#remus lupin coded

[ttroubledwaters]

I have a bad knee so I have to wear a knee sleeve sometimes but it's fine cause having a bad anything is so remus lupin coded

[scarlicbread27]

remus…?

[alltheyoungmoons]

If you want to destroy my sweater

Hold this thread as I walk away

Watch me unravel, I'll soon be naked

Lying on the floor, lying on the floor

I've come undone

[emmawithtwoms]

Bitches be like: “OMG Remus is Sooooo cool”

And this is Remus: 🧍‍♂️

(It’s me, I’m bitches)

[thestarsarehome]

HER CRUSH IS A WEREWOLF(bros sick exactly once a month always in the same time wtf)

[theres-an-endless-starry-sky]

MY FUCKING BOWIE HAS A SCRATCH ON IT IM GOING TO KILL SOMEONE PROBABLY MYSELF

[shy-bi-letsfuckingdie]

Do you ever just ask someone a random fucking question just so they ask you the same question so that you can say something that you’ve been wanting to say to someone except now you won’t feel like you’re saying too much because they asked?

[spikybanana]

Time (news of yesterdays)

It’s a quiet, warm room. Sunlight enters through a window and brushes between the books on the shelf, casting long shadows that are wholly at odds with the large grandfather clock reading noon. Cluttered around it is a myriad of other clocks, large and small, adorning all surfaces. Each of them is lost in their own hypnotising chase of the hands across clock faces, preening with their own rhythm, oblivious, heedless of every other clock in the room. In the corner of it all, an old man reclines against a chair. His features are tired and worn, melancholy sculpted into his face with age. Greying streaks fall from his forehead and hide his eyes; where his skin is exposed, it’s marked with silvery scars, as though every clock hand had lashed against his skin. The turn of his mouth is cold, as if it hasn’t turned up for years and years, despite the stark warmth of the room around him. He sits, eternally motionless, holding a paper with the all news of yesterdays.