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Did Not Finish
July 13, 2026I’m so heartbroken because I’m in the biggest fanfic-reading slump. I’ll binge the first quarter of a fic, but then it gets soooo boring, and I just can’t keep going.
This was the case with Your Lips, My Lips by anditgoesoff61. I DNFed it at 70%.
The writing is beautiful, and that’s the only thing that made me hesitate to DNF, but I really don’t like how easy the zombie plotline is or how convenient everything else feels.
So here are the quotes I attached:
He made it very clear, and still, James might just take that book away if it means getting Regulus to look at him again.
Bickering with Regulus is so very thrilling that James could just burst apart at the seams thinking about it.
For whatever reason, for someone who’s constantly surrounded by all things loud, James has only ever appreciated quiet when it’s with Regulus.
James finds that he’s pretty drawn to whatever attention Regulus is willing to give him. Most days, it’s not much. But Regulus could offer him a crumb, and James would be on his knees begging for more. He can’t help it; he’s utterly powerless to Regulus’ mysterious allure.
Growing up, Regulus never had many friends; always too shy to make any and always too rigid a person to maintain the ones he did. It also probably had to do with the fact that he couldn’t reciprocate love (of any version) to save his life, but Regulus has been…working on that.
don’t even get James started on his eyes; as indifferent as Regulus tries to appear, his eyes hold all the answers. Every sparkle or glisten tells a story, and as if he’s fixed in some kind of trance, James is eager to hear more each and every time.
But the one thing Regulus can always come to expect is James.
Maybe he was just…born this way. A star who will never be as bright as his brother, eternally envious of the fact and always trying to dim him in some desperate attempt to make them the same.
There is no world where James outlives Sirius. Call it codependency, but this is just a law of nature. One that’s written somewhere in the cosmos, no doubt.
If James is a tragic hero, Regulus will shamelessly let himself be his downfall. Surely there are worse fates
James is looking at Regulus like a man gazing upon the stars for the first time. Like Regulus is some earthly creation gifted to man by the universe itself.
He’s never been able to figure Regulus out in full, and a part of him thinks he likes the mystery. He likes it when Regulus is mean and cruel one second, and then soft and forgiving right after. Not just in the form of light teasing, like before; James likes the venom that Regulus spits in his direction, and he likes the taste of the antidote too. Always has; always Regulus.
The thing is, James truly, unequivocally, without a doubt believes that he was brought into this world for Sirius Black. If nothing else, everything he has ever done in this life has been for Sirius. He would take countless hits and wield the sharpest of swords for his best friend, and all it took was one look at Regulus for James to go and fail him.
He’s done everything for Sirius, except this.
This is the first thing James has ever done for himself and it is downright the most selfish thing he could have possibly gone and done and failed to ever stop doing.
Ironically, he knows Regulus is not a very holy person, and neither is James. But Regulus’ laugh is nothing short of angels singing in a cathedral; church bells ringing; and James feels blessed every time he hears it.
It’s no secret that James would wait lifetimes for Regulus. In the ones where they die young and in the most tragic of ways and in the ones where they get to grow old together. Regulus has always needed that extra moment to figure out what he wants to say, and James would wait for him in every single one of them.
But out of all of the things he and James do have, a romantic spark is not one of them. If there ever was one, Sirius would have found it by now. Because he’s looked. But all he found was that his and James’ relationship is…more than that. The two of them have danced along the line between platonic and romantic for so long that they’ve edged into something else entirely. Something unique and special, just for them.
Then another fanfic I’m just going to DNF because it has too much spice for my liking, and I still have so much left to read, is A Black Mass Over Highway Ninety by greenvlvetcouch.
Now, the writing is beautiful, but everything else is boring.
DNF at 80%.
Sadly, another Wolfstar classic that I didn’t like.
quotes:
But Remus knew that was shit because you could place Sirius anywhere, and Remus would gravitate toward him.
Like the sun, it was inevitable.
There was no running. There was no gasping for help as you were sucked closer and closer to something akin to sudden death. It was pleasant and calm, which to some may be alarming, but sometimes when Remus thought of Sirius, it felt like he was dying, and if that’s what dying felt like—peaceful and wonderful and lovely—then he supposed it was fine.
No matter where they would have landed, Remus would have fallen for him, regardless.
Loving Sirius hurt; it made Remus breathless, but not like his breath was taken away, more like he had exerted it all.
Like he was fucking asthmatic and didn’t have an inhaler.
Like he had been running and running and running and never had a moment to stop, rest his hands on his knees, and gasp out a ‘please.’
Sirius’s love was punishing, but Remus had always considered him a bit of a masochist, if not for Sirius’s sake.
The final blow—looking at Sirius felt like dying.
But each time, it was like Remus was addicted—addicted to that weightlessness, to wanting to know what was on the other side—to the morphine they gave you to help ease the pain.
Each time he was dealt that final blow—which was clearly not a final blow—it was like Remus somehow stood back up on shaky knees, smiled with blood filling his mouth and coating his teeth, and said, nodding frantically, ‘one more, please.’
He would smile the biggest, most grand smile for him, the one only Sirius brought out, and stand there in a mess of himself, and it was like he wanted to shout, holding his hand under his nose to try and stop the bleeding while saying, ‘Do you love me now? Am I more beautiful now after I have let you fucking ruin me so many times?’
Now, devotion is a wild thing.
Remus would muse that religious devotion and plain old devotion—reserved for those of not holy status such as Sirius (as much as Remus would argue there has to be a little bit of a god in him somewhere)—was a slippery slope.
He would know and could wax poetic about how he was forever devoted to the man in front of him—it was just how it was.
It was nothing he would ever willing choose—following Sirius—and Remus was just lucky that whatever driving force in life made choices for him, that it agreed with his heart.
Remus was a sad person—always had been. It's just how it was, and that was fine by him, but with Sirius, it wasn’t like he wasn't allowed to be sad. It was more as if Sirius just accepted it—absorbed it, and instead of dealing with the whole sad, Remus only dealt with half of it when Sirius was around.
He carried Remus’s burdens with elegance and grace, and maybe he was selfish, but it was beautiful.
Remus pulled his knees up, resting his elbows on top of them, and Sirius glanced back.
It was at that moment Remus resigned to not being able to watch the movie—damn, right?
What a sad thought—‘I’m in love with you, and you don't love me back, but I will try my hardest to shove this love down your throat and show you I do by letting you lean against my legs—I will be your chair, anytime you want.’
“I didn't think you would answer the phone that night.” A breath. ‘Or, I guess, surprised you even wanted to come.”
“Of course I did,” Remus choked down the vulnerable pill, and it immediately came back up. “I missed you a lot.”
It was raw and burned Remus's throat as he tossed the words out there between them because it felt like a lie. Like Remus was the dirtiest fucking liar in the world at the moment because the term ‘I missed you’ didn't seem to even scratch or touch the surface of what he truly felt—what he could actually say if he someday mustered up the courage.
They hurt worse than waking up alone every morning or going to work and living a sad and miserable existence because it was Sirius’s pain seeping into his shirt, and he would do anything to stop that from ever happening again.
Remus would always be a martyr.
Slowly and deliberately flayed alive—skinned and brutally slaughtered—because of his devotion to the unassuming person in his arms.
He’d let Sirius destroy him every morning and somehow put him back together by the evening if it meant another tear never left his eyes on Remus’s behalf.
Remus took another sip of his beer, watching as Sirius returned from the jukebox, giving him a smile before sliding onto the stool next to him.
A smile to melt your fucking brain—to make you doubt everything you ever knew and the fundamental laws of the universe.
A smile that made you want to risk it all—to stand on top of the bar and yell and shout and fucking scream slam poetry about the softness of skin and the warmth of the heart.
About how those you love are a part of you.
About how some people are special, and you smile because they smile—like they rip it out of you—and it's horrifying.
How Remus felt himself fall harder every time Sirius so much as raised a brow and how he wanted to bury himself into his heart and refuse to leave—stake out until Sirius accepted his love.
He missed Sirius, though, and his face and just wanted to stare at his face. Remus hoped maybe one day he could freeze time and spend a good week just staring. He just wanted to stare and admire and think lovely thoughts and really catalog everything he loved about Sirius.
What could he say? Because Sirius was always so beautiful and something else, Remus could have the rest of his life and papers upon papers and a million pens to run through, and everything he would ever write to try and explain how he felt when he looked at Sirius would be wrong.
[…] Sirius should never feel anything other than like every day was better than the last. Like the sun rose and shone for him and like the moon only came back up every night because it wanted to see his face.
Love is old, love is new
Love is all, love is you
He was not a poet—Remus was not many things—but he thought as close as he could ever get to explaining how Sirius made him feel and how he made him smile and laugh and understand the world had maybe already been written.
And he’d listen to as many songs and read as many books as he could in his lifetime to try and piece together one that maybe someday brushed the surface of what it was like to love someone like him.
And a huge joint, which was not needed but appreciated nonetheless. Remus only took a couple of hits, Sirius fresh in his mind and not wanting to chance it, ya know.
Safe to say, Remus took one look at Sirius in an actual bed, and it ended up being the quickest shower of his life because after the shower? He got to lie down next to him, and that was the greatest motivation he had ever encountered in life.
He looked back at the cracked door behind him, and although it was dark in the apartment and he saw nothing there, he had the sickeningly sweet thought that the brightest light was in there somewhere.
Sirius outshined all of them without even trying. The brightest fucking star in the sky was in there, and maybe that's why Remus felt like he was stumbling around blind all the time.
“I find it hard to believe anyone feels even close to what I feel towards him most days.”
“You were gone so long.”
“It was like—forty-five minus, max.”
“Felt like I died ten times over without you.”
“My mind begs you to ask it something so it can obey.”
It was always extremes with Sirius, from painful moments to happy moments that hurt your fucking cheeks.
“I’d wait forever for him.” Remus shrugged. “For even just a second at the end of it all. That sounds pitiful, but I find comfort in the fact.”
“Always for him, and I think it will always be him. I know it will, and it's strange and doesn't make sense. It's pitiful and sad, and maybe I’ll always be his. Like we’ve known each other in other lifetimes, my feelings span fucking space and time and are that all-encompassing and big—could wrap around the earth a million times.
Like I was in love with him long before I ever saw his face. The long hair and the quick wit and the way he pushes and pushes and shoves the bad things away in the process.”
Sirius in the bed not ten feet from him—the embodiment of the sentiment that there was good in the world.
He would let Sirius drag him to the ends of the earth and back a million times over just to be on the receiving end of a joke—or a kiss because he now knew what those were like. A hug was worth its weight in gold and a million shifts working overtime. A brush of fingertips worth all the stars in the sky, and to love him?
Priceless.
He wished it would go on forever and ever just so he could live through everything with Sirius. Like, if Sirius were there with Remus, then watching the sun spin towards the earth and crash and burn would only be a poetic end to everything.
Something beautiful, and he would smile at Sirius, and there would be tears in his eyes only because even if they lived for a million years, it would never be enough. And the only solace would be the bitter idea that if the sun killed them all, he wouldn't be able to miss Sirius the following day.
Sitting back on his hands, looking at him, Sirius drew his knees up, knocking them against Remus, and it felt like what he could only assume would await someone on the other side of the gates of heaven.
If the divine was tied to a worldly body, Remus always assumed it to be Sirius.
God adjacent, to be on the receiving end of Sirius’s attention all the damn time.
Love had the ability to draw your focus to the now—let the before and after bleed away.
Because how could you not? The now was so significant and profound that it took everything Remus had to focus on soaking up the memories so he could remember them for the rest of his life.
Sirius was loud, but the good kind of loud that truly did drown everything else out. Sirius put in front of him, let alone speaking, had the amazing and miraculous ability to make Remus’s world very small. Everything always returned to Sirius in one way or another, and it was like getting to look at the center of the universe sometimes.
Getting to see what real beauty was, staring at something very, very few people got to see, let alone love or experience. Remus looked at Sirius, and everything else just floated away, unimportant until relevant again.
You let life drag you—find people you’d allow to pull you along—and went with it all. Sometimes you snagged on things as they tugged you behind them, and it stung and hurt like catching your foot on a step. Other times, you narrowly miss, and then there's when things have been so good you get nervous. But then, at some point, as the world goes, you let it go when things haven't fallen apart again. Life is a gamble, and you place your bets—throw in all your chips—and pray to god that things are in the clear.
This was the case with Your Lips, My Lips by anditgoesoff61. I DNFed it at 70%.
The writing is beautiful, and that’s the only thing that made me hesitate to DNF, but I really don’t like how easy the zombie plotline is or how convenient everything else feels.
So here are the quotes I attached:
He made it very clear, and still, James might just take that book away if it means getting Regulus to look at him again.
Bickering with Regulus is so very thrilling that James could just burst apart at the seams thinking about it.
For whatever reason, for someone who’s constantly surrounded by all things loud, James has only ever appreciated quiet when it’s with Regulus.
James finds that he’s pretty drawn to whatever attention Regulus is willing to give him. Most days, it’s not much. But Regulus could offer him a crumb, and James would be on his knees begging for more. He can’t help it; he’s utterly powerless to Regulus’ mysterious allure.
Growing up, Regulus never had many friends; always too shy to make any and always too rigid a person to maintain the ones he did. It also probably had to do with the fact that he couldn’t reciprocate love (of any version) to save his life, but Regulus has been…working on that.
don’t even get James started on his eyes; as indifferent as Regulus tries to appear, his eyes hold all the answers. Every sparkle or glisten tells a story, and as if he’s fixed in some kind of trance, James is eager to hear more each and every time.
But the one thing Regulus can always come to expect is James.
Maybe he was just…born this way. A star who will never be as bright as his brother, eternally envious of the fact and always trying to dim him in some desperate attempt to make them the same.
There is no world where James outlives Sirius. Call it codependency, but this is just a law of nature. One that’s written somewhere in the cosmos, no doubt.
If James is a tragic hero, Regulus will shamelessly let himself be his downfall. Surely there are worse fates
James is looking at Regulus like a man gazing upon the stars for the first time. Like Regulus is some earthly creation gifted to man by the universe itself.
He’s never been able to figure Regulus out in full, and a part of him thinks he likes the mystery. He likes it when Regulus is mean and cruel one second, and then soft and forgiving right after. Not just in the form of light teasing, like before; James likes the venom that Regulus spits in his direction, and he likes the taste of the antidote too. Always has; always Regulus.
The thing is, James truly, unequivocally, without a doubt believes that he was brought into this world for Sirius Black. If nothing else, everything he has ever done in this life has been for Sirius. He would take countless hits and wield the sharpest of swords for his best friend, and all it took was one look at Regulus for James to go and fail him.
He’s done everything for Sirius, except this.
This is the first thing James has ever done for himself and it is downright the most selfish thing he could have possibly gone and done and failed to ever stop doing.
Ironically, he knows Regulus is not a very holy person, and neither is James. But Regulus’ laugh is nothing short of angels singing in a cathedral; church bells ringing; and James feels blessed every time he hears it.
It’s no secret that James would wait lifetimes for Regulus. In the ones where they die young and in the most tragic of ways and in the ones where they get to grow old together. Regulus has always needed that extra moment to figure out what he wants to say, and James would wait for him in every single one of them.
But out of all of the things he and James do have, a romantic spark is not one of them. If there ever was one, Sirius would have found it by now. Because he’s looked. But all he found was that his and James’ relationship is…more than that. The two of them have danced along the line between platonic and romantic for so long that they’ve edged into something else entirely. Something unique and special, just for them.
Then another fanfic I’m just going to DNF because it has too much spice for my liking, and I still have so much left to read, is A Black Mass Over Highway Ninety by greenvlvetcouch.
Now, the writing is beautiful, but everything else is boring.
DNF at 80%.
Sadly, another Wolfstar classic that I didn’t like.
quotes:
But Remus knew that was shit because you could place Sirius anywhere, and Remus would gravitate toward him.
Like the sun, it was inevitable.
There was no running. There was no gasping for help as you were sucked closer and closer to something akin to sudden death. It was pleasant and calm, which to some may be alarming, but sometimes when Remus thought of Sirius, it felt like he was dying, and if that’s what dying felt like—peaceful and wonderful and lovely—then he supposed it was fine.
No matter where they would have landed, Remus would have fallen for him, regardless.
Loving Sirius hurt; it made Remus breathless, but not like his breath was taken away, more like he had exerted it all.
Like he was fucking asthmatic and didn’t have an inhaler.
Like he had been running and running and running and never had a moment to stop, rest his hands on his knees, and gasp out a ‘please.’
Sirius’s love was punishing, but Remus had always considered him a bit of a masochist, if not for Sirius’s sake.
The final blow—looking at Sirius felt like dying.
But each time, it was like Remus was addicted—addicted to that weightlessness, to wanting to know what was on the other side—to the morphine they gave you to help ease the pain.
Each time he was dealt that final blow—which was clearly not a final blow—it was like Remus somehow stood back up on shaky knees, smiled with blood filling his mouth and coating his teeth, and said, nodding frantically, ‘one more, please.’
He would smile the biggest, most grand smile for him, the one only Sirius brought out, and stand there in a mess of himself, and it was like he wanted to shout, holding his hand under his nose to try and stop the bleeding while saying, ‘Do you love me now? Am I more beautiful now after I have let you fucking ruin me so many times?’
Now, devotion is a wild thing.
Remus would muse that religious devotion and plain old devotion—reserved for those of not holy status such as Sirius (as much as Remus would argue there has to be a little bit of a god in him somewhere)—was a slippery slope.
He would know and could wax poetic about how he was forever devoted to the man in front of him—it was just how it was.
It was nothing he would ever willing choose—following Sirius—and Remus was just lucky that whatever driving force in life made choices for him, that it agreed with his heart.
Remus was a sad person—always had been. It's just how it was, and that was fine by him, but with Sirius, it wasn’t like he wasn't allowed to be sad. It was more as if Sirius just accepted it—absorbed it, and instead of dealing with the whole sad, Remus only dealt with half of it when Sirius was around.
He carried Remus’s burdens with elegance and grace, and maybe he was selfish, but it was beautiful.
Remus pulled his knees up, resting his elbows on top of them, and Sirius glanced back.
It was at that moment Remus resigned to not being able to watch the movie—damn, right?
What a sad thought—‘I’m in love with you, and you don't love me back, but I will try my hardest to shove this love down your throat and show you I do by letting you lean against my legs—I will be your chair, anytime you want.’
“I didn't think you would answer the phone that night.” A breath. ‘Or, I guess, surprised you even wanted to come.”
“Of course I did,” Remus choked down the vulnerable pill, and it immediately came back up. “I missed you a lot.”
It was raw and burned Remus's throat as he tossed the words out there between them because it felt like a lie. Like Remus was the dirtiest fucking liar in the world at the moment because the term ‘I missed you’ didn't seem to even scratch or touch the surface of what he truly felt—what he could actually say if he someday mustered up the courage.
They hurt worse than waking up alone every morning or going to work and living a sad and miserable existence because it was Sirius’s pain seeping into his shirt, and he would do anything to stop that from ever happening again.
Remus would always be a martyr.
Slowly and deliberately flayed alive—skinned and brutally slaughtered—because of his devotion to the unassuming person in his arms.
He’d let Sirius destroy him every morning and somehow put him back together by the evening if it meant another tear never left his eyes on Remus’s behalf.
Remus took another sip of his beer, watching as Sirius returned from the jukebox, giving him a smile before sliding onto the stool next to him.
A smile to melt your fucking brain—to make you doubt everything you ever knew and the fundamental laws of the universe.
A smile that made you want to risk it all—to stand on top of the bar and yell and shout and fucking scream slam poetry about the softness of skin and the warmth of the heart.
About how those you love are a part of you.
About how some people are special, and you smile because they smile—like they rip it out of you—and it's horrifying.
How Remus felt himself fall harder every time Sirius so much as raised a brow and how he wanted to bury himself into his heart and refuse to leave—stake out until Sirius accepted his love.
He missed Sirius, though, and his face and just wanted to stare at his face. Remus hoped maybe one day he could freeze time and spend a good week just staring. He just wanted to stare and admire and think lovely thoughts and really catalog everything he loved about Sirius.
What could he say? Because Sirius was always so beautiful and something else, Remus could have the rest of his life and papers upon papers and a million pens to run through, and everything he would ever write to try and explain how he felt when he looked at Sirius would be wrong.
[…] Sirius should never feel anything other than like every day was better than the last. Like the sun rose and shone for him and like the moon only came back up every night because it wanted to see his face.
Love is old, love is new
Love is all, love is you
He was not a poet—Remus was not many things—but he thought as close as he could ever get to explaining how Sirius made him feel and how he made him smile and laugh and understand the world had maybe already been written.
And he’d listen to as many songs and read as many books as he could in his lifetime to try and piece together one that maybe someday brushed the surface of what it was like to love someone like him.
And a huge joint, which was not needed but appreciated nonetheless. Remus only took a couple of hits, Sirius fresh in his mind and not wanting to chance it, ya know.
Safe to say, Remus took one look at Sirius in an actual bed, and it ended up being the quickest shower of his life because after the shower? He got to lie down next to him, and that was the greatest motivation he had ever encountered in life.
He looked back at the cracked door behind him, and although it was dark in the apartment and he saw nothing there, he had the sickeningly sweet thought that the brightest light was in there somewhere.
Sirius outshined all of them without even trying. The brightest fucking star in the sky was in there, and maybe that's why Remus felt like he was stumbling around blind all the time.
“I find it hard to believe anyone feels even close to what I feel towards him most days.”
“You were gone so long.”
“It was like—forty-five minus, max.”
“Felt like I died ten times over without you.”
“My mind begs you to ask it something so it can obey.”
It was always extremes with Sirius, from painful moments to happy moments that hurt your fucking cheeks.
“I’d wait forever for him.” Remus shrugged. “For even just a second at the end of it all. That sounds pitiful, but I find comfort in the fact.”
“Always for him, and I think it will always be him. I know it will, and it's strange and doesn't make sense. It's pitiful and sad, and maybe I’ll always be his. Like we’ve known each other in other lifetimes, my feelings span fucking space and time and are that all-encompassing and big—could wrap around the earth a million times.
Like I was in love with him long before I ever saw his face. The long hair and the quick wit and the way he pushes and pushes and shoves the bad things away in the process.”
Sirius in the bed not ten feet from him—the embodiment of the sentiment that there was good in the world.
He would let Sirius drag him to the ends of the earth and back a million times over just to be on the receiving end of a joke—or a kiss because he now knew what those were like. A hug was worth its weight in gold and a million shifts working overtime. A brush of fingertips worth all the stars in the sky, and to love him?
Priceless.
He wished it would go on forever and ever just so he could live through everything with Sirius. Like, if Sirius were there with Remus, then watching the sun spin towards the earth and crash and burn would only be a poetic end to everything.
Something beautiful, and he would smile at Sirius, and there would be tears in his eyes only because even if they lived for a million years, it would never be enough. And the only solace would be the bitter idea that if the sun killed them all, he wouldn't be able to miss Sirius the following day.
Sitting back on his hands, looking at him, Sirius drew his knees up, knocking them against Remus, and it felt like what he could only assume would await someone on the other side of the gates of heaven.
If the divine was tied to a worldly body, Remus always assumed it to be Sirius.
God adjacent, to be on the receiving end of Sirius’s attention all the damn time.
Love had the ability to draw your focus to the now—let the before and after bleed away.
Because how could you not? The now was so significant and profound that it took everything Remus had to focus on soaking up the memories so he could remember them for the rest of his life.
Sirius was loud, but the good kind of loud that truly did drown everything else out. Sirius put in front of him, let alone speaking, had the amazing and miraculous ability to make Remus’s world very small. Everything always returned to Sirius in one way or another, and it was like getting to look at the center of the universe sometimes.
Getting to see what real beauty was, staring at something very, very few people got to see, let alone love or experience. Remus looked at Sirius, and everything else just floated away, unimportant until relevant again.
You let life drag you—find people you’d allow to pull you along—and went with it all. Sometimes you snagged on things as they tugged you behind them, and it stung and hurt like catching your foot on a step. Other times, you narrowly miss, and then there's when things have been so good you get nervous. But then, at some point, as the world goes, you let it go when things haven't fallen apart again. Life is a gamble, and you place your bets—throw in all your chips—and pray to god that things are in the clear.
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