Angsty Wolfstar because what is wolfstar with out suffering

NASA just dropped the closest image ever taken of Jupiter.

*gay panic*

Random Remus Lupin journal entries because I’m bored and that boy definitely kept a diary or something idk -

February 12th, 1976

James’s Hair (Again)

James Potter has once again bewitched his hair to look like he just got off a broomstick after being hit by a Bludger. He says it’s “effortlessly cool.” I say it’s aggressively unfortunate.

Sirius says it makes him look like a Greek god. I think Sirius is just projecting.

Peter tried to do the same thing with his hair and set his curtains on fire.

Nothing else to report.

R.J.L

————————

February 17th 1976

Brooding central

Went up to the tower to “reflect.”

Translation: I sat there for two hours thinking about how I don’t understand girls, or myself, or why Sirius owns seventeen leather jackets when we live in a drafty-ass castle.

Sirius came up halfway through. Said nothing. Just sat beside me and passed me a flask.

It was pumpkin juice. Spiked with Firewhisky.

God, I love him. Not like that. (Probably.)

R.J.L

————————

March 3rd 1976

Sirius “Fell In Love” With a Ravenclaw for 14 Minutes.

He wrote her poetry. It was… something.

Let the records show that rhyming “moon” with “swoon” should be punishable by Azkaban.

Lily read it aloud in the Great Hall in her worst posh accent and made Sirius cry laughing.

Also, I’m fairly certain she still has the poem. For blackmail.

I respect it.

R.J.L

————————

7th March 1976

My Body Is A Temple (If That Temple Was Abandoned and Haunted)

Limp was worse today.

I told Madam Pomfrey I “tripped over my own charisma.” She didn’t laugh.

Sirius offered to carry my books. I said yes, and he immediately dropped them all.

I love him, your honour. Again — not romantically. (Probably)

Also, Sirius says if I don’t stop brooding and limping at the same time, he’s going to write a play about me and call it “Tragic Werewolf of the West Wing.”

R.J.L

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16th March 1976

Sirius walked into the common room this morning shirtless, announcing that his “nipples felt confident today.”

James applauded.

Peter dropped a scone.

Mary told him to “put the confidence away before it pokes someone’s eye out.”

I had to leave the room. Not out of modesty. I just couldn’t bear the sight of those idiots before I’d had my tea.

R.J.L

————————

20th March 1976

Sirius said I looked like a “sexy librarian who moonlights as a serial killer.”

I thanked him.

Still not sure if it was a compliment or a cry for help.

Nothing else to report.

R.J.L

————————

March 26th 1976

There are moments when I forget what I am.

Tonight, I was laughing too hard — crying, really — because Sirius slipped on the stairs and took me down with him.

We lay there like idiots, helpless with laughter.

And I forgot.

I forgot everything.

That’s the kind of magic they don’t teach here.

R.J.L

————————

March 27th 1976

James brought me a chocolate frog and told me to “eat it or die.”

Sirius flopped across my bed and whispered, “Do you want a cuddle or a punch in the face?”

(I said cuddle. He still punched me. Gentle-like. love language, I guess.)

The ache is starting. In my legs. My back. My bones feel like they’re stretching in the wrong direction.

No one talks about the fear. Just the pain. But the fear is worse.

R.J.L

————————

March 29th 1976

Full moon in two days. Great. Can’t wait to feel like I got hit by the Knight Bus again.

Sirius already stocked my bedside drawer with pain meds, chocolate, and—mysteriously—socks.

When I asked him about it, he said, “You always forget to wear them after the moon. And it’s cold. Duh.”

I said, “You’re insane.”

He said, “You’re limping. Sit down.”

I sat down.

Pomfrey brought the potion.

She didn’t speak. Just set it down, touched my hand, and left.

I drank it. Didn’t gag this time. Progress?

Sirius and James said they’d stay near the Shack again.

Idiots. Brave, loyal idiots.

The shift is coming. I can feel it pressing up from under my skin like a scream.

I don’t want to do this. I never want to do this.

But I will.

I’m disgusting.

I know that’s dramatic. But it’s also true.

Everything hurts. My ribs feel like someone tried to turn them into a xylophone.

Anyways, hands shaking.

R.J. Bloody L

————————

BONUS -

December 16th 1976

Christmas party last night.

If someone could kindly rip out my brain and toss it into the Black Lake, that’d be great. I’d even tie a little ribbon around it to say thanks.

Head is pounding. Stomach is… questionable.

I think I might still be drunk?

Or dead. Honestly, unclear.

Highlights include:

Sirius doing a striptease to “Jingle Bell Rock” on the common room table.

Marlene putting tinsel in my hair and telling me I looked “whimsical and mysterious, like an emotionally unavailable wood nymph.”

James trying to duel the Christmas tree because it “looked at Lily funny.”

Peter vomiting in a stocking.

Sirius and I ended up talking on the window ledge for an hour. He was tipsy, wearing antlers, and somehow managing to look like the ghost of every bad decision I’ve ever made. We talked about the future.

He asked me what I wanted.

I said I wanted to stop feeling like a walking funeral.

He said, “That’s depressing as fuck, Remus.” Then gave me his last candy cane.

He kissed my cheek before he went to bed. I think I’m still blushing. Not because I want him like that. (Proba-) Fuck that, I want to suck out his soul and taste it on the way down.

Anyway, I need water. And maybe a new life.

Happy bloody Christmas.

R.J.L

✨STARMAN✨

marameo ????

"Do you think we're brothers in every universe?"

Sirius frowned, eyes flicking down to where James had his hands firmly placed on Sirius' hip, thumb lodged into his boxers. He frowned at the marks against James' neck that his mouth had made.

"Brothers?" Sirius questioned.

"Well yeah," James shrugged as he trailed his other hand against Sirius' bare chest, "We're like brothers, y'know."

"I never snogged Regulus, James."

"Well, course not, he's a git. Plus, we're not snogging like girls and boys do. It's platonic. We're both wearing socks."

"Sure," Sirius snorted, reaching over to his bedside table to grab a packet of fags.

James grabbed his wand and lit the end before Sirius had the chance to do it himself.

Sirius nodded as a way of saying thanks.

They sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, Sirius taking long drags of cigarette as James continued practically stroking Sirius' chest.

After a moment, Sirius stubbed it out on the floor and turned to James.

"I like blokes. And girls, both."

James nodded, slightly confused by the idea, "Oh. Okay. That's class."

Sirius nodded, "So. You only like girls?"

James wrinkled his nose, "Well yeah, and you."

"I'm not a girl."

"Also you, then."

Sirius leaned forwards, closer to James, and cocked his head, "I thought we were brothers?"

"Well, course, I like you like a brother."

"That you also shag?"

James shrugged again and sighed, "I don't know. I got detention, I'll see you later?"

Sirius nodded and leaned back, allowing James to stand up of the bed, grabbing his t-shirt from the floor and doing up the zip of his muggle jeans. He quickly grabbed his mirror from his own bed and slipped it into his pocket before heading out without a glance back.

Sirius grabbed another fag and laid still as he smoked. James' voice appeared less than ten minutes later, and Sirius quickly picked up his mirror to talk to him, both ignoring the conversation they just had.