Hey guys! SINCE WE HIT 15K FOLLOWERS, I just had to give you guys something ;3; So here’s a little (6000+ word, whoops) Jimin story I’ve be putting together… actually, this story line holds significance to me, and if anyone can figure out why, then you will be rewarded… jk, but I’ll be happy :’) So anyway, hope you enjoy! Hopefully, I’ll get done with some requests soon~
- Devi :D
when I think about you… (fluff/angst)
word count: 6174
subtle winds, black skies, it’s times like these when I stay dormant. I settle
into the worn crème colored fabric of my suede couch, gripping a mug of Earl
Grey with both my hands to let the heat lace through my fingers. It’s my
special blend, three spoons of Lady Grey, half a cup of boiling water, half a
cup of steamed milk, and vanilla cream to top.
There are a million
things that could go through my mind, but instead it focuses on just one: him.
what about harry and the missus going out with harrys family to celebrate sott being number one 💘😶
They’d go somewhere really fancy, dressed to the nines and excited to celebrate something to so wonderful. Gemma and Michal would have booked a table already, as a celebration for having a good release of the song on the Friday, but the added news of it going to number one would make the night a whole lot more special because it’s a wonderful achievement for him with a solo single. They’d all sit around a circular table, making it easier to see everyone there, at the back of the restaurant, chatting between one another as the evening passed, eating the food they’d ordered and drinking champagne and Prosecco as well as the expensive cocktails that Harry insisted he buy for the ladies to enjoy.
And, when dinner was completed and desserts were soon to be out, they wouldn’t hold back on sweet speeches of congratulations because they are extremely proud of him and want him to know how they feel. Things would definitely get emotional, for sure. Tears would make an appearance in his eyes, blubbering sounds would leave Anne and Gemma would be giggling wetly at something funny that was said. The missus would occasionally peck a kiss to his cheek, squeezing his hand with her fingers laced through his, running her thumb over his knuckles, and nudging her face into his shoulder or his neck every so often.
It would be Robin and Anne who would suggest the missus say something in terms of congratulating Harry; even though the missus didn’t deem it necessary because she was with him when he found out he got number one on the charts. Kissing him passionately and hugging him tightly and having a cry with him, too.
“We’ve all said something about the man of the night. Let’s hear something from his lady,” Robin would grin, tinkling his glass with his spoon, “the lady of the night.”
She’d look towards Harry who would be looking at her and smiling hugely, grinning wider when she stood to her feet and kept her hand pressed to his shoulder, “I kind of already gave him my congratulations after we found out he got number one. We were in the middle of the kitchen and the phone was on speaker so we could both hear. And it was just incredible to find out that he’d achieved so well after 3 days of it being out. You’ve put so much work into this song and your album as a whole and you deserve everything. I’m so proud of you, honoured to be the one who gets to be with you the whole way, and, so in love with how you handle everything,” she’d look down at him, his eyes watering again as he sniffled an d pressed his cheek against the hand resting against his shoulder, “so proud of you, Harry. I couldn’t be any prouder of you. You continue to shock me every day with every thing that you do. Here’s to many successful years to come,” she’d grin, bringing the toast to an end before perching down, “also, I’m marrying this legend… How lucky am I?”
“I’m the lucky one,” he’d whisper into her ear, “thank you. I love you.”
“C’mon now. Dry those tears. We’ve got a Brownie Sundae to share,” she’d giggle, “and, because you’ve had a very successful evening, I’ll let you eat all the brownies and marshmallows.” xx
Hello, spoonies! I have a question, regarding the use of spoons.
I have dysmenorrhea, which basically means I have really painful periods without an underlying cause (I.e. Endo, cysts, etc). When I am on my period it’s like a billion times harder to do things becaus of the pain, lack of energy, hormones, diarrhea, etc. This could go away in time, as I get older or have a baby. But who knows?
I am unsure if this condition allows me to be able to use the Spoon Theory, or say “I am low on spoons” or what have you. Is it chronic? Am I appropriating this phrase if I use it? (I hurt so much right now, I am not sure if sense making is occurring?)
I wasn’t planning to post anything yet, but then I remembered that Wednesday is kinda my day of posting fics soo.. have this prompt! it’s Tony and Natasha friendship fic, pre-stony. roughly proofread because I still feel kinda sick, but I know that BG would be the one really happy about this fic and she was okay with me not proofreading c: and hopefully, BF!anon would be also okay. and read it. and talk to me. because she dumped me and talks only to BG. not that I’m jealous. I’M NOT JEALOUS, SHUT UP. ugh.. enjoy the fic :D!! also, I realized that halfway I changed the rules of the game, so whoops.
aka why Tony hates team bonding
Tony was running down the hall, a huge, huge smile plastered across his face. When he decided that he was far enough, he stopped, bending in half, trying to catch his breath.
We've all heard about Bullshiticus...But what about Chronica?
Okay, so I’m pretty sure we’ve all heard of Bullshiticus. I feel like there really should be an addendum to that pantheon, being Chronica: the Goddess of Chronic Illnesses.
Chronica, the Tireless Giver of Spoons, Lady of Hope, the Mother of Unseen Champions, with her assistants Therapon and Medica (c'mon, they’re self explanatory–chronic illness leaves no time for fancy names :P). She supports her children both in their physical and mental chronic illnesses, cherishing their successes (whether it be as big making a breakthrough, or as small as getting out of bed in the morning), and knowing their pain if their past successes fall through.
Offerings made by taking your meds, practicing self-care, getting assistance from others, etc. Symbols being medicine bottles, spoons, bandaids, and anything that makes individual followers think of strength, hope, energy, etc.
Request: Hey could you do like a young Sirius black x reader please where like she and him have been going out for ages and she understands him having guy time so doesn’t mind him and the others having a night themselves once a month especially but when he then ditches her on their anniversary(him on a mucking up the days) she is embarrassed and furious etc and Remus is her best friend and finally tells his secret cause he can’t bear them being miserable cause of him pls?
(Y/N) smiled as she put her finishing touches on the room, making sure everything was perfect. The record player in the corner with all of their favorite albums in a stack next to it. The room decorated to perfection, without being too much. She examined herself in the mirror and ran her hands down the front of her black dress, smoothing out the fabric. The tower chimed, signaling that it was now six o’clock and (Y/N) squealed. She slipped on the heels she had brought with her and headed out the door, setting her path to the Gryffindor common room.
It was her and Sirius’ one-year anniversary, and she was beyond excited for the night she had planned for them. She hadn’t gotten to see him barely at all that day and the anticipation was killing her. As she walked through the castle she was barely able to keep herself from running, so full of excitement. She rounded the final corner and headed up the stairs leading to the portrait hole. She was about half-way up when the Fat Lady swung open and Lily climbed out of the entryway. She gasped when she saw (Y/N), awestruck.
“Merlin’s beard, (Y/N), you look amazing!” Lily said, putting a hand to her heart in feign astonishment.
“Why, thank you!” she replied, reaching the top of the stairs and beaming.
“What are you all dressed up for?”
(Y/N) blushed, and threaded a lock of (y/h/c) hair behind her ear. “Er–well it’s Sirius and my one year today. I was just coming to fetch him for our date,” she explained moving toward the portrait. Lily’s smile faltered instantly.
“Wait, (Y/N),” Lily said, grabbing her hand.
“What’s the matter?”
“He’s not here.”
(Y/N) scoffed, her smile faltering as well. “What do you mean he’s not here?”
“I–well, he and James, and Remus, and Peter… they’re out.”
She stood in stunned silence. He was out. He’d forgotten. The four of them had always had their boys nights once a month for as long as she’d known them, and she loved that they did. But never had she imagined that he would possibly stand her up for one, especially on their anniversary.
She felt her eyes begin to sting, and she snapped back to reality, seeing Lily’s concerned face.
“Are–are you alright?” she asked, placing a light hand on (Y/N)’s upper arm. She smiled and nodded weakly.
“I just–I suppose he won’t be back tonight, then, will he?”
Lily offered an apologetic smile in return before saying, “you know they normally aren’t.”
“Right.” She felt her feet shuffling in the tight heels, and removed them quickly. It was clear she wasn’t going back to the Room of Requirement tonight. “Well, I suppose I’ll just go up then.”
“No, don’t be,” She responded, shaking her head. “It’s not your fault.”
Lily nodded, and (Y/N) turned towards the Fat Lady.
“Slotted Spoons,” she said, and the door swung open.
When she awoke the following morning, the first thing she noticed was the ache she felt in her eyes. She rolled over to look at her reflection in the small mirror on her nightstand and she saw that they were red and puffy. She wasn’t particularly surprised… she’d spent the majority of the previous night crying. But now, an odd sense of calm had washed over her and she felt rather numb. She made her way to the bathroom, following her regular morning routine, adding extra concealer under her eyes to hide the evidence of the previous nights tears.
She made her way down the stairs and through the common room, before feeling a pair of arms wrap around her waist from behind. She stopped dead in her tracks, but it didn’t elicit a squeal like it normally would have.
“Good morning, love,” Sirius said, planting a soft kiss to her temple. She looked down at the arms surrounding her, and felt the ache in her head return as she fought to keep tears from forming again. She pried his arms away and began to walk away from him, but he quickly grabbed her hand and spun her around to face him. “Hey, what’s the matter?” he asked, lifting her chin to look him in the eyes. He saw tears brewing along the base of her lids.
She pulled away from his touch yet again, crossed her arms in front of her for protection, and felt a tear fall down her cheek as she looked into his questioning eyes. “You don’t even remember what yesterday was, do you?”
“I–” he began as he frantically sent his mind probing for an answer for her. It suddenly dawned on him, and his jaw dropped open. (Y/N) scoffed as she saw his gaze turn desperately toward her. “Shit, (Y/N), I–”
“Don’t, Sirius. I get it,” she said. She backed away from him a few steps and then turned and climbed out the portrait hole.
An awkward silence surrounded the Marauder’s at dinner that night. The three watched as Sirius absentmindedly pushed the food around on his plate, a scowl across his brow. Remus looked down the table and saw the same scene with the girls. Lily, Marlene, Alice, and (Y/N) sitting together. No one was laughing down there, either.
“Alright, this is ridiculous,” James blurted out finally. “Padfoot, what the bloody hell is going on with you?”
Sirius didn’t look up from the plate in front of him as he let out a miserable sigh. “Last night–” he began. “I forgot. I completely forgot.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to ease the pain he was feeling. “It was our anniversary. And I forgot.”
Finally he looked up at his friends, all of whom had jaws dropped.
“Oh, bloody hell,” James muttered.
“But she understands, doesn’t she?” Peter asked. “What with Moony and all, she’d have to understand why you couldn’t’ve been there–”
But Remus cut him off, “She doesn’t know.” Sirius’ eyes fell back to his plate of food. Remus had been best friends with (Y/N) for years now, and it wasn’t that he didn’t trust her with his secret. He’d entrusted his closest friends with the knowledge of his lycanthropy; the marauders and Lily… but (Y/N) had told him first year the story of how her father had been killed… by a werewolf. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell her for fear that she would hate him because of it.
But seeing Sirius this miserable… that he had forgotten his anniversary with the love of his life because he had been helping HIM with his “furry, little problem” instead of being with her… that was something he couldn’t live with.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement come from the group of girls, as (Y/N) stood to leave the table, food still untouched.
“I’ll see you guys later,” Remus said, standing up quickly to follow her. Sirius continued to stare down at his plate, but the other two’s eyes followed the tall boy with panicked expressions.
As he rounded the corner, he called out after her, “(Y/N)!”
She looked over her shoulder, and seeing Remus, stopped to wait for him. “Is it alright if I walk with you?” he asked. She nodded and turned to continue walking. They did so in silence for a long while. She had her arms crossed in front of her, the way she did when she was upset; her little protection from the world. And his hands were in his pockets as he fumbled with the words in his head.
“Sirius told us about last night,” he said quietly, peering into her face. Her eyes began to water at the mention of his name, and she shook her head slightly, trying to regain her composure. “I’m really sorry.”
A sad laugh escaped from her mouth as she looked anywhere but directly at her best friend. “Don’t be. It’s not like it’s your fault.”
“Actually, it is. Much more than you realize,” he responded, a solemn tone. She looked up at him, a mix of emotions on her face; hurt and pained curiosity dominating them all.
“How d’you mean?” she asked quietly, stopping in her tracks.
“I–” he began. His eyes began to wander around the corridor, not looking at her. “Every month, we have our boys night thing.”
“I’m aware,” she said, a little bitterly.
“But it’s not what you think it is. I haven’t told you this. I didn’t want it to affect our friendship. But I need to tell you something.”
(Y/N)’s mind began to race as he spoke, starting to panic slightly. It seemed like he was about to confess his love for her or something.
“Once a month, the four of us sneak out under James’ cloak–you know the one–and take a secret passageway under the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack–”
“But that’s haunted!” (Y/N) whisper-yelled, amazed at their stupidity.
“It’s not,” he said firmly. People only think it is. We go there once a month. You know the nicknames we have for each other?”
“Of course,” (Y/N) responded. The nicknames were odd, and very silly to her, and she always refused to use them. She found Peter’s especially to be quite ill-humored.
“Well, what you don’t know is that there’s a meaning behind each of them. Peter is Wormtail. He can turn into a rat. James is Prongs. He turns into a stag. Sirius is Padfoot. He turns into a dog. And me…” he faltered, his voice breaking slightly.
“Moony. What, you turn into the moon?” She asked, scoffing slightly at the ridiculousness of it. But then it clicked. Moony. Last night was a full moon.
“I’m a werewolf, (Y/N),” he said. The words held such a weight to them, the pain they caused him confessing it… she could tell how much it hurt him. “They became animagi illegally to help me. To protect me from myself when I transform, so that when I do, I won’t be alone. And–and Sirius was so distracted all day yesterday because of me. I was worse than I normally am, and it’s my fault that he forgot.”
She watched as a tear rolled down the tip of his nose, and she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. He faltered for a second before hugging her back.
“I thought you’d hate me,” he said through his tears.
“Remus, I could never hate you. You’re my best friend,” she said pulling away to look at him. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me before though.”
He smiled at her, and his gaze flew past as Sirius rounded the corner. Remus cleared his throat as his other best friend approached the two of them. “I think I’ll give you two some time. See you later,” he said, squeezing her hand slightly before walking up the stairs to the common room.
(Y/N) turned to face Sirius, who was looking at the floor, unable to make eye contact with her.
“(Y/N), I–” he began, but was immediately cut off when he felt her hands wrap around his neck and her lips press firmly against his. She felt him stiffen at first from the shock, but almost immediately relax completely as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her tightly to him. After a few moments, she pulled away to catch her breath.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, pressing his forehead against hers.
She smiled, and looked into his eyes. The eyes she loved with her whole heart, and whispered, “It’s forgotten.”
In case any of you also struggle with this, background: I’m chronically depressed and anxious, and also belligerent. I work in a field where I’m expected to look “professional” (aka: fuckable but not TOO fuckable, you know? not, like, SLUTTY, just like the fresh-faced Girl Next Door they’ve been waiting for all their mediocre lives) as a woman, every goddamn day. Usually six days a week. Dealing with gender roles is exhausting and doing it on top of having to actually learn everything I’m supposed to be learning is enough to make me want to spit.
These are the things I do (YMMV):
-Low-maintenance hairstyle. For me, that usually means growing it out so it goes in a ponytail. Boom, hairstyle accomplished. See a stylist periodically to prune it so it doesn’t get too puffy.
-Wardrobe: I own enough second-hand buttonup dress shirts and pairs of dress slacks that I can make it for over a week without doing laundry. They are interchangeable. I just grab shirt from one side of the closet and pants from the other, every morning. Socks can be bought in bulk and then you aren’t wasting a shit ton of time matching them. I suggest going for either a black-based or brown-based wardrobe, so everything coordinates even harder.
-Makeup: For maximum impact with minimum effort, mascara and lip stain. Stain doesn’t stick to your hair like gloss does or smear like lipstick does. If you’re feeling fancy a tube of cover-up in the best match to your skin tone you can find, for really big blemishes. People who say shit like “foundation is actually really easy and fast!” do not understand that my morning routine is honed to where I can roll out of the bed and be out the door in 15 minutes. I don’t have time for that bullshit.
-Shoes: Find a comfy pair, stick the best insoles you can afford into them (I’m partial to Superfeet greens myself), and rest secure in the knowledge that the men around you have no idea what makes shoes trendy or not. They may dimly resent you for not trying harder to be sexy by wearing heels, but they’ll get over it.
-Skincare regimen: Just water. No soap. Here’s the hard part: don’t touch your face. You know when my skin looks the best? When I’m working all the time and too paranoid about bacteria to touch my face with my disease-riddled hands.
-Haircare: I use a regular shampoo in the shower (okay, okay, a dandruff shampoo, geez) and then a leave-in conditioner when I get out. Makes combing my wet hair easier. People who care about hair will tell you not to comb wet hair. I am not those people.
Other elements of performative femininity: fuck them.