospital bed with his mother and father holding onto his hands, just waiting for the end to come sooner rather than later. But with James? Remus made plans to be around for a baby in the middle of a war. Plans that involved staying alive, and building cribs. And Sirius?

Remus made all the plans with Sirius.

Study plans.

Dinner plans.

Moving plans.

Wedding plans.

Secret plans that had Remus slipping out in the middle of the night, kissing the top of Sirius's cheekbone as he slept, hoping it didn't wake him up (it always did; Remus did it anyway).

Unexpected plans when Sirius didn't return to their tiny, weathered flat, and Remus had to find out through a long-winded grapevine that his best friends had been murdered, and his almost-fiancee had been the one to do it.

Remus didn't make plans after that, for the opposite reason. Not because he thought he was going to die, but because he had no reason to live. Day in and day out, dead-end jobs that paid next to nothing, sweaters unraveling thread by thread, and Remus couldn't have cared. A rock stuck on the side of the stream, unmoving until a visit from Albus Dumbledore made Remus remember what it was like to have something to look forward to. Until that same summer, Sirius's face was on the front page of the Daily Prophet--though not in the way Remus ever thought his stunning, beautiful, charismatic, almost-fiancee-husband-life partner-better half-soul mate would be pictured in a paper.

Everything picked up. Remus met Harry, 13 years after he had first met him in a tiny blanket in his mother's arms.

James's smile.

Lily's eyes.

James's curiosity.

Lily's persistence.

Whiplash, moving back and forth between two people he would never see again, forming a connection with someone he swore he would never meet properly, his own cowardice to blame. Harry had more words now and Remus felt like he was making up for the time he hadn't heard any of them. And in one single night, everything changed. Just like that.

--

"We're in the middle of a war," Remus said.

"Deja vu, hm, babe?"

"Sirius..."

"You said yes before."

"You never asked me officially before."

"My coffee proposal was just as good as this." Sirius was smiling at him, down on one knee and ring in his hand. In the middle of the sitting room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, while they listened to the wireless for war reports, waiting to see if they would hear Harry's name.

"I dunno, I do love coffee..."

"I love you."

"Yes."

Remus's knuckles hurt more these days; Remus noticed when Sirius put the ring on his fingers how tight it was. but Remus made plans.

--

"What do you mean I have to go back to school?" shouted Harry abruptly, pushing back from the kitchen table roughly, "I graduated."

"You didn't graduate, Harry, you have--"

"I don't care about NEWTS! No one gives a damn if I have--"

"I give a damn," Sirius said, pointedly looking at Harry firmly, "I give all the damns that you go back to school and you learn all the damn things that you didn't get to learn because you had a Dark Wizard on your back," he said.

"And the damns Sirius doesn't give, I'll give. I think I have a few lying around," Remus said and Harry rolled his eyes.

"The Auror department just said I can walk in and I have a job. I saved the entire bloody wizarding world! What's it matter if I don't have NEWT's? Isn't the point to get a job?"

"The point is to be proficient at magic, Harry," Sirius told him, "Are you?"

"Are you?" Remus snorted. Like father, like son, James was never the best at arguing either.

"I graduated," Sirius responded. "And, you can go ahead and be angry at me for this...but it's already been decided."

"What?! Why even bother asking me! Family discussion my arse! This is bullshit!"

"Mhmm," Sirius nodded but didn't flinch. Only picked up his cup of tea and took a sip, making eye contact with Remus over the top. Remus raised his own cup in response.

Remus remembered Harry crawling into bed with them that night after spending the afternoon giving both of them the silent treatment. Harry cried into Sirius's chest, his hand gripping Remus's arm tightly until he fell asleep. The next morning Remus woke up and noticed the red marks on Harry's hand-- the bruising he had to use paste for that had Sirius worrying when he looked at it.

Are you sure we don't need to go to the Healers?

They didn't.

They had other plans.

--

And Remus realized. One thing was better than making the plans.

Executing the plans.

The wedding in the backyard of Number 12. The wedding night that ended with Remus's head in the lav, and Sirius pressing a cold washcloth to his neck.

Vomiting.

Watching Harry graduate and take a breath to think about what he wanted for themselves.

Painting the kitchen. Remus had to stop every hour, even doing it by magic.

Fatigue.

Planting flowers in the backyard that Remus wasn't able to keep alive.

Planning a second wedding--this time for Harry and a boy with a big smile and a bigger heart that was able to hold Harry with care. Wedding in the middle of winter, because they had met around Christmas, and Remus was sweating through his suit.

Hyperhydrosis.

It wasn't just around full moons anymore, Remus noticed as he aged. It was all the time.

Vomiting.

Fatigue.

Hyperhydrosis.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

--

Remus woke up screaming one morning after a full moon that lasted longer than it should've in his opinion. Wolfsbane, while the most wonderful invention in his twenties, even in his early thirties, was miserable in his forties. You get to keep your mind. Remus didn't want his mind, Remus didn't want to know, or feel, or recognize any part of himself as he transformed, and tried to make his way back to being human. It would've been easier if he could just turn it off. But he couldn't. Especially when everything was getting worse. His shoulder, throbbing, aching, burning, singing the loudest amongst the other pains throughout his body.

"Baby, baby, sorry, I know it hurts," Sirius said, and Remus could barely make out his husband's face, barely registering his touch on his body his vision was so blurred.

"Sirius."

"I'm trying, baby, I'm trying, your shoulder, I can't get it back in, this is over my head."

Transformations got harder. That wasn't in the pamphlet. Remus even went back to check the pamphlets, making an absent comment to the Healer about how their reading material hadn't changed as the Healer put his shoulder back into place, though it didn't quite move the same after that. There should've been something in the leaflets that addressed what happened when you didn't die at 20, despite all odds, and now had a million things that you'd be leaving behind.

A script for Remus to follow.

Because he was coming up empty.

--

He could feel it. He could tell it was coming. His shoulder was useless. He had lost one of his canine teeth, though Sirius insisted it made him look cool. He was tired all the time, ending most days by 7pm and starting them at 10am.

He stopped teaching.

"You love your job."

"It's...an early retirement," Remus told Sirius for the millionth time. Sirius still slept on top of him and Remus was grateful that even this version of his body wasn't adverse to Sirius's touch. "Stop looking at me like that..."

"Like what?"

"Like you're trying to figure me out. I've known you forever, I know that look."

The pinched dark eyebrows, the set jaw.

"I want you to be happy. Will you be unhappy if you stop teaching?"

"Are you here?"

"Sometimes."

"Then I'm happy."

"Remus..."

"I'm happy, Sirius. I'm fine."

--

"Remus--"

"I'm fine, Sirius."

"This won't stop bleeding."

"It will."

"Remus--"

"Kiss me."

--

"Is Moony okay?" he heard Harry ask one evening. Remus had fallen asleep on the couch, just after dinner with Harry and his own family. Remus hadn't planned for grandchildren, and now they were here and Remus used every bit of energy he had on them. Harry's oldest had a loud laugh. Harrys youngest loved to run. Remus's eyes were half-closed and he desperately wanted to open them and reach out and comfort Harry.

The person he had started thinking about plans for all those years ago. Because he had time then.

And now he was running out.

Sand through an hourglass, grain by grain.

"He's fine, my love," Sirius said, though it wasn't a terribly convincing tone.

"He's..." Harry paused, "The...Dursleys had a cat... he was old. I remember. And he would sleep more and more as he got older and--"

"Hey," Sirius said softly, "Remus isn't a cat. He's always loved sleeping and now we're both ancient. I found three grey hairs the other day."

Harry gasped, "Three!? Terrible news."

"It was, I debated shaving my entire head," Sirius said, "Moony's fine, Harry."

"Would you...would you tell me if he wasn't?"

"Yeah. I would."

"Okay."

But what if I don't tell you?

--

"You're the only kid I like," Remus told Harry one afternoon when they were outside in the sun together. The only place Remus felt remotely okay anymore. Until he got too hot anyway. "I hope you know that."

"You taught."

"Teaching is very different than...birthday parties. Still the only kid I like..."

"Still?"

"My kid."

--

Remus thought back to that first conversation with Sirius at eleven, swallowing wolfsbane with shaking hands as he looked at his husband across the table.

First, he was Remus.

Then Moony.

Then my love, darling, baby, my moonlight.

"Sirius?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"I..."

I'm going to die wasn't something that could be stirred into morning coffee.

"Alright?"

"I just love you."

"I love you."

You're the only reason I bothered making plans wasn't something that could be said casually, not like the way they talked about taking a walk or sitting in the sun together.

He got to be Moony again-- this time said differently from a kid who agreed to be his at fifteen. Moony from cradle...to grave.

Then finally husband.

And Grandad Moony.

Remus got to be a lot of things.

He was sure there were more things he could plan for....but he was out of time.

This was it.

"Baby?" Remus managed, watching as the moon out the window began to rise, and he could feel it deep in his bones that this was it.

Shortened lifespan.

Early death.

"You're alright, I'll see you soon, okay?"

"I'm the bloke who dies early."

Remus held on just long enough to watch as Sirius's face registered what was happening before his eyes, a tattooed hand reaching out to Remus's face.

It wasn't his mother and father there holding his hands. It was Sirius. His last touch.

"Remus..."

"Still better than an artist?"

"Just--"

"I'm sorry."

when hands touch..

welll....

shit.

WAIT HOLD ON

The one thing he keeps is the picture of the lighthouse??? No hold on this gets way worse.

Not only is this a reminder of Stede, but think about their conversation about the painting of the lighthouse.

YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO AVOID LIGHTHOUSES. SO YOU DON’T GET YOURSELF HURT.

STEDE WAS THE LIGHTHOUSE: TO HIS FAMILY, TO HIS CREW, TO THE MAN HE LOVED. A BIG, SHINY GOLDEN CHILD WHO ENDED UP CRACKING THEM ON THE ROCKS. THAT’S THE MEMORY OF HIM THAT EDWARD KEEPS!! THE WARNING TO NEVER GET CLOSE AGAIN!!

AND THE LAST SHOT OF THE SEASON IS HIM ALONE, ON THE WATER, HAND SPLAYED UP ABOVE HIM.

EVERYONE BE QUIET. NO ONE TALK TO ME RIGHT NOW. I’M HAVING AN EMOTION.

Listen, this is gonna get sappy but I don’t care.

I am so grateful to be a young person right now. I will never take it for granted that growing up, I am being raised at a point where loving who you want and being who you are is being normalized.

I will never take it for granted that on TV, I could watch two men kiss and not bat an eyelash. I will never take it for granted that I could see a cast with so many POC and it not even register with me that it was that diverse until someone pointed it out. It was just kind of, normal. (And so well done on the part of the makers of the show.) There are so. many. people. before me that did not get that kind of representation. Even people just a little bit older than myself were so excited after Stede and Ed kissed, because they finally hadn’t been let down or queer baited.

I will never take for granted the beautiful and rich representation that I and many others got from a show like Our Flag Means Death, (and the future shows that do it as well that will one day be made)

but they just JUST kissseeeeeeeeeed!!!!!

WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED!!!

WHY WOULD THE SCREENWRITERS PUT US THROUGH THIS TORTURE!!!!!!!

WHY DID EDDDYYY LEAVEE??? WHY DIDN'T STEDE MEET HIM AT THE SPOT?????

i mean i know the answers to these ofc, BUT OH GAWD-

"You make Stede happy"

"Co-captain?"

"Let me..."

*insert j's lullaby (darling i'd wait for you)*

"That's why I don't have any friends"

"Hey...I'm your friend"

"you wear fine things well." - Stede Bonnet

“dear james”

“dear sirius” and “dear harry” [not required reading but may be fun] helped push this process but the real seed was planted because of @greyeyedmonster-18‘s Dear Prongs,… Love Always, Padfoot [for the general letter bit] and The Best Worst Thing to Have Ever Happened [Part 5] [for the parenting books bit]. read those first pls (and all her other stuff) or i’ll fight you. right now. square up i dare u.

Your kid can really be a nuisance sometimes you know? I leave him alone for two minutes, TWO, and he manages to turn his hair blue, summon his toy broomstick through the couch (yes, through), and make the decision to wear his oatmeal instead of eat it. And I prepared it on the stove (the Muggle way) like Lily used to! Just like she swore he liked it. I knew she was always pulling my leg.

If you were this insufferable when you were one and half then I truly feel sorry for your poor mother.

Although I must admit, your son is pretty adorable. Don’t know where he got it from (probably from his godfather. Heard he’s quite a handsome bloke). It certainly makes up for the times he turns into a little demon. 

I wish you were here to see it. That way you’d be the one tearing your hair out while I made your job harder. 

Miss you everyday.

Love,

Sirius

Dear James,

Snape.

As a Potions teacher.

SNAPE.

AS A POTIONS TEACHER.

AS HARRY’S POTIONS TEACHER.

Is it too late to become certified as a homeschooling teacher? Also none of the parenting books described a situation like this (save your jokes about me reading parenting books. I was nervous alright?) so what the fuck do I do?!

My head may explode soon. Knowing how freaky Snivellus is, he’ll probably use my brain guts for potions ingredients, the little slimeball.

Love,

Sirius

Dear James,

I think you may have passed on a bit more of yourself to Harry than Lily would have liked. Going after an alchemist’s immortality stone? Slaying basiliks? Battling dragons? Your kid’s got an adventure streak a mile wide. At least we were a bit tame- only snuck through some secret passages and spent nights with a werewolf as illegal Animagi. At least, tame compared to Harry

I remember one time you asked me if the worry you had for Harry would ever go away. At the time, I was sure it would. The extent of your worries seemed limited to whether or not Harry would crash his toy broomstick into the cat or accidentally get under the Invisibility Cloak. One day he would grow into his own person responsible for his own actions, then you wouldn’t need to worry much anymore.

But what the hell did I know? As much as Harry felt like my kid then, it’s nothing compared to how it feels now. To tell you the complete truth (which we always did, no matter what), the worry never goes away. It somehow gets worse. Because now I’m worried that there’s somehow residual basilisk venom stuck in his veins or that dragon fire will burn him to a crisp, not to mention the fact that there’s a prophecy that may or may not have doomed him to his death. 

Sometimes I think that if you were here, you’d be handling this a lot better than I am.

Love,

Sirius

Dear James,

The worry gets a lot worse when your son has a target on his back and the entire Ministry, not to mention an evil wizard, is after him.

He’s got words carved into the back of his hand. I know you’ve seen me at my worst, but I assure you that I have never wanted to kill someone more than when Harry told me about that woman and what she had done to him. 

Some days, deep down, I’m glad you’re not here to see what Harry’s gone through because I know it would break your heart. I always feel horrible for thinking that, but I can’t help it. 

Love,

Sirius

Dear James,

Congratulations! You’re officially a grandfather to a beautiful boy: James Sirius.

I am not at all sore that you got the first name and I got the middle.

Sneaky bastard, you aren’t even here! I raised Harry, and he’s pretty great (all thanks to me).

Miss you more than ever.

Love,

Sirius

Happy Trans Day of Visibility!

I see you. I hear you. You are valid. You are important. You are beautiful. You matter. The world is a better place because you are in it.

(my favorite) ways to say i love you

you’re really something, aren’t you

come here

sit next to me?

you’re my favorite

i was just thinking about you

i notice you all the time

here, i made this for you

this song reminds me of you

if you do it, i’ll do it

i miss you so much

i wish i had known you sooner

you’re warm

(wrote this because i wanted to; wrote this because i think sirius would know when harry was missing his parents before harry knew himself)

--

Sirius had long since made himself comfortable on the grass, legs crossed and leaning backward onto his arms. Harry hadn't. Harry had been slouched, with his hands shoved deep into the front pockets of his jeans since they had arrived, his almost seventeen-year-old pitching a colossal fit when he realized where they were.

No, fuck you, Sirius!

Had been shouted so loud in a public place, Sirius nearly pulled the whole thing to drag his godson back home and have a conversation. Mr. Potter had always told Sirius that foul language was never warranted, but Sirius vividly remembered what it was like to be a teenager who felt they had no control; who felt out of control; who felt every last thing in the world was unfair and thought that some situations...definitely warranted a swear word or two.

This might have been one of them for Harry. Ambushed and brought to his parent's gravesite.

Harry was allowed to be angry at Sirius for this, but Sirius was allowed to sometimes play the I'm your godfather and I know it doesn't seem like it now but you'll thank me for this later card that he held in his hand. An ace up his sleeve he rarely revealed, but the days leading up to Harry's seventeenth felt like the time to. Sirius hoped this would be one of the times when Harry came to thank him an hour later, instead of years.

"Can we go?" he asked.

"No."

"This is stupid. It's a perfectly good day and you're having us waste it at a stupid gravesite. I could be playing Quidditch! I could...I could be meeting with my friends, I coul--"

"Did you have plans?"

"Well, no, but it's the principle of the thing, and now you're--this is kidnapping."

"You're free to go, Harry."

"You drove me here!"

Sirius nodded, "I did, but I'm not holding you, hostage," he brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the summer sun, "There's a bunch of shops...I'm sure one has a floo. You're welcome to go take a walk and figure it out...you are almost seventeen after all."

Harry scowled, "This is stupid."

"It can be stupid," Sirius shrugged, and turned his attention back to the decorated tombstone, with his best friend's name written across it. There were fresh flowers there, though less than when Sirius had first started visiting. Sirius wondered if there would come a day, 5, 10 13 years down the line where he'd come to pay James and Lily a visit and find nothing left behind and find their grave growing moss from visitors. He wondered how the names would look when the stone started to decay, fossilize, crack and turn. Do people still exist if no one is around to remember them? Would Sirius have to leave a will behind that stipulated every generation visit James and Lily just so they wouldn't be forgotten or be diminished to names whispered in passing like a rumor in a hallway of a boarding school?

"It's stupid."

"Yeah." Sirius patted the spot next to him on the ground for the fourth time since they had arrived, hoping this time Harry decided to join him. There was an eye roll and a final bit of protest, but Harry sat down, sitting cross-legged, and immediately started picking at the grass.

"Why are we doing this?"

"Thought you might have something to say."

"Well, I don't. It's s--"

"Stupid. I know," Sirius nodded, and sat up, bending his knees so he could rest his elbows on them. He took a breath. Harry wasn't wrong. Sirius felt foolish every time he did this and had for years. The first words were the hardest--as if those were the ones James was listening most for. If they were good enough, wise enough, funny enough maybe James would appear again. Like the magic words. A curse that could be broken with, "Hey, mate."

Harry snorted.

"Hey, mate. Lils. It's...me. Sirius," Sirius started, "I know I look a little different these days, but...it's me, I promise. We...live in a world where we don't have to prove our identities to other people now. When I open the door--"

"You still put your wand in people's faces if they come to the door," Harry interjected

"Fine, when Remus opens the door, we don't have to play a quick game of twenty questions. It's...nice, sort of. I haven't been able to shake my paranoia." Sirius said, watching as Harry's hands continued to pick at the grass, making a tiny pile next to a white trainer. "Been missing you lately, I think," Sirius continued, "...More than usual. I did the stupidest thing the other day--"

"Talk to a gravestone?" muttered Harry

"--I went to a bakery, there's a new one in Diagon Alley, this little witch makes tea cakes and I got a bunch to try, and I put an almond one in there. Didn't even realize until I brought the box home and Remus asked me why...." Sirius trailed off, tapping his fingers against the bone in his elbow.

Why did you get an almond one? We all hate almonds.

It's for James

Sirius had said it without even thinking. Done it without even second-guessing.

"Sixteen years and I'm still thinking of you...all the time. And your kid? Fucking spectacular. He's seventeen in a few days, and you know that means I can finally drop the whole parenting thing..." Sirius said lightly, "Boot him out and the like...tell him to get a job or something."

"Hey," Harry said, though it didn't have any of the bite from earlier, "He's joking. He told me last week that I had to stay at the house until I was forty-two, at least."

"Ah well, that was before you told me to go fuck myself."

"I didn't say that, I just said fuck you, if you're going to tell Mum and Dad that I was a brat at least make it accurate..."

"So sorry, babe," Sirius said, "Anyway...I love you both, and...supposed I just wanted to let you know that we're all doing alright, even if we miss you." Sirius looked at Harry, inclining his head as means of encouragement.

"I dunno what to say."

"I didn't exactly prepare a speech."

"I..."

"How about I give you some privacy."

"No," Harry's hand shot out to grab Sirius's own, immediately, and didn't move it, "Don't...don't go."

"I'm right here."

Harry looked at the tombstone, studying the flowers and the stone and the grass growing happily around it, "Hi Mum...Hi Dad. It's...it's me, Harry. I...think I have more hair from when you last saw me. That's what Moony says anyway...and...I'm...this is stupid. And I'm sorry I'm saying it's stupid, but Sirius always tells me just...to call something what it is and it helps make it better so I'm calling it stupid...because it is stupid that I'm about to turn seventeen and I have to sit on the ground, in the mud, on a hot fucking summers day to talk to my parents instead of getting to walk down the hall."

Once Harry started he couldn't stop.

Once Harry said I miss you, memories from birthdays gone by surfaced; his OWL exams, his best friends, his ex-boyfriend who hung the moon for him and then broke his heart, his current boyfriend who put the moon back together and gave it to him in a ceramic box labeled handle with care. The three of them came to visit once a year, but usually, Harry was too overwhelmed with tears to say much; they had come Harry's fifth year just after Christmas and it had been the same, though Harry had wanted to stay for hours, Sirius certain they were all going to catch their death in the cold despite the warming charms continuously being put up. This time was different though, and Sirius just sat and listened as his godson, his kid, poured every last thought he had, every last I love you onto his parent's gravestone, not bothering to catch the falling tears.

That's how gardens grow.

Sirius wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him into his chest as he finished, teenage body wracked with sobs and emotion that hadn't been released until that moment.

"This is stupid," Harry sniffed, making a point to wipe his face on Sirius's t-shirt.

"It can be stupid."

"Missing people is stupid."

"The stupidest thing in the world, love."

sirius and remus were the true chaotic duo at hogwarts. like sure nobody could ever predict what james and sirius were up to. but we all know remus was the real chaotic force behind the marauders. plus, lets be real, when he was alone with james the worst thing you'd find sirius doing is like enchanting a toilet to sing opera.

but find sirus and remus alone together, and on top of the enchanted plumbing, you'd see a whole lot more of them that you'd bargained for. like honestly i don't know what the other prefects would have dreaded more. finding sirus and remus turning every suit of armor into a fluffy bunny suit, or them shagging behind said suits of armor.

If you're looking for some great must read mlm books, this is the list for you!

Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli

Social Skills by Sara Alva

Silent by Sara Alva

One Man Guy by Michael Barakiva

Hold My Hand by Michael Barakiva

Wonders of the Invisible World by Christopher Barzak

Alan Cole Is Not a Coward by Eric Bell

Alan Cole Doesn’t Dance by Eric Bell

Queeroes by Steven Bereznai

The Darkest Part of the Forest by Holly Black

Ziggy, Stardust and Me by James Brandon

In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan

Felix Yz by Lisa Bunker

Exit Plans for Teenage Freaks by Nathan Burgoine

Last Bus to Everland by Sophie Cameron

The House of Impossible Beauties by Joseph Cassara

Peter Darling by Austin Chant

Gives Light by Rose Christo

Stranger Than Fanfiction by Chris Colfer

Carry the Ocean by Heidi Cullinan

The Love Interest by Cale Dietrich

There Goes Sunday School by Alexander C. Eberhart

Lock & West by Alexander C. Eberhart

The Screwed Up Life of Charlie the Second by Drew Ferguson

Love & Other Curses by Michael Thomas Ford

Only Mostly Devastated by Sophie Gonzales

Tales from Foster High by John Goode

How Not to Ask a Boy to Prom by S.J. Goslee

Whatever.: or how junior year became totally f$@ked by S.J. Goslee

Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green & David Levithan

Half Bad by Sally Green

Half Wild by Sally Green

Half Lost by Sally Green

Heartbreak Boys by Simon James Green

Geography Club by Brent Hartinger

We Contain Multitudes by Sarah Henstra

Middle School’s a Drag, You Better Werk by Greg Howard

Social Intercourse by Greg Howard

Totally Joe by James Howe

After School Activities by Dirk Hunter

At the Edge of the Universe by Shaun David Hutchinson

The Past and Other Things That Should Stay Buried by Shaun David Hutchinson

We Are the Ants by Shaun David Hutchinson

The Five Stages of Andrew Brawley by Shaun David Hutchinson

A Complicated Love Story Set in Space by Shaun David Hutchinson

The Boy Who Couldn’t Fly Straight by Jeff Jacobson

Haffling by Caleb James

The Red Sheet by Mia Kerick

The Lightning-Struck Heart by T.J. Klune

A Destiny of Dragons by T.J. Klune

The Consumption of Magic by T.J. Klune

A Wish Upon the Stars by T.J. Klune

The Extraordinaries by T.J. Klune

Flash Fire by T.J. Klune

Openly Straight by Bill Konigsberg

The Bridge by Bill Konigsberg

Autoboyography by Christina Lauren

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

Two Boys Kissing by David Levithan

Every Day by David Levithan

Boy Meets Boy by David Levithan

How to Repair a Mechanical Heart by J.C. Lillis

When Ryan Came Back by Devon McCormack

Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

Vivaldi in the Dark by Matthew J. Metzger

Life as a Teenage Vampire by Amanda Meuwissen

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

The Art of Starving by Sam J. Miller

Hero by Perry Moore

Marco Impossible by Hannah Moskowitz

Like a Love Story by Abdi Nazemian

I’ll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson

More Than This by Patrick Ness

Earth to Charlie by Justin Olson

Play Me, I’m Yours by Madison Parker

Here’s to You, Zeb Pike by Johanna Parkhurst

Junior Hero Blues by J.K. Pendragon

When Everything Feels Like the Movies by Raziel Reid

Jack of Hearts by Lev A.C. Rosen

Camp by Lev A.C. Rosen

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

Wayward Son by Rainbow Rowell

My Awesome/Awful Popularity Plan by Seth Rudetsky

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

Rainbow Boys by Alex Sanchez

Rainbow High by Alex Sanchez

Rainbow Road by Alex Sanchez

So Hard to Say by Alex Sanchez

The Darkness Outside Us by Eliot Schrefer

All Kinds of Other by James Sie

They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera

History Is All You Left Me by Adam Silvera

More Happy Than Not by Adam Silvera

Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith

Freak Show by James St. James

Ray of Sunlight by Brynn Stein

Imaginary by Jamie Sullivan

(In)visible by Anyta Sunday

The Dangerous Art of Blending In by Angelo Surmelis

366 Days by Kiyoshi Tanaka

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

Wild and Crooked by Leah Thomas

Because You’ll Never Meet Me by Leah Thomas

Fan Art by Sarah Tregay

Suicide Watch by Kelley York

Thanks to my friend @lostintrace for the art, each are characters from books on this list. If you want help picking out a book, hit my inbox!

Header: Red, White & Royal Blue (L) and Carry On (R)

Red: Jack of Hearts (and other parts)

Orange: Alan Cole Is Not a Coward

Yellow: Heartbreak Boys

Green: The Lightning-Struck Heart

Blue: Boy Meets Boy

Purple: Cemetery Boys

....

“dear sirius,”

Please please please don’t be mad. Remember how I told you that Hagrid had made a new friend? Well… 

His new friend was a dragon and we had to help smuggle it out to Charlie (Ron’s brother) and we got caught by McGonagall and we lost 150 points and McGonagall said she’d have to write to our parents so I’m writing this really fast because I’m hoping you’ll get my letter first so that you don’t get too shocked when a Hogwarts owl comes through the wards. 

Please don’t yell at me too much when you see me at the next Quidditch match. I won’t be doing it again, I swear on your mum’s portrait. 

Love, 

Harry

Dear Sirius,

Our new Defense teacher is just as much of a loony as you told me he’d be. And his robes make me wish I was completely blind. Can you send me another one of your old books? I really really don’t think I’ll be learning much of anything this year. At least anything of value (although if you want to know what Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite colour is, I can let you know). 

Love,

Harry

Dear Sirius,

I FORGOT MY SIGNED HOGSMEADE PERMISSION SLIP CAN YOU PLEASE SEND IT TO ME! URGENTLY! THANK YOU!

Also do you want any more Sugar Quills when I go to Honeydukes? I remember you were on your last one when I left.

Love,

Harry

Dear Sirius,

You probably already heard, but I can’t come home from Christmas this year. There’s going to be a stupid Yule Ball at the stupid school on Christmas day and I have to go because I’m a stupid champion and I have to find a stupid date because I have to open the stupid ball. And learn how to stupid dance!

I think I left my stupid dress robes in my closet. Can you send them to me? Also, how do I ask someone to come with me to the ball?

Missing you and your horrid Christmas decor.

Love, 

Harry

Dear Sirius,

I know you told me to tell you if anything weird happens this year and I think something just did. The new Defense teacher is a witch from the Ministry-absolutely horrid woman. I had a detention with her (yes I know the term only just started and no you may not ask why) and she had me doing lines, only the quill she gave me was kind of strange? It didn’t use ink. It sorta… used my blood I think. Or at least the ink was red. Carved the words I was writing into the back of my hand. Healed right up though. No scars or anything.

Don’t lose your mind. I’m sure it’s fine. I’m just telling you now so that you can’t yell at me later for keeping  “important information” from you like the whole Philosopher’s Stone Disaster of ‘92.

Hope to see you soon. Schoolwork is slowly killing me.

Love,

Harry

....

“dear harry,”

read “dear sirius” first

Hey kiddo, relax. I’d be quite the hypocrite if I got mad at you for losing points. Just be careful next time, please. Maybe stick to smuggling items on Filch’s banned list as opposed to fire-breathing, sharp-toothed illegal magical creatures. Also weren’t you wearing the cloak? How’d you get caught?

Does McGonagall still wear that tartan dress robe? If so, please tell her to upgrade her wardrobe to the 90′s.

I cannot wait to see you at the Quidditch match. Is the new broom holding up well? Either way, I know you’re going to smash it!

Love,

Sirius

Dear Harry,

One “Defending Yourself and Others- the Practically Perfect Way” is enclosed, my studious child. You owe me five Sickles by the way- I told you he’d be nuts. And no, I have no desire to learn what that crackpot’s favorite colour is. I’d much rather have one-on-one tutoring with Snape for the rest of my life, which is something I never thought I’d say.

Love,

Sirius

Dear Harry,

Do I need to get you a Remembrall? Slip is attached, although I’m not sure you even need it. Didn’t you memorize all of the secret passageways by the time you were 9? I would like it on the record to that you did that of your own volition; I had nothing to do with it. 

And I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sugar Quills? I don’t touch the stuff. It’s bad for the brain, you see. And my brain needs to be extra sharp in order to keep up with you and your shenanigans.

(Although if you happen to see them, I’m sure the extra-long lasting ones would be excellent. Just to see what they’re like, of course).

Love,

Sirius

Dear Harry,

Not to worry my young worrywart, we will wait to open presents, drink hot chocolate, and make my famous Christmas pancakes until you get home. Father Christmas normally waits for no one, but this year he’ll wait for you- I’ve put in a good word (although I’m tempted to take it back as payback for calling my decor horrid).

Now for the Ball, it’ll probably help to not refer to any possible date as “stupid”. They’re much more likely to say yes that way, you see. Other than that, I suggest asking someone (boy or girl, doesn’t matter who) that you generally get along with and enjoy speaking to. It’ll make your night at least a little less painful. Perhaps one of your Quidditch teammates? Or someone from your classes?

Don’t ask someone only because you think they’re attractive. It may lead to awkward conversation, awkward dancing, and awkward excessive butterbeer consumption that leads to a night spent on the toilet. Not that I’m speaking from experience, of course. But if I was theoretically recounting my experience I would like it to be known that it was not me who ended up on the toilet. It was my theoretical date. 

As for dancing… I’m quite pants at that even with the forced childhood lessons. Maybe ask your date to give you a tutorial? Or at least a practice dance to make sure you don’t muck up the opening.

Also I checked for your dress robes- they’re not here. Are you sure they’re not buried at the bottom of your trunk?

Best of luck, kiddo. Don’t forget to send pictures at the Ball- I’m running low on blackmail material.

Love,

Sirius

Harry-

I’m coming to see you and bringing DMLE folks. Be in Gryffindor common room in half an hour. 

Don’t worry, I’m on my way.

Sirius

P.S. Thank you for telling me. I’m proud of you

when two musicians sing into the same microphone and lean in very close to each other… like omg are you guys gonna kiss now to relieve the homoerotic tension?😳

*plays in the background

(murder husbands inspired the desire to write the proposal out. sirius to remus. ((remus to sirius isn't quite this casual)))

Warm summer sunlight was barely poking through their bedroom curtains when Sirius woke up, trying to stay still as possible in bed, not wanting to wake his boyfriend. Even in the dead of night, he gravitated to Remus like a moth to a light, a barnacle clinging to the side of a boat for dear life even in calm waters. It had been that way since seventeen, though there wasn't much of an option then given the size of the dormitory beds, but wasn't any different now at 25 when they had a much bigger bed and a bedroom entirely to themselves. Sirius studied Remus in the morning light, counting freckles across the bridge of his nose and the pink left on his cheeks from time spent outside with their four-year-old and not enough sun lotion.

Sirius loved to count the freckles, especially when Remus was asleep and wasn't aware he was doing so. Though he loved to count the freckles during the day too because Remus's mouth would turn up at the corners and his face would flush from the intensity of the attention, but he never told Sirius to stop. Sirius loved the shape of Remus's mouth, the way it was slightly open when he slept; the sandy hair, and the way it captured the sunlight, turning more golden. Less grey.

Sirius wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life waking up next to someone who never complained about Sirius's full body weight on top of him, counting freckles, and making wishes on eyelashes that had fallen out onto cheeks.

"Marry me, Remus Lupin..." Sirius whispered, pressing a soft kiss just on Remus's cheek, as he always did before he got up in the morning. He could hear Harry in his room already, talking away to his toys and stuffed animals as he waited for Sirius to open the door.

"Okay," Remus mumbled in return, and Sirius halted, propped up on the palms of his hands, hovering above Remus.

"You're asleep."

"Sort of."

"You're supposed to be asleep."

"Kind of am," Remus stirred, bringing a hand out from underneath the covers to find the back of Sirius's head, his eyes still half-closed. It was clumsy, long fingers hitting Sirius's face, nearly poking an eye out before he was able to rest his hand where he wanted it to go. So Remus's long fingers could tangle in the curls that had escaped from the hairband overnight. Sirius would find it with the pillows when he made the bed later.

"You weren't supposed to hear that."

"Mmmm but I did. Sorry, too late. Answer still stands."

"...You'll marry me?"

"Yes."

"I have a ring," Sirius told him. Sirius also had plans. He also was working up to book a day at Remus's favorite fancy restaurant--the one they went to and just ate cheese and drank wine until closing. Sirius was going to show him the ring before their first glass. Sirius was going to say something romantic that would make Remus blush, and give the proposal speech of a lifetime.

But like most things he had planned out for him and Remus...they just never worked out the way Sirius built them up to in his brain.

"A ring?"

"Yes. It's in the dresser. Has been for months."

"Can I see it in an hour?"