#mostly canon

[skeleton-brainz]

Thomas wayne: Isn't it a little strange, that both of the children we had, despite not knowing one was alive. Ended up dressing as nighttime creatures?

Martha Wayne: it's a miracle we stopped after Bruce, imagine what other creatures they'd come up with.

Thomas: Batman and Owlman are bad enough, Mothwoman?

Martha: If we had a child who went by Skunkman I think I'd need to flick them.

Thomas: our boys would probably stick to the flying creatures.

Martha:...

Martha: If we hadn't died that night, we'd have never known Tommy wasn't a stillbirth. Bruce wouldn't be the man he is, and our grandchildren wouldn't be here in our house. The one we planned to fill with little feet.

Thomas: As much as I wish we could see him grow up, it's about time we acknowledge it was for the best.

Martha: At least we can haunt him together my love.

Thomas: At least until Alfred comes and joins us, im sure he has much to complain about.

Martha: I can hear it now, instead of "Master Bruce threw his peas on the floor." It will be "Master Bruce tried to bleed out on my floor."

[vidathomir]

everyone keep watch. the first part of the pre-bitter suite gabby angst might be ready. i wasn't going to make it multiple parts but now i can't tell if it becomes redundant when considering the events of forget me not so. we may be getting this thing sooner than we thought and then we'll see if i want to keep writing. wahoo?

[our-detective-so-supreme]

So here's my timeline theory on when each of the crime gang met the Moriartys.

First, Jack Renfield, a short while after the events of chapter 1. This is pretty obvious since we see this in canon.

Next came Moran a few years later, as evidenced by William, who by then was a teenager.

Von Herder came along either shortly before or shortly after Moran. They knew each other prior to the formation of MI6, plus Herder was the one who designed Moran's rifle from chapter 3.

Fred was the next one to cross paths with them. The exact circumstances behind this first meeting are currently unknown, as of writing this post.

Moneypenny was hired as Albert's secretary back when he was working in MI5 (and was subsequently transferred over to MI6 when it was formed).

It was also not long after MI6's founding that Patterson was taken on as one of their informants.

And then finally, we have the last additions of James and then Billy. Again, no need to elaborate on how either came to be.

[gayregina]

The price of a soul

A fanfic by gayregina. A synopsis:

“When Armand develops a unique power amongst his kind, he is driven mad by his choices and the concept of fate. Until someone is able to conform him.” Some mentions of book lore and everything that comes with that but also not 100% canon. Enjoy:)

-

Within every curse, hides a gift. Armand had found it, at last, after he abandoned the ritualistic ways that the children of darkness deemed as sacred. At the heart of Paris and later on all around the world, he started picking up his heightened senses and used them to search for the humanity in each soul, perhaps to make up for his own. He studied the way a person’s heart raced when they looked upon a lover or how a gentle touch was appreciated through the energy that raided off of them. Apart from the various spirits Armand had grown used to witnessing, he now could see, if he focused enough, the life of each human being like a small flame, burning so brightly yet so easily extinguishable. Each time he would lure somebody into his lethal embrace, the fire would present itself again and he couldn’t help but watch it fade away accompanied by the person’s strongest memories flashing before his eyes, raw and tangible. A bittersweet blood filled smile at the nape of their neck, the aftertaste depending on the quality of each existence. The cost of mortality breathing hard down their necks before the catharsis settled in; every experience and opportunity heavy on the tip of their tongues but oh so easily gone like they were never possible at all.

Such a peculiar thing it turned out to be that Armand could have sworn he knew when he met the same souls as before. Their flame a little too familiar, standing out from the norm proudly. He followed those curiously and if they ever stumbled upon a former friend, relative or even lover, Armand could tell from the sudden intensity the fire gained that resembled the effect of fuel. The flames would dance around each other then, drawn to one another by a greater force that connected them despite the barrier of time. It was fascinating to Armand, relieving even, that souls found a way back to each other even through forgotten history and even more so that they were able to accomplish a new meaningful bond to last another century or so. If he could not have it himself, he supposed it was a gift in and of itself to see it so vividly.

One time, a strange flame caught his eye. It reminded him of his human home, both place and time. He followed the soul frantically but he hid at every turn, too afraid he was to face the past and too painful to bring back Amadeo from the grave. He called to him desperately but the human never stopped running and the flame only ever smothered. He either had found the wrong soul to terrorize or his own fire had been lost to nature, his vampiric side meant to solely destroy life.

Riccardo, Armand called to him desperately. Come to me, old friend, he kept saying in his head but he could not will the boy to recognize him. His dearest friend did not look the same, of course. His skin too pale compared to Armand’s and his features no longer emitting a sense of familiarity and safety within him. His eyes a strange violet and his brown curls sitting effortlessly on the top of his head instead of his shoulders. The boy’s lifestyle too cheap compared to Venice and the luxuries they had shared. Armand had lost him brutally that gruesome night, forced to watch as the fire hugged his body but utterly helpless and unable to do anything to stop it. His screams and cries were still ringing in his ears, an ugly sound by all means. The grief had been contagious but Armand could have him back now, just like the countless others he had watched over the course of two centuries biding their time and healing their scars. Wasn’t he allowed this one favor or would he invade his beloved’s heart like a parasite and sicken his pure soul, put out the delicate flame forever?

Daniel. Daniel. Daniel. The name sat oddly on his tongue, too far from home but he could make it work. Daniel. He heard a young girl sighing it through the lustfull bliss in the back of an alley where the boy had whisked her away. Quick and filthy. He didn’t approve but he could teach him, he could remind him. He could find Riccardo even through Daniel. Not all was lost.

-

Daniel backed Armand into the wall of his apartment, the one with the sky on the ceiling. Armand was hungry but Daniel was aching for him. He could feel it in the way he chased after his lips or his skin, always wanting more, always searching. Armand let Daniel lead him through the familiar streets, the boy charming him with the promise of drugs inhabiting the back of his mind. A poor substitute for ecstasy, Armand thought.

He appeared to be struggling more and more in finding his friend inside this stranger but he had to admit the boy had some fascinating qualities himself. Daniel’s hands sneaked under his shirt, so warm and alive they were across his deadly cold skin, and yes, it felt nice to be touched and to be wanted. His mind raced through the countless sensations attacking him and it had been a long time since he felt desire pour over his soul and body. Consumed, yes, that was the word. Those were the days of worshipping, the days of pleasure, the days of carelessness. A family, a lover and a best friend. Riccardo and the boys, they- Riccardo. No, he had lost this way. The boy was distracting him, this wasn’t right.

No. No. No. He had to do it again. He shall fix it. No, no, no. He will.

It took him a while to realize Daniel had ceased his movements, the passion had died down. Now the boy’s hands were on Armand’s face, gently cupping his cheeks and soothingly caressing them. He must have been muttering under his breath.

“Are you okay? Do you want to stop?” Such a strange question, so unfamiliar it sounded. The moon creeping through the window was illuminating Daniel’s eyes. Armand wanted to drown in their concern, so genuine it seemed. They could have been Riccardo’s eyes, they shared the same calm before the storm.

“No. No-” No point, he had meant to say but he was chocking on the words. Armand held on to Daniel’s waist and he could picture him. A beautiful boy in his arms, he had him. But he was slipping away, his face no longer as clear in his memory but faded in time. Treacherous time, vicious its wrath on Armand. Inescapable. He wanted to cry, he wanted Riccardo to take him back to Venice. No, somewhere better. He wanted to be somebody else. But again, he was back in the room and again his dear friend was reaching out to him through the haze of smoke. He could have taken his hand. Why didn’t he follow him? But Amadeo was spared and he kept on enduring. He didn’t want to endure any longer.

“Hey man, I don’t know if I am too drunk but you’re bleeding from your eyes.” He was drowning, chocking on his blood. The boy’s voice appeared as a lifeline to Armand then and he quickly grabbed it to pull himself out of the abyss.

“I am sorry. I am so sorry-“ Armand tried to turn away, to hide his shame. Perhaps it was an attempt to apologize to his friend but he wasn’t there, most likely never had been. Daniel instead was the one who wiped away his tears and comforted him.

“Shush. It’s okay.” Daniel interrupted his mumbling and led him to the couch slowly as if not to break him. A fragile thing he had become, overcome by his feelings of years. Hope was a foul’s game and yet Armand fell for it. He realised with horror that he knew more things about the stranger in front of him than he remembered about his dear friend.

Daniel had kneeled in front of him, watching him carefully from his direct line of sight and he looked now a great deal soberer than Armand had found him at the club. The boy placed his palm on the vampire’s outer thigh and squeezed sympathetically.

“Thank you.” Armand said. Lord, he sounded small. Daniel shrugged and sat next to him on the couch after he made sure he was in a better state.

“Happens to the best of us.” The ghost of a smile lingered on Armand’s lips but too many ghosts were attached to him for centuries and he wasn’t ever able to clean them off. Every sinister or loving touch, every dark thought he suppressed in the safety of his dark coffin always came back to haunt him eventually.

“Do you know what’s it like to think of everything that could have been and regret every choice, despise every outcome?” Armand felt Daniel’s eyes on him as he spoke, focused and blazing.

“What if my skin had been a shade too dark, my face wrinkled, my nose crooked? What if my eyes were an abnormal blue and my body undesirable? Would I have not been picked? If I had, was there any chance I tasted the flames or drowned in the sea, let death claim me finally? Would it feel like a warm hug instead of this cold emptiness that’s filling up my insides? This sick need of taking and taking until there is nothing left, until you have no soul. Until you look in the mirror and there are only pieces of people in the shape of you, everything that turned you into this monster but nothing resembling the human. A black hole.” He looked over to the boy and he was visibly confused but he nodded his head for him to continue. Such intrigue, such compassion. Armand could have laughed. An eager black hole, he thought. He faced the windowsill far in front of him, lost in his head, lost in his past.

“And again I find myself in Delhi. My legs too short to outrun the slavers, my body too weak to fight them off, to prevent them from-“ He closed his eyes in pain and disgust. He let out a surrendering breath. A slight touch on his hand, afraid but present. It was enough. He opened them back up.

“A young man and not a cherub. A person and not a muse. Arun and not Amadeo. Broken and irredeemable. Alive and forgettable.” The sky outside was painted a light pink, the clouds making it look like a sweet candy. He could savour this moment but he was still stuck in this body. A victim to his own choices amongst other things.

“And yet you are here.” Daniel whispered and Armand turned to face him. His eyes were glistening with tears threatening to fall and he suddenly looked a lot younger than he was. “There’s gotta be a reason for that.” The boy suggested and Armand offered him a grateful smile. A kind soul, he thought, that must’ve been it. The vampire caressed the boy’s cheek softy and he leaned into his touch.

“A rare flame.” Armand said and the boy frowned slightly. He hoped his amber eyes were welcoming then, soothing.

“Don’t ever lose it, Daniel.” Armand waited for the little chuckle and when he heard it, he brought him closer and kissed his lips softly. No consuming hunger left in him to chase after for now. A still moment, Daniel’s eyes closed in expectation. Armand leaned towards the boy’s ear in the peaceful silence and whispered just so only he could hear:

“Sleep now, beautiful boy. Let it all be a dream.” Daniel’s body went limp in his arms and Armand carried him and laid him down comfortably on his bed. In the distance, the sun was peaking through the horizon, a dangerous game it liked to play with Armand, always temping him to give up. It was the first sunrise he had seen in a long while, something to remember in the maze of his mind.

A new day, a new boy but the same old game. He thought he knew the rules by now.

He thought he could even win for once.

-

I would love to hear your thoughts!

[catboydiiluc]

some pjsk ref sheets i did so i have colors and body shapes for everyone i wanna draw more of in the future :>

[malkavi-ann]

When the Truth Hurts. Chapter 2

Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree fanfiction

Rating: Mature (May change in the future)

Relationship: F/M

Pairing: Messmer the Impaler/Original Female Character

Tags: Self-Loathing, Reference to Depression, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Messmer is bad at feelings, Mommy Issues, Abandonment Issues.

Link to Ao3

Chapter 2: The Woman in the Hut

And so Messmer, accompanied by his loyal commander, knights, and soldiers, embarked on his journey to the Gravesite Plain. It felt so unusual for him to be outside as he’d been spending all of his time being a hermit. At first, he hated being outdoors: the light seemed too bright and the nature sounds felt overwhelming. However, in a few hours, he got accustomed to it and even started to enjoy it a bit. It reminded Messmer of the times when his army was in its prime and was going from one place to another chasing down the Hornsent people. How brutally glorious those days were. Every battle and every siege was filled with purpose. Every Hornsent life that they took felt like a victory. But with time the fights became few and far between, and the glory of the crusade started to wane. Now Messmer and his army are stuck in this land, with no sign of their Queen returning her grace to them.

The journey continued smoothly as the path was clear. They left the Shadow Keep early in the morning and by the afternoon they had passed Castle Ensis, which was Lady Rellana’s main post. As the day went by, Messmer and his people started to slowly approach the south side of the Gravesite Plain. And the closer they were getting, the more anxious Messmer felt. His mind was filled with conflicting thoughts and emotions. On one hand, the possibility of seeing his mother excited him. Despite her prolonged absence and lack of communication, he still loved her dearly. Marika not only raised him all by herself, but she was also the one who sealed the abyssal serpent away to prevent it from overtaking Messmer’s body and soul. In his eyes, this was the biggest manifestation of her love and one of the reasons why he wouldn’t give up on her. On the other hand, the news that his mother was back was too good to be true, and Messmer was never an optimistic person. Besides, it still didn’t make sense why Marika would choose an abandoned hut in the middle of nowhere to make her return. And what was the deal with the blood fiends? Those creatures didn’t care for the Greater Will or the Golden Order. The whole situation was extremely odd, raising a lot of questions without giving any clear answers.

“You seem rather preoccupied, my friend.” The booming voice of Commander Gaius snapped Messmer back into reality.

“I’m not sure what to expect when we arrive at that place. I’ve been thinking a lot about this whole ordeal but I cannot think of any reasonable explanation as to why my mother would return so suddenly. It just doesn’t make any sense”, replied Messmer absent-mindedly.

”I agree with you. The involvement of the blood fiends seems rather peculiar as well. They are known for worshiping the Formless Mother who is an Outer God. And since there is no connection to the Queen’s Holy Order, my fear is that this is some sort of trap to get you out of the Keep. You must be careful, my friend.”

“Well, if this is indeed a trap, we shall find out soon enough. Looks like we’re nearing the Prospect Town, and according to the reports the hut is somewhere nearby.”

The group continued their journey along the snaky cliffside path southeast of Belurat. The road was narrow and rocky, making the pass extremely dangerous. Soon enough they reached the ruins of the town where a tribe of blood fiends had been living for centuries. The first thing that struck Messmer was the absolute silence: all he could hear was the howling wind. Normally, this place would be swarmed by the fiends; however, now it was completely deserted with no sign of the monsters. There was something eerie about this whole situation, and Messmer’s people got visibly nervous while they were passing through the town. However, nothing could have prepared them for what they were about to see next.

All around the hut, many bodies were lying on the ground: some of them were blood fiends and others were of his soldiers. One would think that a battle had taken place here, yet there were no signs of struggle and not a single drop of blood. At first, Messmer thought they were all dead but upon closer look, it turned out they were simply asleep. Their slumber was so unusually deep that any attempts to wake them up were unsuccessful. The whole situation around the mysterious woman was getting weirder and weirder.

“My lord, we’re waiting for your command”, said one of the Fire Knights to Messmer.

Messmer took a deep breath. “Take two soldiers with you and get to the hut. Get that woman out of there. I have many questions for her that need answers”, he ordered. The Fire Knight nodded and called over some of the foot soldiers to follow him. The distance between Messmer’s envoy and the hut was short, yet it felt like an eternity for them to reach the door. The Fire Knight knocked on the door and barked out the order: “We’re here on behalf of Sir Messmer the Impaler. We know you’re inside. Any resistance shall be met with force. Come out voluntarily and you shall be spared.”

As soon as he finished talking, the door slightly opened and a tiny cloud of purple mist left through the opening, enveloping the knight and the soldiers. Everyone was watching with tension as the group fell to the ground in a matter of seconds…and fell asleep. It became obvious that whoever was hiding in the shack had some sort of power to inflict sleep on others and was responsible for putting the blood fiends and scouts into slumber. This was the first sign that the woman in the hut was definitely not Marika as the latter was never known to have similar abilities.

The remaining group stood in silence unsure of what to do next. No one dared to move closer to the shack; instead, all the attention was on Messmer - his men were waiting for his instruction. Meanwhile, Messmer was weighing his options: he could turn back and forget about everything that happened or he could burn this hut from afar, killing this mysterious woman. There was also another option: he could confront the imposter and demand answers: who is she? Is she related to his mother? Why was she here? In truth, the circumstances around the woman made him curious to the point that he wanted to talk to her. Perhaps she knew something about Marika or maybe she was her messenger or even an avatar. There had to be some explanation as to why she looked like Marika, Messmer thought.

”My lord, do you have any orders for us?”, a voice brought Messmer back out of his thoughts.

“No, I shall face this imposter myself.”, responded Messmer with confidence. Everyone looked at him in disbelief, but no one dared to question his decision. “I would like to speak to her personally and no one shall interfere”, he added briefly. Gaius gave Messmer a concerned look as he knew how vulnerable his friend was about the subject of his mother. He didn’t say anything, yet he understood why Messmer wanted to deal with the imposter himself. “We will stand at the ready my Lord in case something happens.”, he finally said. Messmer nodded appreciatively and headed to the hut.

As Messmer was walking up to the door, his heart was pounding. The possibility of getting answers about his mother was exhilarating and frightening at the same time. Once he reached the door, it took him a moment to collect his thoughts. Then, he spoke loudly so the person in the hut could hear him: “My name is Messmer the Impaler. I came here in peace and I only wish to speak with you. No harm shall be inflicted upon you. You have my word.”, he promised.

Nobody replied to him for a couple of minutes. Suddenly, a small melodic voice came out behind the door. “Please come in. The door is open”. Messmer’s heart sank a bit as he didn’t recognize the voice. How foolish of him to think that Mother would finally return to someone so monstrous like Messmer. Perhaps, there is no hope for him after all. Nevertheless, he took a deep breath and pushed the door. Even though he realized this was not his mother, he was still determined to learn the truth.

[starslovechasers]

Rotten work

Remus Lupin would never forget how it felt finding out that his Padfoot, murdered his best friends.

It was a dreary November afternoon. He had returned from a classified mission for the Order of the Phoenix.** James and Lily had been hidden for months in an undisclosed location, so he wasn’t expecting to be reunited with them, not for a while at least. He had returned to headquarters, only to be surprised at the lack of hustle-and-bustle it usually held.

Searching the hallways and rooms for anyone, he almost hit Mary McDonald smack in the face.

He smiled. He was home. But something wasn’t right.

Sweet Mary. Her brown eyes had deep coloured circles, swelled with redness that could only be caused by tears. Remus knew something terribly wrong had happened.

‘You haven’t heard.’ Her silky voice cracked, a small break that caused Remus to feel a deep sense of dread, because no one could have prepared him for what he heard next.

He fell to his knees. Remus has spent so long trying to stay strong for them, for his family. But at that point in time, he felt the weight of the world he had been holding for so long, crush him.

Mary wasn’t finished, he knew there was more. He tried to calm his breathing to look at her. He needed to know everything, he needed to do something. He needed to get to them.

Oh James. Oh Lily.

Harry.

Where was Harry in all this?

“Sirius… does he.. Have Harry? Is Harry okay? Sirius is his godfather-’

‘Remus-’

‘Sirius can look after Harry-”

‘Remus…’

‘He can do it, I know he can-’

‘REMUS!’

Remus stopped.

He met Mary’s eyes, her teary eyes had softened. Not a look of anger, a look of pity.

All that could be heard was the strong ringing that filled Remus’ ears that could only be caused by betrayal.

At that moment, Remus couldn’t hold it in anymore. He let out a blood-curdling scream. He sobbed and hit the floor, he hit and banged so hard it ought to break.

There was no silencing charm on the room, so if there was anyone else in the building they would barge in at any moment, but there was no one.

There was no one left to barge in.

***

Thirteen years ago, Remus Lupin lost three of his best friends. More than that, his family. Not only did he lose his family, he lost the love of his life in one of the greatest betrayals known to man. His partner, his best friend, his love. Sirius Black.

For thirteen years, he mourned a love that burnt him so badly it marked his bones.

He mourned his family, James Potter, one of his first and only friends. One of his friends who made him feel okay in his skin despite its scars.

Lily Potter, one of the sweetest girls he would ever know, one of the only other people who he was comfortable to tell anything to. The couple had done nothing but love and adore him. He watched them grow and fall in love with each other despite years of scepticism and banter. He learnt what love was through Lily and James Potter. Not only did they love each other effortlessly, they loved all of their friends to a fault. He shared his secrets with them, he shared his soul, and he lost them. Not to anyone, but to someone who had known the most raw parts of him, from his soul to his skin and his scars. Lily and James Potter had died at the hands of their closest friend.

At least that’s what Remus Lupin thought.

Here he stood, thirteen years later. With their killer who had the same face as the teenage boy he once loved. Except he was not their killer.

***

Sirius Black had spent the last thirteen years in Azkaban paying the price for what Peter Pettigrew did. He was not able to mourn his family because he was busy being blamed for the murder of them.

Now Remus Lupin had to figure out how to cope with the truth. Could he do it?

He had his arm wrapped around the shoulders of Sirius who clung to his waist, limping alongside him. They didn’t speak for much of the journey, there had been too much to say but neither of the men knew how to say it.

They walked into Remus’ empty apartment.

‘Make yourself at home.’ He mumbled, although he didn’t intend for it to come out that way. The irony was not lost on him, considering he had bought the apartment after he had left Hogwarts.

With Sirius.

Remus lowered Sirius gently on the couch. He watched him observe the apartment, a distant look lingering in his eyes.

‘Hasn’t changed much, has it Moony? Someone was a little lazy while I was in Azkaban!’ He let out a damaged laugh. Remus tried not to wince. Banter was not new for them, but it was for the men they were now, this was uncharted territory. How are you meant to speak to someone you loved who you believed for over a decade had betrayed you?

Pity there wasn’t a class for this in Hogwarts.

Sirius’ gaze softened when he saw Remus’ cautious reaction, he reached for Remus’ hand.

‘Moony.’ He almost sounded pleading.

‘I think you should shower, I'll get you a fresh set of clothes.’ Remus turned on his heel. He didn’t give Sirius a moment to react, he needed a moment. Once he reached his room, he shut his door quietly and leaned his forehead against it.

A single tear slipped down his face and he took a breath to calm himself. He is innocent. Remus reminded himself. He needed to remember. He heard Sirius shuffle up off the couch. He held his breath hearing him pause outside the bedroom door.

Not yet, please. Remus thought. I’m not ready.

As if Sirius had heard him telepathically, he continued past the door into the bathroom. Remus waited, cautiously listening. He heard the shower tap turn on. He let out a gentle sigh. At least he could take these few moments to calm his pounding heart.

After all this time, Sirius Black controlled every part of him.

He began looking through his drawers for a set of clothes that would do. Unfortunately, not much would fit Sirius, he concluded. Sirius had always had a more slender, smaller figure than Remus but since he had been in Azkaban he had gotten significantly smaller. His cheeks were more hollowed out and his collarbones stuck out like knives. Surely he would be able to find a pair of pyjamas that would suffice.

His search for acceptable pyjamas was cut short but a sharp scream caused every muscle in Remus to freeze. He immediately dropped what he was doing and ran to the bathroom. He shoved the door open to see Sirius bent over, wincing in the shower.

‘Sirius?’ He whispered, approaching the shower. His eyes widened at the sight, Sirius’ chest was covered in scars and cuts that seemed to be reopening under the hot water. Sirius couldn’t face him, he was heaving, on the verge of collapse.

Remus ripped a towel off the rack and wrapped the man up, his free hand turned off the shower. Soaking his jumper in the process- but he didn’t care. He helped a whimpering Sirius out of the shower and placed him down on the edge of the bathtub.

‘We don't have to talk about it.’ Remus sat next to him on the bathtub.

‘I’m not ready to yet.’ Sirius’ lips trembled, his hands rubbed gently at his chest. Remus took his hand, pulling it away from the raw skin.

‘That's okay. Let me help.’ Remus whispered. He gave Sirius’ hand a gentle squeeze before letting go to reach for a wash-cloth. He stood up, turning the tap on. He tested the water with his hand before running the cloth under the water, once it was damp he sat back down next to Sirius who hesitated.

‘You don’t have to do this.’ Sirius reached for his arm.

‘I want to.’

‘It’s rotten work.’

‘Not to me, not if it's you.’ Remus spoke effortlessly. Sirius nodded.

He stood up and moved the towel to reveal his chest, adjusting it so it only covered his waist.

Remus ran his eyes over the scars covering his chest, he tried to do it in a way that didn’t make Sirius uncomfortable but he had to assess the damage. He watched Sirius shiver.

He took the cloth and gently began to tend to Sirius’ cuts. The two men sat quietly, Sirius watched Remus clean the cuts up, and Remus tried to avoid Sirius eyes as he did so. Remus felt warmth spread over his cheeks under Sirus’ gaze, he always did have that effect. He rolled his sleeves up upon completion and leaned over the sink to ring out the wash-cloth.

‘There definitely could have been a spell to fix that, you know Moony.’ Sirius’ voice was still weak, but a soft chuckle from him made Remus fight the urge to smile.

‘I didn’t want to risk hurting you.’ Remus turned back to him and Sirius’ eyes caught on his wrist. Remus looked down to see what he was looking at and felt anxiety sweep him, ‘That’s nothing, don’t look at that.’ He stumbled over his words, sweeping his shirt back down his wrist but Sirius was too fast, he grabbed it.

‘What is this Remus.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘I think you know.’ He whispered.

‘Remus. Why do you have a tattoo of a star.’ His voice sounded heavy in his throat, his eyes remained glued to Remus’ wrist.

‘Not just any star.’

‘The brightest one.’ They both whispered at the same time.

Sirius’ eyes flicked up to Remus’ for the first time since Remus had entered that bathroom. Remus tried to avoid his gaze but felt drawn to it, he couldn’t resist looking at Sirius Black anymore.

‘You got a muggle tattoo of Sirius? Of my Star?’ Sirius questioned, but it sounded an awful lot like pleading.

‘I did.’

‘Why-’

‘Why do you think Sirius?’ He cut him off. He hoped his soft tone didn’t reflect his heart pounding in his chest but at this point, he wasn’t too sure Sirius couldn’t hear it.

‘After all this time?’ Sirius’ face was unreadable.

‘Always.’

They both paused. They both wanted to let the silence linger for a moment.

‘What about you?’ Remus tried not to gulp.

Sirius sat there for another moment, just staring at Remus. Remus feared he might never speak again.

‘Always.’

That was all Remus needed to hear before his lips were on Sirius’ for the first time in thirteen years.

Remus took Sirius’ face into his hands, kissing him with the same passion, the same electricity as the first time they kissed. Almost like nothing had changed. Sirius melted into Remus’ touch almost instantly. He threw his arms around Remus’ neck. No matter how close they were, it never felt like it could be enough. No one dared to break the kiss.

Remus pulled Sirius with him up, pressing him against the wall. They pulled and touched each other as if they were almost trying to get into eachothers skin. Remus was a part of Sirius and vice versa. They had always made sense, they had always meshed together perfectly. They were too halves of the same whole and they were finally reunited. They both pulled away, panting. They struggled to catch their breaths but neither of them cared. Their foreheads leaned against each other.

‘Please, don’t leave me again.’ Remus whispered, his thumbs traced the lines on Sirius’ face.

‘Anything for my Moony.’ Sirius whispered against his lips, a soft laugh followed his words.

Remus pulled back, and he could have sworn Sirius let out a whine. He took Sirius’ hand and led him out of the bathroom.

‘Let's get you some clothes.’

‘Always the fun police.’

They were together, and they were home.