Isnt This The Cutest??? I Feel Like This Is The Cutest-

(my favorite) ways to say i love you

you’re really something, aren’t you

come here

sit next to me?

you’re my favorite

i was just thinking about you

i notice you all the time

here, i made this for you

this song reminds me of you

if you do it, i’ll do it

i miss you so much

i wish i had known you sooner

you’re warm

• An Oxford comma walks into a bar, where it spends the evening watching the television, getting drunk, and smoking cigars.

• A dangling participle walks into a bar. Enjoying a cocktail and chatting with the bartender, the evening passes pleasantly.

• A bar was walked into by the passive voice.

• An oxymoron walked into a bar, and the silence was deafening.

• Two quotation marks walk into a “bar.”

• A malapropism walks into a bar, looking for all intensive purposes like a wolf in cheap clothing, muttering epitaphs and casting dispersions on his magnificent other, who takes him for granite.

• Hyperbole totally rips into this insane bar and absolutely destroys everything.

• A question mark walks into a bar?

• A non sequitur walks into a bar. In a strong wind, even turkeys can fly.

• Papyrus and Comic Sans walk into a bar. The bartender says, "Get out -- we don't serve your type."

• A mixed metaphor walks into a bar, seeing the handwriting on the wall but hoping to nip it in the bud.

• A comma splice walks into a bar, it has a drink and then leaves.

• Three intransitive verbs walk into a bar. They sit. They converse. They depart.

• A synonym strolls into a tavern.

• At the end of the day, a cliché walks into a bar -- fresh as a daisy, cute as a button, and sharp as a tack.

• A run-on sentence walks into a bar it starts flirting. With a cute little sentence fragment.

• Falling slowly, softly falling, the chiasmus collapses to the bar floor.

• A figure of speech literally walks into a bar and ends up getting figuratively hammered.

• An allusion walks into a bar, despite the fact that alcohol is its Achilles heel.

• The subjunctive would have walked into a bar, had it only known.

• A misplaced modifier walks into a bar owned by a man with a glass eye named Ralph.

• The past, present, and future walked into a bar. It was tense.

• A dyslexic walks into a bra.

• A verb walks into a bar, sees a beautiful noun, and suggests they conjugate. The noun declines.

• A simile walks into a bar, as parched as a desert.

• A gerund and an infinitive walk into a bar, drinking to forget.

• A hyphenated word and a non-hyphenated word walk into a bar and the bartender nearly chokes on the irony

- Jill Thomas Doyle

All The Young Dudes

“I’ve loved keeping your secret, Remus wanted to say, I’d keep a thousand more, for you.”

"They made each other better."

Rest in peace, Robbie Coltrane 30 March 1950 – 14 October 2022

i'll literally marry anyone who makes this for me as breakfast while im still lying in bed on a september morning and a folklore track is playing somewhere.....bonus cookie points for the eggs and bacons and a nice cup of coffee...:)

my bestie made moony’s toasts. that’s it. that’s the post.

ayeeeeee!!!!!!!!!

Thankful for all of you this Thanksgiving day. <3

Andrey Kneller, the translator of My Poems: Selected Poetry of Marina Tsvetaeva [bilingual edition] 

and you said this one wouldnt be a big ouch-

its just as ouch as the other three and they ouched very bad indeed!!

The Best Worst Thing to Have Ever Happened pt. 4

(hows remus doing? funny you should ask)

Read Parts 1-3 Here

AU in which Jily is alive and Harry chooses to stay with Wolfstar and all is not well.

tw: for alcohol use in this installment.

November 1995

It didn’t take long for Sirius to fall off the edge. It felt that Harry had barely left Remus’s office and Sirius was reaching for a bottle of firewhiskey and that was going to be an answer.

And Remus was helpless. Remus was just as ruined internally, watching his husband fall to pieces; holding his kid while he cried and apologized; dodging post from his best friends, and making excuses to keep them away.

Years of sobriety and evenings spent chatting around a record with cups of tea were scrapped and Remus stepped back into the role of holding Sirius’s hair back as he vomited into the nearest loo like he was 19 and convinced the world was ending.

So what did it matter if he spent his last moments plastered or hungover or somewhere in between? Because the world was ending.

And maybe it had, Remus catching himself looking at photographs on his desk of the three of them--so happy to have one another-- and sitting with the feeling that those days were gone. And the days of pushing Sirius into cold showers had returned when he swore that the last time had been the last time. Perhaps he should be grateful that he had gotten a fourteen-year respite period.

Fourteen-year remission was…pretty good.

What’s anything matter now? Sirius had said, words mushing together, bottle stuck to his hands and a cigarette in the other. Fire, fire, fire. Coughing after every drag because lungs weren’t prepared for the sudden attack of chemicals and heartache.

Sirius had barely been to work. The first two weeks writing saying he was ill, colleagues so concerned they sent flowers. The next one he was in and out as fast as he could be, and if anyone noticed the dark purple circles under his eyes or the knots in his hair or the way Sirius couldn’t even be bothered to clean his desk anymore, they didn’t say anything. Remus thought back to when James and Lily had first died, and they were left holding their child, and on the receiving end of sympathetic looks that made Remus want to scream. Like a muggle-circus freakshow. Come one, come all, everyone gather around and watch the worst thing that could happen, happen. Isn’t it…terrible?

It was terrible. This was worse.

“Sirius!” a voice shouted through the mirror, taken out of the back pocket of Sirius’s jeans as he pitched himself over the loo. Remus had been standing by, listening to wretching for nearly a half-hour.

Remus sighed, picking up the mirror from the bathroom floor, “Hi, Harry.”

Harry’s eyebrows knitted together, “Where’s Sirius?”

A violent cough from the toilet.

“He’s sick, Harry.”

“Still?”

“Yeah,” Remus nodded slowly, deciding this was the best course of action. Even if Remus was tempted to tell Harry the truth in hopes it would get Sirius out of the stupor he created. “Sorry. Did you need something?”

“I just…wanted to talk to him. He got sick and I haven’t…since I shouted at you both….”

“I know, love.”

“I did really well on my last Transfiguration exam…did you hear?”

Remus smiled, stepping out of the bathroom, though he kept an eye on Sirius’s body curled around the toilet as he did so, “I did. Professor McGonagall was quite impressed. Was the talk of the teacher's quarters.”

“It wasn’t that big of news...”

“I assure you it was, Hermiones got some competition if you keep that up,” Remus told him.

“I wrote James and Lily about it too,” Harry’s face was still smiling, though slightly weaker two names still feeling odd coming from his mouth. Harry had called them Mum and Dad when they were mentioned in photographs. Harry asked Remus to tell him stories about his Mum and Dad; asked about their favorite recipes and if they were smart and did his Dad have a favorite record? But now that they were here, in actuality, Remus watched Harry retreat into himself, wary of the situation entirely, taking cues from himself and Sirius.

Mum and Dad...I just doesn't feel right…I can’t explain it.

“James said…well, I remember you telling me he was good at Transfiguration?”

“He was, probably is still, I just haven’t asked him to transfigure anything recently.”

The gagging stopped from the bathroom.

“Do I…Sirius is okay, right?”

“He’s okay, Harry.”

“Like, I don’t need to be…like he’s not going to have to go to St. Mungos for a while, right? Like for a disease no one knows about? It’s…just a cold and he’s…being stubborn?”

Remus laughed, “He’s being very stubborn and refusing to take potions to help him.”

Harry’s brows furrowed, “HEY! STOP BEING A TWAT!”

“Harry,” Remus said lightly but was relieved hearing a small chuckle from Sirius’s direction. He watched as Sirius managed to pick his head up off the porcelain, looking towards Remus with watering, bloodshot eyes, one of his hands extended in his direction. Remus was tempted to hand Sirius the mirror but thought better of it as another cough emerged from the depths of his husband.

“Did that work? Is he well enough to scold me?”

“How about you call again tomorrow and we’ll both tell you to watch your mouth, hm?”

Harry nodded, “Okay. I love you? I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

Remus hated how a statement had become a question. Harry checking for confirmation from the people who had raised him if the love was still there or if it had vanished the moment paperwork was passed. Remus had been doing his best to ensure Harry didn’t have to go searching and asking for love, but it was hard when Remus was doing it alone. Something about Sirius always being the one to hold things in place, Harry and Remus both moving in the world uncertain and wishing they had the confidence of Sirius. Taking strength and courage when they needed it, only now…

Courage had been flushed down the toilet.

Sirius had nothing left to give or loan out to anyone.

“You will. I love you very much. We love you very much.”

The mirror went dark.

Sirius’s outstretched hand dropped on the tile floor once more.

The wretching had finished.

Remus almost preferred those noises to the sobs that replaced them.

--

“Is Sirius still mad? I thought we were going to try to all…work it out,” Lily asked, eyeing the empty chair next to Remus where Sirius was supposed to be at their dinner table. A Saturday after a Quidditch game that Sirius had missed. The first one ever, and it Remus swore he could hear his heart break alongside Harry’s when green eyes searched the stand for someone who wasn’t going to show.

Remus laughed shortly, “Sirius isn’t mad. Sirius is drunk. Sirius hasn’t been sober in weeks and--”

James sighed, “He always did know how to throw an expert fit... Does this…happen a lot?”

Remus’s expression darkened. Hairs prickling up on his arms. “You do not know how wrong you are.”

You remember seventeen, and eighteen and nineteen. But you weren’t there I didn’t get out of bed for weeks, consumed with grief and cries from an infant that only stopped when Sirius held him. You weren’t there when Sirius was the only thing propping us up.

James slowed his movements, fork hovering mid-air, “I’m…okay, maybe--”

“I could count on one hand the number of times Sirius has gotten drunk since Harry’s been with us. One hand. And one of those was our fucking wedding,” Remus pushed himself away from the table roughly shaking his head, “I’m suddenly not hungry at all.”

“Remus, we didn’t mean anything by it,” Lily tried reaching her hand out to catch Remus’s arm, but she missed. Hitting nothing but air.

“Didn’t you? Ever stop to think about why he’s drinking in the first place?”

--

“I’m sorry,” Sirius mumbled into the side of Remus’s neck for the thousandth time that evening, arms wrapped around Remus’s torso tightly as they sat in an armchair together in Remus’s quarters at Hogwarts. It wasn’t exactly an easy fit, Sirius’s legs thrown over Remus’s lap, and still hanging off the edge; Remus’s arm sandwiched between Sirius’s chest and his own torso, unable to move except for fingertips. Sirius plastered to Remus like moss on the side of the tree and Remus couldn’t find a single complaint, especially with the cool temperatures and the oceans of alcohol and cigarettes and lies Sirius had put between them.

“If you tell me you’re sorry one more time, I’m going to give you detention…” Remus responded, not looking up from his book.

“Could be fun.”

“It would be the opposite of fun. I’d make it so incredibly awful that you’ll never dream of apologizing again. Unless of course, you snuff something up horribly, then I expect nothing less than a very well-crafted apology.”

“And flowers?”

“Mhmm…” Remus hummed and he felt Sirius’s laugh against his skin. A welcome sensation after weeks of trying to find the light at the end of the tunnel; trying to make his own laughter when it just didn’t have the same punch. Remus wasn’t ever good at telling jokes and it was part of the reason he loved Sirius so much.

The best I could make of this situation was firewhiskey, Moons.

“James is sorry too. Lils…”

Remus also loved Sirius for how easy he was able to forgive when it was someone he loved. Remus…didn’t, still holding reservations towards James and Lily for torpedoing a perfectly good family for their own selfish agendas. Time hadn’t been fair to anyone in the equation, James and Lily morphing into versions of themselves Remus didn’t quite recognize. There was once a time where Remus would’ve defended James until his dying breath; would’ve walked through hot coals for Lily, gone to the end of the Earth for both of them, but time had changed that. Remus didn’t know these people any more than Harry did and Remus was only focused on the two people in his life who stayed. Sirius’s heart was far bigger. Remus loved him for that too.

Far more willing to make space even after being burned. Like all the times he continued giving birthday cards to his brother; opening letters from his parent’s hoping this time it would be different. Letting James and Lily back in was no different. Sirius could heal the burns and pretend they were never there in the first place, and Remus….well Remus remembered the date and time of every scar he received.

“James wasn’t the one holding your hair back.”

“He used to be.”

“I know.” Remus turned his head so he could meet Sirius’s lips with his own.

“Keep it together anyway?”

“Keep it together anyway.”

The door to Remus’s office opened, a knock not needed, Harry strolling in dark blue hoodie pulled up over his messy hair.

“Are we going to rob Gringotts later?” Sirius asked, pushing off Remus the slightest bit so he could see Harry more. Harry rolled his eyes but took the hood off his head, jumping into the other armchair.

“It’s cold.”

“In Gringotts?”

Harry rolled his eyes again, but Remus didn’t miss the smile threatening to escape, “Outside, and gave my hat to Cedric. You know, like a proper gentleman.”

Sirius laughed, “And what were you doing outside with him?”

Three for three on the eye-rolls and Remus laughed, putting his book down and waving his arm to start the kettle, same as they did every Sunday afternoon, happy to have three again, instead of just the two.

“You think he’s still allowed for Christmas Eve dinner?” asked Harry

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Remus asked, “Everyones invited.”

“Yeah well…” Harry shrugged, leaning back into the chair and chewing on the edge of his thumbnail.

Remus inhaled deeply, squeezing Sirius’s hand and wiggling under the weight. Something to keep him busy. Remus could make tea and ignore the bubbles in the pit of his stomach. The ones that had been simmering since September and had nearly boiled over that past month. Sirius understood, legs coming off of Remus’s lap to let him up.

“Babe, last I checked, Christmas Eve dinner is still at our house, and also, I had planned on making pudding for Cedric because I know he likes it so well and if he doesn’t come, I’ll have mass leftovers and we can’t have that,” Sirius told him.

“So…just…for the pudding?”

“And because he’s your boyfriend and is always invited. But…pudding comes first.”

Remus had two reasons he was keeping it together.

And he barely was.

do you think neil ever snuck into todd’s bed at night whenever they couldn’t sleep and asked him to read him his poetry and neil would be so touched by what he’d hear but couldn’t put it into words so he instead just kissed todd in the darkness and solitude of their room like do you think that ever happened