#Chronically late to every fandom I ever join

[flumet]

I have been practically eating up the bbc sherlock series these last few days. Just watched the last episode today (yeah most of season 4 kinda sucked imo... I'm not the biggest fan of some parts of season 3 either) so if anyone catches me out on the streets reblogging sherlock stuff...

Then yeah, I have indeed found a new hyper fixation

[olderthannetfic]

I always see people who have never been antis, talking about/questioning how some antis even ARE antis when you look at their taste in media - ie the ever famous joke of "Hannigram is #problematique" "but it's a show where he eats people" or whatever.

I thought I'd weigh in as someone who could, hypothetically, be called an ex-anti (which, thankfully, nothing ever really came out of it - it was just very 2014 keyboardwarrior-esque behavior of me being a chronically online young adult who would share posts in a group chat making fun of certain shippers, or reblog posts about how 50shades is The Most Problematic Media Ever to exist -- basically I was an anti with anti-lines of thoughts, but i never, like, a ran a Shipping Discourse Blog or whatever)

For me, personally, it was a few different things. I can now see how it's incredibly hypocritical that teenaged me shipped Light/L, while still thinking that Dramione was Bad And Abusive. It ultimately boiled down to a) being pretentious, and b) just not understanding media or what proshippers REALLY believed, with a side of c) not realizing that nuance exists. like i was pretty late to join tumblr, I think I immigrated here during PEAK "yourfaveisproblematic" era which definitely did have an impact on my opinions and my tastes.

to elaborate, a.) being pretentious. i mean this one just kinda goes without saying. "I engage in media in a way more intellectual way than you do, don't you know that? You're a filthy and disgusting person who writes Snape/Hermione because you're an actually disgusting pedophile IRL who would probably date your own student that you're abusing if you could. Meanwhile, I'm a very smart, good, and pure person. When I read Uncle Vernon/Harry, I'm doing it in a G-d honoring whump way that clearly condemns abuse, incest, and rape. Unlike YOU who only writes harmful stuff as a way to get people off :/"

(as an aside, i think this line of thinking will ALWAYS be present in fandom and popculture in some way, sadly. ie the recent trend of people hating on booktok bc the books are 'trashy' and how these porn addicts should read real classic literature instead.)

as for b.), not understanding media - i cannot emphasize enough that i was GENUINELY stupid and disconnected enough to think that proshippers REALLY WERE pro-All Of The Degenerate Dead Doves That They Wrote.

why did i feel this way? why did i understand that Lolita clearly isnt pro-pedophilia, but for some reason i thought that someone shipping weecest was? well, first of all, i think that fanfiction is (generally) seen as Less Serious than classic literature, and fandom is a fun place, so i guess i somehow thought that every fanfic/fanartist who wrote Problematic Things, especially Problematic Things that they portrayed as Sexy, really DID enjoy the thought of that Actually Happening To Real People.

and i think THIS is the bulk of why antis ARE antis. i'm not calling them all stupid - i do think BEING an anti is stupid, but at the same time, there are people who are truly smart and good-intended people who just have some really off color opinions about, like, homestuck ships or whatever. Lawlight is okay because notebooks that kill people don't exist so it's IMPOSSIBLE for the Harmful Aspects of Light/L to be romanticized! but schoolyard prejudiced bullies DO exist and are a REAL problem so Drarry is BAD (*truly completely unaware of the fact that there's 'realistic' aspects of the Light/L dynamic and 'unrealistic' aspects of Drarry - such as, for example, Hogwarts arguably being even MORE of a fantasy setting than DN is.*) I know that media literacy is the hot buzzword of the year to throw around in 2024, but, like, i really did not have media literacy.

as for c.), not realizing nuance exists - ok "nuance" might not be the best word here, but i dont know how else to describe it. like, each time ive typed the word "problematic" out in this ask, i've done so in a very tongue in cheek/ironic/retroactive way, but, like, those posts about how Everything Is Problematic, Including Your Fave ARE true. and i didn't like the fact that my favorite media or favorite person might've Made A Mistake! i need to Talk About Its Issues Because I'm So Betrayed That My Dear Sweet Comfort Media Would Do This To Me. I Need To Prove I Clearly Condemn It.

like, i legit morally could not justify reblogging a twilight post without adding in the tags '#this is my guilty pleasure it sucks that the books were so racist though' or whatever. Most people were lucky enough to avoid that line of thinking, but there was an actual group of people who felt a genuine need to virtue signal all the time, partly bc, hey, they WERE passionate about talking abt #issues in media, but also bc of a subconscious fear of If You Reblog A Singular Piece Of Hetalia Fanart, You're Literally A Nazi And Will Get A Callout Post Written About You.

and during all of this i was at the tail end of my high school experience (yes i know im younger than most of your audience, ha). i was going through A Lot emotionally, going through a lot of life changes, and lived in a very . . . interesting household/place where i couldn't do ACTUAL good in the world that i was passionate about. so to make up for the fact that i was genuinely in no place to do legit activism, clearly i had to save the gay community by arguing about johnlock queerbaiting or whatever.

^ and honestly i do think that is the position of most antis. theyre isolated and cant seem to do Enough in the Real Scary World so they have to resort to talking about how bad of a person someone is for "shipping abuse", bc theyre not in a situation where they could, for example, ACTUALLY fight the good fight to end abuse or raise awareness for it.

There was way more to it and way more that I could say, if I wanted to, but this post is long enough as it is and probably doesn't make much sense.

I feel bad for antis, honestly, or at least the ones who are antis in the way I used to be.

--

Oh yes, passionate young fools who think they can at least fix the internet if not their lives make up most of the cannon fodder. Some of the ringleaders are just mini dictators and wannabe cult leaders, but most anti-leaning types are just traumatized or clueless, even a lot of the ones who do serious damage and don't just mock shit in private with their friends.

[sunshine-and-his-stars]

Alright, for the most part I've been avoiding posting at all on tumblr lately, mostly only reposting a few fanarts I like or stuff about Queen Kat. I know so many people have already said their piece about this, and maybe she may never see this but hopefully if enough people start talking about it, someone will see that there aren't just awful people in this fandom.

I joined the SAMS fandom about a year ago or so? Because of an ex who was really into it, and dragged me into it. It quickly became my comfort show. I fell out of it after our break up, and the concept of the show was really iffy in my mind for a while because I was still scared of that breakup and that ex. But about a month or so ago one of my friends mentioned the Lunar and Earth show, talking about it on a VC and said I should try to get back into it.

I had never gotten to the point where Earth was in the SAMS when i was originally into it, but the moment I started watching episodes with characters like Earth, Pollux, Nebula, etc, I absolutely fell in love with them. Earth is a character I see so much of myself in as an oldest daughter, and while Earth is technically the youngest she still carries that weight of the issues I deal with myself. Especially in a family with incredible amounts of generational trauma, I could see my own experiences and coping mechanisms in her. Earth and Monty's relationship is so precious to me. They both have issues that they are still dealing with, but they are working on it together through supporting each other, clear communication, and genuine love and affection. That's all you can ever dream for in a relationship. And they still have their issues, but they are *trying* so so hard.

Earth is there for and supports every character. She plays therapist even when she really shouldn't because that's what she thinks she has to do. And then there's her break from that, where she deals with trying to put herself first, which is something I'm healing from myself. And Earth's issues are portrayed so beautifully.

How I see a lot of Earth's quirks, coding, emotions etc are portraying actual issues that people deal with, even if they're technically animatronics. Earth's current problems being an example of chronic pain, her memory issues being a representation of blocking things out from PTSD (which is something I do), and the current thing that started most of this, her need to promise that she wouldn't hurt her brother. I don't understand why people would be upset about that, because that is something I would do.

If anyone reading this right now is a Queen Kat hater, or a hater of any of the other female VAs / TSBS characters, you can go right ahead and block me. Some people need to learn how the fucking block and scroll button works. THE VAS DON'T OWE YOU ANYTHING.

I was seven years old when I learned that I needed to think before I spoke. So maybe some of you need to go back to school. Use the THINK module!

Before you type, ask if your statement is

T - True? H - Helpful? I - Important? N - Necessary? K - Kind?

Stop acting like pathetic children and get a fucking grip. Fanart and Fanfiction are for your opinions and ideas. The TSBS actors don't need to do anything for you. They Deserve Better. Kat deserves better.

Queen Kat will not be writing anymore for the LAES show because you all made her fucking cry. Get. A. Grip. You are not children, most of you are probably grown adults. This is her world, her creations, her characters, her writing. She deserves so much better than you are treating her, and she deserves to be able to showcase something she really loves and is excited about.

Quit Ruining It For Everyone Else.

[megwritesriddles]

Sweetest Nectar ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Being at Hogwarts at university-level had it's perks, such as unsupervised days in the greenhouse with Neville. Reader finds herself in an unfortunate position thanks to a flower in the greenhouse and Neville has to figure out how to help while being a gentleman and preserving their friendship.

Tags: Sex pollen, Mildly dubious consent, Fingering, P in V, Unprotected sex, Begging, Friends to lovers, Minor yearning, HogwartsUniversity!AU, Post-war/Eighth year, Virgin!Neville (he just is, I don't make the rules), Too much backstory, Sentient Hogwarts, Silly fluffy ending.

Word count: 11.1k

all fandom masterlist | hp masterlist | read it on ao3

Authors note: Can you see why I've been gone so long??? This had zero business being 11k words but I'm a chronic overexplainer so here we are!! Skip the first 9 paragraphs if you don't care about any worldbuilding. Continuing my 'Neville gets muscular as he gets older' agenda as per. The last line is so dumb... Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

P.S. this is technically day 23 of my kinktober but it's january so lets not talk about that

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Hogwarts worked in mysterious ways, with its own indecipherable motives. This much had always been true but was especially recognised lately. Once rebuild efforts had concluded after the war, Professor McGonagall, like every headmaster before her, bar Severus Snape, had sent out invitations to recent graduates to join the Higher Education program, a two-year program that would prepare its students to become a professor in any chosen field, subject to meeting entry requirements of the course. Demand for this program was higher than it ever had been, so many recent Hogwarts graduates felt like they had missed so much time at Hogwarts, that they were willing to come back on the program just to make up for lost time. At first, McGonnagal thought of shutting the whole thing down or at least raising entry requirements for joiners; there wasn’t exactly enough room in the designated Higher Education quarters for all the applicants. And though the regular student population had dwindled significantly over the course of the war (best not thought about too hard), it seemed wrong to try and room adults with 15-year-olds just to fit everyone in. The night before she intended to send out the letters of amendment to the required marks, McGonagall felt bizarrely compelled to go on a stroll around the castle, feeling drawn down a route she didn't often find herself going. There, she found a brand new door, behind which were brand new living quarters, just big enough for all the applicants. Although she should have been relieved, McGonagall was initially rather frustrated by this. Why now did the blasted old castle decide it could build, when nearly all summer long volunteers had been slaving away to restore the castle? The windows glittered as if to wink at her, she decided that the daft old thing must have liked the attention. McGonagall found herself relieved, she too felt that the recent graduates were not ready for the career world quite yet, having had not only their final year of study lost to the war, but the years before that tarnished by looming threats and incompetent bumblers. Also, there was an urgent need for qualified teachers of magic, so the more the merrier, even if most of them would only use it as a springboard into something else. 

You had always been a shoo-in either way, although you never got to sit your NEWTs, the honourary grades you were given were stellar, supported by fantastic results in your OWLs and overall fantastic conduct in class. The blemishes on your record from the Carrow's note-taking were wiped, leaving your record squeaky clean. You received your acceptance letter and list of supplies and felt like you were eleven again. Everyone was required to specialise in a subject, and while you'd had a couple in which you had adequate grades which you might have chosen, you went for Herbology in the end, as it was something you loved.  In all honesty, you liked Professor Sprout the best and were eager to train under her. 

As soon as you received your letter, you wrote to Neville. There was no doubt in your mind that he would be studying under Professor Sprout alongside you, despite not even knowing if he had applied to the program initially. He quickly confirmed this suspicion when he wrote back to you, saying he had a sneaky feeling about you as well. The two of you had become fast friends in the sixth year, both being in Advanced Herbology. You'd known each other a little here and there before that, but in this class, your friendship truly formed. The class was very small, as the interest in Advanced Herbology was low, most careers only required a decent grade in standard Herbology, so even those with interest had to prioritise other things for the sake of their future, such as Potions or Charms. There were only the two of you and a pair of Slytherin girls who, despite seeming genuinely very passionate about the subject, refused to converse with the two of you and whispered amongst themselves all the time. This was fine with both of you, as you had each other, taking time to study together, walking to and from class, and working efficiently during any pair work. The two of you had been ripped apart during the war, you had to steer clear of Hogwarts for your safety, and Neville, being intensely monitored by the Carrows at the time, refused to write to you and risk revealing your location to them, so you had been out of contact for quite a while. You wrote to him again on his birthday and had been corresponding a little since, but things felt slightly stunted. You hadn't seen each other in so long and Neville was never the best when it came to socialising. 

Arriving at Hogwarts once again had been intensely bittersweet. So many good and bad memories to try and process all at once, it felt overwhelming. You'd had to step outside during the sorting but found yourself far from alone out there. So many people were broken. You apprehensively made your way over to Hermione and said hello. She pulled you into a tight hug, as you hadn't seen her for a long time either. You listened as she explained about Harry and Ron, that they didn't want to go into teaching, and though she'd explained over and over that most people that do the program don't end up teaching, they'd still refused to come. Trying to make the most of it, she tells you it'll be nice to spend time with other friends for once and you nod along. She is somehow specialising in three subjects, she'd wanted to do more of course, but it hadn't been allowed. Trust Hermione to work herself to the bone happily. You'd made it to your room later that night, a private room with an en-suite, which felt awfully fancy for Hogwarts, and settled in. Being back was an odd feeling, you could see the cracks in the stone everywhere you looked, there was pain everywhere, yet so much good to try and find.

To your complete relief, when you started your first day in the Greenhouses, things fell back into place with Neville instantly. At first, you'd greeted him with a hug, which had been awkward as he hadn't been expecting it, but very pleasant once he figured out what was going on. Soon after this though, as Professor Sprout set you her first task (to prepare some plants for her third years), things were back to as they were, perfect. You worked together well, talking and laughing easily, and though occasionally the chat went sour and the mood fell, this was happening with everyone lately, a byproduct of the war, there was so little to talk about that wasn't tarnished that it was a wonder the two of you were able to laugh as much as you were. Neither of the two girls from advanced Herbology were there, and although this initially saddened you both, you conceded that there could be many reasons for it. There weren’t many Slytherin returners, there never had been, but after the war especially, the turnout was pathetic. Most Slytherins avoided their peers after the war for fear of ostracism, which was fair as people had some pretty bad opinions on them but sad because there were several Slytherins who hadn’t been on the wrong side of history who were still facing hostility. 

The course was a lot of independent study of assigned texts and essay-writing, but all day on a Tuesday and half a day on a Thursday, the two of you were in the smaller greenhouse behind the ones for teaching, working on various projects, which also sometimes required your attention out of teaching hours. This greenhouse was set aside initially for research purposes at Sprout’s predecessor's request, but now was being used to train those in the higher education program. Despite this greenhouse being smaller than the two nearer the grounds, it was still fairly large and complex. Upon entering, you came into a little cloakroom, where you would have to don your aprons and gloves before entering, with a sink in the corner for washing up when leaving and entering. The next room was the main growing area, growing various plants that weren’t dangerous but were still perhaps best kept out of the reach of the younger students. There was a long wooden workbench in the middle of the room for potting and taking notes and whatever else you might need to do. Off of the opposite end of this room, there were three doors, one that led to a small room which was always kept humid and at tropical temperatures, one which was always kept cool and dry and one lockable room in which more dangerous plants were kept, such as venomous tentacula or fanged geraniums, only to be accessed with Professor Sprout supervising. 

Professor Sprout would only tutor the two of you on Thursday, so with the exception of the first few weeks, the two of you were entirely alone from 9 am to 4 pm on a Tuesday. Although it sounded a little salacious when you told friends, the truth was that most Tuesdays you were both too busy for anything to happen. Not that anything would of course, but certain assumptions were made when people heard you were alone together for hours with what they assumed was an easy subject. Mostly your days were full of tending to the plants, having to frequently refer to your notes for how each should be cared for (how much water? what temperature should the water be? do they require singing to?), observing any plants that were the subjects of your essays and preparing plants so they would be safe for lessons with younger year groups. 

It’s a Tuesday like any other. Neville is carefully planting some seeds across the workbench from where you��re delicately pruning a particularly active flitterbloom bush, setting the clippings aside to send to the potions department later. One of Neville’s research subjects is observing what methods of growth acceleration work the best and cause the least damage to the plants they’re applied to. He has been planting, growing and replanting dittany over and over for weeks now, but was still gathering more data as he came across more and more methods to test, and each had to be tested several times over to rule out external factors. 

Your research was on the merits and drawbacks of pruning, and which plants took best and worst to the practice. Pruning was useful as it allowed more ingredients to be obtained from individual plants for potioneering purposes, but generally was thought to be harmful to the overall health of the plant. You were attempting to write a definitive list of which of the 25 most common plants used in potions could be pruned and which couldn’t, which to your surprise had hardly been researched before as the belief of its harmfulness had permeated the field since 1870 and most Herbologists had steered clear of it since. Your research seemed to be proving it wasn’t nearly as harmful as thought.

The two of you chat idly as Neville uses a pipette to apply various growth potions to the soil of his newly planted seeds and you carefully measure the regrowth of a stem of the flitterbloom bush that you pruned a few weeks ago, struggling as the stem swayed about. 

“I can’t believe Hermione talked Ron and Harry into actually joining the course next term,” Neville hums, extracting exactly 5 millilitres of potion from a bottle with his pipette. You scoff. 

“For real this time? They keep saying that yet nothing ever comes of it,” you shake your head, scribbling down your measurement on the parchment beside you.

“Yes, really, two new rooms have appeared in the boys' dorms with their names on them, if Hogwarts knows, it must really be happening,” his tongue sticks out slightly between his teeth as he concentrates on dropping the liquid right in the middle of the little pot. Not wanting to throw his research, you wait until he’s done to reply.

“Perhaps Harry and Ron don’t even know it themselves,” you joke, making Neville chuckle. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the castle decided it for them,” he carefully pushes the cork back into the top of the potion bottle. “The castle is quite odd lately, perhaps it has whatever its equivalent of brain damage is from the war, it’s acting much more blatantly,”

“How so?” you tilt your head in his direction, soothing your finger over the agitated stem that you just had to hold taut for measuring. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard all the stories of people getting stuck in rooms with the people they like, doors literally disappearing until they confess or otherwise!”  Neville laughs, carefully moving his pots back to their designated spot on the windowsill. With his back turned, you can’t help but glance at the door despite yourself, wondering if it’s still there. It is. You quickly avert your eyes from the door as he turns back toward you. “It’s why there’s suddenly all these couples popping up, sure the castle has always been a little cheeky, but never so obvious before, it all started with the higher education wing appearing overnight and it’s seemingly been madness since,” he shakes his head, picking up another batch of pots containing little sprouts at various heights that he has to measure. 

“It’s sweet how many people have liked each other and not even known… has it always been people who like each other stuck together?” you ask, stroking your quill, feeling the soft tufts beneath your fingers. 

“As far as I’ve heard, each time it’s happened it’s ended well,” Neville shrugs, rifling through his bag for his measuring tape. You glance at the door again, seeing it still there. Unrequited, you figure, that door will stay right where it is. 

“I wonder where the brain of the castle is if it even has such a thing… it is sentient in some ways, so there must be an equivalent right?” you ponder as he loudly removes his books from his bag and thuds them onto the workbench. 

“The room of requirement? For some reason that comes to mind… a fire in your brain can’t be good,” he chuckles, his voice slightly strained as he peers under the table for the offending measuring tape.

“You can borrow mine,” you suggest softly as he comes up with nothing. 

“No it’s fine, you need it,” he waves his hand dismissively, standing up from his stool. “I’ll fetch mine from my room, I’m fairly certain I know exactly where it is on my desk, can’t believe I forgot it again,” he grumbles the last part to himself. “Be back in 15, watch my plants,” he smiles, although you can tell from his sheepish look that he’s embarrassed to have forgotten something yet again. Luckily, you could head back to fetch things at any time at your level, no longer having to ask to go to the toilet or anything like that. There was no one here to ask. You smile back, watching as he enters the cloakroom. A few moments later, you see his heavily blurred figure heading up the hill through the heavily rippled glass of the greenhouse windows. In the newfound quiet, you return to your work, hearing only the spray of simulated rain in the tropical growing room. 

Finally finished with the flitterbloom, you stand to retrieve your next plant, a valerian bush, for pruning. As you move to stand and step forward, you feel an odd pressure at your ankle. Stepping forward anyway, you realise too late that your foot is hooked on a support between the legs of your stool, sending both you and the stool off balance and toppling over toward the room-length counter that holds all the various plants. Reflexively, your body twists and your arms come up to shield your head as you thud loudly into the solid wood surface, causing a choir of wobbling pots, luckily with no ensuing crash of broken terracotta, you had to count your blessings somewhere. A dull pain throbs through your body, starting from the side that crashed against the counter. Thud! A yelp rips from you as the stool, still twined with your leg, falls onto your thigh. Luckily, it is only light and will leave a small bruise at most, your side colliding with the counter on the other hand…. You shut your eyes tight, feeling utterly embarrassed about what just happened despite being alone. You weren’t normally this clumsy and you were sure you looked a mess, an undignified heap on the floor, too shocked to stand up or even open your eyes yet. In the permeating silence, you sit on the cold stone floor and try not to cry, from the shock more than the pain. 

A violent sneeze overtakes your body, the action of it hurting your side. You sniff and cough, dust seemingly surrounding you. You must have jostled some old dusty plants that hadn’t been touched in a while when you collided with the surface. Surrendering to the coughs and sniffs that wracked through your pained body, you wait it out until the dust subsides, grabbing your bruised side as you double over with violent sneezes and sputters. Finally, a deep breath of clean air, you sag against the counter and try to gather yourself now you can breathe properly once more.

“It was exactly where I thought it was…” The door from the cloakroom creaks open in the silence as Neville enters, clutching his measuring tape. “I can be so scatterbrained,” he huffs, his eyes sweeping the room at the height he expects you to be. In embarrassment your eyes squeeze tighter, not wanting him to see the mess you’d gotten yourself into. Upon not seeing you, he glances around for any evidence you might be in one of the back rooms, though not thinking of a reason you would be. 

“Down here,” you squeak, your voice hoarse from coughing. The words itch your throat and you splutter slightly once more as he rounds the workbench and spots you on the ground. You give a sheepish smile, finally having opened your eyes. It’s painfully obvious from your stool-adorned leg what happened, you just hope he doesn’t think any less of you. He shouldn’t, he has a reputation for being clumsy himself, but you can’t help but worry. “I fell,” you rasp pathetically. 

“Are you alright?” he surges toward you and kneels, immediately examining your head for any bumps, rubbing over your scalp gently. The action makes your cheeks heat up, but you try to ignore it. 

“I’m okay, I landed on my side,” you reply as he carefully removes the stool from around your leg and stands it back up beside the workbench. His arms wrap around you and he carefully lifts you to stand, you yelp as the movement stretches your side and he shushes you gently. 

“It’s alright, there we go… just—,” he holds you steady until you’re stable on your feet. When he lets go of you, it feels oddly painful deep in your stomach, but you brush that off. 

“Thank you,” you whisper shyly. 

“Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?” he asks, bringing his hand up to feel your skull once more, worrying over whether you might have been badly injured. You lean slightly into his hand without meaning to.

“No I promise, it was just my side and my thigh,” you insist, inwardly wishing he’d brush his hand against those spots to check them. For a moment his hand moves like he might, but he stops himself. 

“If you’re sure,” he inspects you once more, hovering behind you as you sit back down on the stool, trying to brush past this whole incident. “Can I grab your plant for you?” he offers. “Which were you going for?” you want to complain, but his eyes are wide and earnest and you know he wants to help.

“The valerian… and could you pop the flitterbloom back for me?” you request, hesitantly testing the tender skin where the stool collided with your thigh, wincing at the throb of pain that followed your touch. Neville dutifully returns the flitterbloom to the counter, then places the valerian bush before you. Behind you, you hear him gently pushing some of the pots that had moved when you smashed into the counter back into place. You flush and keep your head down, pretending to inspect the valerian bush but not being able to focus. Your brain feels a little fogged up, you assume from the shock of the fall. Not wanting to alarm Neville in any way, you grab your tape measure and pretend to measure the leaf regrowth. He quietly moves around the workbench, bringing his pots over to your side of the bench and sitting down beside you to resume his work, his brows furrowed in concern for you. “Really, I’m okay,” you chuckle, but the weakness of your voice does little to reassure him.

“It’s better if I sit here, just in case something happens,” he says, more firmly than he usually says anything. That side of him was new since the war, this ability to stick up for himself in smaller situations. He’d always known how to stick up for the greater good, but little things like this, he would allow himself to be walked all over, too scared of losing a friend. Now that he has more confidence, he’s not so afraid to dispute his nearest and dearest, knowing you’re unlikely to end your friendship with him over this. And if you did, it would be weird and not his fault anyway. The tone of voice is also on the newer side and it stirs something in your belly.

You sit side by side working on your respective projects. Well, Neville is working, you’re more just going through the motions while your mind hovers elsewhere, not allowing you to focus on what you’re meant to be doing. Maybe you were concussed… but you hadn’t hit your head during the fall, so what was wrong? You take a few deep breaths, trying to slow your heart which still seems to be beating slightly fast. Slowly but surely, your body starts to feel a little warm. You glance to make sure the door to the tropical room hasn't opened as your cardigan starts to feel a little stuffy. No matter where you look in the room, you can’t find any source of excess heat. A puff of breath breaches your lips, you’re growing uncomfortable now, the heat only seems to rise and rise. With great unnecessary difficulty, you wrestle yourself free of your cardigan, throwing the wretched thing on the ground beside you with a grunt. Neville gives you a confused look, but not yet seeing anything obviously wrong with you, returns to his measurements. There is relief from the warmth that was engulfing you, but only for ten minutes at most, as soon you are sweltering once more. An awful voice at the back of your head tries to convince you to throw off all of your clothes, but you keep it together, merely squirming in your seat, rubbing your thighs together to try and quell the growing ache in your belly that your mind isn’t quite registering yet. In a last-ditch effort, you sip some water from your lukewarm water bottle, the relief it provides is even shorter than before. Your head whips around now, searching fruitlessly once more for the source of this despicable heat, but finds nothing. Neville is unfazed beside you, still wearing his sweater and looking perfectly comfortable. The only thing you can think of is that Neville must be radiating the heat, as nothing else could explain your sudden discomfort. You reach your hand out toward him, trying to gauge if it gets warmer the closer it gets to his side. This finally catches his attention and when he looks up, he’s met with your flushed clammy face and dilated pupils.

“Whoa! Is everything alright?” he sputtered, leaning back slightly as if worried you’re contagious. This upsets you and you let out an unseemly whine.

“I’m hot,” you huff, pushing your hair back from your face to get more cool air on your skin. “Really hot,” Neville’s eyes brush over you for a moment as he considers just how hot you are, before promptly snapping himself out of it.

“You do look a little… feverish,” he agrees, reaching out and touching the back of his hand to your forehead. You lean forward into the touch, moaning softly. Your skin is burning and slightly tacky with sweat, which makes Neville frown deeply. How could you have suddenly developed such a terrible fever? He pulls his hand back, but you immediately whine and claw at his arm to pull his hand back. Too baffled to protest, he lets you pull his hand to your cheek and watches you lean against it happily. He gently runs his thumb over your cheekbone before catching himself. “Are you alright?” he enquires once more, keeping his voice soothing.

“Don’t stop touching me,” you pout, looking up at him through your lashes with a look that is wholly inappropriate for an academic premises. He swallows.

“Wha-what?” he stammers, watching as you nuzzle against his hand.

“It helps the heat… don’t stop,” you whimper, reaching out to try and pull him closer by his sweater, but not being strong or focused enough to do it. This failure pulls another whine from you. Neville’s mind reels completely and he has to look away from you to compose himself, though he keeps your cheek cradled in his palm. What was going on with you? Were you ill? His eyes find the spot where he’d found you on the floor just earlier in his attempts to avoid the sultry unexplainable look you were giving him. “I need you to touch me,” you mewl, making him shiver.

“I’m not sure that’s–” he cuts himself off when his eyes land on the plant on the counter above where you fell. Lamprocapnos libidinosus, also known as the dripping heart, a magical relative of the bleeding heart flower in the muggle world. A common ingredient in lust potions and aphrodisiacs, highly dangerous in the wrong hands due to the potent amorous effects of its spores. Neville vaguely remembers Professor Sprout's warnings that one of the PhD students was being allowed to grow it for research and to steer completely clear of it. A warning he’s sure you would have headed if you hadn’t been tumbling toward it. Even from afar, he notices a couple of burst spore pods. “Oh no…” he mumbles to himself, dropping his hand from your cheek. You immediately protest but he stops you short. “When you fell… you didn’t happen to breathe in any dust, did you?” his voice shakes slightly, this cannot be happening to you. He always thought they shouldn’t have the plant growing in this greenhouse, even if only experienced herbologists were allowed in. Accidents happened as he knew all too well, and now his vague fears had become a biting reality.

“Yeah, why?” your voice is soft and sweet as you paw at him, trying to get him to hug you, or presumably something more. Neville flushes brightly and shoots upright, making a mad dash for his textbooks, still on the workbench from when he’d been searching through his bag. You wail at his absence, feeling the heat that had reduced to a low simmer return to a full boil. “Please…” you sob at him, not even knowing why you want what you want. “Just hold me, comfort me,” The look in your eye has him breaking, and if he remembers what little he’s read about the plant, you must be rather uncomfortable right now. He returns to your side and allows you to cling to his arm, bumping your head into his shoulder like a loving cat, while he frantically searches for the information he needs to help you. After several panicked flick-throughs, he locates the page.

Lamprocapnos libidinosus; also known as the Dripping Heart or the Flower of Lust.

At the top of the page is information entirely useless to this cause, the best season to plant, how much light is needed, etcetera, but finally Neville finds what he’s looking for under the ‘uses’ section. It’s tough to focus on reading when you’re practically trying to get under his sweater with him, pushing the knit material slightly up his side, your fingertips brushing his abdomen and making him jolt. He pushes your hand away but pulls you into a hug to silence your outcries, which you’re more than happy to sink into. He’s hugged you plenty of times so he pretends this is perfectly normal as he wills his brain to digest what's in front of him on the page. It’s hard to keep this pretending up as he can hear you sniffing him and moaning deeply at the smell of his shower gel, mixed with just a hint of sweat, which in this state only fuels your arousal, acting as a pheromone, worsening your need.

He skims the section frantically. Inhalation of the spores will lead to overwhelming feelings of lust even in small doses, however, the dose may affect who this lust is directed toward. Smaller doses will only worsen lust toward people already lusted after by the infected person, while larger doses will cause these feelings of lust to latch onto whoever is around, no matter prior relationships. The infected person will pursue their object of affection at any cost, they will be unable to focus on anything but the lust that has overtaken them. These feelings of lust, if left untreated, can cause extreme discomfort in the infected person, high fevers, intense symptoms of arousal (such as fluid secretions), shivers, brain fog and other symptoms varying by person and dose. The only way to cure the infected person of these symptoms and return them to full faculties is to have them reach climax.

It seems that you have chosen him as the object of your affections. Neville looks down at you as you hug him tight, continuously trying to slip your hand beneath his jumper. Out of selfish curiosity, he heads for the plant to try and determine how large of a dose you got and whether you may have already experienced feelings of lust toward him before the effects of the plant. When he moves away, you practically sob.

“Please don’t!” you wail, diving for him and into his arms once more. For now, you seemed to be mostly content just being held in his arms, and it’s clear you find it painful when separated from him for even a moment, so Neville has to relent. He delicately lifts you, and although having you wrap your legs around his hips hadn’t been a part of his plan, he supposes it does help keep you steady. He blushes brightly as he walks over to inspect the flower. He’s never held anyone like this, so intimately. Your skirt rides up where your legs wrap around him and he has to tear his eyes away before his thoughts become too inappropriate. You like the sight as much as he does. “You’re so strong,” you purr in his ear, your voice much lower than normal. He shivers and you feel it, the knowledge you’re having some effect on him overtakes your lust-addled brain. 

“Th-thank you, I’ve been exercising a lot since the war,” he mumbles, counting all the burst pods on the plant. He counts five, but he’s not sure if that’s considered a large dose or not. Probably, but the pods do look rather small.

“Mmm, it’s so hot…” you purr, trying to wriggle against him. Neville’s face turns red and he practically drops you, but holds you steady so you don’t fall once more once your feet touch the ground.

“Don’t say stuff like that!” he yelps.

“It’s true,” you pout. “I need you,” you try to hop up into his arms again but he holds you firmly on the ground, practically shaking. Really, this should’ve been a dream come true for him, he’d had feelings for you practically since the day the two of you met, but he felt disgusted with himself for every wave of excitement that passed over him. You were burning up, your cheeks brightly flushed, a deep ache at the pit of your belly and an ever-growing wetness in your underwear. All you could think about was how it might feel to have Neville soothing the fire inside you with deep strong thrusts, you moan aloud, if you focus enough you can almost feel it. “I bet you’re big, I bet you’d fill me up so well,” you murmur, looking up at him seductively.

“I- Merlin…” Now Neville feels overheated, he tries to push you away a little but you aren’t letting him. The image of filling you up won’t leave his head no matter how much he commands it to. It doesn’t help that you’re now trying your best to reach his jaw to kiss it. 

“Please…” you beg once more. “I need it so badly…” his resistance crumbles for a moment and his hands drop from your sides, allowing you to rush forward and attach your lips to his jaw. His eyes slip shut and he whimpers as you hold him close and lavish his neck and jaw with attention. His arms wrap around you, hands gently skimming your back as you continue to pepper him with kisses. “Please,” you whisper against his skin, your hand dropping to the buckle of his belt. The feeling of you tugging at his belt makes his eyes shoot open. He realises in a sudden flood of shame what he’s allowed you to do. You’ll hate him for this once you’re back to normal. He grabs your shoulders harshly and pushes you away. You squeak as he sits you on one of the stools, your eyes filling with tears at the rejection. You’d been so close to what you needed, and now with this newfound distance from him, you were in pain once more, a horrible throb in your stomach. 

“Listen to me,” he breathes shakily. “We can’t do this, you’ll regret it as soon as it’s over,”

“No, I–”

“You’re not in your right mind, you don’t know what you actually want,” he asserts again, reminding himself more than anything. He takes a deep breath and thinks. The only way to cure you according to the textbook was for you to reach climax. In colloquial stories about the plant, he’d always heard that orgasm would have to be reached with the help of another person, but the book didn’t stipulate this, maybe this was the answer. You could do it alone. His cheeks were flushed bright red as he opened his mouth once more. “What you need to do is… er… I’m going to take you into the cloakroom, alright?” he swallows, cautiously pulling you up from the stool onto your feet. You would need to sit somewhere to do this presumably and sitting on the stool or the workbench in here could lead to falling and disaster all over again. The best place he could think of was the bench in the cloakroom where people could sit to remove their shoes. You would have the wall to lean against and wouldn’t be sitting on the cold stone floor. Beneath you, he lays out a towel and then helps you to sit down on top of it. The towel was intended to make you more comfortable, but he considers with a blush that it might be necessary for other reasons also. He clears his throat. “Now, you have to… er… get yourself… uhm…” he can’t seem to make himself say the words. With a soft tug at his sleeve, you pull him to kneel between your legs, your faces nearly level given how much height he has on you. 

Before he can stop you, you kiss him. His brain stops functioning for a moment, all he can do is wrap his arms around you and kiss back, so intoxicated by the way your lips move against his. He didn’t have much experience with kissing, but there was no doubt this was the best kiss of his life. You moan against his mouth and it sets all his nerve-endings alight, making him push even closer to you in desperation. For you, the kiss is a sweet relief, cool water washing over your overheated body, but even so, you need more. There’s an incessant throbbing between your legs, a horrible feeling of emptiness that you know only Neville could fill. Trying to urge him on, you brush your tongue against his lips, hoping for entry. You’re allowed in for one tantalising moment before he pulls away with a start when your tongues graze against each other. The whine that rips from your throat is downright pathetic, but you don’t have the faculties to care at that moment. You look at him through your lashes, watching as he fights to regain his composure, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Never in his life has he felt as weak as in this moment, rendered so malleable by his desire for you. The two of you are friends. How will you react when you come back to normal and discover he let you kiss him in this state? That he’s allowed his selfishness to get in the way of what’s right? He jumps to his feet, ignoring your cries and protests as much as it pains him to do so.

“Look, the textbook says that the only way to cure you of this is… a uh… a climax,” he blushes and chokes on the words slightly. “I’m going to keep watch outside that nobody comes in, all you have to do is… you know…”

“Get myself off?” you supply in a sultry voice. 

“Yes, exactly,” he clears his throat, turning to leave you alone.

“Nev, please… I need your help… I don’t want to do it alone,” you plead, your voice soft and needy.  

“No, you can do it alo– oh… wow,” he exhales heavily as his eyes reach you once more. In an effort to persuade him, you’d pulled up the hem of your skirt and spread your legs, revealing your thighs and your soaked panties to him. The cold air makes you shiver but doesn’t actually cool you down in the slightest. It takes a great deal of strength to keep Neville from lunging himself at you. You look positively delicious, the wetness of your panties allowing him an outline of your most intimate areas, the skin of your thighs soft and plump and enticing. If he was even a slightly feebler man, he’d already be on his knees, devouring you through the thin, damp fabric. Just imagining how you might taste has him weak in the knees. “Oh Merlin…” he breathes, feeling his erection, which has been slightly present for the last half-hour or so, straining painfully against the zip of his jeans. The needy seductive look on your face almost breaks him, he takes a step toward you, causing you to light up, before he stops himself and just stares. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, unable to help himself. He watches you squirm in response. 

“Please, I need you,” you beg, unbuttoning your shirt as he observes. The garment falls to the ground, leaving you in your plain bra. Neville doesn’t seem to mind how simple the garment is in the slightest, his breath hitching as you reveal yourself.

“I really shouldn’t” he tries again, but he cannot rip his eyes from your body.

“I can’t do it alone, I feel so empty,” you whimper, spreading your legs further. “Please, fill me, I need your cock,” Neville nearly faints at those words, at the pleading way you say them, at how desired you’re making him feel. His legs carry him forward before his brain can catch up and he sits beside you on the bench. His brain finally does catch up just in time to stop you from sitting in his lap.

“Maybe I can help a little, but we can’t… I can’t uh… I can’t ‘fill’ you,” he gives in, despite knowing he probably shouldn’t. He had heard many times that another person was needed to reverse the effects of the Dripping Heart, so it was likely he did have to help, given the fact you hardly seemed satisfied with the idea of getting off alone. He could still be as much of a gentleman about it as possible. He knew the both of you had limited sexual experience, he himself was a virgin and though he wasn’t sure about you, he would guess you were in the same boat or had only had one partner before. With both of you having so little experience, he didn’t want to go all the way, as for you it would likely be regrettable. You plead with him softly, trying to climb into his lap still, despite his strong arms holding you at bay. Each plea weakens his resolve and he knows you know it because you’re babbling now.

“Please, please Nev, I need you inside me, to fuck me, I’ve never needed anything so badly, please, I know you want me too,” he deserved a medal for being able to resist you for this long, most other boys would have given in the second the girl of their dreams said something even remotely flirty, but he was somehow just barely resisting your pleas to have sex with him.

“Sit down,” he implores you, and you quickly obey, batting your lashes at him. “I’m going to help you, okay? But you need to stay still and just… take what I give you, don’t ask for more, okay?” These words seem to excite you, you squirm and nod, eagerly allowing him to spread your legs. His shaking hand rests on your bare thigh for a moment as he takes a few composing breaths. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do, it was something he had dreamed of incessantly, but now it felt like it could ruin his life if he wasn’t careful. You tug softly at his arm, trying to get his hand where you want it, bucking against the air.

“Please…” you sob, clenching around nothing as you look at his large hand against your thigh. He shushes you gently.

“I’m about to, just give me a second,” he stammers, trying to sort through his brain for any information he has on how to do this. He averts his eyes, figuring you wouldn’t have wanted him to see you so intimately, even if the damp fabric of your panties had already given him a pretty good look. Slowly, he places his hand on the apex of your thigh, shivering at the damp warmth he can feel radiating from your core. You mewl. Despite the pain in his neck from the position, he keeps his eyes locked on the wall behind you, pointedly ignoring how arousing the sounds you made were. Gathering his courage, he carefully slips the tips of his fingers past the fabric of your underwear and groans aloud at how wet you are. Your nectar gathers on his fingers and for a moment he just gently swipes them up and down to gather as much as possible, hearing your desperate moans as you lean your head on his shoulder. He never knew a woman could be this wet, and sure perhaps the flower was exacerbating it, but the thought still had him unendingly aroused. The angle wasn’t quite right, so he removed his hand, whining in unison with you at the separation. Your essence dripping down his fingers was like a siren song, trying to lure him to lick his fingers clean and finally get a taste of you. How could he ever explain that to you later? To his infinite regret, he doesn’t bring them to his mouth, sliding his hand into your panties once more, now from the top. This angle works a lot better, your hips immediately buck as his fingers slide over your clit.

“There, please, right there,” you beg, and he’s glad for the advice. A little unsure but determined (no point backing out now, at least he might be able to cure you), he relocates the spot that makes you shiver and whine. Your reaction tells you exactly when he’s found the little bundle of nerves once more and he takes a deep breath, before gently beginning to circle his fingers around it. It’s something he remembers hearing in the common room, and it seems it was good advice as soon you’re panting in his ear like a dog in heat, mewling his name softly. He can’t believe the noises you’re making, the sinful way you’re saying his name, it’s like perfect torture, it takes a lot out of him not to look. “Yes, fuck… Nev…” you whine, feeling the syrupy pleasure coursing through your body. “Yes, yes! More!” 

“More?” he croaks, unsure what you mean by that. As a guess, he tries circling faster, and though you definitely seem to like it, your hips canting up into his touch, he can feel you shaking your head against his shoulder.

“Need you inside,” you cry, making his cock twitch in his jeans.

“We- we can’t do- that,” he stutters, although he’s never wanted to more in his life. He wholeheartedly agrees with your pained sob in response, but he knows it’s for the best. “How about… er… my fingers? Inside?” he gulps, flustered that he’s even in a situation where he can ask such a thing. 

“O-okay,” you whimper. Neville fumbles around for a moment, trying to figure out where to put his fingers. It would be much easier if he could see what he was doing, but he’s already decided he shouldn’t. The fact that he touched you will no doubt be mortifying enough once you’re back to normal. With a little guidance from you, he very slowly and cautiously presses two fingers into you, making you gasp in pleasure. You’re wet and warm and tight around his fingers and he practically drools imagining how you might feel around his cock, almost cumming on the spot just thinking about it. Merlin, he was such a pathetic virgin, maybe he should be taking the chance and losing his virginity now, but it just doesn’t feel right when he doesn’t know how you’ll feel about it afterwards. He presses his forehead to the cool wall to calm himself down and prevent him from looking at how you took his fingers in, withdrawing them just slightly and then pressing them back in. The sound that comes from you makes Neville’s heart skip, so lewd and sinful and full of ecstasy. He wants desperately to kiss you, but he knows he shouldn’t. 

At your renewed pleading, he starts up a steady pace, thrusting his fingers in and out the way he wished he could with his cock, feeling filthy for even thinking it. The wet sound that each thrust made, accompanied by your wanton moans makes him feel like he’s the one who has been infected by the flower, so crazed with desire. Could there have been some pollen on you that he inhaled when he helped you up? It didn’t seem impossible, but he was also a young man, they weren’t exactly notorious for being level-headed when it came to sex. You lean heavily against him, gasping against his shoulder at each press of his fingers, the coil in your belly twisting tighter than it ever had before. You mumble incoherent pleas and he simply shushes you, not trusting himself not to give in to you if you keep talking. 

“Thumb,” you breathe between vulgar moans and though it takes his sluggish brain a moment, he realises what you want. He presses his fingers deeper, fumbling a moment before his thumb grazes your sensitive bud, making you sob in pleasure. His large deft hand pleasures you like it was made for it, all you can think of is the bliss he’s giving you as he hits all the right spots over and over. Your hand flies up, nails digging into his arm as you realise you’re dangerously close to exploding, despite the bite of your nails, he doesn’t let up his pace, too addicted to the sound of your moans to slow down now. “Nev… I’m–” you cut yourself off with a shout, pleasure shooting through your body like you were struck by lighting. Your muscles tense and tremble, your eyes rolling back in your skull, walls contracting around his fingers hard. The pleasure goes through you in strong waves, drowning you in it, not allowing you respite from shivers and moans for even a second as it wracks through you. You’d never felt anything so intense and all-consuming before. Neville feels your essence gush onto his fingers and though he should be relieved it’s over, he finds himself disappointed that he has to stop doing this, hearing those bewitching sounds. Gently, he removes his hand from you and guides your skirt back down your thighs so he can finally look toward you again. His fingers are covered in your essence, creamy and mouth-watering, the only thing that’s able to stop him from having a taste is your hand still clinging to his arm. He waits for you to gather your breath, silently smug he was able to help, but also petrified of what happens next. 

“Are you alright?” he asks delicately, shifting his erection away from your back now that you might actually register it. You open your eyes and look up at him, which immediately makes him frown. Your pupils are still almost comically dilated, your cheeks still pink and clammy, and though it could just be from the aftermath of your orgasm, he immediately knows something is still wrong.

“I feel better… but not entirely,” you whisper and Neville bites his lip. Great. He stands to wash his hands in the sink, and during that brief period of absence, he watches you become consumed by the effects of the flower again, pleading for him to come back. He splashes water on his face and takes a deep breath. You had reached climax, he may not be an expert in female orgasms but he knew what he just saw and felt, so what was wrong? Was the plant in the greenhouse genetically modified in some way? Would he have to call Professor Sprout to ask for help? How exactly could he explain that he’d already given you an orgasm and it hadn’t worked? Looking back, he should have taken you to Madam Pomfrey the second he’d realised what had happened to you, but he thought you would have found it too embarrassing. Now things would be infinitely more embarrassing for the both of you if you sought out help. Lesson learned, just because he’d survived a war it didn’t mean he could deal with anything life threw at him alone. He feels you approaching from behind and turns around, allowing you to sink into his arms. “Stay with me,” you plead, holding him close.

“Okay,” he sighs, because what else can he do now? “I’m here,” He caresses your bare back and tries to forget what he just did to you, but he can’t. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, kissing your forehead without thinking. “I’ve made a mess of things, we did all that and you’re not even cured,”

“Why won’t you fuck me?” you whimper. Your boldness doesn’t even surprise him anymore.

“Because it’s not what you really want, you’d never forgive me once things got back to normal, I was just the only person around for the pollen to latch onto,”

“But that’s what the pollen wants, maybe that’s the only way to cure it, I don’t just want an orgasm, I want you inside me,” you suggest. He’s glad you’re slightly more lucid from the relief of your climax, but you’re still not entirely yourself, your voice slow and sluggish like wading through water when trying to formulate logical thoughts. He can’t deny the way his cock, which had softened slightly, was coming back to life at your words. “Please…” you nuzzle against his chest. “I promise you, I want this even when I’m not… whatever I am right now,” you chuckle. He sighs. He doesn’t quite believe you but he’s running out of ideas of what to do, and your friendship is presumably ruined anyway. Maybe he’s making excuses for himself, but it feels more and more like there’s only one thing for it. He prays you’ll remember how much you begged and how hard he tried to be a gentleman and not hate him, even if you avoid him for the rest of your life after this. “I need you,” you whisper and he gives in.

“Forgive me for this,” he pleads, before lifting you into his arms and moving back over to the bench, sitting down and letting you straddle his lap. You smile at him softly, fluttering your lashes. At least the orgasm before made you a little calmer and more agreeable. If nothing else, if he gets you to orgasm again, you might be even closer to normal. He pulls you to his chest taking a moment to embrace you for what he worries may be the last time. You nuzzle into him eagerly. “I’m a virgin, you know?” he mumbles into your shoulder, not knowing why he feels the need to say it. Those words seem to embolden you, you paw at his chest.

“I promise it’ll be good, please…” you purr. He wonders how you might have reacted if you were your regular self. Would you have found it sweet? Would you have pitied him? You probably knew, everyone knew, but you never mentioned it to him. He allows you to pull off his sweater, lifting his arms and watching you discard it across the room. When you lean in to kiss him, he doesn’t even pretend to put up a fight, holding the back of your neck and kissing you back, pouring all his unspoken feelings into it. He tries to keep it slow and gentle, but you’re far too eager, and the heat starts mounting fast. He pushes away all his doubts, telling himself he can enjoy this, or else it would be even more of a waste. The t-shirt that was under his sweater is next to go, as he pulls away to allow you to rid him of it, he studies your face, still flushed and feverish, but so beautiful, full of lust. His hands fall, one to your waist and the other to your cheek, pulling you back in, pressing his lips to yours and sliding his tongue between them. You moan against his mouth, whimpering a soft sound, a thank you or a plea for more, it’s unclear. He groans back in agreement with whatever it was you intended to say. Your tongues languidly swirl together, caressing one another affectionately. Feeling your warm hands on his bare chest makes him shiver, feeling as you explore the newfound definition of his abdomen, only light, but still a change. In turn, he presses a few kisses to your chest, shakily reaching up to rid you of your bra. It falls away and his cock twitches at the sight of your bare breasts, his breath hitching. He could have never hoped he could see you like this, could have never hoped for any of this, and yet here you were, whining and guiding his hands under your skirt. He runs his hands up and down your thighs as he kisses and sucks at the supple skin of your breasts, giving himself some time to enjoy this despite your hurry. Under different circumstances, he would have liked to have left a mark and asked you to give him one in return, but he knew this was crossing a line as if a million lines hadn’t already been crossed today. At this thought he changes his mind and sucks a tiny mark into the centre of your chest that he’s sure will fade in a few hours, staring at the light pink mark a little wistfully. “Need you inside…” you whine, despite enjoying his affection. There’d be time for that later, but right now it felt completely imperative for him to be inside of you, fearing you might explode if he didn’t give you what you wanted.

“Alright, I get it,” he sighs, placing a few more lingering kisses on the swell of your breasts. Your hands find his belt buckle and without him stopping you this time, they make quick work of it. There’s an awkward shuffle as he helps you lower his jeans around his ankles, but once you’ve settled back in his lap, you take in the sight before you. He looks big even through his boxers, just like you predicted, thick and slightly longer than average. Just the thought of him inside you makes you moan and claw off your skirt with no regard for whether it survives the encounter. Neville’s overheated back presses against the cool wall as he leans back to watch you. He doesn’t bother feeling insecure, as you look like you’ve struck gold as you drool over his length, he supposes in this state you would have been happy with anything. His hands slide up and down your sides, being gentle, taking in the sight of your body, so perfect. He wishes in the back of his mind that this won’t be the last time he sees it, but hope feels too dangerous given the circumstances. He helps you slide your panties down, groaning softly as he spots a string of arousal fluid connecting you and the fabric for a while. You want him so badly. His boxers soon follow and he hisses loudly as your hand wraps around his length. “Oh Merlin…” he whimpers, bucking his hips into your hand. “Fuck, I need you,” he parrots. The ghost of a smile crosses your face as you recognise the words as your own.

“You have me,” you whisper, shifting your hips so you’re above his cock, holding him steady as he twitches. Deep brown hooded eyes stare into yours, he can’t believe his luck. Unable to wait any longer, you sink down onto him. Neville’s eyes squeeze shut in pleasure and he grabs your hips to slow you. You feel perfect around him, warm and silky and inviting, engulfing his whole being in sickly-sweet pleasure. He pulls you close, embracing you as you moan in his ear. Slowly, he lowers you down the rest of the way until your hips are flush with his. For a moment, he simply hugs you and kisses your neck. 

“Feels so good,” he pants in your ear. “So good,”

“You fill me perfectly,” you whine, squirming in his lap for friction. “So big…”

“Yeah?” he coughs, trying to sound smooth but failing, causing him to chuckle nervously. “I won’t last, I’m sorry,” he rubs his hands up and down your spine. “I wish this could last forever,” He lets go of you and leans back against the wall, his hands settling on your hips, taking a moment to admire the sight of you on top of him, him inside you. You feel him twitch within you. “Take what you want, love,” he encourages you to move. There’s no point in him trying to remain in control, all he cares about is that you reach climax, he’s bound to anyway. The nickname makes you even needier somehow, the way his voice is deep with desire. Your hands find his shoulders for purchase, eyes meeting for a moment. You’re both flushed and blissful and the look in his dark eyes shoots a jolt through you. He’s always been attractive, but to see him like this, vulnerable, needy, chest-heaving, it was something else. On his advice, you begin lifting yourself up and lowering yourself down onto his cock, moaning unabashedly with each motion. He stretches you open in the most delicious way, exactly how you’d been picturing all day, or for several years really, perfectly endowed. He relaxes and closes his eyes, groaning and whimpering as you move. Every rock of your hips stokes the flames in the both of you, sending you both toward a common end faster than you regularly might. 

“Thank you,” you purr between moans. “I’ve needed this so bad,” 

“I know,” he chokes out with a tired smile. “I’ve needed it too,” he gently massages the fat of your rear as you ride him, watching in bliss as he disappears inside of you over and over. Your moans rise to a fever pitch, your pace faltering slightly as your climax approaches.

“Yes! Yes!” you practically scream, all your senses heightened as you slam your hips down against him. His face scrunches up in pleasure.

“I’m going to– Ahh!” he grunts, body trembling as he releases thick ropes inside of you, whining with the aftershocks as you continue using him to chase your high. It’s so close, you can’t give up now. Neville’s hands weave into your hair, pulling your face down to his to kiss you. Your tongues meet messily as you struggle to focus on the kiss, preoccupied with your orgasm that is on the tip of your tongue. Heat pools strongly in your abdomen, and you feel the familiar ecstasy of the coil snapping in your belly. Your movement immediately ceases, walls spasming around his length as you moan loudly into his mouth, grabbing him and holding him as close as possible. Your vision whites and your brain goes blank, your whole body twitching violently. He tries his best to soothe you through it, but the pleasure isn’t allowing a single thought to form in your mind for several moments. Finally, your muscles relax and you collapse against him heavily, chest heaving with effort, skin slick with sweat. You vaguely register him removing himself from you and wiping you with a towel, but the corners of your mind are fuzzy and you just cuddle closer to him. You sit in silence for a long while and you nearly fall asleep against his shoulder when he speaks up. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you hum. He tilts your chin up towards him.

“Open your eyes, love,” he implores softly, to which you flutter them open. He sighs a great sigh of relief, seeing your pupils shrink as they react to the light, dilated now a regular amount, and the flush on your cheeks is much less than before. “Do you still need me?” he asks.

“Don’t go,” you panic, holding him closer, but then you realise what he means. “Oh… no, all I want is to maybe have a nap,”

“Thank Merlin, I couldn’t have gone for another round,” he jokes stiltedly. You giggle, cuddling closer once more. “You don’t hate me then?” he mumbles, as if worried he will have reminded you to hate him, gently pushing some hair from your face. 

“No, you… saved me,” you shrug.

“Saved seems dramatic,”

“Well, who knows what would have happened to me if you’d just run away and left me alone? You didn’t have to do what you did, but you did it for me,” you lean up to kiss his cheek. “You gave yourself to me completely, just to save me from discomfort,”

“Trust me, it was my pleasure,” he laughs nervously and you gently swat his chest. “I’d do anything for you,” he whispers, kissing your forehead with a barely contained tenderness.

“Yeah, you’ve proved that,” you grin, kissing his cheek again. “And I for you,”

“You’d have had sex with me if I’d been the one to bump into the plant?” he prompts, sliding his hand up your bare side affectionately. 

“Of course, I’d have done it way sooner too, not wasted time being a ‘gentleman’,” you tease. “Thank you for that though, it was sweet of you, even if it was unnecessary because I don’t regret it one bit,” you promise him, kissing his lips tenderly. He embraces you tighter for a moment and then loosens his grip. 

“We should probably leave, I bet it's past teaching hours now,” he sighs before helping you up and to dress. Your panties are well and truly ruined, so you’re forced to go commando under your skirt. Neville wraps his sweater around your hips to help prevent it from flipping up as you walk through the grounds back to the dorms. He finds it difficult to dress himself as you keep eagerly kissing him, but finally get himself presentable, only to be pulled into another kiss. It’s not desperate or lustful like before, more playful and excited, and he’s happy to accept them. “I take it you like me,” he chuckles as you hug him tight, his arms around you in return.

“Loads,” you sigh into his t-shirt.

“I do too,”

“My room? I promise we can just cuddle and sleep,” you suggest, smiling up at him.

“Hey, give me a few hours, I might be raring to go again,” he jokes.

“Well then definitely my room so I can help you out, I owe you one, don’t I?” you giggle and wink. He blushes slightly and shakes his head. 

“That plant has made a monster, come on,” he takes your hand in his. “Let’s go before someone notices and starts asking questions,” he opens the door into the greenhouse, accio-ing both of your bags over, as well as the open textbook from the workbench. “Stupid inaccurate thing,” he grumbles, stuffing it in his bag. You merely giggle at his frustration. As you turn to leave, you’re met with a gleam of magic, the door to the outside of the greenhouse rematerialising. The two of you exchange a look, neither of you had realised the door was even missing amidst the whole debacle, but it must have been, or else it couldn’t have reappeared. Hogwarts had forced the two of you together, it was likely your fall hadn’t even been organic in the first place. You knew you weren’t usually so uncoordinated.

“Huh,” Neville blinks, checking that the door now works, wondering when exactly it disappeared and how he had missed it. You scoff and shake your head in disbelief before the both of you laugh earnestly.

“Hogwarts is a total perv,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

hey you! want to get tagged in my work when it comes out? click here! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

xoxoxo

[astormyjet]

Winter of 2018 - Summer of 2021 TIME FILES WHEN YOU’RE IN YOUR 20s!!!!

OH BOY. It’s been three years (or more) since I updated this. “Time is a weird soup!” to quote a fave. I guess I quit tumblr around the time there was a purge of content and creators and a smack down on a lot of the fandom communities. Tumblr has always been something of a crapshow though so I’ve been more productive with my time than I was in some ways, but I’ve also found other ways to waste my time. *cough twitter/netflix/youtube/MTGArena cough*.

General Life Achievements since 2018 -JLPT N3 GET in 2019! -Blackbelt GET in 2018! -TESOL 120 Hour and BE 50 Hour Cert from online provider GET in 2021 -STUDENT LOAN BANISHED (Thank you grandparents) -Survived Apartment flooding in early 2020. -Mystery anxiety related illness and chronic pain in my left leg from early 2020 - Present. -A mythical 6th and 7th year on the JET Programme. -Started posting on Instagram a lot more about my wanderings around Matsuyama/Uwajima. Mainly old buildings and stray cats. @astormyknight -Surviving so far in Japan with old rona-chan.

2018 was rough. I was given an additional school in the first semester (March to July) as we had someone find a better job. I enjoyed it, but it was a bit of a rough go especially when I was transferred that August after three fantastic years at Tsubaki JHS and ES and only a semester there. I legit went through the five stages of grief - which I think is another reason I stopped blogging. I was given my current base school along with four other schools. Going from 2(3) to 5 schools was a bit of an adjustment. I still feel a bit spread out.

That said, I keep running into teachers and students who were at the Tsubaki’s. The teachers shuffle around every April, so it's always a lottery with which new faces are going to be old friends (or enemies…). A couple of kids moved and transferred into my current schools from Tsubaki too. So I have one kid I can say I've been teaching for 6 out of the 7 years I've been here!

One of the kids who was in JHS 3rd grade when I first got here (in 2015!) hangs out around one of my favorite cafes, so I got chatting with him recently. He's in his second year of nursing school - his class nearly broke me in the first year, it was really a trial by fire with those kids. I was 22 then, and he’s 20 now, so it was interesting chatting to him about that first year of teaching. His younger sister was one of my favorite students too, she was in the group of kids that graduated in the March of 2018, the year group that went through Tsubaki JHS with me - they’re newly minted University students now!

This Thursday morning when I was cycling in to work, a kid who was 2nd year JHS when I left  (so 2nd or 3rd year JHS now) pulled up with their Mum in a van and got their mamachari out of the back to bike to school. The franticness of it all was hilarious. Their Mum legit sat on the horn until I pulled over. I was so happy to run into this kid, even at social distance and both of us late to work/school - because we both remembered each other and as they were going around the corners they were yelling each time they turned and humming the old elementary school directions chant and pelting me with questions about what I’ve been up to.

I've had so many students and schools now, that everything is kind of running into a blur. I remember flashes of kids faces and voices, random memories of in class or out of class shenanigans out of the blue. Also, I now, more than ever, have issues remembering kids' names, but I still know their faces (even with their masks), whose homeroom class they were in, who their friends were and which club they were in. I get random flashbacks to past conversations with them when I see them on the street or we run into each other. I feel bad because the first thing former students ask is ‘Do you remember my name?’ and I always have to be like, ‘Honestly, no, but I remember you did this on x day, x month in x classroom’.

Socially in 2018 -2019 - a few of our friends went home and things shook up a little. Our DnD group changed a bit - one of our players stepped into the role forever DM (THANK YOU RALPH). From memory the newbies were great - some of them just went home at the start of last month and it’s weird not seeing them around (JESS DO YOUR BEST!). I think we only have one or two people left from that rotation. There’s no 6th year ALTs, and only two 5th years.

Aug 2018 - Aug 2019 was the year of Hiura - my mountain school. Dang man, they were so cool. The students of the JHS and the ES combined barely hit 30, so each class was between 3-10 students depending on the grade. It was easier to get to know the kids, their abilities and their goals than it has been for me at other schools. I miss it so bad, being in nature once a week did my country-kid heart so good! The bugs! The frogs! The river! The mountain! The monkeys! The lizards! The dilapidated houses and hidden shrines!!!! The random crabs in the English room...I forgot that there was such a thing as freshwater crabs, and being right next to a river, the invasion wasn’t as out of place as I first thought...  

The area is so picturesque and calming. Every week up there was a small adventure (after getting over my motion sickness from the bus ride up). The kids were constantly pranking either myself or the main English teacher. There was always some new weird bug or lizard in a tank to be educated about. There were chickens on the way to the JHS that used to escape from their cardboard box prisons to run riot on the gardens. There were old people to freak out with my youth and foreignness! The kids also got to do a lot of extra classes, sumiyakai (making charcoal the traditional way), planting and maintaining rice paddies, setting up vegetable gardens, raising fireflies, conserving a special breed of fire lily (only found in this particular mountain valley) and another rare flower, wilderness training ect.

I wish I could have stayed there a lot longer but SOMEONE (read...the BoE) decided that schools had to be shuffled again(thank goodness the dude who has it now was able to keep it from the 2021 shuffle, he's the best fit for the school). I had so many good memories from there, I wish I had been more consistent in writing it down. I do have a bunch of photos and videos from there though, so that's nice. The only thing I don’t miss is the bus trip up and down - not only was it motion sickness, there was a healthy dose of fear each ride as the driver brought us perilously close to the edge of the mountain drop…

2019 - 2020 was interesting. With the school I got given instead of the Hirua’s I was roped into more demonstration lessons which was a lot of pressure because I was also involved quite heavily with the JHS observation and training lessons too. They were somewhat rewarding, the third graders are now super smart 5th graders, but the teachers  who need to embrace the new curriculum and ways of teaching really haven’t taken on anything from the lessons....

Outside of work as well, I was given the chance, thanks to an ALT buddy of mine, to join in with the local festival. It's been one of the biggest highlights of my time here, and I am gutted it’s been cancelled for the last two years, but I understand the reason…. I was able to travel to Okinawa too during that summer for an international Karate seminar with the Dojo I train with. I met the head of the style I currently practice and a bunch of people from around the world. I also got to see Shuri castle before it burned down. So that was a stroke of luck. One of the places I want to go when/if we get out of this pandemic is Okinawa. I want to see more of those Islands so bad. Just before the whole pandemic thing too - I managed to see the Rugby World Cup, a Canada vs NZ match, I even ran into Tana Umanga in Oita city!!!

2019 - 2020 was supposed to be my last year on JET, so I was frantically Job hunting. I went to the Career Fair in Osaka in early Feb/Late January 2020. I applied and got interviewed for a position in Sendai in early Jan 2020. In the end though - the Rona hit. We started hearing whispers of it around the end of 2019, then the cruise boats happened, and then Japan refused to cancel the Olympics...every holiday season there is a new wave of infections, my nurse friends in Tokyo are struggling....my teacher friends in more populous areas of Japan are struggling…

JET couldn't get new ALTs for 2020-2021, I took the extra year when it was eventually offered, as the one job I had managed to get a serious offer for was hesitating because with the rona setting in, things were uncertain. There was a lot of time spent adjusting to the new rules surrounding what we could do in class with the kids as well as textbook change. Schools shut on and off during the spring months. 

I also got a reminder of my mortality mid May with an unrelated illness which is still smacking me around a bit - stress/age, it does things to the human body it has no right to. It's only been in the last three months I’ve been able to exercise like I used to, I’ve put on a bunch of weight I can't shrug off (one part medication, another part diet) My relationship with food needs to change, and I really need a kitchen that allows me for more than one pan meals. I also need to figure out what to do with a left leg that is in constant pain from the knee down and a heart that misses beats when stressed out (mentally and physically…). 

My apartment also got flooded by the guy upstairs at one point, I spent most of late February/early March living in a hotel while my walls and floor got redone - I think this was one of the things that really stressed me out and kicked my anxiety right up a notch, it was right when things were getting REALLY bad with rona-chan in Hokkaido and schools were shutting down here as it was filtering into the prefecture and so Japan closed schools for the first time…

Classes in covid times have been weird. We’ve been wearing facemasks full time since the early stages of the pandemic (March 2020) - so I admit that I get a bit pissed off seeing both Americans and New Zealanders back home bitching about just having to start wearing them full time in public. I have asthma and have been suffering with the things on during the 30*C plus with high 90s humidity summers. Teachers were offered vaccines late July 2021, just days before the Olympics were open - and I finished my two shots in the middle of August. But the overall distribution and take up of the jab has been slow.  As mentioned above, we can't play a lot of the games we used to play with kids in classes anymore, and a lot of the activities outlined in the textbook curriculum need to be adjusted too, so we’ve had to be creative. We use hand sanitizer a lot more too. One of the things I miss the most though, is eating lunch with the kids.

Socially from summer 2020 - now 2021 we played a lot of DnD and board games, both online and in person when we could. There were no new ALTs again for the 2021-2022 JET year, and those of us who were in 6th year were offered a 7th. Four out of six of us took it. As a whole we’re down from a peak of 38 ALTs for Junior High and Elementary school to 22 for now. We hopefully will get a new person at the end of September, and 4 more in November. Which will bring us to 27. This has led to ANOTHER round of school shuffles.

Summer vacation has been weird the last two years. With rona-chan, we haven’t really been able to travel. All the summer festivals (all the Autumn and Winter ones too!) have been cancelled, so the changing of seasons just feels, wrong. I dunno. There is so much we all miss from pre-rona-chan, and so much that doesn’t happen that makes this just feel like one long long unending year of sadness, coldness, raininess, unbearable heat and repeat. I’m tired. Time is going so fast, but so.dang.slow.

I lost my favorite school (AGAIN GDI!!!) and gained the school I taught a semester at in 2019....I had my first day there on Wednesday. Schools actually started back on September 1st so there was some drama as the BoE didn’t communicate fast enough about our school changes. We legit got told on the 27th of August (on a Friday) our schools were changing effective September 1st, but somehow some of our schools found out on the Monday 30th August. In July we were told we would be changing schools at the end of September, so.a lot of ALTs and schools were left short changed, not having opportunities to say goodbye to co-workers or students/having their planning for the semester more or less thrown out the window too. I love my job. I really dislike the way the BoE treats us, the Japanese assistant language teachers and our schools.

The new school I have is used to having an ALT there twice a week, who plans all the lessons and executes them. I’m at three elementary schools. I'm only at each once a week, I want to plan, but being that I miss an entire lesson in between visits, it's going to be difficult to do so. Not impossible, but being that I'm already doing it for two other schools, who are at two different places in the textbook ah…….. From what I have talked to my new supervisor about though, it sounds like the teachers have taken on more of the lesson planning and I'll be able to contribute ideas when I'm there. I just want to and wish I could do more without being confused all the time. (This is all usually done in my second language too, not in English so extra levels of confusion and miscommunication abound).

 I feel like this at my JHS too a lot of the time. I want to contribute more, but even with constant communication with my main in school supervisor (who is a badass and pretty much on the same page about everything with me) I still feel about as useful as tits on a bull. Especially now that classes have been cancelled and or shortened, there's less time to do stuff. Any game or activity I plan is usually cut in favor of making up time in the textbook. When I'm in class, I'm back to being a tape recorder, the fun police and general nuisance.　

Also in the last week...my two of my schools were  shut due to students testing positive for the rona. This is the second time my schools have had a scare in the last 8 months. And by shut, I mean the students were all at home, but the teachers  all had to come into the office. Because why not I guess….. I mean,  the cases increasing is really not unexpected with the amount of people who were travelling over obon and the increase of cases due to the Olympics/Japan being slow on vaccinating/delta being the dominant strain/Japan's leaders doing relatively little except asking shops and restaurants to limit people coming in at one time and closing before 8pm. I know my schools weren't the only one shut either - but still High Schools were having their sports days this week. I kept on seeing groups of kids hanging in the park after, so that was a little bit nerve wracking.

It's just frustrating - we’ve been on half days to “minimize the risk of infection” for kids and teachers, as if only being at school from 8am through to 1pm is going to reduce the risk.  My schools have only just started testing out Microsoft teams and Zoom lesson equipment. Thankfully our school’s run in this time was contained real quick, the family was super good about informing us when they got their results back, and the fact they needed to be tested. The homeroom teacher and the students from the same class were the only ones tested, and they all came back clear, which was nice. But the information came back so SLOW. 

I’m a little irritated because I found out on Wednesday night what was going on, and even if I am vaccinated, I am super worried that I will end up being the covid monkey due to being at different schools three days out of five. I think other than being worried that I will catch it myself and get real sick, my biggest fear is that I will be protected from bad symptoms from the vaccine, but still be able to pass it onto some of my more vulnerable friends and students. The whole thing is a mess.  

Other than Covid and BoE drama, life is good. I’ve had a couple of other big changes - both fantastic and not so great, but yeah.  I have my health (and health insurance!) for now. I have a job, for now. I have a sense of existential dread for the next 12 months, but we’ll see where we end up. Life post JET is going to be way less cushy and I am TERRIFIED. I mean, I have a BA in Eng/Ling and no idea what to do with it…..because I am NOT suited for academia.

TLDR: Love my job. Don’t like the system. What is life? Future scary. 

[nyctophilin]

Adults bullying minors

Warning: I went off because this topic makes me so angry and if you are an adult that has bullied, is currently bullying or will bully minors on the internet you might get offended, so read at your own discretion.

Can some adults stop bullying minors out of fandoms please? Can they do that? Can they start acting like actual adults and stop bullying people they do not want to interact with? Are you aware you can coexist while ignoring each other? BECAUSE TO ME IT DOES NOT FUCKING SEEM LIKE THEY KNOW THAT!

I have seen so much hostility towards minors lately. You mean to tell me that GROWN adults do not have anything better to do than bully minors on the internet? Do you get joy out of making someone’s day a living hell?

And before I continue, I do not want to see anyone bring up NSFW under this post. This is not what this post is about. Minors engaging in NSFW activities on the internet is wrong and I am not advocating for that. I do not want to see anyone put this in my mouth. As an adult, you have all the rights to not want a minor to engage in your NSFW businesses, although you have no right to bully them for it. Tell them nicely, educate them on why what they are doing is not right(because some of you consider minors to be chronically stupid until they turn 18) instead of giving them unnecessary trauma and proving that you are an asshole at the same time.

However, what this post is about is hostility towards minors that do not engage in NSFW. If there is no NSFW involved and the minor is just enjoying a fandom while living their minor life, like we all do at some point in our lives, and you decide to bully them for it, then please, leave the fandom! You are not wanted here.

I have seen adults that run 100% SFW blog tell minor to not interact with them in very rude hostile ways. If you do not want to interact with a minor, you can tell them nicely. You do not have to cuss them out or be rude or block them. Both of you are basically enjoying the same type of content and them asking you from time to time how your day has been is not a tragedy. You will not be put in jail for it. Crazy! I know! Just ignore them. It is as easy as that. Just fucking ignore them.

I have also seen some of you hunt minors down. You purposefully look for them and then you start bullying them. Don’t you have a fucking casserole to make instead? Why would you look for them if they make you uncomfortable? Just do not! You could have done so many things in the time you spend looking for minors so you can expose them for just existing. Grow the fuck up! If you can not tolerate minors partaking in fandoms, then your place is clearly not here. 

Now, I am not telling adults to be best friends with minors. This is the last thing I want. At the end of the day, there is still a risk that minors face when engaging in friendships with adults. All I am saying is: Mind your own business! If they approach you through asks/DMs wanting to have a conversation about the fandom, but you feel uncomfortable with that, let them know nicely and I am sure they will understand. However, if the little dude did not bother you in any way, then why would you go out of your way to interact with them and then act like the victim when you clearly are not? And let me just add one more thing here. If you do not think that a friendship between a 25+ years old and a 18-19 years old is just as predatory as a friendship between a minor and a 18-20 years old then you can unfollow me. I do not even need to make an explanation for this one because it speaks for itself.

And I am not telling anyone that they cannot enjoy a fandom. I do not care how old you are, your gender, your sexuality, how many eggs you eat in the morning. I really could not care less, but if you are going to start unnecessary drama and you, as an adult, are going to bully minors, that did not bother nor have they ever interacted with you, into leaving the fandom, then I have a problem with you. I can do the exact same thing to you, Susan, and I will not hold back.

Like, don’t you have kids to raise Susan? A casserole to make or laundry to do? File a report for your office job? Didn’t I just hear your husband call for you? Why are you browsing the world wide web when you are so busy, Susan? As a person that comes from the younger side of the fandom I feel very uncomfortable with you here and I want you to leave or my group of friends and I will bully you until you do and then we will act like the victims.

Some of the fandoms are not even made for you, Susan. I am sure that when John started developing that video game, he thought of little 15 years old Dave that can and will play it 25/8 and not you, that have diapers to change every hour. You cannot enter a teen dominated fandom and then kick out the targeted audience. This is not how life works. If you know that you feel uncomfortable around minors, then do not join a minor predominant fandom with the thought of kicking them out because they are going to kick your ass. 

And I do not want anyone telling me “wAiT uNtIl ShE fInDs OuT wHo WrItEs BoOkS aNd MoViEs, HaHuHe.” because this comeback is not as smart as you think it is. Because Susan, you see, there is a difference between you writing a book about your own adult characters doing whatever the fuck you want them to do and you writing a 10k words smut fic about a real person that is 5+ years younger than you. I can not write a fanfiction for Minho to save my life, and he is just a few years older than me, but you can write that smut about Jeongin that is 10 years younger than you, all while holding your newborn? How do you do that?

The conclusion of this whole post is:

MIND. YOUR OWN. BUSINESS!

Do not bully minor on the internet out of their own fandoms. Fandoms are made for everyone to enjoy and I will welcome you with open arms as long as you are kind and understanding. Bullying someone because you do not agree with their existence is not kind nor is it understanding. If they do not bother you, then do not bother them either. You are not doing anyone a favour!

Thank you for giving me your time! Good night!

[ibelongtowrath]

Guys, I’m... I don’t even know what to say except thank you so much 😭🙏🏼

I’m honestly crying right now, legitimately crying as I write this, because I never expected this. I started my blog back at the end of March, deciding to venture into writing fanfiction because I was feeling lost during the crazy pandemic time. I never, ever expected this to take off like it has, and I am so, so, SO thankful for all the continuous love and support.

I know I have been slow with writing lately. I have no plans of leaving the fandom - quite the opposite actually, I have lots and lots of requests and WIP ideas to finish, and I want to start writing more than ever. It’s just hard because depression/anxiety, being tired all the time from chronic illness, and overall life stuff like a full time job taking away my energy and motivation to write sometimes.

I see your reblogs, your hashtags, mentions, comments, replies, and I love every. Single. One. of you more than I could ever express into words. Unfortunately I can’t reply to everything because I get hundreds of notifications per day, but I try to do what I can.

My ask box is always open to you guys. I am proud of creating a safe, fun space for all to enjoy. Thank you for joining me on this crazy, thirsty, horny journey.

I love all of you guys 😭

[asiryn]

this post is going to be very rambly, so i apologize in advance. if you’re potentially interested in my liveblogs, and/or interested in hearing a bit about my current life and disability issues, tune in. if you aren’t, then....keep scrolling i guess XD

(if you just want the current liveblog schedule, scroll to the bottom)

[and this got predictably very long, so i’m gonna put it behind a cut for convenience] 

up to recently, my main liveblogs have been about the pokemon anime, with a few other shows, books, and especially video games sprinkled in here and there. essentially, waaaay back in yonder year of 2014, netflix added the first season of pokemon, the indigo league, to their site, and i, in a fit of nostalgia, made the veeery questionable decision to watch all of the pokemon anime---rewatching the stuff i hadn’t touched since i was kid, and then continuing on into the unknown, and watching all the seasons from gen 3 onward that i had missed due to dropping out of pokemon. i only really started actually making liveblog posts once i hit gen 3, then i stayed consistent-ish from then onward. (for the curious, i’m up to sun & moon, and i have 44 episodes left until i finish it (i’m not ready ;;;; ), and then netflix actually just dropped the first 12 episodes of the newest series, pokemon journeys, so....56 until i’ve caught up with the dub XD)

so, all of y’all who climbed aboard with those liveblogs are probably already aware of Who I Am, at least a little. (....this is making it sound like i’m Some Big Name in liveblogging, but i’m not really anything of the sort, just so we’re all on the same page XD) at least, in terms of the fact that i’m physically disabled, suffer from chronic pain, etc. but recently, i’ve joined two new fandoms, and i’ve begun liveblogging spop and my next life as a villainess. and my spop posts in particular are already becoming some of the most popular posts i’ve ever done (like wow, you guys). and i think part of that popularity is due to the fact that these are two pretty recent, pretty popular fandoms (tho i do also like to think that i do make good content XP). but the point is that quite a lot of new ppl are coming across me, and idk how much, if any, of you have taken the time to look at my bio or anything. so i guess....part of this post is just some ruminations, but also my way of letting you know more of what you’re getting into. 

so, for those who don’t know: hi, you can call me kiryn, i liveblog stuff sometimes, and i’m physically disabled. i suffer from intense, constant, chronic pain. it stems from a bone disease called HME, or hereditary multiple exostosis, if you’re curious (i have a severe case of it, joy of joys). the short version of what that means is that i have a lot of bone spurs everywhere on my body, and they....cause me a lot of pain. basically, i cannot do any kind of sustained activity without the already significant, never-ceasing pain that i feel cranking up to unbearable levels, and basically i’ll be rendered immobile. i do have pain meds that i take, and that very much help to take the edge off, and make it so that i can function at all (bc, believe fucking me, w/o them, i wouldn’t be able to achieve even the little i can do), but even with them, it only makes a dent in my pain levels, and again, sustained activity makes up that difference very quickly. 

now, the gist of this stuff i’ll mention from time to time, but....i don’t usually go into much detail about it (and this post is probably the most detailed i’ve been about my condition in years). bc, quite frankly, it’s depressing. (and seeing as i also already have clinical depression, that’s definitely not something that i need more of XD) i participate in fandoms for escapism, and bc i don’t really want to think about that crushing mountain of reality. i’ve had this condition since birth, and i’ve literally lived my entire life in constant pain, and i honestly have no fucking idea what it even feels like to be painless. and what’s even worse is that it’s a degenerative disease---essentially, the bone spurs are wearing down my joints, so....my entire condition will just keep worsening as i get older. (and no, surgery to remove the spurs isn’t really an option.) i’ll be 29 next month, and i can already tell you, i’ve been feeling that decline sharply. when i was a kid, i could still run. by the time i was a teenager, i couldn’t even do that anymore; the best i could manage was a jog. now....i don’t think i could even do that. 

i guess the main point in why i’m saying all this, is that for the last year especially, i’ve been dealing with the worst downward swing that i’ve had in years. in my late teens and early-mid 20s, i got into a pretty good rhythm, of knowing my body’s limits, how to budget spoons to accomplish things, etc. but now even that fragile equilibrium has been thrown out the window, and i’m currently struggling to learn the new limits and rhythm of this downward swing that is unfortunately now my reality. even before, i was pretty limited on what i could accomplish, but even that narrow window has shrunk even further. so basically, i’m in the testing zone still. and it’s a very slow process, bc once i exceed the limit, my body breaks down, and now it takes me even longer to recover. as an example, i used to know that i could wake up in the morning and get ready to leave the house in 20-30 mins. now? i need at least an hour, which involves me pushing through a wave of agony to be able to take my pain meds in the first place, and then wait for those meds to kick in and the pain to die down enough to move without feeling like i’m moving through a wall of spikes. (and that’s just the start of every day for me, and before even throwing in all of the other variables)

so, coming back to the liveblogs......obviously, that’s affected by all this too. if you’ve wondered why there’s been a gap between me finishing up spop s1 and starting s2....that’s why. partly, i didn’t expect how analysis-heavy i was going to get on spop; pokeani just doesn’t tend to be as consistently thematically deep, so those liveblogs took far less out of me than spop has, and pushing myself to finish 5 episodes in one day....well, it was too much. and the thing is, it’s obviously unhealthy for me to continually push myself to the point of total breakdown, so...that’s where learning my new limits comes in. so, these past few days, i’ve been thinking, and essentially trying to better figure out how to do liveblogs like this without pretty much killing myself in the process (bc i honestly do love making them....i mean, if i didn’t, then it really wouldn’t be worth the literal pain it takes to make them XD). and also there’s a component of managing my anxiety-brain, bc leaving things Unfinished stresses me out, and so when coming to terms with the fact that it’s going to take me awhile to finish one show....knowing that i’d be leaving others hanging....Doesn’t Help XD

so, here’s what i’ve got so far (and obvs, this is subject to much tweaking in the future XP)

currently, i’m watching 4 shows: pokeani, good omens, villainess, and spop. villainess rn is the least of my worries, bc 1 ep is coming out a week, so it’s not demanding a lot of my time. 

for the other 3, here’s the preliminary schedule i’ve sort of hashed out:

- pokeani sm103-106

- spop s2

- pokeani sm107-110

- spop s3 

- pokeani sm111-114

- spop s4

- pokeani sm115-118

- spop s5 

- pokeani sm119-122

- good omens

- pokeani sm123-126

- [catch up block] (i don’t have a good track record in keeping up with ongoing shows, so if i fall behind on villainess, this is where i can catch up)

- finish pokeani sun & moon [sm127-146] (the league starts on ep 128, so i’d rather not experience any big interruptions in the battles XD)

basically, i’ve given myself a limit of 4 pokeani eps in a single session (bc as stated, they don’t take as much out of me), and with spop, the most i’ll let myself watch in a row will be 3 eps (s2 will probably be broken up into a 3/2/2 block, s3 a 3/3 block, and s4&5 will be a 3/3/3/2/2 block).

now, keep in mind that i’m very deliberately making no guarantees about specific days, bc who even knows, but at the very least, scheduling and talking it all out like this will help me to better manage my spoons, and if you’ve actually read this far, then you’ll know the method in the madness and why i’m doing things this way. XD the vague goal is to get in a least 1 liveblog session a week (plus a bonus of the new villainess ep on saturdays)---at least for the shows. i’m still having to working out what i’m going to do about video games....maybe i should just go on a ‘once a week’ model for all my hobbies across the board XDD

in the next couple of days, i’ll be posting that in-depth look into all the ships of villainess (it started as me just pecking down a few thoughts while i was taking a social media break due to the Current Events, but now i’m at the point where i’m like, i’ve put too much effort into this to not post it, damn it XP), and then depending on spoons, i’ll try to start in on that schedule this week, so stay tuned for some pokeani! (again....i’ll try to hit at least 1 liveblog a week before i start trying to get more ambitious XDD)

in any case, if you have stuck through to the end, thank you very much. your support means a lot to me 💖

[darkshrimpemotions]

@god-dammit-fandom The longer answer is more complicated and waaaay less coherent, because the film kind of functions in a contradictory way on a few different levels, right?

Like on one level you have the narrative surface of what is actually happening, the sequence of events in the film. But on another level you have the underlying messaging of what's metaphorically happening.

Most films are like that to some extent, but when you have a film that's very clearly trying to be a statement piece about gender or sexuality or young adulthood or whatever, I feel like you have to look at the metaphorical bit a little harder. Like what is this film actually saying about those things? And not take the plot at face value.

So both plot-wise and metaphorically you have a group of three marginalized teen girls who aren't marginalized just because they're girls; each of them has something other than the fact of their gender that marginalizes them: Rochelle is marginalized because of her race, Nancy is marginalized due to poverty, and Bonnie is marginalized due to disability.

Meanwhile, Sarah's only axis of oppression is her gender. She is white, so she doesn't experience the racial marginalization that Rochelle does. She is able-bodied, so she doesn't experience the marginalization that Bonnie does due to her scars and the chronic pain that comes along with them. And based on her house and all of the things that we see around her material life, she's also not marginalized based on her socioeconomic class, certainly not to the extent that Nancy is.

She's sort of a cliché late 90s/early 00s YA protagonist in that she's an "outcast" and she's "not like other girls" but we're not supposed to look too hard at why a thin, conventionally pretty, able-bodied, white and well-off girl is an outcast. We're just supposed to assume she's marginalized in some way because the narrative says so, though it never shows us anything to back that up.

The closest the narrative ever gets is this nebulous idea that she's troubled in some way, but it's never explicitly stated why. It's kind of implied that it's tied to her having these powers and thus being "different" or "too special" but the powers themselves function differently on a metaphorical level than they do on a narrative level in a way that significantly undermines that interpretation, in my opinion.

Like within the original film--I'm not going to go into The Craft: Legacy because that gets more complicated--but in the original film all of the magic that the girls use comes from this masculine earth deity, Manon.

So on a metaphorical level, Sarah's powers being both the source of some anxiety for her and ultimately the thing that empowers her at the end only underscores the interpretation that she is an agent of the white supremacist patriarchy. Because yeah, it does cause her pain and suffering due to her gender, but it also gives her power over the other girls along every other axis of oppression they have which she doesn't share.

Now narratively speaking, Nancy is a threat to Sarah's life and to ordinary people. Like that's why Sarah ultimately fights her and does what she does, is because Nancy is set up as a threat to Sarah's well-being, to just regular people through the death of what's-his-face, and to the natural order via the scene with all of the dead sea creatures on the beach.

But on a metaphorical level, Manon is the white supremacist patriarchy, this unseen force of authority that must be respected and paid homage in order to gain power. And the white supremacist patriarchy is treated within the world of the film as the natural order. Because Manon was always there. His power was simply not accessible to Nancy, Bonnie, and Rochelle until his agent, Sarah, joined their coven. And their suffering up to that point was an acceptable price of maintaining that "natural order."

This is all further complicated by the fact that the story is telling you one thing and showing you something quite different even on just a narrative level, and that it requires you to buy into certain racist and sexist ideas in order to swallow what they're telling even as they contradict it with what they're showing.

Like in order for you to think that Rochelle deserves to be punished and to be disempowered by the end of the film, you have to believe that her bully didn't deserve what she got. You have to buy that persistent racist aggression doesn't merit or even allow a response, that punishing someone for persistent racist aggression is itself an act of unacceptable violence, and that if a person who is a victim of racist aggression fights back against the aggressor, they are as bad as the aggressor. And that idea is rooted firmly in racism and the preservation of white supremacy.

Likewise, in order for you to believe that Bonnie deserves the punishment that she gets, that she deserves to be disempowered by the end of the film, you have to buy that her pride and confidence in her own body is evidence of amorality and worthy of punishment, which of course is deeply rooted in sexism and misogyny.

Nancy is a more difficult case because Nancy actually does do things that most people would consider bad regardless of context. But the context in this case is that Nancy is an abused teenager with untreated PTSD. That may not be what the movie tells us. What the movie tells us is that she's crazy and power hungry. But what is actually shown on screen is that she's an abuse survivor with pretty obvious PTSD triggers around things like feeling trapped and powerless. And while that doesn't excuse any of her actions, I do think that it makes her punishment--being trapped and powerless indefinitely--a pretty low fucking blow.

Also let's be real: on a metaphorical level Nancy is just the power-hungry mad woman trope, this incredibly toxic sexist idea that women who get too much power will inevitably go insane and abuse that power.

The other problem I have is that for Sarah herself the film is once again telling you one thing and showing another.

They tell you that the coven turns on Sarah first, forcing her hand, but Sarah is all about that godforsaken boy from the word Go. She cares more about his attention and opinion at all points than about her sisters. And on both a narrative and metaphorical level, he is the initial splinter point that prompts her to break with the sisterhood. This is an unfortunately prominent feature of films centering teen girls from the late 90s and early 00s, where it's ultimately a boy, rather than clashing values or ideals, that prompts one girl to act decisively against another (see Ginger Snaps, Jennifer's Body, Drive Me Crazy, and Mean Girls for some other examples).

They also tell you that Sarah is the good magic user who didn't abuse her powers, but they show you that one of the first major acts of magic that she does is to take away another person's free will with regard to romantic and sexual attraction! We're really supposed to believe that Bonnie getting a little too up her own ass about looking hot is a worse crime than Sarah violating somebody's entire autonomy??

But again, on a metaphorical level, within the argument the film is constructing about gender and power, it is a worse crime. Sarah commiting a heinous breach of ethics to gain a boy's love is totally understandable and forgivable, while Bonnie and Rochelle escaping their marginalization and Nancy seeking power outside the limits imposed by white supremacy and patriarchy is not. Because ultimately The Craft is about girl power as filtered through a very white feminist, late 90s lens, where power inevitably makes other girls go nuts until the "right" kind of girl steps in to restore order, which is positioned as synonymous with white supremacist patriarchy.

Like she full on threatens Bonnie and Rochelle's lives at the end of the movie for daring to question her power! She's basically just reminding them that she has the power of white supremacy and patriarchy at her disposal in ways they cannot hope to fight, and can use it at any time to enact violence on them if they piss her off. Aka the most Karen-ass reaction possible to what amounts to a schoolyard taunt.

And while narratively the film gives you all kinds of reasons why this is actually a good and necessary thing for Sarah to do, that doesn't completely cover that that's what she does and how she functions in the story on a metaphorical level. Or that the entire film is basically a handwringing moderate's strawman argument against any social justice movement that threatens to create real change.

Which is why though aesthetically I prefer The Craft to The Craft: Legacy by many miles, thematically I far prefer The Craft: Legacy.

Sarah is the villain of The Craft.

[kiaronna]

codenamecesare replied to your post: yo hmu with some of that good shit ongoing fics

maybe they want recs for good ongoing fics?

OH POSSIBLY

Wow okay, sorry for being self-absorbed, friends. SORRY I CAN DO THAT

Warning: I have been reading less lately, and have also been reading some other fandoms (BNHA *cough*)

Here’s a couple fics (most of which I did not actually manage to get to the end of, but which I have enjoyed thus far). PLEASE READ THEM. I won’t be mentioning popular fics I’m following that I think most people already know about. Please be sure to read the tags yourself, because while I mostly write painfully vanilla PG content, it’s not always what I read, mmkay. 

THIS ONE: Undiscovered Country. Do it for yourself and your future. I finally started this.

1. without fear, without metaphor:  Yuuri was never one to use more words than necessary. Underutilized it, even, his family and friends would remark. Still, there was a certain relief that came with easy communication. Then he started wanting to use words for more. He even ran his mouth quite a few times in the past months, much to his embarrassment. And he quietly admitted to himself that it came with the sudden barrage of Viktor Nikiforov into what he expected to be peaceful life and probable retirement in his hometown.

2. Not Cricket:  Victor had wanted to be the Japanese competitor's dance partner, and he could because he didn't have one. Victor had also wanted to be Katsuki Yuuri's coach, and he could because Katsuki didn't have one of those either.Now Victor wanted to be Yuuri's boyfriend- except Yuuri already seemed to have one of those.---Basically, Victor thinks Phichit is Yuuri's boyfriend and is ridiculously jealous.

3. blood is thicker than: “You might be Yuri’s biological parent, Mr. Nikiforov. But I’m his father. If Yuri wants to go with you, that’s one thing,” Yuuri Katsuki’s voice flows quiet and dangerous into the room “but if he doesn’t, don’t think that you’re taking my child away from home,”Or: Victor Nikiforov finds out he has a son. He wants full custody.Katsuki Yuuri isn't going to give up his child that easily.Or: Victor and Yuuri fight a custody battle for Yurio. Shit happens.Or: Yuri Plisetsky starts with one parent, and ends up with two.

4. before it burns me numb: “What do you mean, you had a crush on me?” Yuuri asks. “We’d never even met before the Grand Prix Final last year.” Following their engagement, Victor tells Yuuri the story of how he met, fell for, and pined after Japan's Ace. Not necessarily in that order. An Ep10 coda... with a twist.

If you think Viktor having had a crush on Yuuri for a long time would satisfy all your Viktuuri needs, you’d be right.

5. Sixty Impossible Things: Two weeks after his failure at Sochi, Yuuri receives a text from a mysterious number asking why the fuck he’s ignoring Viktor. So begins Yuri Plisetsky’s all out campaign to get Yuuri to fucking finally text Viktor and end his torment of watching Viktor pine, and so begins Yuuri's descent into a wonderland of texting his idol, meeting his #1 fan(s), and slowly rebuilding his life with a little help from his friends.

*swoony swoon* And some quality Yurio&Yuuri frandship

6. boy next door: “Hi, welcome to the Green Bean,” Yuuri says, in the way that’s become something of a joke between them. “What can I get for you today?”In which Viktor buys way too much coffee from the cute barista at the coffeeshop on the corner, and Yuuri has a terrible crush that Viktor never, ever needs to know about, and somehow it all works out in the end.

Cute A/B/O coffeeshop!

7. offer me (that Deathless Death): It was the curse he and his family were fated to: Death would come for him the moment he turned eighteen, and he could only hope the flimsy wards passed down through the generations would protect him. But Death always won eventually, Death would snatch him up as he had all of his ancestors.But somehow he wasn't what Yuuri had expected. He was a constant presence in his life, barely there. A vigilant spectator to his burgeoning skating career, a gray haired man with a soft expression who found him again and again, waiting for him to let his guard down, but becoming something more, over time."Don't be careless," his sister told him, but they were all careless, in the end.

THE SUMMARY IS LIKE A TRIP ALL BY ITSELF OKAY

8. Lullaby of Birdland: In another world, their story might have started with ‘Hi there’, or ‘Lovely sky tonight’, or ‘Hello, stranger’. Or perhaps something less cliché, something like: ‘A commemorative photo? Sure thing!’But in this one, it starts with an electric blue cocktail, the taste of smoke in the air. And: “You have really talented, um. Fingers.”

I literally only listen to the jazz music I do because of this fic

9. The Long Way Round:  In the wake of tragedy and facing change to come, Yuuri and Victor make the ten thousand kilometre journey from Saint Petersburg home to Hasetsu the old fashioned way- on the Trans-Siberian Railway from Moscow to Beijing.

I already knew this would be good because sixpences, but it’s so tragically beautiful

10. Nuclear Hearts Club: Being seventeen and chronically confused isn't always a walk in the park - especially when you've been crushing on your brother's best friend since you were nine. You'd be crazy not to. Victor's the best thing to happen to the world since sliced bread.(Join Yuuri Katsuki on this pine-fueled high school adventure full of teen angst and astronomical fuckery.)

Nothing makes me feel things and cry over prose like butterbeerbitch. I saw there’s a new one-shot too, check that one out!

11. Life Unwoven: Five-Time Consecutive Grand Prix Final Winner Katsuki Yuuri meets Five-Time Consecutive Grand Prix Final Winner Victor Nikiforov.or,In which things are tangled, and untangled, and tangled again. And Victor will always be there to save Yuuri.

*sigh*

12. Human by Choice: When the body of emerging indie director Emil Nekola washes up near the small Oregon town of Quad Axels, FBI Special Agent Yuuri Katsuki is called in to investigate. But as he uncovers more and more of the town's dark secrets, he realises that there are bigger forces at play than previously suspected.After all, still waters run deep, and when you are haunted by your past, you will see ghosts at every turn.

OH HECK YEAH

Archiveofourown writers spookyfoot, xyloophones, mhalachai, and opalish are almost always writing little one-shots, along with... so many other amazing writers, so be sure to check them out for not WIPs but a pretty constant stream of fic.

[saligiare]

TAG 10 PEOPLE YOU WANT TO KNOW BETTER.

TAGGED  BY:  @desertgourd TAGGING: @siinfulpride, @inthe-goldenafternoon, @emyliabernstein, @willowwithdragonheartstring and whoever wants to do the thing

NAME:  Tak BIRTHDAY:  June 8 ZODIAC:  Gemini HEIGHT:  172 cm SEXUAL ORIENTATION:  Asexual FAVORITE COLOR:  all shades of purple but mostly blackberry FAVORITE BOOK(S):  Child Thief by Brom, Johannes Cabal the Necromancer by Jonathan L. Howard, The City of Dreaming Books by Walter Moers FAVORITE ARTIST/BANDS:  Miyavi, Wise Guys, Voltaire, Poets of the Fall, Oonagh, Steam Powered Giraffe LAST MOVIE I WATCHED:  Inception HOGWARTS HOUSE:  Ravenclaw all the way RANDOM FACT:  I have a chronic illness of my eyes which nobody has ever really figured out. I’ve spent half my life with different eye doctors and specialists and have to go to the check up every three/four weeks. What annoys me about it the most though is my inability to wear coloured contact lenses because of it. And nope, I don’t need or have any glasses. WHEN DID I CREATE MY BLOG?  January 2014 DO YOU HAVE ANY OTHER BLOGS? Yeah, including two sideblogs that are exclusively reserved for AU threads and our rarely used college AU. Also this guy, who I really wished would get more attention and love because he’s my eternal son and a cinnamon roll to end all cinnamon rolls. Then two other loosely fandom related characters that I used to rp for years before I moved onto the demon blog. It is mostly inactive but I could easily get back into it. Ah, and my personal. WHAT MADE YOU DECIDE TO GET A TUMBLR?  After I introduced a friend of mine to a certain fandom she started to rp within it on Chatzy, where I soon joined her. She left for tumblr though and thus I followed close behind as well. It’s all Lani’s fault, essentially. DO YOU GET ASKS ON A DAILY BASIS?  Nope. I get some every once in a while but not very often. There have been an unusual amount lately tho. I wouldn’t mind keeping that up, I like asks. uvu WHY DID YOU CHOOSE YOUR URL?  I wanted to change my old one since it was sort of plump and boring. Then I stumbled across the little funfact that the first letters of the seven sins combined create the word S(uperbia), A(cedia), G(ula), I(invidia), L(uxuria), I(ra), A(varitia). Apparently the acronym saligia was used in the Middle Ages to describe the seven sins. Adding the suffix -re would turn it into a verb, meaning “to sin” or “to commit a deadly sin”. I thought that’s pretty elegant for an URL so I picked it. BONUS FACT: Next to tumblr rping I also really enjoy playing Dungeons&Dragons with my friends and attending Larp Events all over the year.