I was playing Monopoly with my mum, lost, and then woke up crying.
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Remus Lupin who was extremely close with and loved by his mum. Remus Lupin who would tell his mum everything. Except for being gay because he was scared of their reactions. Hope Lupin who secretly knew without being told but didn’t say anything until Remus told her. Remus Lupin who came out to Hope before Lyall because it felt easier. Both of them always love him no matter what.
Remus lupin who brought his friend Sirius black home for Christmas in 3rd year (James went on holiday). Hope Lupin who immediately saw that Remus viewed Sirius as more than a friend. Hope Lupin who knew before Remus knew. Hope Lupin who pretended to be surprised when Remus told her he and Sirius were dating in sixth year.
Hope Lupin who does nothing but support.
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Perfect neutral* colors for this outfit, pairing a geometrical pattern kimono (somehow reminding me a bit of shogi tiles), with a luscious armful of kiku (chrysanthemum) obi.
*Red, black and white are considered neutral colors in traditional kimono fashion
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Holes
I'm not sure I'm alive.
I might even be dead.
I hope its a Comedy,
I did always want to read Dante,
and Bronte,
and the other thespians in between.
And listen to Solange,
and Beyonce.
And experience the culture of my Mom, say?
Nah.
I'll pass.
That racist shit, all holier than thou,
grew up on a farm,
in a trauma pit,
cooking up delicious little lies,
devious rhubard pies, swatting flies.
Back n forth on the porch,
in your handmade throne of tyranny.
Fighting the same damn fight that we just held in January,
You know? Annually
Its insanity.
like the Clockwork fucking Orange.
Seriously?
Responsibility?
I beg of you to show me accountability.
You're killing me.
Give me 5 minutes of your time without laying into me.
Free Will versus Conditioning,
it's interesting,
Beethoven's Ninth Symphony
I'm listening,
but its no longer interesting.
It's interesting,
It's just solo negativity,
A conductor of mental dystrophy.
An epiphany…
My tendencies are controlled by your shoestrings.
Damn, look at your hand,
fire is lighting up your mood ring.
Let it out,
Let me have it,
I'll grow up to be an addict,
we won't talk,
I'll walk away,
It'll be my fault til you're grey,
and I'll come get up,
lift you up,
read you to sleep.
It's complicated,
this constant shouldered complaint.
But I will carry your bones.
There will be no dust left to settle between us two souls.
Only love and blood and all these old holes.
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(For context: my mum hates my favourite skirt.)
My mum cut up my favourite skirt and then gave it to my sister’s friend. This friend does not exist in real life.
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