sylph-song

[sylph-song]

Last night I had a dream that I was sent to a boarding school for people with supernatural abilities and it was on a tropical island overlooking a bay. There was a Janitor that people called "Zombie George" because he had an ability that made it so that he couldn't die and it was just... so weird but also so realistic and I don't even know what to do with this

[sylph-song]

Happy pride month, I'm celebrating by getting high

[sylph-song]

My uterus and my allergies waiting for me to start meditating before hitting me with the sneezing and cramping combo:

[sylph-song]

I'm the kind of person that comes at every problem like it's a puzzle box. I poke and prod and try things until I see results and unless I see results I don't believe I'm getting anywhere. The great thing about puzzle boxes is that you can also smash them to bits when you've finally gotten sick of them and decide you Just Want It Open Now. Which I also have a tendency to do!

But shifting isn't a puzzle box, it's more like shiny hunting in pokemon. It's repeating the same action again and again until you get the result you want. It's not impossible, it's inevitable. Some people get lucky on the first try, some people stumble into the sparkly bastards without even knowing what they are, and some people spend years of their lives hunting relentlessly for the single shiny they want.

I know how to do it, I'm not doing anything wrong, I just have to be patient and eventually it will be mine. It's inevitable, it has to happen eventually.

This analogy also works for the concept of methods. Like, yeah, sure, you can make your sparkly/encounter sandwiches or breed your special foreign language pokemon but just wandering around and encountering pokemon will eventually lead to a shiny too.

If none of this makes sense to you or you don't know what shiny hunting is then... don't worry about it.

[sylph-song]

hiiii i just found your embarrassing things youve scripted post and im wondering what else youve scripted for yourself?

Oh literally so many things. I've got a separate text document from all my other scripts that I've called my "self script" that I've set to follow me into all realities no matter what so I don't have to add it to all my scripts.

I'm gonna put my whole body-related script here under a cut. Ones that are in red are ones that people might not want but I personally like having. (Though all of these are technically things that people might not want, but, ya know)

I am very healthy and don’t get sick, including infections.

I don’t suffer from any underlying health conditions, physically or mentally.

I have perfect eyesight.

I have really good teeth that are straight and don’t get yellow nor do I get cavities, they also never chip or get damaged.

I have good skin and don’t get acne, blemishes, or clogged pores anywhere on my body.

I don’t have body hair or facial hair (except eyebrows, eyelashes, and the hair on my head).

I don’t get periods.

I can control when I get pregnant, if I can get pregnant.

I never smell bad.

I don’t get dandruff.

If I have curly hair then I have a very consistent and easy to manage curl pattern that always seems to fall exactly how I want.

I have never struggled with athletic endeavors and am quite strong and flexible. My strength and stamina are a lot better than most people’s.

I have good core strength.

I have really good balance.

No part of my body ever cramps or gets sore.

I’m a good climber.

I’m shockingly strong and I never lose at arm wrestling or other tests of strength.

I never get too muscular.

I’m a fast runner.

No matter how bad my posture is my back never hurts and I never develop a hunch.

I don’t have any allergies to any foods or plants or anything.

I don’t get motion sick or dizzy.

I never have to deal with a runny or stuffed up nose.

Spicy things don’t affect me.

I don’t get migraines.

My hair never gets greasy.

My hearing can never get damaged or lose sensitivity.

I don’t suffer from sensory processing disorder and don’t have issues with certain textures.

My lips are always soft and don’t get chapped.

I will never accidentally spit.

I don’t get sunburned.

My hair never gets damaged, no matter what. Not from sea water or pool water or bleach/hair dye.

My skin also doesn’t get damaged and is always soft and smooth.

I never get splinters or paper cuts.

I don’t pass gas or need to.

I don’t have any bowel issues.

There are no foods that taste bad to me. I obviously still have my favorites and preferences, but nothing tastes disgusting.

I have a high pain tolerance.

My hair looks good when wet.

My nails never break, get chipped, or become damaged. They also never yellow.

I never need to cut my nails, they’re always the exact size and shape that I want.

My fingers aren’t crooked.

My teeth never hurt.

I never get anything in my eyes.

My eyes never get tired or damaged.

I can look at things that most others can’t without hurting or damaging my eyes, like the sun.

I never get any negative effects from staying stationary for too long.

I never get out of shape, no matter how little I move.

My muscles never deteriorate.

Heat/cold doesn’t effect me. I can’t be burned or get frostbite. I always feel comfortable no matter what the temperature is.

I never get itchy anywhere on my body.

I don’t need to “relieve” myself, nor will it ever happen accidentally.

I will never get addicted to anything.

My lungs will never get damaged, especially from smoking.

My body will never be contaminated with pollution, including microplastics.

I never get hangnails or ingrown nails.

I don’t get ingrown hairs.

My hair never gets tangled and is always easy to brush.

I never fumble my words or stutter or make mistakes while talking.

I can open my eyes underwater.

I can hold my breath for a long time.

I don’t need to sleep as often and can go up to a week without sleep without getting tired and with no negative effects.

I can fall asleep easily, wherever I am.

I can see in the dark.

I don’t sweat, nor do I overheat.

Jewelry never feels uncomfortable to me.

My natural body odor smells good to others.

I never get dirty and I always feel clean.

When I sneeze, nothing comes out.

I don’t get hiccups.

I don’t have an excess of earwax and it never sticks to anything I put in my ear.

Bugs never touch me or go near me without my consent.

I don’t get hangovers.

No matter how much alcohol I drink I never get too drunk or get any negative effects from drinking.

I can’t damage my liver from alcohol.

I can’t get alcohol poisoning.

[sylph-song]

Yeah yeah, we're all master shifters and affirmations and manifestation are great and all but like, me, personally? I'm a creature of spite and desire and I will break through the veil of realities to get what I want whether the universe likes it or not. Me not shifting is just the great divine nerfing me for the sake of sustaining the multiverse and it won't work forever.

I will shift and that is not an affirmation, that is a threat.

[sylph-song]

Embarrassing/gross things I'm scripting in my DR that I think are useful

I'm making this so that other people can see that scripting this stuff isn't weird and it's perfectly normal to Not Want This Stuff To Happen

I can't accidentally "relieve myself" if you know what I mean

I don't pass gas or need to

I never get food on my hands or face and I'm not a messy eater

I never accidentally spit or have food fall out of my mouth

I don't sweat (also script that you don't overheat/aren't affected by temperature though if you're gonna do this one)

My living spaces always smell good and don’t get dirty (also goes well with scripting that pests/mold/mildew never get into your food/living space)

I don't get dandruff

I never smell bad or get dirty

My hair never gets greasy

I always feel clean

I never have a runny/stuffed up nose and when I sneeze nothing comes out

I don't get nauseas or throw up

Feel free to copy and paste this into your scripts.

Also, if you have any ideas on other stuff you think is embarrassing or gross that you've found useful then add it on.

[sylph-song]

Random Shifting Influencer: You can't do [insert thing here], that's not how it works-

Me: *Immediately stops listening*

[sylph-song]

Embarrassing/gross things I'm scripting in my DR that I think are useful

I'm making this so that other people can see that scripting this stuff isn't weird and it's perfectly normal to Not Want This Stuff To Happen

I can't accidentally "relieve myself" if you know what I mean

I don't pass gas or need to

I never get food on my hands or face and I'm not a messy eater

I never accidentally spit or have food fall out of my mouth

I don't sweat (also script that you don't overheat/aren't affected by temperature though if you're gonna do this one)

My living spaces always smell good and don’t get dirty (also goes well with scripting that pests/mold/mildew never get into your food/living space)

I don't get dandruff

I never smell bad or get dirty

My hair never gets greasy

I always feel clean

I never have a runny/stuffed up nose and when I sneeze nothing comes out

I don't get nauseas or throw up

Feel free to copy and paste this into your scripts.

Also, if you have any ideas on other stuff you think is embarrassing or gross that you've found useful then add it on.

[sylph-song]

My Waiting Room

If you're looking for inspiration on what your waiting room should be or what you should script into it: Here's mine!

My waiting room is a train. (Fun fact: I am autistic therefore I am contractually obligated to like trains. Came with the diagnosis.)

This train travels across different scenes, occasionally going through a tunnel and having the scene/weather change completely. Sometimes it's through a field, or over a mountain, or if you've ever seen Spirited Away it can be across the water like that too. It can be whatever you choose!

Each car is dedicated to something different, and they can be anything/in whatever order you like but mine are:

A dining car where you can order any kind of food or drink you want.

Sleeping quarters with a full sized bed, a TV, a computer, etc.

Attached to the sleeping quarters there's a bathroom that's bigger on the inside and you can't feel the shaking of the train while inside. There's also a walk-in closet with any clothing item you could ever want.

An observation car with massive windows and a deck on top where you can go out and watch everything go by. (Don't worry, you can't fall off and all the tunnels are big enough that it's never a risk you'll get hit by anything.)

A library with any book you could ever want in it.

A compartment car (like the compartments on the Hogwarts Express) but instead of leading into actual compartments the rooms are bigger on the inside and can be customized to be whatever you want. For things that couldn't usually be on a train, like a pool or something.

I love this set up because I can go wherever I want, I don't have to settle for any specific scenery, a train is very modular and customizable so if I think of something I want to add I can just make a new car and Do It, and I find (non-AI) reference pictures really easy to find. I don't feel indecisive with it and instead feel free to do whatever I want. Plus, I think the sounds and motions of a train are really relaxing. (But you can also script out the sound and motions of the train too, if that's what you want.)

And if I decide later that I want to live in an actual house I can just tell the train to take me to a place with the kind of house I want and go live there. Make a little train station next to it. It's so versatile.

Extra bits to script:

Inside the train is temperature controlled.

You can't fall off the train but if you jump off it won't hurt and you won't get injured and the train will stop until you get back on.

A pet. I have a cat that travels around the train. The doors open automatically for her. She can't get hurt or get lost and the train will never leave her behind.

A tablet/phone with an app that lets you control where the train goes and when it stops/starts. You can also have an app that lets you customize the train, order food from the dining car wherever on the train you are, or anything else you want.

It's safe to travel between the cars.

You're immortal/you can't be hurt, get sick, feel pain and you don't die or age.

You can change your appearance in some way. Either you're a shape shifter, or maybe you have a magic mirror, or another app on the phone/tablet.

Bonus: MyNoise has a soundscape for trains! I always get symptoms when I listen to it.

[sylph-song]

Okay so I discovered shifting a few years ago on tiktok (yikes) but I didn't really get into it until I found the community here recently.

I had kind of always believed in shifting because it aligns with my belief system (the multiverse, universe is infinite, we're pure consciousness, etc) but I was also kind of afraid of getting into it because I kind of? Distrusted it? I guess? All my mutuals and online friends at the time were shitting on shifters and so I kind of internalized that it was somehow fake and cringe.

Anyways, I am now posting about it because I 100% believe it's possible and cringe is dead, I buried it, it's rotting in the ground. Also I'm not friends anymore with those people so who cares what they think :)

So like, Hi, I'm Sylphie, I'm ancient (over 21), and along side shifting I also do tarot work! Please be kind to me because I'm new here. If you have any advice then it's much appreciated!

[sylph-song]

Poly!marauders where reader is madly in love w her three best friends

Word count: 1529

It started with Sirius showing up outside your flat with a bag of crisps and his bike helmet tucked under one arm.

You opened the door in the hoodie you’d been wearing for three days and blinked at him like he wasn’t supposed to be real.

“You look like you’ve been drafted,” he said by way of greeting. “Remus said you haven’t left your flat in five days. James cried.”

“I didn’t cry,” James said from somewhere behind him, a little out of breath. “I got misty. It’s different

And then came Remus, holding out a takeaway coffee like an offering, one eyebrow raised. “You’re coming with us. No arguing. Pack a bag.”

You didn't ask where. You didn’t care. You were so tired of the books and the constant deadlines and the silence of your flat– the kind of silence that filled your head until it echoed.

So you packed.

The Airbnb is tucked somewhere along a lake two hours out of London. It smells like wood and rain, and when you open the door, you’re hit with the cold realization that there’s only one bed.

James notices first. He stops in the doorway and laughs.

“Cozy.”

But now you’re standing in the doorway of the tiny cabin, blinking at the single queen bed like it personally betrayed you.

“I call edge,” you say faintly, like the physical distance will protect you from the ache of being near them but never close enough.

“Which one?” James grins, tossing his duffle onto the bed without shame. “There are three.”

You don’t answer. Just rub your temples and pretend the flush in your cheeks is from the hike up.

You think about backing out. About claiming you forgot something urgent, maybe a group project, a funeral. But Sirius wraps an arm around your shoulders like he knows exactly what you’re thinking and says, “Don’t be boring, love. We’ll pile in like sardines.”

Remus shoots him a look over your head. “She doesn’t have to if she’s not comfortable.”

You want to tell him the truth– that comfort isn’t the issue. It’s that you don’t think you’ll survive being this close to them for this long.

Instead, you smile. “It’s fine. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

James frowns, offended. “You absolutely will not.”

That night, you all end up outside on the little wooden deck, a blanket shared across laps and legs brushing like it’s nothing. You sip on hot chocolate that’s mostly whipped cream and stare out at the water, your chest too full.

Remus is next to you, always a little more restrained than the others. His knuckles graze your thigh. His voice is soft. “You’ve been carrying too much.”

You don’t reply. You don’t trust yourself to.

James is sprawled across Sirius’ lap on a beanbag someone dragged out from inside. He’s half-asleep, murmuring nonsense. Sirius runs a hand through his curls, gentle.

You watch them and ache.

It’s not fair, the way they fit together. It’s not fair that you’re just a satellite to their orbit, always a little outside.

The bed is soft. The room is cold. You slip in at the edge again, turned toward the wall.

“You okay?” Remus’ voice, low and close.

You nod.

There’s a shuffle, a creak. Then a weight behind you– his arm draping over your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he does it all the time.

He smells like cedar and old books.

You squeeze your eyes shut and breathe.

Then comes James, wedging himself in behind Remus. He tosses a leg over all of you and mutters, “Warmth. Finally.”

Sirius is last. He slides in front of you, face-to-face. His hand finds your hip, grounding. “Alright, darling?”

You nod again, because you’re afraid if you speak, something inside you will spill.

Morning comes soft and grey. The lake is fogged over. There’s a storm in the distance and you’re half-buried under three grown men.

Remus has an arm around your waist. James’ foot is under your calf. Sirius has his hand in your hair.

You stare at the ceiling and wonder what it would be like if you told them. If you said, I love you. All of you. And I hate pretending I don’t.

But then Sirius stirs. His eyes open, heavy-lidded. “Mornin’, angel.”

Angel.

It’s just a nickname. Just Sirius being Sirius. But it slices through you like a hot knife.

You nod. Smile. Get up before your heart gives you away.

You spend the afternoon playing cards. James wins by cheating. Sirius insists on foot rubs as payment for losing. Remus reads with his head in your lap, absently tracing shapes on your knee.

You think you might combust.

Later, you make pasta and James almost burns the cabin down. There’s laughter, easy and warm, and for a moment, you let yourself pretend this is yours. That this could be yours.

That night, you hesitate before crawling into bed. Sirius notices. “Something wrong, dove?”

“No,” you lie. “Just tired.”

But they’re all looking at you. Remus, quiet and sharp. James, gentle-eyed. Sirius, unreadable for once.

“You’ve been quiet,” Remus says.

You shrug. “It’s nothing.”

“Hey,” James says softly. “It’s us. You can tell us anything.”

And for a second, you almost do. Almost.

Instead, you shake your head. “Just tired. Uni’s been... a lot.”

They don’t push. They just let you settle between them like always.

You think they’ve all fallen asleep when you whisper it.

“I’m in love with you.”

It’s so quiet you’re not sure if you said it aloud.

But then: “We know,” Sirius says into your hair, like it hurts him to admit it.

Your breath catches. You twist to look at him, but he won’t meet your eyes.

James stirs. “We were waiting for you to be ready.”

You blink.

“What?” Remus, eyes open now too, takes your hand. “You’re our girl. If you want to be.”

Your mouth is dry.

Your heart, traitorous and loud, beats like it’s trying to climb out of your chest.

“You… knew?”

Sirius nods, barely. “We’ve always known. You think we wouldn’t notice our girl tearing herself apart keeping something like that in?”

You can’t speak. You’re still stuck on our girl. The way he says it like it’s something sacred.

“I thought…” You stop. Try again. “I thought it would ruin everything.”

James props himself up on one elbow. His curls are mussed and there’s a faint crease on his cheek from the pillow. “You really think we’d let you go that easy?”

Remus’ thumb rubs soft over the back of your hand. “We didn’t want to push. You looked so tired. Like you were fighting yourself every second.”

You blink fast. “I was.”

He nods, his voice a whisper. “We know.”

Sirius finally looks at you. His eyes are soft in a way you don’t often see — no teasing, no bravado. Just raw, open affection.

“You were always going to be ours. We just didn’t want to break you getting there.”

James leans forward, brushing his nose along your temple like he can’t help but touch you. “But you said it. You said it now. So tell us again.”

You glance at him, startled. “What?”

“Tell us,” he says, a little breathless. “Please.”

You swallow. Your throat feels too tight. “I’m in love with you.”

Sirius exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years.

Remus presses his forehead to your shoulder.

James smiles, wide and boyish and almost tearful. “Thank fuck.”

You laugh. It breaks out of you bright and shaky, like something cracked open in your chest. You feel weightless. You feel whole.

Sirius tugs you closer, tucks you into the crook of his neck. “You’re not getting rid of us now.”

Remus hums. “Was never an option.”

James shifts so he can wrap himself around you from behind, one arm slung over your waist, his lips pressing against your spine. “You’re stuck with us. For good.”

You think maybe this is what peace feels like– not quiet, but full. A warmth blooming behind your ribs.

You press your face into Sirius’ collarbone and close your eyes.

“Good,” you whisper.

And you mean it.

[sylph-song]

PRACTICE MAKES A SURGEON PERFECT.⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ●ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ R. LUPIN

SUMMARY ৎ୭ ever since you started dating remus, you’ve learned that he’s full of little surprises. but nothing prepares you for the moment he asks to practice braiding your hair—only to find out the real reason why, and suddenly, you’re falling in love with him all over again

WARNINGS ಇ. fluff, so much softness it might make your heart ache, remus being the most gentle and loving man ever, you falling hopelessly in love INSPIRED BY ಇ. this reel on instagram A/N ಇ. fell in love with remus all over again ‹𝟹

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 952

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The evening is slow, the kind that stretches between the golden lamplight and the hush of a world at rest. You’re curled up on the couch, a book open in your lap, but your eyes keep flickering toward the man beside you.

Remus is quiet, fresh from a shower, his hair still slightly damp, his body dressed in the soft familiarity of an old sweater and sweatpants. There’s something so comforting about him like this, settled and warm, but there’s also a hesitance to him tonight, a pause in the way his fingers tap absently against his knee.

Then, a breath. A clearing of his throat.

“Can I practice something?”

Your brow lifts. “That depends,” you say, closing your book slightly. “What are you practicing?”

He rubs the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. “Braiding.”

The answer catches you off guard, but not unpleasantly so. “My hair?”

He nods. “If you don’t mind.”

It’s such a simple request, but the thought of his hands in your hair, of him sitting here with you, so quiet and careful, makes something tender unfurl in your chest.

You shift slightly, gathering your hair over one shoulder before glancing up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Go ahead, doctor.”

The couch dips as he moves closer. Then, the first touch—his fingers threading through your hair, warm and steady. He’s careful, dividing the strands with an almost reverent gentleness, and yet there’s something sure about the way he handles you, like he’s done this before.

His breath is soft against your shoulder, his touch delicate, and you let your eyes drift shut for a moment, allowing yourself to sink into the warmth of it.

“That’s cute,” you murmur.

He hums in acknowledgment. “What is?”

“That you’re practicing.” A smile tugs at your lips. “Is it for our future daughter?”

There’s the slightest pause, his fingers hesitating before continuing their careful work.

“No,” he says simply.

Your brow furrows, curiosity blooming. “No?”

His fingers tighten slightly around the strands, barely noticeable. “Not exactly.”

You grin. “Oh, is it for other girls, then?” The question is meant to be teasing, lighthearted, but the moment it leaves your mouth, you feel the way he stills, just for a second.

“Of course not.” His voice is steady, but there’s something in it—something firm, like the idea itself is absurd.

You blink, tilting your head slightly. “Then who—”

“It’s for my patients.”

The world stills.

You shift slightly, trying to see his face. “What?”

He doesn’t stop braiding, fingers moving with quiet precision. “The little girls before their surgeries,” he explains. “They can’t go into the OR with loose hair—it has to be tied back. But some of them don’t know how, or their parents aren’t there to do it for them.” He pauses. “So I do it.”

And just like that, your heart aches.

You can see it now. Small girls, nervous in their hospital gowns, sitting on the edge of their beds with their hands clasped tightly in their laps. And then there’s Remus—soft-spoken, gentle, kneeling in front of them, carefully weaving their hair into neat braids before surgery. Talking to them in that quiet, steady way of his, making sure they feel safe.

“Remus.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

He ties off the braid at the end of your hair, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a lingering touch.

“It helps,” he says simply. “Gives them something familiar. Makes things a little less scary.”

Something inside you shatters—not in a painful way, but in a way that makes it hard to breathe, hard to hold the sheer depth of your love for him inside your chest.

Without thinking, you turn, shifting onto your knees to face him fully. He looks at you, confused at first, but there’s a quiet patience in his expression, a willingness to let you feel whatever this is.

Your hands lift before you even realize it, fingers brushing along the sharp edge of his jaw, tracing the warmth of him, memorizing the way he feels beneath your touch.

“You are unbelievable,” you whisper, voice thick.

His lips twitch slightly. “Am I?”

You nod, your fingers curling lightly at the nape of his neck. “You sit there and tell me something like that, like it’s nothing, like it’s just some casual part of your day—” You pause, shaking your head. “And you don’t even realize—”

He exhales a quiet laugh, tilting his head slightly. “Realize what?”

“That I love you,” you say simply, honestly, achingly.

A breath. Just a small, quiet moment before his eyes soften completely, something tender and endless settling into them.

He doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at you, really looks at you, and then his hand lifts, fingers ghosting along your cheek, the side of your neck, your shoulder—like he’s committing you to memory.

And then, slowly, he leans in, pressing his lips to yours in the kind of kiss that says everything.

It’s slow, gentle, something deep and unshakable, something that lingers. He kisses you like he’s trying to make sure you understand, like he’s trying to return every ounce of feeling you’ve just given him.

When you finally pull away, your forehead rests against his, your breaths mingling in the small space between you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you whisper, smiling.

“In the most absurdly sweet way possible.”

He huffs a small laugh, eyes crinkling. “It’s just braiding.”

“No, Remus,” you say, reaching up to cup his face, your thumb tracing along his cheek. “It’s you being the best damn person I know.”

His expression softens, something warm and unspoken flickering in his gaze.

And when he kisses you again, it feels like home.

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[sylph-song]

They have no idea what they're doing.

{Divination Class (pt. 1/3)}

[sylph-song]

Her name isn't a coincidence.

It's not like she's a real person who's name just so happens to be Sirona Ryan. She's a fictional character, her name was chosen by someone, or a group of people, with intent.

And Sirona isn't a common name which means it was chosen for a reason.

Either her name was intentionally chosen because she's a trans woman or there was a massive oversight by the people who named her.

"I didn't notice obvious, potentially intentional, transphobia and can look past it" isn't a flex, you get that right?

Sirona, as a character, exists in a very weird place for me.

On one hand she is genuinely the nicest character in the game, everyone admires and respects her plus she's accepted as a woman without question in the backwards-ass wizarding community of 1890 and she's voiced by a trans woman.

However, her name is fucking Sirona Ryan and every time I hear her name I cringe.

Like, ffs. If her name wasn't that then she'd genuinely be one of the best depictions of a trans woman in gaming but noooo they had to go with SIRona RYAN.

[sylph-song]

Sirona, as a character, exists in a very weird place for me.

On one hand she is genuinely the nicest character in the game, everyone admires and respects her plus she's accepted as a woman without question in the backwards-ass wizarding community of 1890 and she's voiced by a trans woman.

However, her name is fucking Sirona Ryan and every time I hear her name I cringe.

Like, ffs. If her name wasn't that then she'd genuinely be one of the best depictions of a trans woman in gaming but noooo they had to go with SIRona RYAN.

[sylph-song]

moonlight and mending | remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: since it's your seventh year at hogwarts, you have to choose a path for a future job, and you chose to be a healer and help madam pomfrey. you just didn't know remus lupin was a regular patient.

obs: this is going to be a series. here's part two of this story.

masterlist

The hospital wing was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the tall windows. You were already up, sleeves rolled to your elbows as you organized a tray of healing potions. You had been helping Madam Pomfrey for a while now, and despite the occasional sleepless night, you loved every second of it.

This was where you belonged.

Every student at Hogwarts had to choose their paths on future jobs by the seventh year. Some would go with the professors to learn a specific path, like aurors or politics and others would go with Hagrid (if they had interest in magical creatures). It was fun.

You would not spend all your days at the hospital wing, since there were other students helping around Madam Pomfrey. But sometimes you would ignore this fact and just stay around for more hours than needed.

You had just finished restocking the dittany when Madam Pomfrey entered, her expression tight with concern.

“Another patient?” you asked, reaching for a clean cloth and a basin of warm water.

She nodded, already moving toward one of the empty beds. “Yes, and he’s in rough shape. A regular of mine, unfortunately.”

Before you could ask what she meant, the doors swung open, and Madam Pomfrey levitated a limp figure onto the bed.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Remus Lupin.

He looked terrible—his school robes were torn, his face pale and slick with sweat. Bruises and scratches covered his arms, and there was a deep gash along his collarbone, seeping blood onto the sheets. His hair was messier than usual, strands sticking to his forehead.

You had seen Remus around, always in the company of his friends, always with a soft smile and warm eyes. He was quieter than the other Marauders, more reserved. But this—this was a side of him you had never seen before.

“Will he be alright?” you asked, stepping closer.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. “He always is.”

She glanced at you, her sharp eyes softening slightly. “I’ll leave you to clean his wounds. Be gentle with him.”

You nodded, rolling up your sleeves further as she walked away.

Gently, you dipped the cloth into the warm water and pressed it against a cut on his cheek, dabbing away the dried blood. He stirred, a soft groan escaping his lips.

“Remus?” you said gently. “Can you hear me?”

He let out a breathy sound before his amber eyes fluttered open. They were hazy with exhaustion, unfocused at first, but as he blinked, they found yours.

“You’re awake,” you said with a small smile, hoping to reassure him.

His brows furrowed slightly. “Where…?”

“The hospital wing,” you answered, still carefully cleaning the wound on his cheek. “Madam Pomfrey brought you in.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before he huffed a weak chuckle. “Must be bad if I don’t even remember getting here.”

“You look like you got into a fight with a troll,” you teased lightly.

He smiled faintly. “Did I win?”

“Hard to say. The troll might be in better condition.”

That earned a soft laugh from him, though it ended in a wince.

“Stay still,” you scolded gently. “I need to clean these properly, and that won’t happen if you keep moving.”

“Alright,” he muttered with a small smile, but he did as you said.

You continued working in silence, carefully dabbing at the scratches along his arms. His body tensed slightly under your touch, but he didn’t complain.

Then, your gaze landed on the wound on his chest—a nasty gash running diagonally across his ribs, partially covered by his torn shirt. You hesitated before clearing your throat.

“Um… I need to get to the wound on your chest,” you said, a little hesitant. “Can you…?”

His tired eyes widened slightly as he realized what you meant. “Oh. Right.”

There was an awkward pause before he weakly reached for the buttons of his shirt, his fingers trembling slightly.

You quickly stopped him, your hands gently brushing his. “Here, let me.”

He stiffened under your touch but didn’t protest as you carefully undid the buttons of his bloodstained shirt. As you pushed the fabric aside, your breath hitched.

His torso was littered with scars, old and new, crisscrossing his skin like a map of past battles. The fresh wound along his ribs was deep, still oozing.

You swallowed hard, trying to push aside the questions burning in your mind. What had done this to him?

Instead of asking, you dipped the cloth in the warm water again and gently pressed it to the wound.

He hissed through his teeth.

“Sorry,” you murmured. “I know it stings.”

“It’s alright,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re gentler than Pomfrey, at least.”

You smiled softly. “She believes in tough love.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he muttered, his voice slightly strained.

Wanting to distract him, you asked, “So, what do you usually do when you’re not getting yourself nearly killed?”

His lips twitched. “Read, mostly.”

You knew that the best way to distract the patients was by talking to them, about anything, so they could think about something else besides the pain.

“I could’ve guessed that,” you said with a small laugh. “Any favorites?”

He relaxed slightly at the question. “I like Defense Against the Dark Arts. And anything to do with magical creatures.”

“Magical creatures, huh?” You carefully applied the healing salve to his wound. “You don’t seem like the type to go wrestling with a dragon.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “No, definitely not. But I like learning about them.”

You smiled, tying off the last bandage. “Well, you’re all patched up. Try not to move too much.”

Remus let out a long breath, his eyelids growing heavy. “You’re… really kind,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You brushed a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “Get some rest, Remus.”

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before they finally closed.

And as you sat beside him, watching over him as he slept, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to Remus Lupin—something hidden beneath the scars and the quiet smiles.

You just didn’t know what it was yet.

The morning was long.

You didn't have any classes this morning, despite still being Tuesday.

You figured it was best to stay by his side.

At least, until lunch, because after that you would have some charms classes.

You sat beside Remus, watching over him as the hours crept by, the hospital wing bathed in moonlight and quiet. His breathing was shallow, his forehead damp with sweat. A fever had settled in not long after he had fallen asleep, and you had spent the past few hours placing cool cloths on his forehead, ensuring he didn’t overheat.

Madam Pomfrey had come in once to check on him, nodded approvingly at your dedication, and left you to it.

You didn’t mind.

There was something about watching over him—something that made you feel… protective. Maybe it was the way he had looked at you before drifting off, like he wasn’t used to someone being this kind to him.

Or maybe it was just that he seemed to carry too much weight for someone so young.

You sighed, dipping the cloth in cool water again and pressing it lightly to his forehead. He shifted slightly in his sleep, brow furrowing, but he didn’t wake.

A soft murmur left his lips—too quiet for you to catch.

You leaned closer. “Remus?”

He didn’t respond, just turned his head slightly, a faint crease between his brows. His fingers twitched where they rested by his side.

“Nightmare?” you whispered, watching his expression.

You wanted to reach for his hand, to soothe him, but you hesitated. Instead, you gently ran your fingers through his damp hair, hoping the touch might calm whatever dream he was trapped in.

Slowly, his features relaxed again.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

And so, you sat there, watching over him, making sure he didn’t shift too much in his sleep or try to tear off the bandages in unconscious discomfort.

You kept taking care of the other students there, it was almost lunch time when your eyes glanced toward Remus—only to find his amber eyes already on you.

You came closer, staying by his side on the bed. “You’re awake.”

His lips curled slightly. “Yeah, unfortunately” His voice was rough with sleep.

You gave him a small smile. “How do you feel?”

He hesitated, as if he was actually assessing himself. “Like I got into a fight with a brick wall and lost.”

You smiled. “Well, you look better than some hours ago”

His brows lifted slightly. “Was I that bad?”

You gave him a look. “You had a fever, you were shifting in your sleep, and I had to stop you from undoing your own bandages twice.”

His eyes widened slightly. “I… did that?”

You nodded. “You don’t remember?”

“Not at all.” He looked both embarrassed and surprised. His gaze flickered toward the bowl of water and the pile of damp cloths beside it. “You stayed all morning?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “It’s part of the job.”

He studied you for a moment before shaking his head. “No. Madam Pomfrey would’ve done it if it was just ‘part of the job.’ You chose to stay.”

You hesitated. “…I didn’t want you to be alone.”

His breath hitched slightly. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at you as if trying to figure out how to respond.

Then, softly, “Thank you.”

Your heart warmed. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do,” he said, holding your gaze. “No one’s ever… done that for me before.”

The weight of his words settled between you.

You frowned slightly. “What about James? Sirius?”

“They’re great,” he said immediately, but then he hesitated. “…They don’t see this part of me. I don’t let them.”

Something in his voice made your chest tighten.

Carefully, you reached out, brushing your fingers over the bandage on his arm. “You don’t have to hide when you’re hurt, especially not from me or what else i won't know how to help.”

His breath caught, and for a long moment, he just stared at you, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say.

Finally, he smiled—small, but real. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You returned the smile. “Good. Now, do you think you can eat something, or do I need to force-feed you porridge?”

He chuckled. “I’ll eat. If only to avoid that fate.”

You grinned. “I’ll go get you something.”

As you walked away, you could still feel his gaze on you.

Remus was still staring at the doorway where you had disappeared when you returned, carrying a breakfast tray in both hands.

“Alright, hospital food isn’t exactly a feast, but it’s warm, and you need it,” you said as you placed the tray on his bedside table.

Remus sat up a little, wincing as he adjusted his position. He looked down at the tray—porridge, toast, and a steaming cup of tea.

You noticed his hesitation and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re picky.”

He smirked faintly. “No, just… hospital food isn’t usually something to look forward to.”

You rolled your eyes. “Just try a little bit, alright?”

With an amused chuckle, he picked up the spoon and took a tentative bite of the porridge. It wasn’t terrible, which was the best compliment he could give it.

As he ate, you had already moved on, fussing over the other students in the ward.

“Drink more water, Gabe, you’ll feel better faster.”

“Maggie, you’re supposed to rest, not reread your Transfiguration notes.”

“Barty, don’t poke at your stitches, I swear to Merlin—”

Remus found himself watching you, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You were different.

It wasn’t just that you were kind—you loved this. He could see it in the way you moved, the way you spoke to everyone, the way you cared. It was like second nature to you, tending to people, making sure they were comfortable.

And yet… you were also a normal student. That much was obvious.

It hit him suddenly—he’d seen you around before. Not just in passing, but in the places he liked best. The library, tucked away in the quietest corners, flipping through thick medical textbooks and advanced Potions guides. The Astronomy Tower, where the view was the clearest. The courtyard, always with a book in your hands.

You weren’t just here. You were everywhere.

How did you balance it all?

Remus was still lost in thought when a hand appeared in front of his face.

He blinked and looked up.

You were standing there, a familiar-looking chocolate bar in your hand.

“Madam Pomfrey sent this,” you said with a smile. “She said it would help you feel better.”

Something warm settled in his chest.

He took the chocolate from you, running his fingers over the wrapper before glancing up at you. “She actually let you give it to me instead of forcing it on me herself?”

“She’s busy,” you said, shrugging. “But I think she knows I’d make you eat it either way.”

Remus chuckled, unwrapping the chocolate and breaking off a piece. As soon as it melted on his tongue, he sighed.

“Better?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Much,” he admitted.

You smiled in satisfaction before sitting on the edge of his bed. “So… I have a question.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice like you were sharing a secret. “How do you do it?”

Remus blinked. “Do what?”

“Everything,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “I mean, you’re top of the class, always reading, and somehow, you still have time to get into whatever mischief your friends drag you into.”

Remus smirked. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious.”

He considered you for a moment before shrugging. “I guess… I don’t really think about it. I just do what I need to do.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

There was a comfortable silence between you.

Then, Remus glanced down at the chocolate in his hand. “You know… I’ve never had someone take care of me like this before.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Not even your friends?”

He hesitated. “They try. But I don’t let them.”

“Why not?”

His fingers tightened slightly around the wrapper. “Because… I don’t want them to worry.”

You frowned. “That’s a terrible reason.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Maybe.”

You would say something else, but some other patient called. You smiled before turning around and going around to help others.

Hours later, the hospital wing was quieter. Most of the students had left, and Remus, finally feeling somewhat human again, was sitting on the edge of his bed, stretching his sore limbs.

You stood in front of him, holding a neatly folded set of fresh Hogwarts robes.

“Well, you look better,” you observed. “Still a bit pale, though.”

“I’m always pale,” he said dryly, though he smirked.

“Fair point,” you said, handing him the uniform. “Come on, get changed. You can’t walk around looking like you just wrestled a hippogriff.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

You smiled, rolling your eyes playfully. “Just change, Lupin.”

He chuckled but stood, wincing slightly as he moved. You turned around, giving him privacy as he carefully removed the old ripped uniform he was using from earlier, and pulled on his new uniform. His movements were slow, careful not to aggravate his still-healing injuries.

After a few moments, he let out a small sigh. “Alright. You can turn around.”

You turned, scanning him critically before nodding in approval. “Much better.”

“You sound like Madam Pomfrey,” he said, amused.

You gasped in mock horror. “Take that back!”

“Never.”

You huffed but smiled, grabbing your bag from the chair. You had already changed into your uniform earlier, ready to head to class. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

Remus blinked in surprise. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” you said, giving him a pointed look. “But I want to.”

His lips parted slightly, but no argument came.

He liked your company.

So, instead of protesting, he simply nodded. “Alright then. Lead the way, healer”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname but walked beside him as you both left the hospital wing.

The corridors were bustling with students heading to their next classes. You and Remus walked side by side, keeping a comfortable pace.

“So,” you started, adjusting the strap of your bag, “what’s your favorite class?”

Remus hummed. “That’s an easy one—Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

You grinned. “I should’ve guessed. You do always get top marks in it.”

He shrugged. “It’s practical. Useful.”

“Okay, but what about for fun?” you asked, tilting your head. “Not just what’s useful—what do you enjoy?”

He hesitated, then said, “I like Charms.”

You brightened. “Me too! It’s so satisfying when you finally get a spell just right.”

“Exactly,” he said, nodding. “And you?”

“Besides Charms? I love Potions,” you said. “It’s precise, methodical… and it helps with Healing. I like that.”

Remus smiled. “That makes sense. You’re really good at it.”

You looked at him, surprised. “You noticed?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… yeah. I mean, you’re always top of the class, and I have seen you brewing in the library before.”

You chuckled. “Guilty. I like experimenting.”

“What’s the best potion you’ve made?”

You thought for a moment. “Probably a modified Wiggenweld Potion. I adjusted it to work faster without causing side effects.”

Remus raised his eyebrows, impressed. “That’s incredible.”

You shrugged, but his praise made you warm inside.

“What about books?” you asked. “I know you’re a reader.”

He smirked. “What gave it away?”

You laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I always see you in the library with your nose buried in a book?”

He chuckled. “Fair enough. I like anything about magical creatures, honestly.”

You nodded. “I can see that. You seem like the type to befriend a werewolf or something.”

Remus nearly tripped.

You didn’t notice, continuing, “I love medical books, obviously. But for fun? I like Muggle literature.”

He recovered quickly, forcing himself to focus. “Muggle literature?”

“Yeah,” you said, grinning. “There’s this Muggle author—Stephen King. Have you heard of him?”

Remus’s eyes lit up. “I have! The shining is brilliant.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’ve read it?”

He smirked. “I grew up in a half-Muggle household. My mum had loads of Muggle books.”

“Oh, I love that,” you said excitedly. “Okay, tell me—what do you think of Jack Torrance?”

Remus chuckled. “Misunderstood, the man was literally being controlled by evil spirits”

You gasped dramatically. “Correct answer. I knew I liked you, Lupin.”

Remus blinked, caught off guard, but you just laughed, nudging him playfully.

He laughed too, shaking his head. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this light.

Before he knew it, you had reached your classroom.

You stopped at the door, turning to face him. “Well, this is me.”

He nodded, suddenly wishing you had a further walk.

“Thanks for walking with me,” you said with a smile. “And take care of yourself, okay?”

Something about the way you said it made his chest tighten.

He nodded. “You too.”

With a final smile, you turned and disappeared into the classroom.

Remus stood there for a moment before shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.

Then, with thoughts of you still swirling in his mind, he dragged himself to his own class, already looking forward to the next time he saw you.

Getting closer.

The days passed, and somehow, without either of you truly realizing it, you and Remus had begun to gravitate toward each other.

It wasn’t a conscious decision—at least, that’s what Remus told himself.

At first, it was small things.

You’d see each other in the library, sitting a few tables apart, until one of you would move closer—always under the excuse of needing a book the other was using.

You’d pass each other in the halls, exchanging small smiles, sometimes stopping for a brief chat about classes, assignments, or whatever book you were reading that week.

Remus, always more reserved, didn’t say much in the beginning. He would listen as you talked, and surprisingly, he never got tired of hearing you speak. You had this way of filling the silence without overwhelming it.

And what fascinated him the most?

You never got bored of him.

Most people—besides his closest friends—didn’t have the patience for his quiet nature, for his habit of getting lost in thought, for the way he preferred books over crowds. But you never seemed to mind.

If anything, you enjoyed talking to him.

And Remus liked listening to you.

Slowly but surely, Remus began seeking you out.

If he saw you in the Great Hall, he’d wave you over. If you passed each other in the corridors, he’d slow his steps so you could walk together. If he spotted you alone in the common room, he’d sit beside you, pulling out a book without a word.

And you? You found yourself looking for him, too.

One evening, you sat at your usual table in the library, a thick Potions book open in front of you. You were muttering ingredients under your breath, trying to memorize an antidote recipe, when a familiar figure slid into the seat across from you.

“You talk to your books a lot,” Remus observed, setting his own book down.

You looked up, smirking. “And yet, you still sit with me. What does that say about you?”

He chuckled. “That I’m patient?”

“Or that you secretly enjoy my rambling.”

He shrugged, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe.”

You grinned, flipping a page. “What are you reading?”

“Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,” he said, holding up the book.

You raised an eyebrow. “Planning on running off to become a Magizoologist?”

“Not quite,” he said, amused. “I just like creatures.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “If you could be any magical creature, what would you be?”

He hesitated for a second. “A werewolf.”

You blinked, surprised. “A werewolf?”

He nodded slowly, studying your face. “Yeah. They’re misunderstood. People assume they’re just mindless monsters, but… they’re not.”

You frowned slightly, considering his words. “You’re right. They don’t choose to be that way.”

Remus swallowed hard, watching you carefully. “You don’t think they’re evil?”

You shook your head. “Of course not. I think… I think most of them are probably just scared. And lonely.”

Something in Remus’s chest ached. He had never heard anyone say that before.

“You’re… different,” he said softly.

You gave him a curious look. “Different how?”

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You just… are.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “That’s a very vague answer, Lupin.”

He chuckled. “It’s the best you’re getting.”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine. But I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“I’m sure you will.”

You eyed him suspiciously but let it go. “Well, I’d be a phoenix.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“They heal people,” you said simply. “And they always come back.”

He stared at you for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then, quietly, “That suits you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the softness in his voice.

For a brief second, neither of you spoke.

Then, he cleared his throat, turning his attention back to his book. “You were mumbling potion ingredients earlier. Studying for something?”

You exhaled, shaking off the strange warmth in your chest. “Yes. Madam Pomfrey’s quizzing me tomorrow, and I cannot mix up the bezoar antidotes again.”

Remus smirked. “Do you want me to test you?”

Your eyes lit up. “Would you?”

He nodded, and for the next hour, he quizzed you, throwing in the occasional joke just to make you laugh.

The Marauders.

Of course, being friends with Remus meant that you were friends with the Marauders now.

One evening, you sat cross-legged on the Gryffindor common room floor, surrounded by parchment and books. Remus sat beside you, his own notes scattered around. Across from you, James Potter and Sirius Black were sprawled on the couch, watching you both with lazy amusement. Peter Pettigrew sat on the armrest, nibbling on a biscuit.

“So, let me get this straight,” James said, stretching his arms behind his head. “You spend your free time—voluntarily, I might add—working in the hospital wing?”

You looked up from your parchment, raising an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“And you enjoy it?”

“Yes.”

James exchanged a look with Sirius, who smirked. “Merlin’s beard, Moony, you’ve found your twin.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Because enjoying something that requires effort is such a crime?”

“No, but we just assumed no one else was as much of a workaholic as you,” Sirius teased.

You snorted. “I love what I do, thank you very much.”

Peter perked up. “Does that mean you’re good at Potions?”

“She’s brilliant,” Remus answered before you could, flipping a page in his book.

Sirius grinned. “Oh, that’s good to know.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why?”

James leaned forward, an eager look in his eyes. “Because we need a potioneer for our next prank.”

You stared at him. “You want me to help you prank people?”

“Yes,” Sirius said smoothly, “because you’re cool.”

Remus made a sound like he was choking on his own breath. “Cool?”

James ignored him. “Think about it. You brew us something—nothing harmful, just a little mischief—and we execute it.”

You tilted your head, considering. “Would this be used on everyone or just specific people?”

“Filch,” Peter answered immediately. “And Snivellus.”

You hummed. “No harm, no permanent damage?”

James put a hand over his heart. “On my honor.”

You smirked. “I could make an odorless dye potion that only reacts to moonlight.”

Sirius gasped in delight. “That’s genius.”

“Imagine Snape walking around, thinking nothing’s wrong, and then—BAM—his face turns green under the full moon,” James cackled.

You smiled sweetly. “You’ll owe me chocolate.”

Sirius clapped his hands together. “Deal.”

Remus sighed, looking at you with an exasperated but amused expression. “You do realize you’re enabling them?”

“Oh, I know,” you said innocently. “But it’s fun.”

James grinned. “She’s one of us now, Moony.”

Remus looked at you, then at them, then sighed again, rubbing his temple. “Merlin help us all.”