Mentally dating a character that doesn't actually exist.
No, no... I'm not that mad. I'm a mature, fully grown, emotionally stable adult... blah blah blah. Sorry, just kidding - about the maturity part, obviously. Honestly, I'm more like Alice, if she'd ditched the tea party and embraced the madness with black eyeliner and a sarcastic grin. Living quite happily in my own slightly deranged little world.

I'm a fangirl (fanwoman? fan-entity of the night?) of Harry Potter, magic, vampires, The Witcher, and of course - chronically bitter, walking embodiment of my type - Severus Snape. Ah yes, the greasy bat of the dungeons. Perfection.

What else do I love? Gaming, obsessively reading (bookworm doesn't quite cut it - I devour books like a half-starved literary demon) and yes, probably selling my soul to at least three fictional universes before breakfast. Etc. etc. etc.

And now, to the important part: I hate porridge. And wasps. Wasps are nature's middle finger to humanity. Repulsive, buzzing little agents of chaos. I'd rather spend a night in a coffin full of tsetse flies, or cuddle a bag of snakes, frogs, or plague rats, than deal with one smug, vibrating insect with wings. No exaggeration. I am deadly serious.

I don't write sweet love stories. Sorry. It goes against my dark nature and general allergy to cliché. My fanfictions tend to linger in the heavier corners - depression, drug use, emotional damage, and enough unresolved trauma to make Freud sigh and pour himself a drink. 

 But that doesn't mean I don't read sweet stories. Sometimes I do. I am a woman, after all. 

I don't do "charity" follows. This isn't a digital bake sale. If I follow you, it means I genuinely enjoy your content - no social obligations, no fake smiles. You don't have to follow me back unless you actually like what I'm doing. Weird concept, I know.

If you have any questions - don't be ashamed to ask. I don't bite. Usually. 
Love,
Kitty Black