ziya ౨ৎ

Fanfiction is morally neutral. The way someone writes fanfiction, what fictional characters they ship, and what they choose to write in a fandom? All morally neutral. Fuck off with judging people about that shit.

HOWEVER

@wolfstarmicrofic

Sirius has this list he made once, titled “reasons why we can never ever ever ever break up.” It’s full of things like:

-we have too many inside jokes -we already have enough shared trauma -because we already share jumpers and that feels legally binding -you are the perfect amount of warm -I refuse to let anyone else learn all my habits, intimate or otherwise. -because i love you (written twice, underlined trice, circled in different colors) -because what if i miss you too much 🥺

Since the idea of ever breaking up with Sirius had never once crossed his mind, Remus had thought the list was rather silly. Endearing, yes…but silly. 

That is… until tonight. 

Tonight, Remus couldn’t sleep.

Not because anything was wrong… no, but because Sirius wasn’t right next to him. His head wasn’t on Remus’ chest like it usually was when they slept. Two years of sharing a flat. Two years of falling asleep together every night. And now Remus lay wide awake, far past his usual bedtime, staring down at his own chest with a very noticeable Sirius-shaped hole.

Metaphorical hole, sure…but the absence felt real.

He tried putting a pillow there, pretending it was Sirius. It didn’t work…every time, he leaned down instinctively to press a kiss to Sirius’ forehead and found nothing. He swapped it for the bolster. Worse. His fingers reached, half-asleep, searching for dark waves to tangle through.

Nothing.

Miserable and pouting, he padded into the living room where Sirius was hunched over his auror training notes.

Sirius looked up immediately. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Remus shook his head.

“Almost done,” Sirius said, smiling like he already knew.

Later, when Sirius finally settled back onto Remus’ chest, Remus kissed his temple, his cheek, his hair, eyelids and tip of his nose… too many kisses to count.

“I should make my own list of why we can’t break up… ever,” Remus murmured.

Sirius blinked, looking up sleepily. “Hmm?”

“Number one,” Remus kissed his forehead again, holding him closer, “it’s impossible for me to sleep without you here. You’ve carved this place out to fit you exactly.” He pointed at his chest, right over his heart.

her name was Marsha P Johnson, and we have her to thank for so much.

remember, the first Pride was a riot, and she was one of the brave souls who endured it to help carve the path which so many of us walk today. she helped found several activist groups regarding LGBT safety and wellbeing. and she was absolutely radiant, too.