yiling matriarch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
marginalia) wrote2003-12-09 01:58 am
marginalia) wrote2003-12-09 01:58 am
Entry tags:
drabbles. trust all stars. sirius/remus. marauder rhombus-verse
trust all stars - sirius/remus
fanfic-ing fanfic is oh, so very meta. in the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
marauderrhombus-verse.
Everyone always assumed that Remus had tried to kill himself in the hazy not-so-distant past. It was an impression he encouraged (as much as he encouraged anything which is to say not much), the leather band tight around his thin wrist, hair falling in half-closed eyes, and people gave him an extra layer of personal space that way. Because really life was okay so far as it went, but people often tired him. But even when they weighed him down, heavy with their dreams, he stuck around, vaguely curious as to how his world would turn out.
::
Practice disintegrated into James and Sirius sketching rude illustrations along the edges of lyric-scrawled napkins and Peter drifted towards the television (alternately channel surfing and rifling through video tapes pretending not to look for porn). Remus curled into the overstuffed armchair (that had appeared on the sidewalk in front of the building three days before in all its garish flowered glory), shuddered gently, yawned (sharp teeth Sirius noted once he remembered to breathe) and drifted half-asleep in the room's white noise.
Sirius tried not to watch him unwinding slowly, relaxing warm and stretching cat-like in his daydreams.
::
Remus would honestly rather have a ginger ale the majority of the time, but it's a shame to waste his drink ticket (the rare times that James doesn't take them all) on a soda. When the signs with hearts start appearing he's grateful that ordering the needed bourbon won't appear out of place.
He remembers too late that he's meant to be joking. His words hang earnest in the air between them and he turns away from Sirius, face unreadable in the shadows.
He pays for their drinks and wakes Peter, a drowsy safety net between him and the night.
::
Remus fidgets, pulling back the hair bands and snapping them against his wrist. He's on the verge of a welt, and Sirius wishes he'd just have a damn cigarette already. Drag. Exhale. Flick the ash. Self-destruct from the inside out.
He and Remus have matching calluses, and somehow that makes it easier for Sirius (fast in the shower, otherwise James would know). He tastes smoke on his tongue and feels rough fingers on his cock and it almost is enough for now.
But Remus chews his nails and he'll never mark Sirius, harmless fingertips skating, fleeting touch soon gone.
playing with other people's toys is all kinds of unnerving.
fanfic-ing fanfic is oh, so very meta. in the
marauderrhombus-verse.Everyone always assumed that Remus had tried to kill himself in the hazy not-so-distant past. It was an impression he encouraged (as much as he encouraged anything which is to say not much), the leather band tight around his thin wrist, hair falling in half-closed eyes, and people gave him an extra layer of personal space that way. Because really life was okay so far as it went, but people often tired him. But even when they weighed him down, heavy with their dreams, he stuck around, vaguely curious as to how his world would turn out.
::
Practice disintegrated into James and Sirius sketching rude illustrations along the edges of lyric-scrawled napkins and Peter drifted towards the television (alternately channel surfing and rifling through video tapes pretending not to look for porn). Remus curled into the overstuffed armchair (that had appeared on the sidewalk in front of the building three days before in all its garish flowered glory), shuddered gently, yawned (sharp teeth Sirius noted once he remembered to breathe) and drifted half-asleep in the room's white noise.
Sirius tried not to watch him unwinding slowly, relaxing warm and stretching cat-like in his daydreams.
::
Remus would honestly rather have a ginger ale the majority of the time, but it's a shame to waste his drink ticket (the rare times that James doesn't take them all) on a soda. When the signs with hearts start appearing he's grateful that ordering the needed bourbon won't appear out of place.
He remembers too late that he's meant to be joking. His words hang earnest in the air between them and he turns away from Sirius, face unreadable in the shadows.
He pays for their drinks and wakes Peter, a drowsy safety net between him and the night.
::
Remus fidgets, pulling back the hair bands and snapping them against his wrist. He's on the verge of a welt, and Sirius wishes he'd just have a damn cigarette already. Drag. Exhale. Flick the ash. Self-destruct from the inside out.
He and Remus have matching calluses, and somehow that makes it easier for Sirius (fast in the shower, otherwise James would know). He tastes smoke on his tongue and feels rough fingers on his cock and it almost is enough for now.
But Remus chews his nails and he'll never mark Sirius, harmless fingertips skating, fleeting touch soon gone.
playing with other people's toys is all kinds of unnerving.
no subject
This does not help much in writing Craig/Bean fluffy smut.
no subject
i mean. uh.
no subject
And I'd probably sleep with him too. But Bean doesn't want to! I try to write him, and he keeps saying how he didn't intend to sleep around on this shoot.
Until he met Viggo.no subject
viggobean!hrm.
Stupid Bean.
Re: Stupid Bean.
Re: Stupid Bean.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck I've no idea what I'm doing. Craig won't speak to me AT ALL!!