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thelooniemoonie · 4 months

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The shop is now live!

Here are my first batch of "appetizer" adoptables, which are all on my Ko-Fi shop!

Thank you for all of your patience, I hope y'all like them! It's first come first serve, but given this is my first time making adoptables I'm open to feedback. And if you can, a reblog always helps!

#artists on tumblr #adoptables #character adopt #furry adopt #adoptable #oc adopt #small artist #adoptable art #moonies makings #edit: okay timing really shot me in the foot with this given the timing of the strike. i didnt know until the night before posting this #edit (continued): this post is already queued but if you dont wish to reblog/purchase at the time/week this is posted thats totally fine

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jellyfishbeansontoast · 24 days

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Oh shit, there's only one bed.

really couldn't think of a title but this made me giggle and it's basically the plot summary so enjoy lol. kind of enemies to lovers yay!!

pairing: Sirius x reader I don't believe I made any character descriptions so should be gn

word count: 937

It was almost the beginning of term and the group had decided to make a weekend out of purchasing new school supplies in Diagon Alley, minus Peter who’s parents had already bought his school supplies and disapproved of the immaturity of his friends. Which is ultimately how you've ended up wishing you'd never came, standing in a cramped room in the Leaky Cauldron with the one boy who seems to know just how to get on your nerves. Sirius Black.

It wasn't that you hated Sirius, but the boy knew every way to get under your skin and even after pleas from James and Remus to stop he wouldn't give it up. You'd only tagged along as Remus had begged you to come relentlessly, guilt tripping you shamelessly with how much he'd have to hear about quidditch otherwise.

“There's only one bed.” Sirius gawks after settling down his case.

“Astute observation, Black” you snap, to which he holds his hands up in mock surrender. You bury your head in your hands groaning.

“There is no way I'm getting in a bed with you.”

A momentary look of hurt flashes across your face, did he really find you that repulsive, before you manage to compose yourself “you're welcome to the floor.”

He looks disgustedly at the dirty floor, kicking up a cloud of dust like a petulant child “there is no way I'm sleeping on that.”

“Fine.” you cross your arms in a huff.

“Fine.” he says mirroring you.

You turn on your heel and march towards the bathroom, grabbing your pyjamas on the way. By the time you've brushed your teeth and changed Sirius is already in bed. You resign yourself to your fate and climb into your side of the bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. You aren't aware of how cold the room is until you can practically feel Sirius’ heat radiating off of him. You shrink further into the covers, defending your ears from the cold. Behind you Sirius makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. You roll around instantly to face him, eyebrows raised.

“What.” you demand.

“It's just-” he sighs “Fuck it, come here.”

“What!” you repeat, questioning if you heard him correctly.

“You're cold, I'm not.” he shrugs like he's just told you a simple fact. He grips your arms and slides you towards him, wrapping his arms around you. Your face is nestled in his chest and despite the situation you can't help but feel relieved at the warmth that envelopes your body. “See?”

His curls tickle your forehead and you're thankful that he can't see your face for the smile you're trying to contain. You can't help the laugh that escapes as you think about how funny it is that thirty minutes ago you were arguing about sharing a bed and now you're pressed flush against his chest. It's his turn to be confused now, “What are you laughing at?”

“This just isn't the behaviour of someone who hates me.” you retort.

“I don't hate you”

“You literally asked Remus why he was friends with me” he's looking sheepish now, pulling away from you slightly so he can see you.

“I didn't mean it like that”

“How can you possibly have meant it Sirius?” the bite is back in your voice, guarding your feelings from what he has to say.

His fingers are on your chin, tilting your head up to look at him “making sure he didn't have any ulterior motives”

“Be serious-”

“I am Sirius” there's a cheeky grin on his face at the old age joke. You glare at him and he continues “I had to make sure Moony didn't have feelings for you, because I do.”

“You have feelings for me?”

“Come on don't make me say it again”

“What if I want you to say it again”

Instead he leans down and presses his lips to yours, his hands moving to hold the back of your head. “Did that say it enough?”

“Maybe if you tried one more time it might” you tease. Sirius is quick to appease you, this time you're more prepared and able to reciprocate the kiss properly, your hands curling into the front of his t-shirt.

“Understand now?” he asks.

“I think so” you respond, nestling your head under his chin, eyes fluttering shut.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

You only hum in response, Sirius only choosing not to be offended when he hears your breathing slow. He smiles at your sleeping form before wrapping his arms supportively around your back and letting himself also give in to sleep.

“Do you think they've killed each other?” a low murmur voices from the other side of the door.

“I hope not I wanted to borrow that quidditch magazine Sirius was reading yesterday”

“I can't believe you're thinking about quidditch this early”

Despite Remus’ best efforts to keep James quiet the conversation is still enough to wake Sirius. He opens his eyes groggily and mentally curses the boys for being so loud. Flinging an arm out behind him he scrambles for his wand, which is somewhere on the nightstand, before unlocking the door. “I haven't been murdered.” he calls, voice still thick with sleep.

James and Remus enter the room, mouths hanging open at the sight. “Is that-?” they both ask unison.

Their shock is enough to rouse you but you only bury yourself further into Sirius, groaning when the sunlight hits your eyes.

“If we knew this would happen we would've done it sooner.” James mutters before being elbowed in the ribs by Remus.

#sirius x reader #sirius x you #sirius x y/n #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black #marauders era #sirius black fic #sirius black fluff #fluff #harry potter

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siriuslysapphicmoony · 2 months

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evanesco — word count: 699

@wolfstarmicrofic

Lately, Sirius has been spending a quite embarrassing amount of time staring at his most recent purchase. He takes the small black box he keeps hidden in his makeup bag and stares at it in admiration and excitement. He imagines what it’ll feel like to finally propose. What will Remus think about it? Will he like it? Will he wear it every day? Will he stare at it the way Sirius is staring at it now, imagining what it’ll look like on Remus’ finger?

Sirius has been so taken by fantasising about his boyfriend that he hasn’t noticed said boyfriend has come back earlier.

“What’re you doing, love?” Remus asks casually.

Sirius is startled. So fucking startled that, panicking, he murmurs an evanesco and makes the little box and the ring disappear.

“What did you just vanish?” Remus asks, this time with amusement in his voice.

“Nothing.” Sirius is shaking. He almost ruined everything.

“Should I be concerned?”

“No– No, I— It’s nothing.”

He's stumbling on his words. Great. Now Remus will think he has some dark, deep secret.

“Sirius,” Remus takes a step forward, clearly concerned. “Are you ashamed of something? What did you just hide? I wouldn’t judge you for whatever it is, you know that, right?”

“I— yeah, sure. It wasn’t that— it was just— can we not talk about it, please?”

Remus frowns. He looks suspicious and amused at the same time.

“Was it porn?” he asks then, raising an eyebrow. The little menace.

Sirius huffs out a relieved chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, it was porn.” He hopes he sounds convincing enough.

A bit passes.

“Do you— do you happen to still have your transfiguration notes on how to summon back something that's been vanished?”

It's been a while since Hogwarts, it's been about 15 years since he's learned that spell and it doesn't happen often that he needs to undo a vanishing spell. He's pretty sure it's never happened before.

“Sure,” Remus looks really amused. Like he's really enjoying himself. “I'll give them to you if you show me what you were looking at.”

Aaaand Sirius is panicking again.

“Why did you vanish it anyway? Didn’t think I would judge you for it, did you? Or thought I would be jealous?”

“Something like that,” Sirius mutters, not really convincingly.

“Sweetheart,” Remus murmurs and he steps forward, reaching for Sirius’ hand and softly brushing the back of it. “There's nothing you could do that I'd possibly be judgmental of. And porn magazines don't count as cheating. You can show them to me. It could be fun.”

Remus sounds really reassuring. He even winks and Sirius is utterly in love with him.

He nods. Hoping this mess will somehow work out.

A few minutes later

“Here's my notes,” Remus says.

“Thank you, babe.”

Remus looks at him expectantly.

“I— can I have a bit of privacy for it?”

“You're still ashamed of it? Sirius, you've never been ashamed of this stuff.”

Sirius sighs as he quickly scans the notes. A warm fondness in his heart as he looks at teenage Remus' handwriting.

He panicks when he reads that you can't let too much time pass if you want your object back exactly as it was.

“Listen, Moony, I'll explain later,” he says and basically flees and locks himself in their room.

He eventually does manage to get Remus' engagement ring back.

“You don't want to show me then?”

“Can you please let it go, Moony? I'll explain everything, I swear. I just can't right now.”

“You're acting weird.”

“Do you trust me?”

Remus sighs. “Of course I trust you.”

Sirius has to propose earlier than initially planned. He just has. He can't let the love of his life think he's hiding something from him. Well, he technically is hiding something. But still.

two days later

When Sirius finally proposes and Remus has said yes and the ring is on his finger and their eyes are wet with tears, Remus gasps as realisation hits him.

“Merlin’s pants. You had vanished my ring, hadn't you? The other night. It was the ring!”

Sirius smiles sheepishly and Remus kisses him and laughs into the kiss. “You're such a lovely idiot.”

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar fanfiction #fanfiction #marauders #remus x sirius #sirius black #sirius black x remus lupin #remus loves sirius #remus lupin #sirius loves remus #remus lupin x sirius black #dead gay wizards #wolfstar proposal #idiots in love #established relationship #older wolfstar

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neutronice · 2 years

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Yuuri Katsuki: the importance of being earnest

There’s a reason that trying to write “fan ascending” is an extremely hard trope to get right, because so often the ‘ordinary Marty Stu’ pairing with the superstar has this air of author wish fulfillment to it that can ring a little bit false.

It’s also why Yuri!!! on Ice is brilliant, because it nailed the fan ascending trope. How did it do this? In a couple of ways.

First and foremost, Yuuri Katsuki is not an ordinary fan. He’s an unreliable narrator who is a Japanese superstar without the ability to see that about himself. He has every bit the ability of Victor Nikiforov, just with much more of it stored up in his potential rather than results and blocked by his anxiety.

That though is not why Victor fell for him. And not why it felt so damn real to see Victor fall for him. Because Yuuri’s power was in who he was inside, and how he dealt with/handled Victor Nikiforov becoming his coach, and importantly, the massive difference between how Victor predicted this arrangement was going to go, and how it actually went.

Victor remembers the drunk and moony Yuuri begging him at the banquet, and then skating Stammi Vicino. In Victor’s “always be camera ready” existence, he probably saw the Stammi Vicino skate as a brilliant marketing strategy, Yuuri making clear he was serious and asking again. And Victor, who was burned out and needed something new probably laughed and said “he got me.”

But… as we know, Stammi Vicino was not about luring Victor to Hasetsu. It was a genuine Yuuri trying to find the things that could bring his love for skating back. It wasn’t meant to be a public call to Victor at all, and so when Victor came and expected cameras and social media and look at me Victor is my coach! He got… something so entirely different.

He got a front-row seat to what it looks like when an entire hometown has adopted their local skater as a collective son. He got a front-row seat to a family who loved their son and supported him no matter what. He got a front-row seat to what happens when sincere hard work and friends who care about the person not the persona band together to help someone reach their potential.

He got I want to eat katsudon with you if I win, instead of I want you to declare to the world that you are my coach.

And for Victor, I think this was a shock.

Yuuri didn’t even fathom the idea of telling the whole world that Victor was coaching him (which we watch Victor decide to do).

Yuuri worried about how he was going to afford Victor’s coaching fees, as if Victor really truly was a celebrity coach, instead of a skater looking for a new way to be inspired.

One scene I have always adored is Victor complaining to Yuuri about coach seats being cramped on the way to Beijing. We know that Victor would easily have flown them both in First Class and not thought anything of it. It means that Yuuri was insistent that he pay for himself and his coach to fly to Beijing. I’ve no doubt he also insisted on paying for both his and Victor’s hotel rooms.

It’s also why the purchase of those rings is so profound. Because Victor knows that Yuuri budgets carefully. Yuuri bought those expensive rings for himself and his rich boyfriend, needing to pay them off in installments, without so much as glancing back at said rich boyfriend about finances. Victor recognized the profundity of the gesture.

And to Victor? Here was a person who made it so plain that he had no intention of ever taking advantage of him. Yuuri’s entire desire with Victor was for Victor just to be himself. Yuuri didn’t need a “oh look Victor is my coach look everyone.” He was over the moon that his idol was there teaching him. He didn’t want a fake kiss and relationship, he wanted a Victor who freaked out when he screwed up.

It meant that Victor who do you want me to be to you? Nikiforov’s mask slowly eroded away. And he found that Yuuri relished in the real Victor. And that it felt good being the real Victor.

All because Yuuri just wanted to eat katsudon with him when he won, insisted on paying both his and Victor’s way when it mattered.

Yuuri wanted Victor, and only Victor. The real one. And in every action, every decision, that Yuuri made, he reminded Victor of that.

It’s a master class to people attempting to write ‘the fan and the idol’ stories. Yuuri wanted Victor the person, not Victor the persona. And in every action, he reinforced that for Victor.

No wonder Victor fell so hard.

#yoi meta #victuuri #viktuuri #why yuuri and victor are perfect for each other #yoi the fan ascending trope done right

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sailormoonrewatch · 4 months

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Welcome to the 2024 Sailor Moon Rewatch!

Every week, we collectively watch four episodes of the Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (1992) anime. Participants then discuss, celebrate, and create around those four episodes and tag their posts with #SailorMoonRewatch2024. By the end of 2024, we will have rewatched all 200 episodes!

What do I do?

You can engage as much or as little as you'd like. After watching (up to & including) the current week's episodes, you can reply to the discussion posts made on this blog, or make your own posts! Tagged posts have a chance of being reblogged here.

Did you take the perfect screencaps? Did you think a particular scene was funny, moving, intriguing, or fell flat? Has an episode changed or strengthened your perception of a character? Did something in the episode inspire you to draw, write, cook, edit, sew, sculpt, or otherwise make something? Did you realise you can perfectly closet-cosplay an outfit from one of the newest episodes? Have you themed your TV snacks around an upcoming plot? That's exactly the kind of stuff we want to see in the tag!

But, if you'd prefer, you're also welcome to simply sit back and scroll through the blog/tag, liking posts as you watch the series alongside everyone.

Where can I watch Sailor Moon?

Legally, you can purchase Viz's new official DVDs or Blu-rays, or you can stream the series on Hulu, Tubi, or Pluto TV.

Which version of Sailor Moon is this rewatch for?

This rewatch is about the first anime series, "Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon" (1992) aka "Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon" (1992), not Sailor Moon Crystal (2014) - though if this rewatch is successful, there may be a group Crystal rewatch in the future!

Do I have to watch a specific dub?

Not at all! This sub uses the official Viz translations of episode titles, but you are free to watch in any release of any language dub. You can watch subtitled in Japanese, you can watch the old Dic/Cloverway dubs, or you can watch in any dubbed language you like.

If the rewatch covers an episode that was cut from the dub you're watching, you can elect to simply skip that episode or temporarily swap to a different dub/sub.

What if I get ahead of the rewatch?

That's fine! We just ask that you keep your tagged posts to the current episodes. Part of the goal of this event is to introduce new viewers to the series, and keeping to the schedule helps these first-time Moonies avoid spoilers. If you want to watch ahead, save up your notes/art/etc and then post them here when the relevant week comes 'round. That's what makes it a group event!

What if I'm late or get behind?

That's also fine! You can jump in any time and catch up on missed episodes at your leisure, or choose to simply start at whatever episode the rewatch is up to and fill in the gaps for yourself.

Similarly, you can choose to skip any episodes at any time for any reason. Episodes will be flagged with relevant content warnings in the week's introduction post.

The first four episodes will be covered over the first two weeks of 2024 in order to give people more time to join. After this, each single week will typically cover four episodes. You can see the full schedule here!

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lynxindisguise · 5 months

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In honor of the final few hours of Knock Him Up November: Remus and Lily are pregnant at the same time. What kind of havoc do they wreak on their husbands? Go!

oooh I like the idea that they're both getting so sick of sirius and james doting on them that they decide to see how far they can take it.

remus suddenly has a desperate craving for a magical candy that you can only buy in new zealand.

lily needs a dragon tear shed beneath the light of the full moon for her nausea potion.

remus asks if he can use padfoot as a body pillow every night (sirius actually quite enjoys this).

lily asks james if he can bathe in tomato juice every morning because his deer musk is too potent.

even moony spends the entire night bossing around padfoot.

I don't know what the last straw is. maybe there isn't a last straw—james and sirius are just happy to be helpful! maybe remus starts crying because he feels bad and lily is like "ffs I was just about to get james to purchase me a maternity gown made out of actual clouds."

#knock him up november #imp tag

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daunsun · 2 years

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I have to many questions for your flowershop au!!!

Is y/n just a client or work here?

Whatvdid they said to sun for them to want to appologies?

are the boys magic flowers? :D

Can I aggressively sniff moonie? :3

OK SO THIS IS GONNA BE A LONG ONE BOYS

1.) Y/N WAS a client at the beginning of the story, hence my first doodle of sunflower!Sun being them giving Y/N a bouquet they didn't ask for. A teensy bit further down in the story is when Y/N actually starts working for the flower boys in exchange for being able to stay under their roof for what was supposed to be a temporary period.

2.) As was pointed out in the Moon doodles and in the original doodle for this AU, Y/N just got out of a really bad relationship!! That they were in for a long time!! That did a lot of damage!! :D

Essentially, Y/N got a bit flustered and upset when Sun originally offered them the flowers that they supposedly ordered and said he was being creepy (which without context for Y/N, that would've seemed creepy) and intrusive, or something to that effect.

For more context, the bouquet of flowers that Sun originally offered for Y/N were from their ex in an attempt to get Y/N to forgive them and offer them another chance, and were meant to be delivered to Y/N's apartment later on. (Hence why Moon knows their address, he does deliveries.) Y/N, on the other hand, came to the flower shop to purchase a pot of gardenia's for their mother, since that's her favorite flower, and her mother was moving away from where Y/N lived. The timing of both these events happened to coincide so that Sun hadn't set the bouquet aside for delivery when Y/N showed up, and recognized their name whenever Y/N placed their order for the gardenias. Then what you saw happens.

3.) …Good question! Personally, I'd like to believe Sun and Moon are what happen when you use too much fertilizer, but that part can be up to interpretation! (I have no idea, you caught me off guard and I can't think of anything lmao)

4.) You... do know what happens when you ingest Daturas, right?

Go ahead and cancel your plans for the next couple of days.

(DISCLAIMER: Sniffing a Datura really hard might give you some weird dreams for a day or so, but Moon is a giant Datura who doesn't like people, so snorfing him has the same effect as eating a dozen or so Datura seeds. Don't eat fucking Daturas kids.)

#flowershop au #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #moon x reader #datura!moon #i could write an entire fic about this

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floralembarrassment · 1 year

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Holiday Shopping (1/1) (wolfstar inspired by @impishtubist so this is for you!)

"Moony I don't think you understand..." Harry said with his head down. They had been to 3 stores already and Harry was getting discouraged. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shook out his messy hair. Finally taking a deep breath he looked up Remus, lots of uncertainty but emotion in his green eyes. "I just want him to know that I love him and- and don't," he said quickly when Remus' mouth opened, and closed with the request, left Harry continue. "I know what you're going to say gifts are not love but I want him to know that I see him and care about him enough to pay attention."

"Alright Harry, I understand." Remus says putting a hand on his shoulder and meeting his gaze.

"And he probably hasn't gotten a present in a really long time okay I think it matters..." Harry adds quietly.

"I'm not sure who raised you but you are unfailing kind Harry and I don't want you to ever lose that," Remus says and kisses him in the head.

Harry chuckles because of course Moony raised him, well more than the Dursley's ever did, especially since they won't talk to him even if Harry wanted to since he started at Hogwarts.

The pair are walking along the street and Remus is leading Harry to an old record store. He knows what music Sirius likes and in the last 12 years a lot of his favourites have gotten lost. But just as they are about to turn in, Harry pulls on Remus' jacket sleeve. "Uhmm, do you think we could go in there please?"

Remus' gaze follows Harry' outstretched arm. He is pointing across the street to a small, inconspicuous vintage shop that looks a bit of a mess. Remus of course agrees and when they walk in Harry walks straight to the back wall. Remus is shocked when Harry pulls a smooth leather jacket off the rack at the back, wondering how he saw it because his eye sight really is awful.

"Moony this is it, isn't it?" Harry says with a classic Potter grin. Remus is taken a bit aback because it is perfect, it's almost exactly like the one Sirius had just after school. "I saw a picture of him in one just like this with my dad!" Harry says. He's nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet, and of course Remus knows the picture - he took it after all. He takes a steadying breath, missing James, and really missing the life they all did not get to live. He feels a pang in his chest, and again is just so grateful he gets to be here on this side, despite it all, with Harry.

"Yes I think you are right Harry. I think it's perfect."

"So we can get it?" Harry asks, eyes going wide. Still surprised when Remus lets him have what he wants or lead the way. Remus would give him anything honestly and has been for 3 years. He knows Sirius is going to want to as well, and he really can't wait for the rest of their lives together to get to do this.

"Absolutely dear, whatever you want," is all Remus says. Harry nearly skips to the cash and pulls out his pocket money to make the purchase- stubborn enough to want to have done it all on his own. He makes a note to replenish it all later anyway.

They walk out of the store and Remus guides Harry into a small cafe where they get hot chocolate and watch through the window as the snow begins to fall and the stars shine bright in the sky next to the fairy lights on the shops. They chat and sit in comfortable silence. For a while after Sirius was freed and was living with them, Harry had spent their alone time asking questions about who Sirius used to be. And Remus would laugh and tell him all about their mischief. After a while though Sirius wanted to tell those stories to Harry and they have a bond so strong it's like they were never apart. Remus loves it for them.

Lots in thought, Remus thinks of Christmas this year and how they will have a small but lovely and slowly morning together before heading to the Weasleys as Harry is just as must their family as he is Remus and Sirius'. And Remus sits and thinks about how the crazy busy family holidays are the only thing James ever wanted for his son aside from happiness. He looks up at the sky as they walk back to the flat and smiles, telling James he's got them, he's got them both. A promise and a gift all for Remus himself.

Harry nudges him on the arm pulling him out of his head. The boy asks softly; "alright?" Remus smiles warmly and brings an arm around Harry to squeeze him into a small hug. "Quite. I'm rather happy actually, and I hope you know that I love you so much and so does Sirius." Harry leans his head into Remus and smiles. He doesn't say it back just yet but Remus knows.

#marauders #harry potter #wolfstar #fanfic #marauders fandom #cannon ish compliant #wolfstar raising harry #padfoot #moony #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #presentsforpadfoot

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myheadsgonenumb · 1 year

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Towel

Sirius’s bedroom door sprang open all by itself as he thundered towards it, his feet pounding on the stairs matched the rhythm of the blood pounding in his ears. He slammed the door shut behind him, so it reverberated all through the house, and then kicked his bedstead as hard as he could.

She had gone too far this time, he had had enough - he was going.

His hands trembled with rage as he ragged his trunk out from under the bed and started tossing in all his robes and schoolbooks. He threw in his pajamas and his towels, and then yanked the door open and ran to the bathroom for his toothbrush. He shoulder Reg out of the way as he charged past.

In a moment, he was back in the safety of his own room. His heart felt like it was about to explode in his chest, his senses seemed to be on high alert - every sound magnified, every creak of the floorboards Walburga coming to stop him.

He thought he had everything. He slammed the lid of his trunk closed and glanced around, to see if there was anything he had missed. There was the photograph of him and his friends stuck to the wall - he was sad to leave it behind, but he had used a permanent sticking charm on it and he knew it would not come off.

His eyes roved around again (his heart was beating painfully fast, and his knees were trembling… he didn’t quite dare believe he was really doing this) and came to rest on a photo on the wall by his bedside table - just him and Moony, their arms wrapped around each other, identical huge grins, as they waved out into the world.

It had been taken the day James had won the Quidditch cup, and Sirius and Remus had cheered from the stands and shared firewhisky afterwards and the whole day had been terrifying and exciting and he wasn’t even sure why. Then they had fallen asleep together on Remus’s bed. It was one of Sirius’s happiest memories … and he did not want to leave that photo behind.

He got his fingernails beneath the picture and tried to prise it from the wall. He put his foot against the wall to try and give him better purchase and struggled and strained to tear it off.

The door swung open. Walburga stood there, furious, her eyes flashing in rage. ‘What are you doing?’

He grabbed his wand from the nightstand and pointed it at her. ‘I’m going,’ he said - though his voice trembled. ‘You leave me alone.’

‘Then why are you still here - wasting time on that photo?’

‘...I want it.’

She gave a bitter laugh, and her lip curled. ‘I knew it. My own son. All the pictures of muggle girls in their underwear in the world would never be enough to hide what you are. It won’t come off,’ she said this last part almost conversationally. ‘You are irritatingly good at sticking charms. If you want to leave, you will have to leave the boy behind.’

He staggered back a few steps, releasing his hold on the photograph and looking at it sorrowfully. He wanted to keep those memories. He didn’t know why his mother had laughed but he knew he wanted that photo, more than anything else he had thrown in his trunk.

He glanced at Walburga. She arched an eyebrow at him - mocking, daring him to stand up to her… telling him she knew he would back down.

‘Fine,’ he said in the end, calling her bluff. He grabbed his trunk and gripped his wand tighter, keeping her covered with it as he pushed his way past. ‘You stay away from me.’

He lugged his trunk down the stairs as quickly as he could, headed to freedom.

He could always make more memories with Moony.

Word Count: 650

@wolfstarmicrofic

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar microfic #towel

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meguwumibear · 2 years

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you knew who i was (every step that i ran to you)

pairing: megumi fushiguro x female reader

word count: 4,937

warnings: angst, pining, explicit language, non-sorcerer au, miscommunication and misunderstandings, references to Plato’s Symposium

It’s cold out the day he meets you, not bitterly so, but in a pleasant way that reminds you that spring is just around the corner. Megumi’s sitting on the bleachers warming his chilled hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt with Nobara and Maki at one of Yuji’s games when he sees you at the concession stand, a couple of crumpled up dollar bills in your outstretched hand. Ordinarily, the act of purchasing a salty concession would not capture Megumi’s attention, however you manage to catch his eye. Not because of your mannerism or what you order—he’s too far away to see what you look like or hear what cheap delicacy you crave—but because you’re wearing Yuuji’s souvenir jacket. That he’d recognize anywhere no matter the distance.

The sight of you in his best friend’s sukajan sparks something primitive in Megumi, something akin to…jealousy? Curiosity? Greif?

And he knows it’s the sight of you in Yuuji’s jacket that ignites this unnamable feeling inside him, a feeling that tosses and turns and sours in the very pit of his stomach. He knows this to be true, because he didn’t feel it the moment before he had stolen his first of many glances at you, only after. Only now.

Just who are you, and why are you wearing Yuuji’s clothes?

When he can no longer stand his racing thoughts, he turns to Nobara and finally asks, “who is she?” He gestures at you, letting his pointer finger linger over your distant frame longer than necessary to get his point across. It’s rude, but he kind of means for it to be. He wants you to wonder about him the way he’s being forced to wonder about you.

“Oh, her?” Nobara responds, though she’s barely bothered to glance your way. “That’s Yuuji’s new friend. They have a gen ed together or something. Practice for professional life, maybe.”

“She’s wearing his jacket,” he says.

“I have eyes,” she responds.

He’s no longer paying attention to the game. All he can focus on is you and the way your fingers curl around the soft pretzel the concession stand worker hands to you. It’s just cold enough out that little tuffs of steam blanket the snack like a thousand tiny phantoms. You sink your teeth into the treat and chew.

Instead of making your way to the bleachers with everyone else, you pick your way to the edge of the field, where the flimsy chain link fence separates the players from the spectators. Several of the cheerleaders wave at you when they see you approach. You wave back politely before focusing your sights on the field.

During halftime Yuji races to where you stand and throws his arms around your neck. When the two of you part, he rests his hands on your shoulders, and Megumi’s own begin to ache.

Then Yuuji’s turning you around and pointing to the exact section of the stands where he and Nobara and Maki are sitting. When Yuuji’s certain he has the attention of at least one of the three, he waves. It’s Nobara who waves back first.

You say your farewells to Yuuji and join them on the bleachers. Megumi doesn’t miss the way Yuiji’s eyes linger on you as you saunter away from him. It irritates him, the way Yuuji is looking at you all doe eyed and moony. Yeah, you’re cute enough, and Yuuji deserves someone that will make him happy, whatever, that’s not the problem: the problem is Yuuji is his friend and you, well, you’re a nobody.

Winded slightly from the climb, you introduce yourself to the trio, a shy smile pulling hesitantly at your lips. Nobara and Maki are quick to gift you their names, though all the chatter slips into one of Megumi’s ears and directly out the other. His head feels as though it’s been stuffed full of millions of meandering bees. Buzzing and buzzing and buzzing.

The three of you are staring at him, he realizes. He hasn’t introduced himself. Megumi feels his cheeks grow pink from the attention. He tells himself it’s just the wind.

“Fushiguro, Megumi.”

You break into a wide grin, “Of course! Yuuji speaks so highly of you. The two of you must care terribly for one another.”

Something deep within his gut twists because yeah, they do.

“What do you study?” he asks both to be polite and change the subject. If his tone is clipped, you don’t seem to notice.

“I’m in the school’s literature program,” you say plopping down next to him. His eyes immediately find the brown stain on the collar of Yuuji’s otherwise unmarred jacket: miso broth.

(After the first game of the season they had snuck off to a local noodle shop for a peaceful post-game meal. Just the two of them. Yuuji had laughed ridiculously hard at something Megumi had said, spoon in mouth, and the liquid sputtered out. Megumi hadn’t even cracked a joke. His manner of speaking is always dry and direct. Yuuji simply found humor in his seriousness. Yuuji was always finding hidden treasures in Megumi. Sometimes it was if Yuuji knew Megumi better than Megumi knew himself. It’s hard for Megumi not to be the best version of himself around him.)

The three of you slink off to the same ramen shop that evening. Maki and Nobara excuse themselves after congratulating Yuuji for a game well played. The three of you are sitting at the back of the shop, your back is pressed against the too hard booth, straw of your favorite soft drink tucked delicately between your teeth. You’re sitting next to Yuuji who talks enough for the three of you and often with his mouth full of sprouts and egg and pork.

What few details you manage to sneak in—typically as Yuuji takes a break from entertaining you both to swallow—have little to no effect on whatever it is Megumi suddenly feels because Megumi cannot for the life of him understand how or why Yuuji had kept you a secret from him for so long.

Megumi feels so sick he can barely swallow his own meal. He food sits solid and uneasy inside him. It’s as if every system in his body is beginning to shut down. Every system, that is but his cardiovascular system. His heart he can feel beating and beating and beating…

“Right, Megs,” Yuuji is asking, and suddenly Megumi realizes how disconnected from the conversation he’s become.

The two of you are looking at him with impish grins and sparkles in your eyes as he grounds himself. The grip he has on his utensils tightens. “Uh, could you repeat your question? I zoned out for a moment.”

Yuuji’s rolling his eyes, “see? What did I tell you? An absolute menace. I didn’t know him before high school, but Gojo says he threw hands with like at least ten different kids per day. Real antisocial type.”

“Gojo?”

“Yuuji,” Megumi warns.

“His father,” Yuuji supplies anyway.

Megumi has never actually called Gojo that, but there isn’t really a word for what Gojo is to him. It felt like a betrayal to refer to Gojo simply as his father; it felt like settling. Gojo was barely grown himself when he had taken Megumi in. In many ways, Gojo was more mentor than patriarch. Megumi often wondered what made someone a father. Based on his experience, he reasoned that fatherhood is forged neither by blood nor birth. Some fathers are appetites; their children become food. Other fathers are food; they satiate their child’s hunger. Gojo was both starving man and feast. Both so empty and so full.

“He’s a good man,” Megumi offers. “And those are hard to find these days.”

“Hm,” you hum, “goodness and badness are manmade constructs, but for arguments sake, I’d say that I find that most people are more good than bad. Or, rather, on average, the typical person will make more good decisions than bad ones.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Well,” you add, “my friend drove me to the grocery store the other day so I could restock my fridge. While we were there, looming over the fruits, I noticed a man standing by the apples, turning them over in his hand. The apples with bruises, he’d add to his cart. The ones without blemish he’d put back. When he noticed me watching him, he told me that he always takes the damaged produce, since he knows there are people out there who will snub their noses at damaged goods. So, you see, you need not look far to find good men. They’re often found lingering by apple stands.”

He sees why Yuuji likes you so much; the two of you are cut from the same cloth. Both kind and decent and good. Good for goodness’ sake.

Megumi’s always envied Yuuji for his innate kindness, or rather Megumi’s always admired it. It was a character trait worthy of protection. Life snuffs light out of even the brightest of places. That’s why he fought so much when he was younger. It wasn’t for fun…not really. Which isn’t to say he didn’t enjoy the thrill of a fight. There was something cathartic about the flesh of his knuckle kissing the cheek of another. To stop the darkness of the world from spreading he had to beat it out of others.

It's impossible to preserve what’s good in the world without a little violence, and Megumi’s suddenly more than willing to get his knuckles bloody for you.

But, you aren’t his; you’re Yuuji’s, and, as such you’ve become permanent fixture in both of their lives. You’re at their dorm more often than your own. Sometimes you and Yuuji study together. Sometimes not. Movie nights become a weekly, if not bi-weekly occurrence. Megumi is always invited. Your favorite movie candy is Sno-Caps, so Megumi makes sure there’s always a box or two in the dorm for you when you come over.

It's humiliating how much he likes you. Your interests are so similar, and despite your literature major you’re well versed in his own: philosophy. You carry your own in conversations about Foucault and even Plato’s Symposium. Is love the intrinsic desire to find our other half, as Aristophanes argued. Can love be wise or beautiful, or is love the pursuit of those two things, as Socrates argued on behalf of Diotima.

It's shameful the way he comes to desire you. He finds himself thinking of you often as he drifts to sleep. You never spend the night with Yuuji, likely out of respect for him. Megumi both loves and hates you for it. He wants to know what side of the bed is easiest for you to fall asleep on. He wants to listen to the deep, rhythmic sound of your breath as you slumber.

The two of you always include him in your weekend plans, and the masochist in him always agrees to tag along. The three of you go to the mall, the park, the movies. Sometimes the three of you just drive around, nursing drinks from the nearest convenience store. One weekend Yuuji convinces the two of you to drive over an hour to the nearest zoo so that he can see the otters. Yuuji tells you that otters hold hands at night so they don’t drift apart when they sleep. Megumi pictures threading his fingers through yours.

The night before midterms are due, he asks about your plans for the break. You tell him that you’re staying on campus. Alone. The school’s facilities, including the cafeteria close during the week. He wonders how you plan to take care of yourself.

“I’m staying too,” he decides in that moment, already mentally unpacking the trunk at the foot of his bed. Some shirts. A few pairs of pants. Nothing that he couldn’t easily transfer back into his dresser.

“Don’t you want to see Gojo?”

“He’s away on business.” It’s the truth. Gojo’s always away on business. He’s the best at what he does, which means that—despite his personality flaws—his skill set is always in high demand. His trips have gotten longer and longer of late. The more time that passes, the more Megumi worries that Gojo may not come back.

“I wouldn’t want to go home to an empty house either.”

Yuuji snores quietly, slumped over his desk, a generous amount of drool pooling around his lips. His only family, his grandfather, passed when he was still in high school. Gifted with borderline unnatural athletic abilities, he paved his way to university life with early mornings and turf fields. He’ll stay on campus too.

“I got an A on my paper about the Symposium.”

“Oh,” you say, doodling along the margins of your notebook. “And, which of the dialogues did you argue was most beautifully delivered?”

“All of them,” he says. “None of them. It’s like you said when we first met, there is no goodness or badness, which means there is no such thing as the beautiful or the ugly; it’s all about outcomes and action. The highest encomium one could give to Eros would be to choose over and over again to be with and do things for another. Speech alone is not sufficient.”

Eros is the morsels of milk chocolate he keeps in his desk drawer because he knows you like them.

His love is inside you because you eat those morsels again and again and again.

You’re smiling at him. He loves the way you smile, all lip, no teeth, cheeks dimpling. “Love is a series of decisions,” you say. “I think I’d have to agree.”

He realizes suddenly that he wrote the final draft of his essay, not with his professor, but with you in mind. His thesis was entirely shaped by all of the time he’d spent with and thinking about you, his conclusion an echo of your lives together. Part of him wishes to confess this to you; another, much louder part begs him to remain silent, forces him to gobble up his words and swallow them down, down, down into his tummy where his stomach acid will melt them away.

“We should get ice cream tomorrow,” you say. “To celebrate.”

“Milkshakes at Mission Impopsicle?” He knows it’s your favorite ice cream shop. He knows exactly what you’ll order too. A large mint chip milkshake with extra whipped cream. Somedays you pretend you’re going to branch out and try something new, but by the time you reach the register you always order your usual sweet treat. He supposes there’s comfort in the familiar.

You’re smiling at him again, “you read my mind!”

Of course he has. He’s become fluent in you.

Or maybe he hasn’t because he’s surprised the next day when you express an interest in getting ice cream sans Yuuji. Apparently the three of you aren’t the only poor souls stuck on campus during spring break. A sophomore named Junpei also remains, and apparently Yuuji has agreed to tutor him in biology.

“We can go another time,” Megumi shrugs.

“No, no, you two go on without me. Bring me back something with lots and lots of sprinkles! Grab something for Junpei too! The kid could use the moral boost. I’ll text you his order once we’re settled.”

It’s…odd hanging with you without Yuuji as a buffer. It feels wrong, like a poorly kept secret or like walking in shoes that aren’t his own. He’s lived most of his life letting whatever is going to happen to him, well, happen. Whatever will be will be, and all that. He’s never felt this gnawing sense of guilt before. Not even after his high school principal berated him for beating on yet another shitty senior.

Back then he could rely on Gojo in a pinch.

Now he must rely solely on himself, and, to be honest, he isn’t quite sure what to do with himself once he’s alone with you. Rationally, he understands Yuuji gave him permission to go on the ice cream run without him, but the action still feels like a betrayal, especially now, especially when you look at him with those dazzling, beseeching eyes of yours. He hasn’t been able to meet them once since the two of you left campus. He hasn’t spoken a single word to you either.

He can feel your gaze on him as you pull into the parking lot. He feels uncomfortably warm all over, like he’s been standing in the beating sun.

You’re out of the car before he’s even let go of the steering wheel. When he takes too long to open his door, you open it for him. He lets you wrap yourself around his arm and guide him to the window of the shop. He’s rocked by a sudden pang of loneliness. There’s a hunger in the pit of his belly that not even his vanilla ice cream can satiate. Some people live their lives as empty husks, never knowing what it’s like to be fed.

He's thinking suddenly of his father, not Gojo, but his late birth father, the one who had severed a part of himself to have Megumi. He doesn’t think of his birth parents often. They died long ago. But he’s thinking about them now and about how a parents’ love is the first love a person feels, or rather how it’s the first love someone is supposed to feel. His parents’ love had marred him, and the marring had followed him his whole life, a dull, ever-present pain.

You’re beaming at him between sips of your milkshake, your smile blistering like a burn.

He fears your fire; cowers before your heat. He’s drawn to you, a hopeless moth chasing a scorching flame, but Megumi’s so so scared of getting burned. Or burning Yuuji. Or dampening your light. He thinks it’s better this way, him standing in your cast shadow. That’s where he’s always thrived after all, in darkness rather than light. But you’re so warm, and your light is so resplendent, and he thinks maybe getting marred one last time may be worth it. He thinks, maybe, he’d risk it all to get close to you just once.

By the time you make it back to Yuuji, his ice cream is more soup than custard. He smiles when you present it to him nonetheless, his eyes soft and warm, golden from the last few rays of the setting sun poking in from the window.

Megumi feels out of place watching the two of you. Perverted, a voyeur.

But the two of you don’t ask him to leave. The two of you never ever ask him to leave, so he keeps watching, an arm’s length away from you both, observing the way you two nurture your budding romance from a safe distance. He wonders how the two of you manage to spend any alone time together because whenever the two of you offer to include him, he selfishly agrees.

All the third wheeling is starting to take a toll on him. The more time he spends with you, the more you seem to grow on him. At night, he thinks about cutting you out of his life. He lulls himself to sleep with the thought. By morning, in his post sleep clarity, he always realizes your presence isn’t malignant; it’s benign. It’d do more harm than good to cut you out of him.

You’re offered a spot in the university’s literature honor society. You offer the knowledge to him in passing, as if you’re ashamed you were offered the spot. The school is hosting an induction ceremony for the new members during one of Yuuji’s playoff games. You offer to skip the ceremony to watch him play, but Yuuji, selfless, selfless Yuuji, insists you attend.

“Fushiguro will accompany you,” he says, and how could Megumi refuse?

It’s shameful, really, that he doesn’t even pretend to put up a fight, doesn’t even pretend that he’s interested in attending Yuuji’s game. He feels bad about how quickly he folds, of course; he understands he’s being selfish choosing you over his best friend. He’s horrible. He’s the worst. He’s miserable.

It’s just, he hasn’t had you to himself since the night you got ice cream together, and Megumi wants. He wants with an aching fever. He wants so badly it’s making him sick.

You’re beautiful, even more so the night of your ceremony, though Megumi’s certain you’d look the most beautiful wearing nothing at all. The night of your induction, you’re clad in one of your best dresses. The garment hugs you in all the right places, around your chest, around your hips. Megumi pictures himself helping you out of it, imagines himself holding you in his arms as you drift to sleep.

He takes you to dinner after. The place is nice, intimate. You’re bubblier than usual, full of energy and life. Yuuji usually talks enough for the three of you. In his absence, you’ve become the chatty one. You tell him about your parents and your childhood home. You prattle on and on about how much they used to read to you when you were younger. His parents never read him bedtime stories. He feels nostalgic for a life he never had.

It occurs to him between bites of his food that he’s smothered with ginger, that you’re nervous. What you’re doing, the way you’re bouncing around from one topic to the next, is classifiable nervous chatter. He wonders then if you feel guilty about your one-on-one time too, wonders if a small part of you is thinking about reaching for him.

He gets his answer on the drive back to your dorm when you bump one of your arms against the one he has resting on the center console. At first, he thinks the action is done unintentionally, but you don’t move it, and then your fingers begin to twitch like they’re itching to house themselves between his; they graze lazily against the flesh of his open palm.

The sensation flusters him, has the tips of his ear flushing a rosy pink. He’s grateful it’s so dark out, grateful that you can’t see the effect that you have on him.

He jerks away so suddenly he nearly veers the car off the road.

He drives the rest of the way with both hands on the wheel.

You don’t stop by their dorm the next day, or the day after that. Megumi wonders if maybe you told Yuuji about the other night, about the way your arm had flirtatiously grazed his in the car. He hopes you did. He hopes you didn’t. He hopes, desperately that Yuuji doesn’t know how he feels about you because he knows Yuuji, and he’s certain that if Yuuji caught a whiff of his feelings for you he’d let you go because that’s just the kind of person Yuuji is. So kind. So unselfish. So fucking fair and good. He doesn’t want to ruin what you two have. He doesn’t want to ruin you.

By the end of the week, he asks about you. He has to. All of the speculating is eating him alive, his questions making him their food. He thinks if he knows for certain that the two of you have ended things that maybe he could get some sleep for once, even if that means he’ll never see you again. He needs to know.

Yuuji scrunches up his nose when he asks how you are. “She’s fine. She’s just…she’s trying to give you some space. Honestly,” he pauses to rub at the back of his neck, his fingers skimming the bits of hair that aren’t dyed pink, “I’ve been feeling pretty bad about the whole thing. I really thought you two would like each other.”

Megumi blinks dumbfounded as he digests Yuuji’s words, “you…you thought…”

Yuuji holds his hands up in surrender, “I know, I know, it was rude of me to play matchmaker. I guess I owe you both an apology. I just…I don’t know I guess I misread you. You seemed so into her.”

“I thought you two were dating,” Megumi manages.

And then Yuuji’s laughing, a loud, authentic, obnoxious laugh. The sound is music to Megumi’s ears, “you thought…you thought…no, we’re not dating. We had a class together and really hit it off. When she told me what motivates her is leaving the world a more just place than she found it, I thought she’d be a good match for you.” Another pause, “don’t be too mad at her for humoring me. She didn’t know I was trying to set the two of you up until after I introduced you.”

Relief rolls through Megumi like a cresting ocean wave calming against the shoreline. Despite it, he still can’t breathe, “so she she was just humoring you, then? She really doesn’t like me?”

Yuuji shoots him an incredulous look, “are you crazy? She adores you. And you’re both idiots. She has it in her head that it’s you that doesn’t like her! Apparently when she tried to hold your hand the other night, you’d acted like she was radioactive.” Amusement dances across the creases of Yuuji’s face, “which, I mean, makes sense if you thought we were together. Aw, Fushiguro, you’re so loyal!”

“Then, she…” Megumi still can’t believe it. The past few months feel like such a waste of his time. He could have had you. He could already be yours.

“Yeah, man, she likes you. Or, she did, anyway. I’d explain myself to her, though, before it’s too late.”

He sits on a bench outside your dorm building for hours waiting for your last class of the night to wrap up. It’s one of those pesky night courses that continues long after the sun has set and the stars have come out. An autobiography course, if he wasn’t mistaken.

You return sometime around midnight with your roommate who’s name Megumi never bothered to learn. The two of you weren’t particularly close, but you liked each other well enough to share a mutual living space. It occurs to Megumi he’s never been inside your dorm.

Though he’s had hours to rehearse what he wants to say to you, the sight of you leaves him mute.

He calls your name before you can swipe into the building. Beneath the dim light of the waxing moon, he sees your eyes widen in surprise. You whisper something indiscernible to your roommate and part from her to greet him.

You call out him. The name you use is his matronymic. You’ve never called him that before. He was always, always Megumi to you. He wants to be that again. “Fushiguro, hey,” you say, flashing him a sad little smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been meaning to reach out, I just wasn’t sure-”

“You like stories,” he says, interrupting you midsentence. “You like stories, and you want to write stories of your own someday, about real people, stories with happy endings. I’ve bought every book you’ve discuss with me these past few months; I plan to read them all someday so I can talk about them with you, passionate and omniscient, the way you do. I don’t know if I’ll ever enjoy literature the way you enjoy it, but,” he pauses, to suck in a breath, “you like stories.” Another pause. “You like stories, and I like you, and there’s an infinite number of stories out there, which means we’ll never run out of things to talk about.”

You like stories, and I love you. He doesn’t say that part out loud, but he knows you hear it anyway.

“Oh,” you say, and you look so startled. “Oh,” you say again, softer. “I thought-”

He’s interrupting you again. He’s being rude, he knows, but he just can’t help himself. “I thought you were dating Itadori,” he admits. He feels embarrassed, feels like a fool, humiliated by his own baseless assumption. “I just assumed-”

It’s your turn to interrupt him, not with words, but with a sweet, little laugh, “you thought I was dating Yuuji? No wonder the signals you sent me were so mixed.”

His cheeks are warm. The tips of his ears have gone pink. Then, you’re saying, “I like you too, you know,” and he feels the heat spread across his entire body. If it were any brighter out you would probably see his fresh coloring, skin red all over like a full body sunburn.

“I like you a lot, actually,” you confess. You turn to look back at your dorm; your roommate must still be awake because there’s a faint yellow light glowing from within. “My roommate’s home, but,” you shift a little from toe to toe, nervous, despite everything, “I’ve just finished a piece for one of my creative writing courses. I can email you a copy.”

“Please,” he manages, and it sounds like a prayer. “Maybe we can discuss it over dinner?” Please, please, please.

You’re smiling at him, “let me know when you finish it.”

He’s stays up all night reading it. Your story is about choosing and love. It’s about people who could never be strangers because they met lifetimes ago only to cross paths again now. It’s about a stack of unread books tucked safely beneath a bed and about a dresser drawer filled with boxes of candy intend for another and memorizing someone’s favorite ice cream flavor and sitting together in silence. It’s about him, he realizes with a start. Your story is about him.

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lokisasylum · 3 months

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For anyone missing Moonie

I hadn't shown the little guy since the end of year because he went into a "molt" (its the 3rd time he does so under my care). And since this one is a "surface molter" (meaning he never digs holes into the sand in order go through the process, rather creates trenches at the entrance of the pumpkin-hut I gave him) I like to leave him alone as much as he needs until he's ready to come out.

But here he is as soon as he came out↓

His new hang out spot is now the "shell shack/shop"↓

Little dude enjoying some eggs with a sprinkle of Himalayan salt:↓

As much as I love scavenging for everything and anything that is good/healthy/safe for him to eat. I've recently went ahead and purchased special food made for him from CrabcuisineCo (it was the only store that shipped to my country), so I'm quite excited to get it.