70′s Wizard Kids (click On For Better Resolution)

but oh that 2%!

I am genuinely, about 98% sure, that I will never experience true, permanent happiness.

I just remembered my second Pride, where I made different flag themed daisy chain bracelets/necklaces to hand out. I need folks to understand something:

They were free.

They were fucking free.

They were maybe ¢60 of acrylic yarn each at the most, and the whole ziploc bag of them took 2 hours max.

Three people gave me sad eyes until I took their money.

Someone who was clearly the mom friend of their group made me take a $5 and gave a 10 minute pep talk.

At least four more people insisted on getting change to pay for the, once again, free bracelets.

In spite of all these shenanigans, the absolute best was this one person who I can only describe as, “queer surfer dude who looks like a boyfriend who looks like a girlfriend.” I can remember nothing of the outfit, only the impeccable vibes. I did the same thing I did with everyone else, explaining the bracelets were free, and they nodded along as they took the last 6 strand rainbow bracelet. As soon as they had it on their wrist, they pointed at something over my shoulder and, like a fool, I looked.

Next thing I know, they’re running off cackling, yelling, “YOU’LL NEVER CATCH ME!” and I’m holding a fucking $20. I had to stop at least two people from chasing them, cause they thought the person stole something, and then they tried to give me money cause they thought it was funny seeing me flail over people being Too Nice.

That was the year I got reverse-robbed at Pride. I hope everyone out there is having a good time and, in particular, that queer surfer dude is out there still causing benevolent chaos.

i frikin know right?????!!!!!

its tOrTuRe.

my bi ass is not going to be able to handle both of them in one show

i agree, Sirius did suffer - A LOT, but then again Remus did too even tho he had Grant to depend on. Grant was his rock, but Sirius was the love of his life and i clearly remember that his last words were something along the lines of - 'it would be the same, even if you weren't here'

So, my point is, both of 'em suffered, in very different ways but they did suffer - A LOT!

It’s funny how everyone talks about “oh poor Remus, he must have felt so hurt when he found out that Sirius thought he was the traitor” but no one ever talks about the fact that Remus also thought Sirius was the traitor? And out of the both of them, Sirius was the one that suffered for it. Actually, it’s not funny. I don’t know why I said that.

2+2=5. "When a lie has been told enough times, it becomes real." Two and two is five. Every morning I tell myself I like who I am. How many times do you repeat the lie?

I don't hate myself. I love myself too. I'm surrounded by myself, hounded by my own cries, caged inside my own ribs. I love myself. My body is my temple but some days it feels like the ruins of Petra. I love myself. I just don't like myself all the time.

On rainy days full of blues, I'm tired of this body, of this mind. 2+2=5. If you could sell all your bad memories, only on the condition you'd have to give away the good ones too, would you still do it? Are you your memories or are you the vessel that houses them? Are you the product of your thoughts or the manufacturer? When you repeat a lie enough times, it becomes part of the truth, expands and births itself anew.

Two plus two is five. Am I the voice in my head or the notes of my heart? Am I the lies I tell myself? Lies of consolation, lies ot condolences. If I love myself, why do I keep seeing my corpse at the bottom of the ocean, on a road, slumped on my chair, buried in the dirt? If I like myself, why do I keep hearing four, four, four? Two plus two is four. Where do lies end and god's honest truth begin? Because lord I'm tired of not knowing.

-Ritika Jyala

— august, tathève simonyan

[text ID: promises made by june / had rotten / by the time august came. / i’ve mistaken silence with nothingness / and unlearning it asks for courage / i know not how to muster. / this half-empty glass of orange juice, / ever-present on its throne of dust, / on this wooden table, / holds more promise than i ever will. / i, a personified you, for this is not a wall but a mirror / [personified] / i, i mean you, i mean [redacted] / you eat the sun and with your burnt tongue / try to sing songs / not about pain. / don’t you? / in july / [i] you tried to stretch the rare / moments of happiness but our feet / always seemed to stay out of the / blanket / uncovered. / how do i love something without / fully succumbing to it? / you thought you had to die for you to live, didn’t you? / you thought there’s always a spring after a winter / you didn’t think that / this vivaldian symphony hadn’t been written for bodies like ours, . did you? / in july / you didn’t know that loneliness is a crowded town / yet /  it’s always been bestowed upon you / to lock the gates / and turn off the lights / every night, / did you? / june made promises it knew it couldn’t keep. / but i shall be wiser / in august.]

Ok everyone but imagine Todd and Neil do have to separate for college and for some reason have no other way to communicate with each other aside from ✨letters✨

Neil constantly writing letters to Todd between classes or filling his notebooks with doodles and thinks he wants to send and say, puts tiny cute little stickers in with the letters, is blunt but gushing and just a total sap and hates how long it takes to get a letter from Todd. He has a SPECIAL PEN for letters for Todd and ONLY letters for TODD and Todd ONLY. No one touch his pen for Todd he WILL yell at you and his insults are painfully accurate, creative and one might even say…. Shakespearean.

Todd on the other hand would always be overthinking what to say. After classes he would just sit there for hours into the night thinking, scrawling then crumpling up and throwing away. The poor kid could probably deforest the entire continent of North America with how many times he crumpled up drafts. Puts in pressed flowers with the letters, struggles with words and expressing things when not in poetry form but he’s trying his best.

Years later, when they’re old and grey and going through their things to find out what to keep and what to give away (as old people often do) they stumble across a pair of wooden boxes, each with each other’s names on them somewhere. They open them and unearth their letters from college, the paper beginning to yellow with age and antiquity, the ink having turned from black to brown and beginning to bleed around the edges. The look at each other, smile, and laugh.

“After all these years you still kept all of my horrendous excuses for love letters..?” Todd asks.

“They weren’t horrendous! Plus.. eh, I’ve always resorted to reading them when I’m down or needing some extra encouragement.” Neil answers, with a shrug, voice sounding similar to a winter fire as the snow drifts down outside, warm yet crackling every so often with age. “Plus, you kept mine too so you’re one to talk.”

Zoozve, my beloved

another art block means another wolfstar