You Know What's Funny? You.

do you ever just want to restart something and say screw it within the next five minutes

press on this if you wanna see something really cool👉 chaos :)

it is really cool and i recommend pressing it, enjoy :))          👆

remus lupin and poppy pomfrey had a special kind of a relationship. the closest resemblance to it would have been mother and son, both nurtureres, taking care of each other, although in different ways.

when she saw him for the first time, she knew that, deep within him, deep within the shell of a 'monster', that had been created around him, there was a little boy who needed to be understood and taken care of.

and that's what she did. every single full moon she'd come after him and tend to his wounds as well as she could, and when she saw him smiling in his sleep, she knew she had done her job right.

she loved remus. such a bright, charismatic young man that some people would reduce to just the wolf, who was so utterly different from what he truly was.

•

and now he was older, but just a little bit. so was she.

bruised and battered, both of them were, but remus was still the heart of a teenager in the body of an adult.

he was just another kid that had to grow up too fast, just like the kids around them were. kids that had to fight so that they and their families would get out of the war alive.

when she saw him she jumped into his arms; his name falling off her lips.

"you're safe, remus! you're still alive!" she hugged him tightly, just like his mother would have.

"i'm paying you back." remus said quietly, a smile on his face.

and they fought antonin dolohov side by side, wands in their hands, determination on their face, just like they once did in a dark alleyway in london. the two of them, quite the pair, some would say.

green flashed before poppy's eyes and remus' body fell at her feet, limp.

her world shattered. she saw dolohov running outside, looking for someone, she presumed.

he had been only thirty-eight. the boy that she had taken care of, every single month, was now dead. the young boy with a scar across his nose that had turned into a caring young man was now gone.

remus' turn had come, and hogwarts' children died one by one.

i am gONNA STRANGLE YOU JAMIE

note: this is heavily inspired by Unwell, i do suggest checking it out as it’s great. it’s angsty, as you all deserve to go through pain jk jk it apparently like it? this thing is gonna be super short and i’m gonna write it only because a scenario came in my head last evening. i’m gonna tag @krisdrinkstea because I KNOW you love angst xD. i’m also tagging @amazingmarauders even though i am mad at them because they are a little shit every day 💖

note 2: while i do believe lyall fUCKED UP BADLY, he did eventually sort of,, sorted it out? remus and lyall are not as close and hope and remus (it’s quite impossible honestly) but lyall tries so hard because of specific reasons, but especially this one (1) reason that i might or might not share it with the ones that are interested (👀), although i am almost absolutely sure no one wants to know. both lyall and remus look up to each other and their relationship is something i would like to write and discuss more in the future because it’s an interested and not discussed topic. i did a video on it already (which is also a face reveal), you can check it out here!

in the lupin cottage, in lyall’s study, the man was pacing up and down, still thinking about what he did. despite it being around what, two, three weeks, his mind was always running to the little kid of whose life he ruined.

he heard footsteps and he, by instinct, grabbed his wand. looking in the doorway he saw his little son, dressed in something that looked like lyall’s jumper and his cheeks were stained with tears.

“mummy’s crying“ remus looked at lyall, and the hurt on his face was absolutely obvious. “is she crying because of me?“

lyall’s heart broke a the sight of his son like that. it was all his fault. he tore his family apart. remus looked on the desk and he saw lupine lawlessness: why lycanthropes don’t deserve to live and a pamphlet about a camp where you could send young werewolves (cough cough the fic above cough). tears welled in remus’ eyes.

“do you want to send me away?“ remus asked, looking up to his dad, tears prickling his eyes.

lyall picket the pamphlet up and tore it to pieces.

“fy mab (my son), you’re not going anywhere. you’re the same kind, sweet, smart boy and you’ll stay with us. me and mam still love you, ok? both of us love you and neither wants to get rid of you.“ he kissed the top of remus head.

hope appeared in the door, wiping a tear away.

“annwyl (darling), why aren’t you in bed?“ hope looked at mini lyall (jamie wtf), ignoring her husband.

“i heard- heard you crying.“ remus hiccupped.

“oh cariad (sweetheart), mommy’s ok, yeah? come on, why don’t you sleep with me this night?“ hope asked and held her hand out.

remus looked at his mom’s hand, probably thinking if he should grab it. he decided to do so, and they left, after hope shot lyall one last poisonous glance for hurting her son.

after they left, lyall sat down with his head in his hands and sighed.

wow i didn't know sirius is a dish

they are lmao

I came from this post

ohhhhh, yea 

the thing that “happens next” is me begging for asks

@drarrymicrofic prompt: tie. wc: 1099

"Harry, why is there a hair tie on your wrist?"

"Don't lose it," Draco says. "That one's my favourite." Harry slips the blue elastic onto his wrist, as the fall of soft, white-blond hair cascades over his hand, his forearm, the ends tickling Harry's face.

"I won't," Harry says, surrounded by the coconut scent of Draco's shampoo, by the curtain of sleek, lustrous hair, isolating them from the world.

"Er... found it," Harry said. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Yeah, they're good for..." Harry cast around for a less ridiculous lie, "wand grips."

Hermione frowned in disbelief, but looked down in thought at her own wand. "Huh."

Harry removed the elastic from his wrist and twisted it around the hilt of his wand, to demonstrate—it felt closer to his heart that way, anyway, mingling with his magic under his fingers.

"I want to tell them," Harry says, his head pillowed on Draco's chest. "I want to be yours." His face rises and falls with Draco's heavy sigh.

"No, you don't," Draco mumbles. "You don't."

"I do." Harry rolls on top of him—his hair isn't long enough to hide them. Draco's hair is splayed out on the pillow, tangled from sex and sleep, his pretty mouth pursed in a familiar, stubborn line. Morning light shines through the window, illuminating them with a reality they can't escape.

No one saw the ambush coming. Aurors lunged and dodged and threw protego after protego, but they were surrounded, they were sitting ducks, and something had to give. Harry ran out from behind the shipping container, reductos on his lips, red light and destruction bursting from his wand, his grip tight and unmovable around a thin blue elastic—

"Harry," Draco pleads. "Why would you want to be tied to someone like me?"

"Draco." Harry leans down and kisses him. "I've been tied to you, for so many years—" —Tangled and knotted and twisted in him, since the day Harry learned he was a wizard.

Draco doesn't let him speak for the rest of the morning.

Harry blinked himself awake, his mind heavy and hazy with anesthesia. The quiet, rhythmic beeping of monitoring charms interrupted the silence, and he took a deep breath of a familiar sterile scent—St. Mungo's—then coughed violently as his ribs throbbed, which only made the pain worse.

A slender hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him down, a wash of warm, soothing magic in his throat. As his coughing subsided, someone slid his glasses carefully onto his face, and he could finally see.

Draco stepped back, his handsome face exhausted and unreadable. His eyes were bloodshot, his lime green Healer's robes partially buttoned over his normal clothes, a shocking discomposure. His long hair fell loose and limp over his shoulder, frizzing where he'd run his hand through it too many times.

"Hi," Harry rasped. Draco didn't answer, his mouth set in that familiar, foreboding line. "Can I sit up?"

Draco frowned a little, but swished his wand, maneuvering Harry's bed until he was sitting upright. He then stood there, awkward and silent and sullen, apparently unwilling to take his eyes off Harry for even a second, and even more unwilling to admit it.

"Come sit," Harry said. Draco hesitated, but eventually made his way to Harry's bed, sitting gingerly on the edge. Harry tugged on his sleeve until he rolled his eyes and scooted closer.

"Mind if I sit?" Harry asks, his hand on the back of the empty barstool. Draco looks up, surprised, then schools his face quickly into a sneer.

"Far be it from me to turn away the Saviour," Draco says, but it sounds ingenuine, automatic. He tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear. Harry smiles, excited and curious and something else, like he's found something he hadn't known he was looking for. He feels real, now.

"Good." Harry sits, feeling triumphant. He waves down the bartender. "Two of what he's having."

Harry reached up to Draco's neck, gathering his soft hair to one side, separating it into three sections. Draco's whole body was tense, holding himself still, his face strained. Harry began to weave his hair with practiced ease, over and under.

"You're reckless," Draco finally said, his voice cracking. "Utterly harebrained. You could have been killed, Potter. You nearly were. There was so much—you weren't breathing—" he cut off with a harsh breath, trying to compose himself. His eyes were wet, his cheeks flushed.

Harry finished the plait, smoothing it down and holding the end with his fingers.

"My wand," Harry said. Draco tensed further, but slowly pulled out the familiar length of wood from the pocket of his robes, holding it out hilt first. Harry slid off the blue elastic, returning it to its rightful place on the end of Draco's plait.

"I didn't lose it," Harry murmured. A tear escaped down Draco's cheek, and he sighed, his whole body sagging.

"I knew you wouldn't." He took Harry's hand in both of his, watching his own thumb move over the scars on Harry's skin. "That's not what I was afraid of."

"What are you afraid of, then?"

Draco looked up. He looked awful, agonized, wretched—and so, so beautiful.

"This, Harry." His hands started to shake, where they held Harry's. "I was sure that losing you couldn't hurt me, if I didn't let you have me to begin with... I was wrong. It hurts, no matter what."

"You haven't lost me," Harry said, uselessly. "You won't."

"Don't you dare, Harry."

"You won't," Harry insisted. "Draco, I'm yours. And I already—I put in my notice a week ago." Draco's jaw dropped. "I'm tired of the violence. I'm tired of not being around, for you. I don't know what I'll do, but I have time and money to figure it out, and I'm hoping—I'm hoping I'll have you, too—"

He was cut off by Draco's kiss, hard and fierce and relieved.

"You look like you're about to kiss me," Draco says. He looks equal parts hopeful and terrified.

"You look like you're going to let me," Harry replies. He's close enough to taste Draco's breath; gin and lime. He's right.

"It's about time," Ron declared from the doorway, startling them both. He had one arm around a smug, triumphant Pansy, the other around a shrewd, fond Hermione. For a second, Harry worried that Draco would bolt, but he only groaned in annoyance, hiding his embarrassment in Harry's shoulder.

"'Wand grips', indeed," Hermione muttered, and Harry tried not to laugh, for his ribs. When his joy spilled over, it was with a kiss in Draco’s coconut-scented hair.

ok i was late but just seen i was tagged favorite color: neon colors (i know you may think i'm weird) but my absolute fav is green? last song: come over (again) by crawlers currently reading: my only sunshine and the sinners and the saints last movie: don't laugh at me but i think it was forrest gump sweet, savory or spicy: i like everything lmao. even though i have an enormous sweet tooth i love chips and tortilla and just all tastes idk. if it were for me to pick a fav i think i'd pick spicy currently working on: well i'm trying to work on a modern au rn, also i'm gonna rework the comic i started and fanart tagging @queerdeadwizards @enbysiriusblack @fuckboyregulus@flxss-bxbblxs @queerie-ee @queer---bitch @wingedcorgi @wrongilbert @pandorcas-endgame @dorcasmeadowesinsuits @nymphadorathebubba @exilesblack @lloomy and anybody else who wants to do this tag game!

ayo a tag game?! tagged by @a-s-levynn

rules: tag 9 people you want to get to know better or catch up with (or tag whomever)

favorite color: a three way tie between pink orange n purple lmao.

last song: it was definitely somethin out of disco elysium ost cuz I just woke up n I always fall asleep to it. probably smallest church in saint saens. that song is SO good y'all.

currently reading: the future of the mind: the scientific quest to understand, enhance, n empower the mind by michio kaku. im rereadin it for the fourth time by now but what can i say, this book is just so fuckin good. 😭

last movie: I think it was the new matrix movie? bro the new morpheus dresses so good I loved the movie even tho I never actually saw the first 3 movies LMFAO.

sweet, savory or spicy: I’m up for everythin. I’m a big sweet tooth but also I love shit like chips n nachos n all my sauces at home r spicy cuz they go best w literały everythin lmaoo.

current workin on: a casefic for disco elysium lol its just do I can insert my oc into it LMAO I have no regrets.

taggin: @trevorendeavors @ampleappleamble @priestofberath honestly idk who else to tag lmfaoo anyway don feel pressured to do this obv.

amazing modern au in which me and ravi ( @queerdeadwizards ) share ideas because just imagine the guys living among karens and woke kids

anyways have chibi lily and dorcas

Men of Tumblr, what was the worst thing someone said to you about expressing your emotions?