noideasforausername

[noideasforausername]

crumpled letter.

description: sirius black x literally whoever (self-insert or existing character, anything works)

word count: 0.7k

warnings: angst? (basically all I write is angst are we even surprised at this point)

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Sirius was used to being on the receiving end of an absurd number of letters – written confessions – on the regular. It had been admittedly entertaining at first, grown rapidly concerning and ended up becoming quite bothersome. By his sixth year, he’d taken the habit of simply throwing them away: the dizzying shades of pink an eyesore, particularly first thing in the morning.  

Blue, black, red and occasionally gold ink, all conveying one clear message through their various deviations from the boring “I like you” (that is, of course, with one singular and minuscule heart over each individual i). 

That particular morning, things were about as outwardly ordinary as possible: the nauseatingly colourful pile dropped next to Sirius’ goblet a testament to this statement.  

It seemed that the owls’ brief period of strike was over – for Hogwarts had seen this rare phenomenon earlier that year, the animals having reached abnormally high levels of annoyance with the repetitive act of carrying the garish mail to a less-than-grateful black-haired student. 

Sirius had half a mind to leave them there. Maybe that would give his faceless – and nameless in some cases – admirers a hint. But he didn’t. Instead, he crumpled them all up with a flick of his wand, a motion he knew by heart, and stuffed them in his pocket (the waiting room before they’d inevitably find their home in the depths of the nearest trash can.)

Amongst them, a white envelope. One so ordinary it should have stood out from the pile. Black ink on a standard piece of parchment.

 

“Here it goes. I have tried writing this with flourish and charm, but this is my last piece of parchment and I fear I will chicken out if I do not send this now. 

I’m aware the chances of you reading this are slim. Perhaps that’s why I decided to write you in the first place. But I have tried everything. And being a small speck in the sandstorm that causes that frown to appear on your forehead every morning seemed a fair price to pay.  

Let me start, or better yet continue, by clarifying one thing: this is not a love letter. I am not writing to beg for a chance of your eyes meeting mine in anything more than a passing coincidence. Instead, I hope that this will end up at the bottom of your pocket, and that the rage I hold will burn a hole right through that expensive black silk, setting the rest of the letters aflame and silencing the voices you crush daily with the barest swish of the wrist. 

You, Sirius Orion Black, are infuriating. Your face is irksome. Your grin is positively maddening. The curve of your cheekbones, the angle of your jawline, the glint in your eyes, the way you so effortlessly carry yourself – as if taking up space is what you were born to do. I’ve come to believe that you are taunting me indirectly.  

And I wish you would stop. Or maybe what’s even more aggravating is that I can’t picture a life in which you do. It is unfair, that we are unable to look at the sun for too long without being blinded, and yet no matter how long my eyes rest on you, my vision stays intact.  

I have made it my mission to ignore you. But not only has this proven impossible, my stubborn nature has blown this situation out of proportions, resulting in a pair of invisible, unmovable binoculars that constantly seek you out having replaced my eyes.  

I have no explanation, no enchantment ever recorded matches the effect you seem to have on me. This slow, torturous, pit in my stomach knowing that somewhere between these walls, your chest is rising and falling in rhythm with my own.  

I have many more insults to throw your way, but I am running out of paper. All that to say, though you may believe you dispose only of devoted admirers, there is someone in this very castle whose life has been thrown off its axis for no apparent reason other than your very existence. I hope that getting this off my chest and sending it your way will break this unbearable cycle. If not, this is my formal way of telling you to fuck off Sirius Black. Fuck off and put my life back the way it was.” 

[noideasforausername]

i think something just clicked in my brain

I'd be a rebel if I didn't have to be the perfect child

[noideasforausername]

two flowers.

description: the Evans' sisters relationship viewed through Petunia's lens. canon compliant for the most part.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst, angst and more angst. also not super proofread, I wrote this spontaneously on a random afternoon.

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When Petunia was born, her mother pointed out her pink cheeks, deciding to name her after the pretty petunia bush that had been growing in their back garden. She was showered with love and adoration by her parents, both completely enamored by her every move.  

Just before her second birthday, her mother’s attention seemed to shift towards her belly. Petunia started noticing the small but substantial lack of displays of affection she would normally receive; so, she cried a bit harder and yelled a bit louder.  

On the 30th of January 1960, Petunia woke up in an unknown bed. She shivered, gripped the covers tighter and brought them up to her face - just like the princesses in her fairytale books would do. Her parents had left her with their next-door neighbour: Miss Gertrude. Miss Gertrude smelled like an old lady and kept an absurd number of cat pictures on display in every room. Miss Gertrude did not pay attention to her at all. Nor did she take notice of how hard she cried, or how loud she yelled. 

They nicknamed her Lilybud, because she was as innocent and pure as the flower her mother had planted right next to the petunia bush in their garden. Lily was born with bright green eyes and a fiery tuft of red hair – their mother’s hair. Lily did not need to cry or yell, because anyone who met her would become instantly enraptured by her striking features: her round, angelic face, adorned with carefully placed freckles. Where Lily was soft, Petunia was sharp.

Their mother would insist she didn’t have a favorite. Petunia couldn’t help but notice how during family dinners, everyone’s eyes seemed glued to Lily, how hard they’d laugh at Lily’s jokes, or how their eyes glossed over when they looked at her – like she was occupying the time they could’ve spent looking at Lily. 

When she was nine, Petunia stole her mother’s eyeliner and climbed into the sink to better look in the mirror. She tried to draw freckles on her face. Her father caught her and laughed. The freckles morphed into black tearstains on her small face. 

On her thirteenth birthday, Petunia had been called plain. She entered her school’s building with a smile on her face, wearing her best dress; she exited in tears, with Lily close behind her. That night she cried in Lily’s lap.  

On Lily’s following birthday – her eleventh birthday – their mother had insisted that her daughter stay home from school, because she deserved it. Petunia sat in her favorite armchair, the one in the corner of the living room, with a crooked party hat on her head. She was eating a ridiculously large slice of cake in silence when an unexpected knock sounded on the door. By the end of the night, miss Gertrude had called the police to complain about the noise coming from the Evans’ household.  

On the 1st of September 1971, Petunia watched her parents cry harder than ever before as her sister boarded the Hogwarts Express. 

Every summer since that day everybody witnessed Lilybud grow into a perfectly delicate Lily flower – similar to the one that had started overshadowing the withering petunia bush in the Evans’ garden. 

Lily was magical. Lily was special. Petunia was not. 

During her final year of high school, Petunia’s parents asked her to pick Lily up from the train station. Petunia arrived half an hour earlier. She spotted the familiar platform and stopped in her tracks. She flung herself into the nearest bathroom and cried for twenty-five minutes, before finally drying her eyes and stepping through the invisible platform to welcome her sister. 

“Pet!” Lily would yell when she saw her. Petunia wondered whether her sweet tone of voice was the only thing counteracting the venom of the word. 

Later that year, she met Vernon.  

Vernon who made her feel special from their very first meeting. Not because he’d done anything particularly extraordinary, but because he looked her way... and saw her - not Lily’s sister, just her. 

Vernon was a simple man. He was direct, and wanted a typical, ordinary life.  

Petunia was standing in their shared apartment when an owl flew through the open window and landed next to her. Reluctantly opening Lily’s letter, she was met by a moving picture of her and her friends - a ‘missing you’ sloppily written on the back. When Vernon glanced at the picture, he’d disdainfully rolled his eyes. Petunia knew he was the one then. 

When Petunia told her parents she was pregnant, they’d toasted the occasion, and she basked in their proud glares. That lasted about a month, until Lily sent word of her own pregnancy – for which their parents threw a big neighborhood party.  

When Dudley was born, Petunia gained a new purpose. She’d allowed Vernon to name him after his own grandfather, overlooking something so insignificant as the name of her child. Because he was her child. And she’d make sure he felt as special as he deserved to. Despite not being extraordinary. 

When Vernon had broached the subject of having another child, Petunia stopped talking to him for a week. She’d told him she’d rather have her tubes tied than risk the possibility of Dudley getting a sibling, and the subject was dropped. 

On Halloween Eve 1981, Petunia almost stepped on a child. She read the letter in its grip and leaned against the doorframe, not trusting her feet for support.  

Minutes later, after briefly informing a red-faced Vernon of this new household addition, she locked herself in her room, desperately digging through her closet. 

When the hard oak of the box grazed her fingertips, she pulled it out and struggled with the rusty lock. She crumbled to the ground and lay there silently sobbing, surrounded by the few objects Lily had magicked for her over the years – most of them lying there, now unmoving. 

After Lily’s funeral, Petunia went into the backyard of her childhood home, and kneeled next to the petunia bush that had withered due to a lack of sun and water. She unearthed the still-intact lily flower and travelled with it in her hands through the long bus commute. It was the first time she hadn’t minded people’s stares.

The flower still grows, to this day, at the base of Lily’s grave.  

Harry Potter grew up wondering why Petunia rarely looked him in the eye. Her eyes always seemed to fixate on his admittedly messy hair, just above his brows, often followed by a comment on how he ought to cut it. 

He’d once asked her why she kept looking over the fence at the neighboring houses and was met with a stern scoff. Harry had gone on to assume she was on the hunt for gossip. The truth was, she wanted to make sure the neighbors were keeping things orderly, or else she’d be ready to call the cops and complain of the excessive noise. 

When she last saw Harry, Petunia was standing in her empty living room. His footsteps echoed down the bare hallway and stopped right in front of her.  

Petunia finally looked at him. 

And after almost twenty years, she locked eyes with Lily.   

At long last, instead of the usual wave of envy, she felt a surge of pride overwhelm her.  

Harry had done what she couldn’t - he’d become extraordinary, despite being constantly outshined in their household. 

[noideasforausername]

nvm. turns out my email address wasn’t verified. i’ve had this app for 8 years.

[noideasforausername]

the way i’m trying to reply to a comment and had to type the exact. same. sentence. repeatedly. only to hit send and for it to suddenly disappear?

i either really suck at this whole tumblr thing or there’s someone out there receiving the same notification over and over

[noideasforausername]

some random tiktok comment informed me that today is the anniversary of moony’s death and it has just ruined my whole day thank you very much

[noideasforausername]

me reading straight up pornography: hmm… this one just doesn’t have enough accurate character psychoanalysis to get me off

[noideasforausername]

the moon, the star and the asteroid.

description: angsty established wolfstar x pining fem!reader blurb that I wrote because there's a serious lack of them on here

word count: 0.2k

warnings: !angst! hurt no comfort (don't say I didn't warn you) ,, saviour complex if you squint? ,, death (?)

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It was in the way Remus instinctively edged closer to Sirius whenever he was near. 

It was in the way his cold stone façade would break at the smaller boy’s antics. 

It was in the stares they shared, getting so lost in one another that the whole world seemed to disappear. 

The star and the moon. 

The perfect pair. 

She was just an asteroid.  

Destined to orbit around them temporarily.  

Until the unrelenting force of gravity would inevitably pull her out of orbit, imploding her whole world and destroying everything in its wake. 

Sometimes she wondered if it was all worth it.

Was simply existing in their presence enough?  

Hoping against hope that for once, the most peculiar astronomical paradox would take place, and the trajectories of a star, an asteroid and the moon would intersect? 

That same question played over and over in her head; and it replayed one last time when she jumped in front of her his star.  

Because if there’s one thing an asteroid can do, it’s to sacrifice itself first.  

To allow the star and the moon to continue shining under the same sky, with or without its presence. 

And as she felt herself being tugged backwards into misty nothingness; two matching tears fell down her cheeks: one for each of them.   

And she smiled. 

The image of her last moments in orbit forever imprinted behind her eyes: the star and the moon, hand in hand, looking at her.

Finally seeing her. 

The veil fluttered once. 

And the asteroid was no more. 

[noideasforausername]

site that you can type in the definition of a word and get the word

site for when you can only remember part of a word/its definition 

site that gives you words that rhyme with a word

site that gives you synonyms and antonyms

[noideasforausername]

can you horndogs stop adding angst tags to your fics? im tryna cry over here i dont want to read the smuttiest thing known to man

[noideasforausername]

where would this fandom be without some periodical self-inflicted suffering

Sirius called Walburga many things, not in a way that anyone would notice, but there are differences.

Everyone knew that’s Sirius’ mother. “My mother…” he would say.

The Marauders (and close friends) knew her as his mum. “Mum says…” he would say.

But Regulus heard him call her something different. Lying on the cold floor below his mother, her wand pointed at him, Sirius called out something else. As Walburga shouted Crucio, Sirius let out a pained mama. “Mama please…” he would say.

And Regulus just stood there, hearing his big brother scream, knowing he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

[noideasforausername]

[noideasforausername]

Obsessed with the DC tourist asking for clubs with a “no ugly people allowed” policy that plays house

Is this person NYC or LA? Place your bets

[noideasforausername]

i think what upsets me the most about the sudden cancellation of awae isn’t necessarily the fact that anne and gilbert finally got together after pining and longing for each other for aggesss, but rather the fact that anne, at last, seemed to find somewhere she belonged and we don’t even get to see it. i think she would thrive in college and it’s like the perfect place for her - and she’s with all of her friends! what could be better. her and josie set their differences aside for the most part, and she gets to hang out with her girls in a shared dorm and read and be at the top of class and grow independent!!! i just want to see her live a better life. i miss this show so much. i might read the books but i can’t handle the extra depressing facts that are included in them. we’ll see.

[noideasforausername]

[noideasforausername]

I WISH U WOULD FUVK ME

[noideasforausername]

once again!! men moaning !! men groaning !! men breathing heavy !! men just making noise !!