#this post is also being spat out by the queue just like everything tagged with 'reblog' btw

[writing-for-life]

I won’t even attempt to keep this in the comments because I know it’ll get far too long (the queen of long rambles I am), and I’d torture myself with trying to break it up into tiny bits. There were a lot of thoughts since I last logged on, so here goes: The “how to use tags etc” brings me straight to @stellerssong:

As someone who is comparably new to Tumblr, finding my feet between writing in reblogs, comments and tags is honestly the most difficult thing for me. Because instinctively, I write in reblogs and have always done so because I’m a talker (well, at least when it comes to the written word; I’m actually more of an observer IRL), and I’m an old school forumite. But I felt (and have even been told once or twice) that wasn’t the “done thing” (I stopped caring as you can tell 🤣), especially not if you want to connect, so I defaulted to comments. Didn’t have much luck with that either initially, albeit slightly better.

Laying my thoughts out in tags is just something that goes against the flow for me, and I find it cumbersome, both to write and to read, which is totally a personal thing and just how my warped brain works. Some people will fall asleep trying to get through my walls of text, it’s just what it is.

I use tags much more to structure my own blog so I find stuff again (can I just reiterate again: Tumblr, your search function is shite). Or for the odd quip when I can’t be bothered to write more in-depth, but even then, I’m much more likely to write a line or two on a reblog or in the comments. I’m at the stage now where I try to do a bit of everything and mix it up, but the tags are still the thing that feels least instinctual to me when I actually want to share what moves me.

I think the queue is, at least for me, more of a signal that I’m usually not online when that post goes out (unless it accidentally overlaps), which I guess is quite strictly speaking not necessary? But I’ve got used to it when my blog got a bit bigger, maybe also to keep expectations at bay that no one is constantly at the rudder of this thing? I also use it because I often see stuff I want to order thematically because I have a stupid idea about something that ties in with a meta or a fic or what have you (yes, sometimes, there’s method to the madness), so I throw it into the drafts first and tag it for the queue, which is again, more for myself.

I hear you on the defensiveness btw. I often feel like there’s bad faith behind some interactions, and it’s exactly what drove me away from most other social media platforms. I can still remember saying, in my naïveté, how nice Tumblr and the fandom felt to me after I joined here. Only to get my first hate asks straight after that very post because it had engaged with a hot topic. That’s when I switched my anons off because I honestly don’t have time for that immature shit. It’s a shame really, because I know some people just won’t send asks if they have to put their name down, but then again: Maybe that’s the whole issue? Anyway, rambling…

But it often feels like you have to weigh up every word, and even whose posts you engage with. That’s just so wild to me, because it operates on the assumption that we’re all terminally online and have to know every spat or disagreement that’s going on somewhere so we don’t become “guilty by association.” Or that we can’t be thinking adults, capable of coming to our own conclusions without having to choose who we interact with, and that a reblog of one random post of someone doesn’t mean we agree with everything else they say (never mind we might not even be aware of it).

It seems that it’s impossible to consolidate that genuine enthusiasm and critical thinking can coexist, even in the same people, and that it’s possible to talk about general fandom trends (even the trickier ones) without getting personal and hateful.

That has nothing to do with perpetually being Switzerland (as an example, I have very strong thoughts on fandom misogyny I’ve been known to air occasionally), but rather with the fact that I have a job that deals with the most horrendous stuff on a daily basis. And it also includes some of the topics fandom discourse is commonly about, and I don’t want to constantly engage with it in my time off. I already do it in my work, and I sometimes just need to breathe. But it seems unthinkable to some people that you maybe do advocate and support on a daily basis—just because you can’t it see on here all the time, and you don’t carry it around like a badge of honour, doesn’t mean it’s not there. Again, the bad faith is often staggering, and if I sense it, I just disengage.

As for badgering people @windsweptinred and @marlowe-zara —I don’t know what your experiences are in general, but mine were that the ones who were most receptive to that type of encroachment 🤣 are almost always well into their 30s (a few notable exceptions aside). So I wonder if that way of initiating conversation is just something that seems more natural because we’re used to it from other platforms, or how we use social media? Or maybe we just don’t care about the embarrassment anymore, entirely possible 🤣

But yes, I welcome DMs and asks. It’s not weird, just do it already!

@tickldpnk8 I just laughed because that there, that’s it: If I wanted to shout into the void, I could just talk to my family (although I have to say my partner indulges me and generally doesn’t mind, but you *do* see his eyes glaze over after a while). So I feel everything I do on here is just sharing what’s important to me in hopes other people shout, “OMG me, too, let’s be weird together!” And I use the term “weird” very loosely, because one person’s weird meta is another’s weird crack fic. That’s why I do both, ha!

I also hear you on the toughness of trying to get people to interact. And that applies to everything, apart from the juggernaut fandom trends.

So I want to tell *everyone*, not just the people who took part in this conversation, to feel free to tag me in things they’ve written or created, because I know how quickly it can evaporate into oblivion despite being properly tagged. I sometimes stumble across months old stuff from mutuals and ask myself why I’ve never noticed it before, but such is life, and it’s never purposefully ignoring things. It might sometimes take a bit before I can reply something coherent, but I’m usually capable of a reblog with a semi-thought (be scared of incoherent semi-thoughts! 🤣)—every little helps, especially if it’s something that’s maybe not a main fandom interest (man, some topics sure can feel like it’s me, myself and I).

Also, I now want to know what possible abomination of a nickname you came up with 😜

One thing I have noticed during my year and some on Tumblr, is no one really talks to each other. Interaction seems to be a thing which almost has to be earned through content creation. Or be prompted through ask games.

I mean, if anyone ever wants to ask me things about my art/fics I'd obviously love nothing more. But I'm mostly on this hellsite to meet people to talk weird with about the things I love. You want to start a natter with me about something, just hop into the comments and start chatting, I'll chat back. Or pop me a pm. It can be about a picture of a tree for all I care. You don't have to be fandom famous, you could never have posted a thing in your life. I don't care, that's not what I'm here for. I'm just here to make friends.

[aethersea]

my friend who studied marketing: *tracking engagement on her twitter posts, carefully balancing original content with retweets of well-known twitters that enhance her brand, probably does cute little polls sometimes*

me, periodically remembering I have followers:

[indiegamesofcolor]

hi everyone its me. exhausted from work. anyways uhhhh time to fill the queue up with old posts while I go run on fumes hope y'all enjoy them!! 

also if anyone has any suggestions for new games you can still send them! I’ll probably just get to making posts of them later. and if anyone’s got links to anymore IF projects (interactive fiction) or in-progress projects that have Tumblr posts about them lemme know and I'll reblog them! 

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Intruder (It’s The Avengers)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

ONE SHOT

Warnings: mention of ghosts and intruders. No Ghosts were harmed in the making of this fic though I’m pretty sure the ones in my room were shocked at this piece of fic. I can feel them scrunching their nose at me right now.

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

One Shot: You are alone at home and hear a noise...

Almost forgot to mention the reason for this one-shot. (Belated) Happy birthday @nygmobblepot-trash

Word Count: I cannot believe myself and my desk. All this time its been holding stuff when it could have been helping me write stories like throwing cash money at respected strippers in the da club. Yup, my readers are those lovely strippers and their comments and love are their services for me. Does this make sense?

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

Somewhere in the dark, a pair of eyes watched you reading some book in the library, sitting under that one bulb illuminating the desk where you sat alone, lost in those yellow pages. Your one hand kept over the book while the other rested on your face, your little finger playing along your lips.

Click.

A sound came from some unknown source. You inhaled a lungful, never blinking away.

Click-click.

You blinked and looked up, turning to see outside the door of the library. Nothing but darkness said hello back. Not thinking much about it you went back to the book, taking your little finger under your teeth and leaning back in the chair on an angle.

Click.

Click-click.

This time your ears were sharp, your head tilting quickly in the direction of the sound. Straining your auditory nerves, you kept looking in the direction of the door for a good while.

Click-click.

That's it. I'm checking it out.

Old experiences and a lot of late-night crime and horror documentaries had taught you to be discreet when it came to weird noises of the night. But what you figured out yourself was that a book would not be the most suitable weapon against whatever was lurking out there. So, picking up Rhodey's trophy kept in the showcases of all the awards collected by the Avengers over time, you pushed your slippers over to the carpeted floor while slowly moving out of the warm space.

The clicking sound now echoed through the compound. So did the sound of ducks quacking in the pond outside; quite possibly at the stray cat that you'd brought home once and tried to hide from Tony. Ultimately you had to leave it outside when it scratched Vision for turning off his body heat because little Mew Mew didn't want to get up from his lap. In Vision’s defence, he’d lost a bet against Pietro and had been dared to that.

The fact that everyone else was out of town was not helping with every little tinker of noise you were hearing or your mind was making up.

Friday. I still have Friday. She'd take care of me if there was an intruder, right?

You wanted to ask her so bad. But the fear giving away your location in the dark was too much of a risk right now.

Maybe it's a mouse.

Click click click.

Yeah, it's just a mouse looking for some chee-

A cold chuckle came from the lounge along with a faint glow, freezing you in the open corridor that led to Bruce and Tony's lab. A crack of lightning lit up everything around you before the thunder rumbled, sending jolts to your already weak heart that saw a figure pass lounge- from the kitchenette towards the dorms- with a candle in its hands.

Had you not forcefully been made to exercise to strengthen your muscles you could've sworn you might have peed right there out of sheer fright.

There's someone out there. THERE'S SOMEONE IN THE FREAKING LOUNGE!!! HOLY FUCKING SHIT! OH MY GAAAHHHDD!! SHIT SHIT SHIT SH- Wait. If there was an intruder Friday would have warned me right? But she didn't say anything. *Gasp* Did they-did they kill Friday?!

Queue lightning and thunder!

Oh my G-no no no I'm sure Friday's alright. Oh God oh God oh God oh God! Okay okay okay breathe. Yes, breeeeeathe. Good. Good. Now, if it wasn't an intruder and Friday is okay does that mean it's a ghost?

Just when all those thoughts were running inside your head like a freight train, a figure in the shadows lingered behind you, getting closer by the second at an incredibly slow pace.

Oh FUCK WE HAVE A GHOST IN THE COMPOUND!

The figure in the dark behind you was nearly over your shoulder when you felt your hair rise in anticipation of the presence behind you. And like any bad horror movie, your reflex worked to turn you around with the trophy pointed outwards at...nothing.

N-no one's there. Okay, I'm clearly creeping myself out. What if...w-what if it's a friendly ghost. What if it's a Casper? I'm sure we can check that out, right? You asked your inner voice.

Do you want to die? 'Cause that's exactly how you die, came the reply.

Oh, come on! We can't possibly hide from a ghost anyways. And I'm sure Mr Stark has equipped the compound with something against ghosts. Hopefully.

Your inner voice chuckled.

What is he? A daddy of fourteen kids?

...dude.

Yeah, I know the answer to that question. My bad, she shrugged.

A door creaked somewhere in the dorms, bringing you back to reality.

Maybe we should check it out, your inner voice suggested, making you question its sanity.

Aren't you supposed to protect me against danger?

Ay, she sharply pointed at you, I'm also supposed to satiate your curiosity. So, this time the cat might just, I don't know, die.

Wow, you are a nasty one, you implied at your inner voice.

It's ookay, she cooed, you can call me a whiney whore. We both know who is the only one working whenever we see someone that bedazzles you.

Snorting at her, you made your way towards the lounge.

Friday isn't even lighting up the corridors.

The distant roar of thunder was unsettling and the patter of raindrops over the glass part of the roofs and walls did not help when you strained your ears for the slightest of discord.

From the edge of the doorway, the kitchenette seemed empty under that faint blue hue of lights under the slabs that lit up for the nightcrawlers looking for water in the wee hours of the night or early mornings. Many times a couple of them have scared each other for looking like ghosts under that dull blue glow.

The sofas were vacant as well, painted in colours being thrown in their direction from the big screen that you very well remember turning off the moment Steve had dragged a very reluctant Scott and Bucky out and not letting them watch the last fifteen minutes of The Witcher finale.

Maybe I didn't turn it off.

Maybe the ghost likes Geralt of Rivia, your inner voice called out. Or Yennefer, if they're adventurous.

Thump!

You jumped where you stood, the grip on that trophy tight. The noise had come from the dorms followed by a low grunt.

Casper doesn't grunt like an a-an angry demon.

The sweat collecting on your back was now making a trail down your spine, adding a chill when the cold wind brushed itself against you, coming from a door left unlocked or a window left open.

You know what, you breathed in, fuck this. If this is how I die, I'll at least be haunting my own family.

You started walking silently in the lounge, turning to walk towards the dorms where light filtered out through a partially opened door.

What if it's not a ghost, your inner voice tilted her metaphorical head in innocence, what if it's an intruder. A man at that.

You stopped five feet short of that door, everything going blank at the worst words your insides could've have spoken.

I...should hide then. Right?

You were about to turn around when you heard muffled footsteps come from the end of the corridor and the doorknob to Scott's door suddenly twist to be opened with a ghastly creak.

Cursing in a muted rhythm, you dashed inside the very room you were trying to avoid- which was your own.

Two huge strides and you were skidding on the other side of the bed, clearly missing the candles kept on a table right in the centre of your room. Wait what, your adrenaline-induced brain shot itself out to bring back the frames you missed.

Before the ten thousand four hundred and seventy-one theories could take a better form inside your head, the door to your room let out a groan, stopping your heart.

You laid yourself on your stomach to be as much out of the view of the intruder as you could.

The door clicked close. Footsteps walked away from it towards the centre. A sigh followed.

It is an intruder.

Your veins wanted to freeze over. Your heart was already shouting 'NOPE' and your inside wanted to come out.

A ruffle made you slide a little to peek from the corner of the bedside. A figure stood with its back to you in a black trenchcoat, unbuttoning the fabric tortured by the rain.

He's distracted, your inner voice shouted from your shoulder, now's our chance.

On your knees, you stepped out, positioning yourself low right behind him.

Gloved hands brought the cap of the trenchcoat down before going for the shoulder shrug to remove it.

Now!

Raising your weapon of choice over your head, you aimed for the loose strands of raven hair that suddenly were turning away to bring forth green eyes watching you in horror as cold pale hands blocked your attack- but not your rage-filled shriek- and forced you halfway over the bed.

"What in the hell are you doing?"

Loki's hands still held you down, his wet strands gracing your fear-burned cheeks with water droplets.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?! You are supposed to be out on a mission with the rest right now?!"

Your voice shook but the anger you were feeling could be seen in your eyes by the God.

"Leave that," Loki commanded, pointing to the trophy still in your hands.

"No!" you spat back. You couldn't. The shock had frozen your hold.

"I said leave it."

"No!!"

"Were you really going to use it on me?"

"Of course I was going to use it on you!" you scoffed and raised the fiery embers just a smidge in your tone. "I was going for the spot and wanted to make sure you were shivering on your knees when I was done."

"Oh my God," a tired voice came from outside your door, making you both dilute the confusion and fire to look in that direction.

"I go out for five minutes to find ribbons and flowers and this is what I get back to. Give me a fucking break!"

You furrowed your brows at the door.

"Is...is that-"

"Yeah," Loki answered, never taking his eyes off the door, which clicked open with an annoyed Clint entering the space.

"Why do you guys have to talk like that during normal stuff," he mumbled, closing the door, "do you know how many times you've given me a heart atta-"

He stopped short. His eyes absorbing you lying halfway on the bed with Loki over you, his hands wrapped around yours, keeping your arms over your head while his legs locked yours in place. What was worse for the man was you looking at him with suspicion.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!"

"She tried to blow me."

Clint's eyes went three times wider, his jaw on the verge of falling.

"You were supposed to be out! I thought you were an intruder, you idiot!!"

Clint's hand came up as a sign to apply the breaks at this entire conversation.

"You thought he was an intr-oh ohh OH!!! Okay." He finally breathed, trying to feel his heart by placing his hand on his chest. "It's okay. It's okay."

"Now, am I an intruder?" He asked you, his eyes going soft, his hold loose.

"...no," you replied softly, letting go of the hold on the trophy.

Placing his knee on the edge of the bed, he pushed himself up, bringing you with him by your hand.

"Why didn't you guys tell me you were here? I nearly shat my pants!"

Loki and Clint exchanged a look, clearly hurting you for not knowing what was going on.

Clint sighed, lowering his head.

"Well, you weren't supposed to know till the next-" Loki looked down at the watch on his wrist- "twenty minutes. We were supposed to take you somewhere."

"Where? And why?"

Loki stepped aside to show you a small mountain of gift-wrapped boxes kept on the table in the middle with a balloon tied to the one at the top- the floating green thing spelling out a very obvious greeting.

Loki smiled at the unadulterated shock rushing over your face as your eyes grew wide and a muted gasp left your parted lips.

"Happy birthday."

[renjingujifortheladies]

**update**and happy fall ;) guidelines

im going to reschedule my blog time. i will delete the app from my tablet because it makes me obsessively refresh and feel like its broken in some way. when its not.

ive been only realizing this now but i had close to 1000 subs (even tho most of them inactive or moved or personal blog who followed me once and idk stayed?) and now i  have 800 something. its not the number that bothers me but the fact that these are all those nasty nude girl bot blogs... i really dont care about the number since i myself follow like 30 ppl at most

i checked the last 3 month activity  and in june i had 50 reblogs on threads which is not too shabby in july i had 28 in august i had 5 (granted  i was off for like two weeks) and since the beginning of september i had 9 (i also counted in the inbox replies i did) 

i dont know how anyone is with it but i follow very few people and i even go back to the day before and recognize where my dash was when i went to bed. its compulsive and its bad because i get myself hyped up then i feel shit when i scroll past so many threads that has nothing to do with me. and im not about that. im about the fun and im glad others are having fun. i also remember sending out memes but dont remember to whom and how many. if it was excessive im sorry and if yall dont feel like answering just drop it and delete it.  same goes for threads if you wont feel like something anymore tag me into a thread drop post and the thread and ill just like it and stop waiting on it. 

and this is me saying literally that i have nothing better to do then sit and refresh when i could be (and should be tbh) doing something else. im not being negative about it but i feel like its pointless for me to reblog inbox meme compilations and the like. 

it starts to feel like less as a hobby then a device to torture myself because even over extended period of time i dont get anything. and when i do its unhealthy how hyped i get about it and drop everything i do to reply. 

i think about my ships even though i wait sometimes months for a thread to move forward. i dont lack in ideas and even tried to do just drabbles but i got scared of those even because i think what if the other party will think i interpret their muse in a way they wont portray and drop me completely. (i did get shit for that a long time ago) 

i dont write headcanons even though i think of them often because most of my muses dont even get requested and if by some miracle i get to try them out its literally 3 notes in and never hear from the new partner again. also if i do introduce myself to new blogs i follow and ive stressed this before so many times.... if i get ignored i get pissed. i get pissed if someone follows me then i follow them back and even chat them up and they ignore me unfollow me (without my dumbass noticing because im not about the numbers) and i like their starter call because they are still on my dash and then they spat out a “mutuals only” message i loose my cool. 

i love the people i regularly play with and the reason why im so hesitant to even accept new followers or follow someone when the mood strikes is exactly because im at the end of my rope here. i dont want to hate coming on here because new people ruin my experience and then my friends who actually do bomb threads with me have to deal with my sour ass because others pissed me off. 

 so long story short;

*dont expect me to give you more than 3 weeks waiting time to interact and get something going on if you are new,  * ill come online once a week do all my replies put them into queue and maybe at the most lurk and reblog pictures tagging my partners whos ship it may concern * i wont reblog inbox one liner meme anymore. its pointless and just makes me get upset with myself. (although i will participate in tags if someone tags me) that being said my inbox is open (and empty) and everyone is welcome (yes anon is also welcome) * i wont put out and wont like starter calls. those are the things that break my spirit the most. i dont need a starter to have 3 notes in and never continued.  * i WILL literally drop a thread if i write an extensive reply and get like at the maximum 3 lines of reply. that is the biggest disrespect in my book and im done making exceptions even if we are years long partners. its just rude and you can move your brain a little to write more than a paragraph.  * i WILL block you if you ask for a starter and let it sit after 3 notes in because fuck you thats why. 

i hope you all have a lovely day or night wherever you are , stay safe and stay hydrated. eat fruits and sleep lots.  💝

[slytherindragonfly]

Prejudiced - Pt. 10

Masterpost of previous parts

Recap: Having had to brew Amortentia in potions class and having smelled your scent in there, Sirius was forced to come to terms with the fact that he might just like you more than he had intended to. But just what is he going to do about it?

Word count: 5.6k

Warning: Bullying (not of the reader!)

A/N: Sooo... after this story has been two years in the making, it has finally come to an end. I can’t thank everyone who has dropped a nice comment about it enough, I also cannot believe how wonderful everyone has been with me and the ridiculously long hiatuses, the constant teasing that I might post and then turned out not to... No one has ever made me feel bad about those, no one has ever pressured me and for that I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. It didn’t sit right with me to have never given this story a proper ending, and it might have taken some time, but it is finally here. I really hope you enjoy reading this.

Tagging (anyone who has ever asked even if a long time ago, just ignore this if you’re no longer interested!): @justagingerlivinglife @ihatenewusernames @abundanceofcarolines @fantasticchaoticwho @kararanae23 @aestheticallymarauderss @hello-fanfiction-goodbye-grades @livingwith50catsseemsfine

Right after classes, Sirius had gone to the library to catch you there. So, when he had realized you weren’t there, frustration started creeping up on him, building up as he made his way back to the Gryffindor tower. He’d spent all day not listening the slightest bit in class, trying to figure out what his next move should be, or actually attempting to decide if he should make a move at all. 

Remus had urged him to talk to you, and usually Remus had been known to be bizarrely insightful with this kind of situation, but this time something didn’t sit right. He’d always gone to girls as soon as he figured out he was attracted even in the tiniest, wobbliest way, but now for the first time he was considering taking it slow. Perhaps it was best trying to see if you fancied him back before attempting anything. Perhaps you not having been in the library like you’d said you would be was a sign he should read  into, or whatever his divination handbook would say.

Then again, as fate would have it, as soon as the thought had bloomed in his mind, he spotted you sitting on one of the benches by the courtyard, reading. The afternoon sun shone on your face like a spotlight singling you out from everyone and everything around, and in the span of a single second, his resolve to let things run their course organically completely dissolved. Had he been the slightest bit self-aware, he would’ve noticed how his heart picked up its pace as he made his way to you.

“Y/N!” he called to make you look up.

“Hey Sirius,” you smiled as he plopped down next to you, closing your book.

“I went by the library like you said and couldn’t find you there. If I didn’t know better, from this episode and you being in such a rush earlier in the hospital wing, I’d say you’ve taken up avoiding me,” he teased nonchalantly.

“Sorry about that,” you chuckled. “I’m waiting on someone before I head up to the library and he’s running late, so you can blame it on him if you wish.”

“I see,” he nodded, “And just who might the lucky fellow be?” he asked, trying not to come off as too curious.

He saw a flash of... something in your eyes, but you didn’t get the chance to reply.

“That would be me,” a dry voice answered.

Sirius looked up to see Severus was now standing next to you, books in hand and the same emotionless expression as ever on his face. In that moment, he understood how fires must feel when you choke them out by throwing a blanket on top of them.

“Sorry I was late, are you ready to go?” he added, to you only this time.

“Listen mate, don’t you see we’re in the middle of something? You made her wait, now take a number and go back down the queue, will you?” Sirius instantly brushed him off.

He did not like having him there when he didn’t know if the next words out of his mouth would be to ask you out.

“I can answer for myself, thank you very much Sirius,” you told him, and he noticed your smile had faded and your voice had tensed the way posh people’s voice did when they were mad.

Oh god, I don’t know if I could handle a posh girlfriend, he thought to himself, starting to panic from things not going the way he had planned. So much so he didn’t even think twice about mentally using the term ‘girlfriend’.

“Sirius just wanted to talk to me about something, but I’m sure it’ll be really quick, you don’t mind waiting do you?” you asked him much more politely.

He nodded. “I didn’t know you were friends with... his kind,” he commented coldly.

“Oh, piss off Snivellus,” Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“Sirius!” you scolded him, surprised. “What’s the matter with you?!”

“The matter with me?” he scoffed. “Why don’t you ask him that question, coming here interrupting us and acting all high and mighty like he’s not the bloody embodiment of filth,” he replied, getting worked up by the second.

Your mouth gaped open at his reaction. He could tell you really weren’t pleased with how the situation was escalating, but he was starting to get mad from Snape being there, and he could almost feel his self-control escaping him. 

“Charming as ever, Black,” Severus mocked him. “Where is the rest of your band of insufferable dimwits today? I thought you only flocked together like a pathetic little pack of strays.”

“Severus!” you exclaimed, stunned at how vicious the spat was turning.

“Oh you’re going to regret this mate,” Sirius warned, whipping out his wand and pointing it as Snape.

“How adorable of you to think you can take me on your own,” he snickered dryly. “You’re not even the second best out of the four of you.”

Sirius was nearly fuming with rage, and students were starting to gather around, anticipating a duel. Before Snape could even motion to grasp his wand properly, Sirius cast the knockback jinx on him, sending him to the ground.

“Flipendo!” he enunciated, his voice devoid of pity. A chorus of gasps and cheers erupted around them. “You have some nerve, attacking my friends when you don’t even have any of your own, Slytherin scum,” he spat, raising his wand once more. “Now this next jinx ought to teach you to hold your tongue, Snivellus. Langlo-”

“Expelliarmus!”

Before he’d finished pronouncing the jinx, his wand had gone flying out of his hand. He turned to see who was responsible, and he was met with an intolerable expression in your eyes, or intolerable to him at least. Instantly coming down from the high of his anger, he realized he’d completely lost sight of what he’d meant to be telling you. 

Before anyone could say anything, the resounding voice of Professor McGonagall resonated throughout the courtyard. Sirius had seen her angry plenty of times, but he knew this time was worse.

“Sirius Black, just what do you think you’re doing exactly, raising your wand against a fellow student?” she asked blazing through the crowd. “Since apparently all my warnings have gone unwarranted, I’ll let the Headmaster deal with you this time around,” she ordered, her angry stare scaring away the crowd that had gathered, leaving only him, Snape and yourself around. 

“Mr. Snape, did you cast any spells?” she asked him harshly, lowering her gaze to him as he was still on the ground, harbouring a blank expression Sirius knew was meant to cover up his rage and humiliation. 

“No, professor,” he replied smugly.

“Then what are you still doing here? Get on up and go, for Merlin’s sake,” she dismissed him, and he reluctantly walked away.

“What about you, Miss Y/L/N?” she asked, stern.

“I only casted the disarming charm so he’d stop, professor,” you answered, your tone levelled. 

“The both of you will follow me to Professor Dumbledore’s office then,” McGonagall ordered, and started walking away.

“What? How is that fair, I-” Sirius heard you start, but you were immediately cut off.

“Save your justifications for the Headmaster. No matter your intentions,  rules were broken, fundamental rules of this school at that,” McGonagall retorted, not bothering to stop in her tracks.

Sirius tried to meet your eyes, but you made it impossible for him, averting your gaze instantaneously. How the bloody hell did I fuck up this bad? he asked himself internally, feeling like he was collapsing on himself. Somehow, he’d managed to break his own heart.

He sulked all the way up to Dumbledore’s office, thinking over and over how he’d completely erased any chance he could’ve had at you liking him back.  He couldn’t help but think how you’d get punished because of him, and how he’d come to know these things really affected you. 

“Lemon drops,” McGonagall said once the revolving statue had been reached. 

She escorted the two of you upstairs, and you all found Dumbledore sitting behind his desk, writing with what appeared to be the longest, whitest quill known to wizard. Fawkes was perched by the side of the desk. Every time Sirius had wound up in the headmaster’s office, which there was no shortage of, he couldn’t help but be fascinated by the phoenix. 

“Ah, Minerva, in what trouble has Mr. Black managed to drag Miss Y/L/N which would warrant a visit to my office?” Dumbledore asked, looking up from his paperwork, peering over his half-moon glasses. 

“I am at my wit’s end with the boy, Professor. It seems no disciplinary measure I come up with prevents him from jinxing his fellow students. This time it was the knockback jinx,” she explained, concern bleeding through her exasperation. “More so, I’ve had to give detention to this exact pair earlier this semester.”

Sirius saw you wince at the last comment. 

“Ah, I see,” Dumbledore replied. “Fortunately these forms are boring me immensely right now. You may leave them with me. I shall ensure appropriate action is taken,” he dismissed her. 

McGonagall nodded and left, the clicking of her boots’ heels echoing through the office. Dumbledore gestured at the two of you to sit at the chairs facing his desk, signing one last document before pushing the parchments aside to observe you both better. After a short pause, he spoke up again.

“So, Y/N, why don’t you recall the events that lead you here for me?” he asked.

“... And then I could tell he was going to cast another jinx on Severus, and he seemed too out of it to be reasoned with, so I disarmed him to prevent further harm,” you concluded. “I never meant to engage in the fight Professor, I just wanted to make it stop, before either of them did something they would regret,” you added, your voice pleading.

“Very well,” Dumbledore nodded.

Slowly, the headmaster turned his gaze to Sirius, slouched in his seat beside you. You’d refused to look at him since McGonagall had escorted you both upstairs. How could things have escalated so quickly, without warning? You knew Sirius and his friends didn’t get along with Severus, had heard about confrontations between the lot of them, but never had you thought so little could trigger them to jump at each other’s throats like that. 

Just thinking about the spat made you mad. How could Sirius have been so vicious? How could he have called Severus ‘Slytherin scum’ when you had been right there next to him, after all the talks you’d had about house rivalries? You thought he had been genuine, but had he just been buttering you up? Oh, and the way he’d said it, like the words were poisoin themselves...

“Mr. Black, do you care to add anything?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes serious and his tone even.

Sirius stirred in his seat.

“I don’t think so, professor,” he said. “Every time I wind up here, I say I’ll do better, I’ll be better, but... I don’t think I know how. I guess I can’t,” he sighed, and had you not been so upset with him, you might’ve felt a pang of pity. 

This was not the confident Sirius you were used to. He seemed younger all of a sudden, because there he was, a boy not quite grown, defeated. He had stopped trying to meet your eyes. But none of that erased what he had said. Because that was what you cared about. The fact he’d cast Flipendo on someone else, that he’d broken the rules, you didn’t care about much, you realized. But the words he’d said had perhaps cut you deeper than they had Severus.

“Now, Mr. Black,” Dumbledore started replying, taking off his glasses to stare him directly in the eyes. “Just because you do not know how does not mean you can’t. It simply means you must learn it first.”

Sirius looked up, but something in his expression indicated he dared not yet hope. You suddenly felt out of place, like the exchange was part of a conversation started long before you had walked in on Sirius’s life. 

“I will put some thought on how Hogwarts can help you with your self-control, Sirius, and will come back to you shortly with a solution I will expect you to comply with as reparation for your actions today,” Dumbledore explained, a glint of benevolence in his gaze. “In the meantime, I am sure your friend Remus could share much wisdom on the topic with you, if you were brave enough to ask.”

You smiled inwardly at his word choice. You hadn’t met with the headmaster often yourself, not being a troublemaker by nature, but you could see so many students, alumni and staff respected him so. He was good at his job, if sometimes a bit peculiar, knowing how to appeal to people’s natures so they’d actually listen. Meanwhile, Sirius shifted in his seat, seeming in deep reflexion.

“As for immediate consequences,” Dumbledore continued, leaning back and seemingly bringing you back into the conversation, “I will deduct thirty house points from Gryffindor for the use of the knock-back jinx on a fellow student outside of permissible circumstances, and ten from Slytherin for the disarming charm,” he announced solemnly, putting his glasses back on.

You felt yourself deflate in your seat. You knew you were about to get an earful from your house prefect for failing your house, especially since you were nearly tied with Ravenclaw for the most points at the moment.

“However, I have always maintained it takes a special sort of courage to stand up to your friends to prevent them harm from themselves,” Dumbledore smiled, faintly amused. “For putting an end to the confrontation before it could further pan out, Y/N, I am awarding you fifteen house points. Just... do not make this a habit,” he advised.

“No, sir,” you replied wide-eyed, a bit stunned. “Thank you, sir.”

From the corner of your eye, you could see Sirius was trying to get you to look at him again, probably to give you some kind of “at least that wasn’t so bad” smile, but you refused to cave in to him. Just because his short temper hadn’t cost you house points after all did not mean he was forgiven.

“Now, if the two of you would see yourselves down to Professor Slughorn’s classroom, I believe he will have your detention ready. You two are to help him clean cauldrons until every last one is clean as new,” he dismissed you both, gathering back the parchments he had been working on earlier.

You sprung up and headed for the door immediately, your cheeks burning in embarrassment. In no previous year had you been given detention so often. As you walked out, you started to ponder whether it was possible that Sirius was more of a bad influence than anything else. Of course, he’d helped you a lot with your Animagus business, and he’d been so patient about it. But he’d also landed you in more trouble than you’d ever been in. Your mind was advising you to cool off your friendship with him, not shutting him out entirely but perhaps not entangling your life with his as much. And yet, at the mere thought of such a prospect, your heart inexplicably ached. 

“Y/N, wait up!” Sirius shouted after you, catching up outside of Dumbledore’s office, where he’d seemingly lingered longer than you.

You turned to look at him, but you didn’t slow down, keeping a fast pace towards the dungeons. You heard him curse under his breath as he accelerated, jogging to you. 

“Please just hear me out, I’m so sorry all this happened, I don’t know what got a hold of me,” he apologized, reaching out for your arm but not grabbing it.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Sirius,” you brushed him off, keeping on walking in the empty hallway. 

“That’s okay, I just need you to listen, I-,” he replied, but you cut him off.

“I’m not feeling particularly up for that either, I haven’t quite loved what I heard from you today.”

The bite in your tone took him by surprise, and for a second he stopped walking while you went on. You started climbing down a stairway when you felt it start to shift under your feet. Thankfully, its destination remained the same, but a quick glance upwards let you see Sirius was having a new route cut out for him. Taking a moment to breathe, you stopped walking down the stairs as they kept on realigning themselves. Despite all your time at Hogwarts, the feeling still made you uneasy. But then you heard it, the thud of a weight landing on the stairway behind you. Instantly, you turned around to see him stick the landing on the second step.

“Are you bloody mad? You jumped on a moving stairway? You could’ve tumbled all the way down, you knob!” you shrieked, instinctively running up to him, before you stopped yourself, seeing he was obviously fine.

“Good thing I didn’t then, uh?” he smirked, but stopped as he saw the scowl on your face. “Listen, just tell me what I have to do to make it up to you. I can’t stand seeing you so mad,” he pleaded, walking down to the step you stood at to look into your eyes at the same level. 

“Merlin, you’re so infuriating!” you exclaimed, inching away. “This isn’t the House Cup, Sirius, you can’t just lose points and make up for them by winning some more.”

“You’re right, I-” he started replying, but you cut him off once more, your anger bloating inside you.

“And you know what? If you don’t want me to be mad, why don’t you try not saying such... such vile things!” you burst, incapable of holding it in any longer, attracting many disapproving stares from the portraits lining the walls. “I can’t believe how cruel you were to him, Sirius! ‘Slythering scum’, is that really what you think?” you accused him.

Feeling a prickle in your eye, you willed yourself to shut the faucet of your anger just as quickly as it had burst open. Shaking your head, you started walking away from him.

“You... you know I didn’t mean that about you,” he stuttered, completely taken aback by your outburst. “And you’re not being fair!” he exclaimed after a pause, anger sprouting in his own voice. “And you heard what your stupid... boyfriend said to me, how was that any better?” he spat.

One last time, you stopped dead in your tracks to look at him.

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of my anger to go around for the both of you,” you replied, your voice ice cold. “And my boyfriend, really? Don’t be fucking juvenile, Sirius.”

And with that, you marched on ahead without him. Had you turned around, you might have deciphered that the look on his face translated as him pondering whether banging his head on the wall would make him even more so juvenile.

Slughorn was showing you the cauldrons in need of cleaning when Sirius walked into the potions classroom, a few minutes after you.

“Ah, Mr. Black, very well,” Slughorn commented as he shut the door behind himself. “I trust you’ll remember what to do from the last time you were here under my supervision, am I correct?” he asked him in his distinct tone. Slughorn was mostly either proud or neutral about students, and rarely ever expressed disappointment for students he hadn’t elevated to the ranks of his little private club.

Sirius simply nodded, hesitant to come nearer the two of you.

“You may get started on the pile over there,” Slughorn gestured to a workstation covered in a few old cauldrons. With a flick of his wand, he transfigured the workstation right besides it into a basin filled with soapy water. 

Without a word, Sirius headed there, head hanging low. You hadn’t expected him to react to your lashing out like that. You’d expected more dramatic scowls, perhaps a gaze filled with resentment. But instead, he looked just like he had for a moment in Dumbledore’s office. Defeated.

You averted your attention back to Slughorn, who was demonstrating to you how to properly brush the cauldrons so they would not rust unevenly. When you’d asked him why it couldn’t be done with magic, he’d replied that it easily could be done, but that he believed in manual labour as a form of detention.

“Now, why don’t you show me how you would do it, and I’ll let you get to it, yes?” he asked you.

Nodding, you grabbed the bristled brush he was handing you and started scrubbing the bottom of a cauldron with it, working to get a thick tar to leech off the copper.

“Hm, what a particular scent,” Slughorn mumbled as you worked away. “Miss Y/L/N/, I hope you do not mind me asking, but what are the scents in your perfume?” he asked. 

You stopped scrubbing to look up at him, befuddled by his inquiry. You also saw Sirius stop working to turn your way, an odd look on his face as he stared at the Professor.

“I know it’s an unusual request,” Slughorn started explaining, “but you see one of my close friends - and former student, actually - is a budding master of fragrances. He was writing to me the other day, asking if I knew of any singular combinations of scents he should add to his catalog, and I simply must rely to him the scents in your perfume. The floral notes are obvious, but do I also detect notes of something woodsy?”

While the initial question remained odd, the explanation wasn’t far off from other things you’d heard the Professor say about other alumni, and so you did not think much of it. You wondered, however, what in it had made Sirius turn so suddenly livid.

“Well if you must know, it’s actually the scent from my shampoo, sir. My muggle aunt makes some for friends and families as a hobby,” you answered as a prelude. “Mine smells of gardenia and sandalwood, actually.”

“Hmm, yes, gardenia and sandalwood, fascinating,” the Professor commented, although he sounded more like someone who had confirmed rather than discovered something. “I should go write it down now, lest I forget later. I suppose your aunt won’t mind?” he asked.

“I don’t think she would, no,” you replied.

“Terrific,” he clapped. “I see you have mastered the art of the scrub already, so I will take my leave now. I will be in my office should either of you need me,” he said, before starting to walk away. “Gardenia and sandalwood, isn’t that just a memorable combination, Mr. Black?” he added, but barely even waited for him to nod back before he left, door shutting behind him.

“That was... odd,” you commented aloud after a few seconds of silence. You searched Sirius’s face for his opinion on the little scene that had just unfolded, but were met with a cool facade of self-control.

“Well, it is Slughorn after all,” he replied matter-of-factly, turning back to his basin. “When isn’t he at least a little odd?”

You shrugged, inclined to agree with him, and got back to work. You were still upset with him, but your earlier outburst had allowed you to cool down a bit, to a point where you weren’t quite willing to hear his excuses yet, but you were done trying to ignore him.

As you worked your way through the grime of the first cauldron, you took the time to ponder silently where you stood. You’d been so inebriated with your budding friendship with Sirius you’d never actually taken the time to consider wether the sum of his impacts on your life was more positive than negative. How embarrassing it would be, really, if it turned out he was nothing more than a drug, and you, the addict, were so taken with the pleasant first stages you’d forgotten all about its fundamentally bad consequences? After all, how many times had you heard the whispers of “Stay away from Black, he’s trouble” over the years? One sure thing was, they weren’t about Regulus.

And so you started doing the math in your head, going back to the very beginning. Had set your robes on fire in the first year; negative. Had talked to your brother after only chatting with you for a few minutes; positive. Had no qualms being disruptive in the library; mildly negative, but still. 

You suppressed a smirk as you recalled the howler prank you’d played on James with him and Remus. How giddy you’d felt when he’d locked eyes with you in the dining hall right after the letter had combusted, his silent applause which had stirred your chest aflutter. Not applicable, you decided. 

Then you recalled how he’d been so reckless that night by the kitchens, how he’d drunkenly attempted to kiss you and how your resulting laughter had landed you in hot waters with McGonagall, how it had landed you in detention. Definitely negative, you tallied, although your cheeks burned slightly at the memory. 

Next in line was the memory of the ensuing detention itself. It was then he’d discovered you were trying to become an animagus on your own - illegally. He hadn’t threatened to tell anyone, had even trusted you right away with the fact he was one as well. How he’d insisted you not go through your first transformation alone, and how he’d shown up before you even in the owlery on the night of the storm. Bad influence, good friend. 

From then on, he’d only been good to you, helping you get used to the animal state. Good up until today. As his words surfaced back in your mind, you knew your anger had transformed. You weren’t mad at him anymore; you were sad. Sad you’d believed him to be so wonderful until he’d been so cruel to Severus. Sad he was still just as prejudiced towards Slytherins even after you’d gotten close.

“You’ve got that look on your face,” he spoke up as he was crossing the classroom to get some vial, passing in front of you on his way back to his workstation.

“What look?” you asked, defensive.

“The one you make when you’re trying to wrap your mind around something,” he clarified. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m... I’m trying to decide if you’re a bad influence, actually,” you answered carefully.

“How am I doing so far?”

“Pretty fifty-fifty, I’d say,” you said truthfully.

Your reply was met with a dry chuckle. “Yeah, well, that does sound like me.”

Silence filled the room once more, and you decided you were done with your first cauldron. Setting it aside, you grabbed the next one and plunged it underwater. Immediately, you saw the viscous liquid at its bottom dilute into the water, granting it a barely noticeable shimmer. 

As you started scrubbing it, you let your gaze wander to Sirius. His back was facing you, so you could freely stare as you tried to decide what to do of him. Soon enough, a scent you’d grown familiar with spread through the room.

“Good Merlin, Sirius, did you really have to wear so much cologne today?” you asked, your nose flooded with the smell of him. “The whole room already reeks of you.”

He turned around to look at you, puzzled.

“I don’t even wear cologne, what are you talking about?” he replied.

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed.

Before you could add any more, Sirius sprang up and walked towards you, an unreadable expression on his face. Kneeling beside you, he reached to cup some of the basin water in his bare hand and brought it up to his nose. The water was dripping through his fingers and down his forearm, but he didn’t seem to care.

He muttered something inaudible, springing up again, his gaze locked on the basin.

“What?” you asked, utterly puzzled, helping yourself up as well to keep up with him.

“Gardenia and sandalwood,” he whispered, slowly turning to look at you. There was a flame so intense in his eyes it troubled you, so you chose to ignore it.

“Listen, I know my shampoo is very fragrant, but I can assure you whatever smell you’re giving off, it’s much stronger right now,” you told him.

It wasn’t a bad smell, either. Just very... overpowering.

“I can’t believe you haven’t gotten it yet,” he said, his eyes still boring into yours. “Aren’t you supposed to have beat out Remus’s Potions score in the N.E.W.T.S.?”

“Sirius, what are you even on about?” you asked, growing restless by the second.

Wordlessly, he flicked his wand so the basin grew red hot in the span of a few seconds. Almost instantly, the water started evaporating in faint yet discernible smoke volutes. Characteristic, twisting volutes. Gardenia and Sandalwood. Oh.

“You know what’s going on don’t you?” he asked, cautious, waiting for your reaction.

But you were too petrified to give him one. Surely you couldn’t be... How had you not...?

“Y/N, I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” he started, half nervous, half apologetic. “It’s no excuse, but it was a stupid force of habit. I’ve got my own issues, and Severus, he reminds me so much of them,” he paused to swallow, ”of my family, that he never fails to bring out the worst in me. And I know now it’s not right, but I just... You were on my mind all day, Y/N. I couldn’t wait to get to you at the end of it, and when he showed up and he turned out to be the reason I almost didn’t find you... I lost it,” he sighed.

“Sirius, I... I...” you started but trailed off, words failing you.

“It’s okay, just let me finish, I’ve still got so much to say” he replied. “I won’t try and bullshit you, tell you I knew back in that first year when James and I nearly set you on fire. I actually still have no idea why we did that, if I’m being completely honest with you. But that first night by the kitchen this year, you might as well have cast a spell on me, I was so... intrigued. And then that other night, remember when I tried to kiss you?”

You nodded, gulping. How could you not?

“Remember how hard we laughed at that? That night I smelled gardenia and sandalwood in the vial of amortentia that was being passed around the Gryffindor common room, but I did not recognize you in it, not yet. But this morning, Slughorn made me brew it, and this time I knew, which is why I nearly lost my shit when you walked into the Hospital Wing, although you might not have noticed-”

“Oh, I did,” you bit your lip, smiling.

“You... you did?” he asked, surprised.

“I know you, by now,” you simply answered, your heart pounding so loud in your chest you would have sworn he could hear it.

“Oh. So anyways, uh, by then I... I....” he trailed off, at loss for words, his eyes trailing down to your lips. 

Immediately, he gave up on finishing his train of thought and his hands surged to cup your face as he leaned down to press his lips against yours. His kiss was tender, imprinted with a longing you wouldn’t have thought him capable of. As you kissed him back, you could have sworn time stood still in the silence of the classroom. His slightly calloused thumb brushed against your cheek, and you wanted to get lost in the smell of him, amplified by the basin at your feet which was still giving off the lazy volutes of its amortentia-infused water.

It was you who broke the kiss, needing to take a moment to breathe and collect yourself. 

“You know,” you told him, panting slightly, “I’m still upset with what happened earlier.”

“Okay,” he replied, breathing heavily as well.

A moment passed and you found yourself grabbing him by the collar, pulling him back to you to kiss him once more, and instantaneously he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his as your own hands snaked up to the back of his neck, trailing up to run your fingers through his hair, earning you an appreciative groan. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t know how much I’ve been wanting this,” he breathed, breaking the kiss to lift you up so you could sit on the stool right behind you, stepping in between your legs. Resuming the kiss, he bit your lower lip gently, making your back arch so your chest pressed into his. His hands danced on you like his lips did on yours, and you got so caught up in the moment you never heard the door creak open. 

You did both however hear Slughorn’s loud cough, startling you apart violently. As you realized you’d been caught making out with Sirius in detention - bad influence -, you felt your whole face turn crimson all the way down to your neck. Beside you, Sirius himself looked sheepish.

“Sorry about that Professor, must be something in the air from all the potion residue you’re making us wash,” he attempted, which had you chuckling against your better judgement.

“Uhm yes, I’ll bet the smell of gardenia and, let me remember, sandalwood will do that to a young man,” he replied, thoroughly amused.

His response had your chuckle turn into a strangle cough from startling you so.

“I won’t report this incident, but do get back to work now, yes?” Slughorn ordered, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, avoiding to look at him as you slid down your stool.

“Absolutely,” Sirius grinned.

[tempestattribution]

[[ I’ve been trying to figure out how to write everything I’ve wanted to say down for a few weeks now, and honestly I think it’s not ever going to sound as smooth and well-composed as I wanted it to so I guess I’m just going to write it and hope for the best. Mind the tags if you end up clicking the read-more, I don’t want to put anyone in a bad place.

I uh. I guess I mostly wanted to apologise for how spotty and kind of annoying and strange and clingy I’ve been lately? I’ve been at this blog for about a year now fairly consistently but I know my quality has probably dropped this past month or two and so much of the plot I’d had planned for the blog feels like it’s slipping from my grasp too, so I’m sorry for the disappointment if there was anyone that was excited to see what would happen to Moira and his situation. At this point I don’t mean to drop the blog or even the future plans for the plot, but it means that I’m going to have to work extra hard to get the right content out and interact with the people who want to interact.

That being said, lately I haven’t really felt much joy for rping, and I’ll admit that it’s been devastating. I’ve been admitted to my city’s psychiatric hospital for my safety and am trying out new medication to try and get the depression and anxiety under control, but nothing’s really worked so far. I rarely have the energy to respond to the things I have going but am unfairly disappointed about things I can’t control in things that’ve gone stagnant and keep trying in some panicked haze to pick up my mind to write new content to try and jumpstart everything or make up for what’s stalled even though I know it never works, and I’m working on getting better about it without being pushy or getting anxious that I’m leaving people out by responding to some things quicker/more consistently than others, or that thinking there’s no point in trying anymore. Writing that out kind of hits home about how bad this has gotten in my head; I hadn’t really noticed the extent of how much my feelings towards my rping experiences had changed and how quickly it’d happened.

I’m sorry for not reaching out to many of the muns whose muses my muse interacts with-- I’ve been meaning to, but I’ve been really scared of being sucked into drama that I don’t have the mental health to deal with, and even more scared of setting an impression on new people that I don’t want to set on them. The amount of you that I want to plot and plan with and just chat to is ridiculous, but I hardly know any of you because I’ve been too depressed to think it’s worth the initial anxiety, and that’s kind of saddening to acknowledge but it’s what’s happened. I’ve tried to keep up with some people but it’s kind of come as a double edged sword; half the time I just get more depressed and the other half I feel better for a while. If my level of care goes up here then I don’t think I’ll be around much to chat anymore, they’d take my devices, but I’ll try to give some warning if that happens.

I’m trying really hard not to let my own mental issues show up in Moira and Mituna by not being around when I can’t distance myself for the sake of writing them, which is why I’ve been really fairly quiet recently, but if anyone notices something that seems out of character/context from either of them, please let me know. I don’t want my shit to leak into characters I’ve worked so hard on, and if that means leaving them be then I guess that would have to be the end of that. But as I said, I don’t want that to happen, so I’m trying really fucking hard not to let it.

I guess I’m also sorry for whenever this is being spat out of the queue, but it wasn’t going to leave me be unless I posted this and I figured not many people would read it anyway. If you’ve read this far, thanks for being here.

When I have my mind a little straighter, I’m going to try and contact some people OOC to plan some interactions and hopefully some plot so I can drag myself out of the hole my mind’s become. That being said, if anyone was interested in Moira and/or Mituna I’m always excited to hear from you, whether or not we’ve spoken before. I promise, I’m in absolutely no position to judge or make you feel like shit for messaging me; I know how that feels.

Love yourselves and each other, everyone. You never know who needs it. ]]