lupinsfight

Remus opened his eyes and pulled a face at the blinding light. Since when was St. Mungo’s this bright?

A couple of blinks later, he realised that this was not, in fact, St. Mungo’s. It didn’t appear to be anywhere at all.

Was he dead? This looked an awful lot like what Harry had described, all those years ago.

Remus propped himself up on his elbows, seeing but white. He stood, marvelling at the lack of pain — he’d been infected with Scrofungulus for the last few weeks and laid up in St. Mungos, barely able to move without pain rippling from his neck. The fungus tended to eat at the spinal cord, apparently; and he’d had it for several years, his lycanthropy the only thing keeping it at bay. Sadly, when he’d jumped at the chance to take Severus’ lycanthropy cure, the Scrofungulus had dug in. 

He looked down at his outfit. It was one of his favourites, from when he’d just left Hogwarts; an old sweater that Sirius often stole, smelling faintly of wet dog, and a pair of trousers Euphemia had bought him for his first job interview. 

When he looked back to his surroundings, he saw a lone figure in the distance. They were near–impossible to make out; the only thing Remus could see was silver glinting off what he assumed was a beat–up leather jacket.

Remus sprung to his feet and sprinted towards him, stopping a couple of feet in front of Sirius and drinking in every detail. He looked as he did before Azkaban; immaculate hair, porcelain skin flush with colour, tattoos just–healed. All at once, memories flooded into his mind; stealing the leather jacket, only to come back and see Sirius in his jumper; their first date in Hogsmeade, which had inevitably led to James and Peter serenading them at their booth in the Three Broomsticks; unwrapping the bandages around Sirius’ torso and reverently kissing each tattoo in their London apartment.

“Sirius,” Remus whispered, his voice broken and hoarse.

“Hey, Moony.” 

Remus didn’t know who made the first move, but they were suddenly kissing, lips slotting together like two puzzle pieces together at last, hands roaming everywhere possible.

Sirius eventually broke the kiss, chuckling slightly. “I guess it’s a good job you can look how you want here; you really weren’t taking care of yourself, all those years. I have to say, though, I miss the scars a little.”

Remus snorted. “We both know it was James who took care of us all. And I know you found the scars hot, for some reason, but…”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you think you’re a monster, even though the only thing you’ve ever done any real harm to are my cups of tea. Can’t believe you love caffeine as much as you do and still can’t make a decent cuppa.”

“It’s not my fault you take it too weak. Anyway, coffee is better.”

Sirius tilted his head slightly, staring at Remus with a fond expression.

Remus raised a hand in mock horror. “What is it? Do I have chocolate on my face?”

“Firstly, we both know you would never waste chocolate like that. And secondly…I missed you.”

Remus took Sirius’ hand in his own. “I missed you too.”

Sirius grinned. “Come on, there’s so much to see around here. And you need to see everyone!”

Remus: Pads.

Sirius: Violets are blue.

Sirius: You be the six.

Remus, blushing: Stop.

James:

Remus:

James:

Lily:

Sirius:

James:

Remus:

Hi!!

I want to start by saying that I'm self-taught, so I'm just speaking from my own experience!

I think it's good to start with the basics, more exactly realism. Stylized art, while easier to copy while practicing (for example, copying an anime you like, or a certain cartoon/animated movie), it doesn't really give you much information to create your own art and your own style

Learning the basics, like face and body anatomy, give you a clear understanding of what you are doing.

For this, I would recommend looking references online, like pinterest, or looking tutorials in places like youtube.

Once you start with that, and you feel comfortable, you can start playing around with colors, looking clothing references, and experimenting with your own style

But to be honest, the most important part is practice! Don't get discouraged if you don't like what you make at first. Keep trying, and keep drawing. It takes time and practice

Wolfstar oneshot. First kiss. Very much fluff. And a tiny hint of angst.

Remus’ heart sinks. Sirius’ words bounce around his brain, seemingly not able to find a way out. Don’t flatter yourself. Those words had hurt more than any wound he’d ever inflicted upon himself. The fact is impossible to ignore any longer; Sirius isn’t interested. And he never would be. He can’t grasp how he could have ever hoped for it, even for a second. Of course Sirius didn’t like him like that. He is just a quiet, skinny, scarred up lad with a disgusting habit of turning into a monster once a month. Sirius is tolerant enough being his friend, but the thought of anything more than that would probably make him sick to his stomach, and with all right, Remus figures. He is a nasty, murderous half being, not human enough for the wizarding world. No one should have to submit to being with someone like that. Therefore, Remus can’t blame Sirius for wanting to clearly state his disinterest. But it had stung nonetheless. 

“Come on then crup!” Sirius says over his shoulder. Remus follows him, absentmindedly. Any other day and that simple line would have caused a tingle in the pit of his stomach. But now it caused a knot, instead. Truth be told, he’d rather be with anyone else at this moment. His now obviously unrequited longing for the black-haired boy made it too devastating to be around him. Sirius flings his hair slightly as he turns the corner and a faint whiff of his shampoo reaches Remus. He closes his eyes, almost as a reflex, and breathes it in. He would so love to run his hands through that long, dark hair. Tug it back and force their lips together. As he opens his eyes again a slight blush of colour flushes upon his cheeks. He has to stop daydreaming like that. However impossible it will be, he has to. For his own sanity. 

“Hey, about the, er, drawing…” Sirius says as they walk down the halls. He appears to collect himself before speaking again. “Do you want it?” Remus had not expected that question. He had been sure that Sirius would pretend it never happened, never bring it up ever again. His surprise must be mirrored in his face because Sirius quickly adds “I know it’s not beautiful, but I just thought-”

“It’s not bad,” Remus interrupts. “But if you wanted it to be beautiful you should have chosen another subject,” he continues matter-of-factly.

Sirius looks stunned for a moment. Remus thought himself see a glimmer of sympathy in his eyes for a moment, but convinces himself that it was only his imagination. In actuality, it was pity. Remus is sure of it. Sirius wouldn’t have any understanding of the word insecure. He had nothing to be insecure about, and he proudly flaunted the fact all across Hogwarts.

“What are you on about? You’re …” Sirius hesitates for a second, surely trying to find a suitable lie, “…strapping,” he settles. Clearly untruthful.

“Yes, strapping, that’s what these scars tell you,” Remus whispers, hoping Sirius won’t catch it. But a forceful tug at Remus’ arm, making him halt in his step, proves the opposite.

“Don’t say that!”

A flash of gratitude wells over him. No one has ever stood up for him like that. With himself being the attacker. His self-deprecating jokes were always just laughed off as if intended for amusement. Remus had always played along, but in reality, he had always meant it. Every last degrading statement. Having someone finally challenge it warmed him deeply. And the fact that it came from Sirius, of all people, touches him so wholeheartedly that he has to remind himself not to cry. 

“Don’t act like they don’t repulse you, Padfoot,” he insists even so. Remus can’t decide if Sirius looks more shocked or confused, as he stares into Remus’ eyes. His thick brows are narrowed, harshly, and his defined features somehow sharper.

“They don’t-, How can you-,” Sirius stammers profusely, his eyes never faltering. 

“You don’t have to lie for me,” Remus says. Sirius says nothing this time, but his features soften noticeably. His eyebrows now furrowed in concern. His jaw unclenches and his cupid bow lips go plumper and somehow more kissable than usual. A faint frown teases the corner of them. Sirius inhales one long, shaky breath and slowly leans in closer. Remus’ eyes fall to the floor, expecting to be called out, but instead, he feels something soft and damp graze his lips. Remus’ whole body freezes. So does everything around them for a moment. With Sirius’ lips pressed against his own, he can’t manage to do anything other than stare straight at him. His shock wears on even as Sirius leans away again. Their eyes meet, and the adorable smile on Sirius’ face vanishes instantly when he realises that Remus isn’t wearing one. “I don’t know why I did that!” He explains. His grey eyes cannot be mistaken for being anything but terrified, and his cheeks are tinted with a charming coat of pink. He takes a fearful step back. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Remus closes their distance slightly and his heart starts pounding faster as a result. He summons every last bit of courage he can find before he, in one quick move, places a hand behind Sirius’ head - letting his hair envelope it - pushes him close with the other, and kisses him. This time Remus’ brain registers it all. As the soft skin of their lips meets, his whole body tingles. His legs turn fuzzy and shaky in excitement and his mind numbs away in a euphoric high. Everything is warm. Everything is right. They pull apart somewhat reluctantly, but in dire need of air, and a satisfied and rather mischievous grin spreads across Sirius’ face.