witchcraft in a nutshell:

Jar Jar Binks Fan Club

#extradirty
Color Me Curious
KIROKAZE
todays bird
noise dept.

No title available
Monterey Bay Aquarium

oozey mess
YOU ARE THE REASON

Product Placement
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
official daine visual archive
No title available
Cookie Run:Kingdom Official!
Sade Olutola

if i look back, i am lost
EXPECTATIONS
No title available

Origami Around
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Nepal
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Philippines
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Vietnam

seen from Argentina
seen from Türkiye
@mars-categorically-isnt-green
witchcraft in a nutshell:
Girls who call other girls “honey”, “lovely”, “sweetheart”, “beautiful”, and other terms of endearment automatically are my favourite girls. So sweet and loving and kind, a of them. Every time a girl or woman calls me a cute term of endearment? #blessed #healed #happy #glowing #complete #content
instantly makes my heart melt.
day five: the view from up here
~~~
it's been an eternity since I was in that place
I've grown up, up, up
I am a different person than I was yesterday because I am in a constant state of growth
I am never the same person twice
I am not always a better version than the day before
but I am always someone different
the difference is not always noticeable
some days I just do things a little differently
other days I approach the world as if I am new to it
the path of growth is paved with sweat and tears
it is paved with yearning and grief and sorrow
but the higher you climb, the more ability you gain to see beauty in the world
and once you climb high, high, high enough
the view is breathtaking
a view of the battlefield of life
a view of every time you fought to better yourself
of every step you took towards where you are now
a view that proves to you that your hard work to get here, well, it wasn't in vain
you have achieved something monumental
but you are not yet finished of this journey
there is so much more growth to be achieved
and this view, it's only the beginning.
~~~
escapril day two: growth/decay
~~~
a state of emotional enlightenment
-growth
the penultimate death
-decay
~~~
escapril day one: dawn
~~~
would you come back, if I asked you to?
to that morning we spent by the shore
where the gulls circled the sky as it faded from night to day
where the ocean lapped at our feet and glistened as the sun rose to embrace the sky
would you come back
to the salty air and the warm breeze
where the long grass waved in anticipation of the day to come
where the sand sang the song of dawn
and we had no cares but to watch the water
write our names in the sand
and watch the new day begin
~~~
okay I never post poetry but I think I'm going to do escapril! stay tuned for mediocre writing :)
Garden vibes
I'm hngdjsds fuckingdbdj losing it this is so fuckingsdjdjsjjds adorable I sjdbhdhdjs
so, listen folks. we all know that the sky in Hilda said bi rights (as well as being a beautiful and incredibly well-crafted series).
but did you know that it ALSO said lesbian rights? this, if you ask me, is all the more right to stan.
just look at this super duper cool giant-turned-mountain just vibing through a montage with this funky lesbian background.
in conclusion, stream Hilda on Netflix.
a comic I made for school, on the theme of ‘networks’.
ever just cry at how talented @kxldwxn is? because yeah me too.
New School Year
[behold, my updated fic! please forgive the shitty plot, I wrote this very quickly, but I hope it doesn't deter too much from the story. enjoy!!]
~~~
Remus stared passively at the countryside whooshing by through the thick glass. Sixth year already. He glanced to his right, a bar of half-eaten chocolate resting on the seat beside him. The others were in another compartment, talking to girls they had done potions with the year before. He fidgeted with the edges of his robes. Girls were the last thing on his mind. Remus felt uneasy, like he often did the first few days at Hogwarts. That's what it is, he assured himself, it's the nerves. It's nothing, don't stress yourself out about it. In a flurry of commotion, Peter and James ran in, bringing their chaos with them into the compartment.
"Moony, you would have howled," exclaimed James "We were all doing Bertie Botts beans and Peter got a vomit-flavoured one! He nearly threw up on this girl he was flirting with. It was hysterical."
Peter mimed throwing up into his briefcase and grinned at James. The briefcase was shiny and new, a gift from his parents for outstanding marks. They clearly didn't know he had forged the report card. Remus smiled slightly at James's joke. Howled. It was funny, and he knew James was trying to be lighthearted, but he couldn't shake the sinking uneasiness in the pit of his stomach.
Snap out of it. Remus looked over at the opposite seats, at James and Peter playing chess on a small travel board with magnetic pieces. He looked beside him, and saw an empty seat. Remus felt a twinge in his chest. That seat was never empty. He thought back to his first year at Hogwarts. The first time he had met the other marauders. It had been a day like this one: clear skies, slight breeze. He was a terrified, scrawny first year, and when he stumbled through the carriage looking for a place to sit, Sirius burst out of the compartment he was sharing with James and Peter. "We've got room for one more!" he had exclaimed, pushing the long dark hair from his eyes and grinning.
Focus, he told himself. He was a fifth year now, and hardly the gangly, mousy kid he had been four years prior. Sometimes he still felt like it, though. Like when he would have to duck his head to stuff himself through doorways, his shoulders always getting stuck, his head always hitting the doorframe. Girls would swoon at the sight of him. Remus felt awkward and useless around girls, like the kid he used to be. He much preferred his friends to the superficial cliques of girls he, for some reason, attracted.
Remus started to get impatient. Where is Sirius? They always sat together. They were the marauders. Get a grip. it's your first day back, thought Remus, Please. Try to be normal. But the burning uneasiness in his chest got the best of him. He gestured at the door.
"Have you guys seen Sirius?" he asked, trying desperately to stop the acrobatics his stomach appeared to be doing. His friends' laughter came to an uncomfortable pause. James and Peter shared a look, one Remus tried, and failed, to decipher. He wondered, absently, if he could fit through the window and jump onto the fucking train tracks. He might just die of embarassment. It was clear that James and Peter were cringing internally. You're such a fucking idiot. Sirius doesn't like you.
"Er, yeah. I think he was in one of the compartments a few back, with... some friends from last year." said James tentatively, hiking a thumb behind him. Remus couldn't figure out why he looked so uncomfortable.
"Yeah," cackled Peter "He was hanging out with that girl Louise, the Welsh one." Remus's stomach sank. That's where he is. That's where he chose to go instead of to the compartment the marauders have shared every year on the way to Hogwarts. He could feel tears burning in his eyes, but forced them away. It's fine. It's not like Sirius would ever like him, anyway. You're deluding yourself if you think Sirius could ever take interest in you. He forced a laugh, pretending to listen to what James was saying. But no matter how hard he tried not to, no matter how much he tried to concentrate on James, all he could think about was Sirius.
He, now, remembered the time in fourth year when he fell off his broom during a quidditch match. He had had to get pins put in his arm to reset the bone. Remus remembered the way Sirius had brought him chocolate, the way he nudged Remus over and sat with him in the infirmary bed, barely big enough for one person, let alone two. He remembered how Sirius had laid back on the pillows, talking about how he had exploded a potion in Snape's face. And how Remus had fallen asleep to the faint sound of Sirius's breath against his cheek. He had known, then.
Remus's heart ached. He loathed that he loved Sirius the way he did.
—
The return to the common rooms after dinner was always a chaotic thing the first day back. James, the Gryffindor prefect, was assigned the ever-chaotic task of guiding the first years to their dormitories. As customary for prefects, James paid just enough attention the first years as he bounded up the stairs with his friends. James had a tendency of walking rather briskly, so Moony and Wormtail had to jog to keep up. The first years were practically running.
At this point, having not yet seen or heard from Sirius, Remus was going mad. He had no more patience, and he raged to his friends as they headed toward the dormitories, first years in tow.
"I just don't get it. Why would he ditch us? Doesn't he have anything better to do than snog some stupid Welsh girl?" yelled Remus, his arms knocking books out of first years' arms as he flailed them around, jogging alongside Prongs. James glared at him, picking a potions book off the ground and putting it back on a dangerously teetering pile that obscured a first years' face from view. He kept walking.
"You need to calm down. He ditched us, and that was— careful on the stairs— his decision. A shit, inconsiderate one, I may add, but I just don't understand why you're— keep up guys, the common room is right around the corner— so upset, Re." James struggled to corrall the children to the common room. "He's his own person. Besides, why do you care who he snogs?" Peter shot James a look, as if to say, you idiot, can't you see?
James had always been infuriatingly oblivious.
—
Gryffindor tower was always quiet at night, and Remus often took advantage of this. It was the first night of the year at Hogwarts. All the students were exhausted, gone to bed hours ago. Remus found solace in the common room in the early hours of the morning, before everyone awoke. James had used his prefect badge to get them a room just the four of them, one bed removed because of an unfortunate hex. James and Peter had finally found Sirius at one, chatting up a pretty blonde, Louise, in the Hufflepuff common room. They had dragged him back to Gryffindor a few hours ago, flushed pink and smelling of liquor. Remus had pointedly ignored his arrival, choosing instead to watch the fire.
He was embarrassed and angry at himself. How could I have let myself think he would ever like me? It's clear he doesn't, Remus ruminated. Usually he would only stay in the common room until one or two in the morning before returning to bed, but he couldn't bring himself to return to his room. Couldn't bring himself to face his friends. Especially not Sirius. With the exhaustion and the lingering emotion from the day's events, he didn't trust himself to be around Sirius tonight. Remus pulled his thick wool sweater tighter around him, trying to remedy the feelings of betrayal and emptiness. He couldn't believe he had been so foolish.
—
Remus awoke with a start, curled on a large red sofa by the fire. He looked groggily at his watch, displayed the time in bright blue font. 3:18. It was nowhere near time to start his day. What could possibly have woken him this early? The soft padding of socked feet on the stairs alerted him to another presence in the room. Who could possibly be awake? He looked up, and his heart damn near stopped beating. Sirius.
Sirius walked sleepily over to the armchair where Remus sat and squeezed himself in the empty space, nestling into Remus's arms. Moony's heart beat so fast he thought it might burst out of his chest. Sirius was half-asleep and still slightly buzzed, which made him much more amicable than he normally was. He wriggled under the blanket someone had thrown over Remus until his head was curled into the space below Remus's chin. He sighed contentedly.
"What you doing up, Re?" Sirius mumbled.
"Couldn't sleep." replied Remus. It wasn't completely a lie. What was Sirius doing? He never hung out with Remus one-on-one. And why do you think that would be, wise-ass? Remus thought. Maybe it's the not-so-secret crush you've had on him since second year. Could that perhaps be what deterred him? Sirius moved closer, nuzzling into Remus's chest.
"What are you doing up, Pads? It's pretty early." Remus murmured the question. He felt Sirius take a sharp breath, then sigh quietly.
"I... couldn't sleep. Thinking too much." Sirius's voice was heavy with sleep still unattained. Remus ached at Sirius's body pressed against his. He couldn't bear it.
"What are you thinking about that's kept you up this late?" Remus laughed softly, trying to break the slight heaviness that had settled over them. But Sirius tensed.
"I was— god, you wouldn't understand." Sirius muttered, his voice taking on an edge Remus was unfamiliar with. This was not the Sirius he knew.
"Yeah? Try me." Remus prodded at Sirius, trying to scrape away at the ice he used to protect himself. Sirius rolled over and sat up across from Remus on the couch. Remus, sleepy and not with all his wits about him, let himself stare. Sirius's eyes glinted in the warm light of the fire, his hair mussed and tangled. He still looked as beautiful as ever. Remus's eyes slowly surveyed him, catching at his collarbones peeking out from the too-big worn sweater he wore to sleep. A voice, more familiar to Remus without the icy edge, whipped him out of his musings.
"I just— I really like that girl. Louise. I do," Sirius seemed unnaturally vulnerable. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "She's perfect, and I really do like her. But I can't help but think about someone else. Someone I don't want to think about. Someone I shouldn't be thinking about." Remus didn't understand Padfoot's cryptic messaging.
"Who can't you stop thinking about? Wormtail?" Remus laughed, but regretted his joke when he saw Sirius's lips purse.
"Nah. Not Wormtail." Sirius laughed drily.
"Well then who, Pads? I don't understand why you're being so cagey about some random girl." Remus said. He was done putting up with Sirius's cryptic coded messages.
"It's not a girl, okay? It's not a fucking girl, Moony!" Sirius snapped. "It's— fuck— you are unbelievably thick, you know, Remus."
"What are you even talking ab—" Remus began, before being interrupted by Sirius's lips against his. He felt all of it at once. Sirius moving to straddle his lap, hands around his waist. Remus's hand on his nape and his lips everywhere else. He kissed Sirius hungrily, years of yearning fueling him. Remus pushed Sirius against the sofa and kissed him, kissed him like it was the only thing keeping him alive, felt Sirius's hips against his, his lips form a smile against his own, Sirius's hands in his hair. Remus kissed his neck, his collarbone, every inch of his face.
When they separated, Remus looked at him, no longer keeping himself from staring. Sirius's face was flushed, the tips of his ears an unsightly crimson. Remus kissed him once more and laughed softly as Sirius slid under the blanket with him. He wrapped an arm around Sirius and squeezed him tight against his chest, breathing in his sweet aroma. Remus closed his eyes and rubbed small circles into Sirius's back until they both drifted off to sleep in the early hours of the morning. They slept there, tucked into each other, keeping each other safe from the world. And although both all elbows and knees and sharp edges, they found softness in each other's love.
—
The next morning, Remus woke to the sun shining into the common room. He rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the light. The fire in the hearth was reduced to white embers. Blearily, he sat up, remembering the night's events. He looked down at Sirius, still asleep, curled around where he had been sleeping. Sirius snored softly, asleep and oblivious to the world around him. Remus smiled gently, curling back around Sirius and tugging the blanket around them. What a way to start the year.
~~~
ignore me I am the tags
I like how everybody is paired off haha
#this looks more like an awkward sixth grade slow dance than it does hockey
I FINALLY FOUND OUT WHY THIS HAPPENS. You see this all the time when there’s a fight or a scrum and suddenly everyone pairs up with a member of the opposite team and they just sort of …hold each other.
Someone on reddit asked about it. And it turns out there’s a logical-ish reason:
all of the other players pair off with their man to prevent anyone else entering into the fight … so it’s a form of self policing.
[…] The players basically want to prevent 2 on 1, etc. fights and by finding a “hugging” partner so there’s no ganging up on one guy, even on accident. They do it because it’s fair. And it’s kind of cute sometimes.
so now we know! it’s fair…and cute.
Aw best part is no ones left out at this dance
#hockey hugs #more or less #:)))))))) #where’s that one of Karlsson and Mike Green #that one’s priceless
=DDD
NHL: You need to prevent other player’s from joining in the fight, make sure to hold them back
Hockey players, hugging: Got it.
This is the best explanation I could come up with for why it takes me so long to do updates sometimes when, at other times, I’m typing them up like clockwork.
also this:
facts.
I’m like this with my original fiction, too.
You guys forgot this one:
Accurate AF
Also this entire thought process:
[image credit Emily Chapman ]
how to trick writers into giving you more fanfic to read
Works for comics and art as well.
…this has the opposite effect.
instead try; I love you *generic keysmash* h OW DA RE *lavish praise* *inside fandom joke* *quote fave part* *more generic keysmashing*
you. i like you
Also, the favorites: 1) DID I SAY YOU COULD HURT ME LIKE THIS?!?;?!; 2) DONT HURT MY BABY WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS 3) why must you hurt me this way 4) WHY IS THIS A CLIFFHANGER?! WHAT HAPPENS NEXT I NEED TO KNOW 5) This made me cry/squeal/giggle/wake the dead with my laughter 6) I almost woke my family laughing at ___ part 7) I DIDNT KNOW I NEEDED THIS AU UNTIL YOU POSTED THIS 8) this is so cute I’m dying 9) and (writer’s name) strikes again! 10) I had to reread this bc it’s so good and I love it 11) I wish I could like/heart/kudos this more than once Like, seriously guys, freak out with us and you’ll have us wrapped around your little fingers.
This is so true! A lot of the time, I get stuck in a writer’s hole. But whenever I get a comment like the above ones, it makes me want to write more!
GUYS! THIS IS CHEATCODE FOR MORE!!! SIGNAL BOOST 😱✨😂
These are all so motivating to get lmao
this is what i like to get on my art and fics
As a writer & artist I can say yes this works this is a foolproof way to trick us into creating more and we as a collective hate how much we love it
This is soo true!!
If you’re a Non-Muslim and you see a Muslim praying in public, could you please not pass in front of them?
Go behind them, but not in front. 👍
Oh, signal boost! I didn’t know this.
Okay, but also: if you see a Muslim praying in public and they have something in front of them, like a purse or a bag or something like that, you can pass in front of them, but pass in front of that object.
it’s called a sutrah, and it’s meant to act as a physical barrier between the person praying and someone who might happen to pass in front.
Also, if you did this and didn’t know, please don’t beat yourself up over it. Now you know! Muslims aren’t supposed to pass in front of Muslims praying, either, because prayer is communication with God and you don’t want to break that connection.
Spread culture, respect customs, be good people. Simple as that.
Didn’t know this.
Reblogging again
THE AMOUNTS OF REBLOGS THIS HAS JUST MAKES ME SO HAPPY
S I G N A L B O O S T
Reblog forever !
Similarly, if a Jew is saying the Shemonah Esrei prayer (whispered, moving only the mouth, standing facing east with legs together) don’t go in front unless there’s a barrier.
Congrats on 1000 followers! Wolfstar + sweaters plz? 🧡
Thank you and I hope you like it! <3
Sirius Black had never known the feelings of warmth and love and comfort until he had entered Hogwarts. They had been foreign things to him, belonging to a life that he did not lead, but now he knew them like old friends.
Old friends who still had secrets to share.
One of these secrets being that these three feelings could be combined to form an object. A sweater.
Remus Lupin’s sweater.
He had first encountered this particular sweater in fourth year. Remus had found him alone in their dorm, a scathing letter from his mother laying by his side and a bruise blooming across his cheek after another fight with his brother. Sirius hadn’t even bothered to wipe away his tears.
Remus had said nothing as he riffled through his trunk and walked back over to Sirius, a burgundy lump in his arms. He had stopped in front of Sirius and gently pulled the soft woollen sweater over his head, laughing a little when Sirius got his head lost in the mass of fabric.
Sirius had felt his heartache ease, falling away like the sunlight at dusk so all that was left was the moon and the stars.
Warmth, love and comfort surrounded Sirius and he closed his eyes, allowing Remus to pull him into a hug.
He had never felt so loved in his life.
He had never felt so in love in his life.
Sirius slept in the sweater, the smell of Remus surrounding him, the too-long sleeves scrunched in his fists and the soft fabric caressing his skin in the same way he dreamt Remus would touch him.
After that night, Sirius stole Remus’ sweater as often as he could.
He would wear it down to breakfast, cuddle in it by the fire, lie in it by the Great Lake. He had found home in a sweater which belonged to the boy he wished he could make a home in.
The sweater was as close as he got to Remus Lupin.
Until the end of fifth year.
They had gotten into a fight, its cause petty and unimportant yet Sirius felt the anger boil in him like a beast. He knew the rage had little to do with Remus and more to do with his growing self-loathing. He had fallen in love with his best friend, and his foolish heart still hoped it was not unrequited.
He had found Remus, sitting by the fire in the common room, its ambers casting shadows on the scarred face. He looked ethereal. Sirius sat down beside him, a burgundy sweater clutched in his hands.
He laid it in Remus’ lap, an act of repentance.
Remus glanced down, closed his eyes and looked up to the ceiling.
“I don’t want the sweater, Sirius,” he had said, eyes glued to the sky as if searching for a god up there.
Sirius nodded slowly, heart sinking somehow lower than it was before. He attempted to stand, but he was stopped by a hand grasping his own.
Remus’ hand gripped tight as his eyes flickered down to meet Sirius gaze. “I want you.”
The world seemed to freeze, the fire stopped burning, the air stopped buzzing, as every living thing watched, waited as Sirius felt himself shatter, grow, burn and glow. His heart seemed to slow and speed up all at once until Sirius could no longer take the silence that had been suffocating him all this time and he reached forward and kissed Remus Lupin.
The world exploded into sound.
Sirius’ ears rang as they kissed, lips touching, hands grasping and hearts thrumming, all the while, a burgundy sweater remained between their laps.
Sirius only realised years later how many firsts they had shared with Remus Lupin’s sweater. Their first kiss, their first ‘I love you’s, their first time, their first argument, their first sleep in their new apartment, their first Christmas.
Sirius also realised too late how many lasts it had shared. Their last kiss, their last fight, their last summer’s evening together, their last dinner with James and Lily, their last playdate with Harry, their last night together.
Their last touch.
The sweater was woven into their story like the stitching it was made of, yet Sirius had forgotten how the wool seemed to caress his skin and how the softness of it had never faded and how it always smelled of Remus.
He had forgotten what it felt like to be loved by Remus Lupin.
He had never forgotten what it was like to be in love with Remus Lupin.
He was still as deeply in love by his second Christmas out of Azkaban, his first with Remus in thirteen years.
The silence that surrounded them reminded Sirius of his younger self, pining and yearning for a boy he thought unattainable.
However, unlike before, this silence wasn’t suffocating. It couldn’t suffocate what was already dead.
It was Christmas Eve when Sirius heard again after thirteen years of silence.
Remus had called Sirius into the living room, and when Sirius had entered, he saw that a small, badly wrapped package was in his hands.
Sirius had glanced from the package to Remus, who smiled weakly in response.
“For you,” he mumbled, and Sirius noticed the faint blush blooming on his cheeks.
He felt his heart rate pick up.
He took the package from Remus, staring at it for a moment, before carefully unwrapping the brown paper. He could feel Remus’ gaze on his face the whole time.
When Sirius saw the first glimpse of deep red wool, his heart stopped beating.
There was complete silence as Sirius dropped the paper to the ground and held Remus Lupin’s burgundy sweater in his hands for the first time in thirteen years.
Tears quickly cascaded down his cheeks like falling rain and Sirius heard his heart thundering in his ears, not knowing whether it was breaking or mending or simply just beating.
A thumb stroking away his tears guided his gaze upwards from the sweater and into the face of its owner, whose own tears were falling.
Remus swallowed, and Sirius watched his eyes flicker with a decision, before Remus leaned down and kissed him hard.
Sirius gasped as he felt sound exploding around him after an eternity of silence.
He cupped Remus’ cheek with his hand and kissed him back, music that sounded an awful lot like love playing in his heart.
In between their pressed together bodies, a sweater was clutched by two hands, neither willing to let go again.
AHDJSKAHDSN!!!!!! THIS IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING EVER!!!!! I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!!
my favourite fucking fic on this website. hands down.
My home will be a home with no loud anger, no explosive rage, no slamming doors or breaking glass, no name calling, shaming or blackmail. My home will be gentle, it will be warm. It will keep my loved ones safe. No fear, no hurt and no worries. I may come from a broken and twisted place but I will build something whole and safe. I’ll sing in the shower again, cook with a smile and dance in all the rooms. I will heal.
every time I read this post I gain a little more hope. one day.