drop dangle

Love in an Elevator

Summary: During your first convention as an actress on Supernatural, you get stuck on an elevator with Misha. He calms you when you start to panic, and somehow things lead to smut.

bye bye summary skills

A/N: I had a dream and it had to be written. And idk about the title. Maybe it’s overused but it’s appropriate.

Pairing: Misha x Reader

Warnings: language, claustrophobia induced panic attack, Misha being a fucking sweetheart (becuase what else would he be in this situation??), oral (male receiving), smut…technical public smut because it’s in an elevator

Word Count: 1.9k

Originally posted by godinameme

It was your first convention since getting a role on Supernatural, and you were excited. You hadn’t really gotten to meet many fans yet, but according to the internet, there were going to be tons at this convention. You had your own panel scheduled, along with photo ops, and tons of other fun activities.

You made your way out of your room and walked down the hall to the elevator, you wanted to get downstairs early as there was a storm coming in. Which was technically already here. You could hear the thunder outside. The doors to the elevator were just beginning to shut when you started sprinting down the hall.

“Hey! Wait!” you called. Luckily, you saw a hand reach out and stop the doors for you.

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“The Dagger of Hasetsu”

“Do you think there are really ninjas there?” Sara leaned into Mila softly, linking their arms together.

“No way,” Mila sputtered, collecting herself as she caught the sweet scent of Sara’s hair. “It’s just an urban legend or something. Something to get the silly tourists all excited.”

“Yuuri, Yuuri! I want to see the ninjas!” Victor was buzzing all around Yuuri, tugging ceaselessly on his shirt.

They were standing in the shadow of Hasetsu Castle, which was posted high above them, green tiled arches glistening in the sun. Yuuri’s mother, being the kind of mother she was, had invited Yuuri’s competitors to come stay with their family at the hot springs for a visit. Yuuri hadn’t expected that every single one of them would take her up on the offer… at the same time. It was a little overwhelming.

The other skaters had pressed Yuuri into showing them the sights, citing Victor’s rave review of Hasetsu. Yuuri didn’t know how to break it to them, but there wasn’t much to see. In fact, their trip around the city had probably been more exciting for the locals.

They were an interesting sight, after all- a pack of foreign professional athletes huddled together around Yuuri like a bunch of baby ducks, staring up in awe at Hasetsu Castle as if they thought the building was watching them back.

“Ninjas?” Georgi swooned. “How mysterious.”

“You can’t be stupid enough to think they’re really hiding something like that up there,” Yurio grumbled. “Tell them, Yuuri.”

“Actually…” Yuuri trailed off evasively.

“I knew it!” Victor exclaimed. “Come on, Yuuri, you’ve kept me waiting long enough. Can’t we see inside? Just a peek.”

“Well…” Yuuri started to sweat as the others pressed in around him. “It’s dangerous.”

“Sounds exciting!” Emil was grinning hard. He grabbed onto Michele’s hand and raised it high in the air. “We’re in!”

“Speak for yourself!” Michele barked, flapping his arm in attempt to escape.

“We’re in, too!” Sara said, and Mila nodded.

“Sara, no,” Michele whined. “He just said it’s not safe. We should wait outside.”

“We’ll be careful, won’t we, Yuuri?” Sara prodded.

“Er- uhm-”

Yurio was already starting up the stone steps without them. He had a new fire burning in his eyes.

“Like I’m gonna let Katsudon stop me from seeing the ninjas. C’mon, Beka!”

Otabek followed quietly after him like an old dog.

“I’ll race ya, Mickey!” Emil shouted, taking off at top speed.

“What- no- Sara, wait!” Michele stumbled after his sister, who was already disappearing into the trees.

“Seung-gil, let’s take a selfie together at the top!” Phichit called cheerfully.

“Everyone, wait-!” Yuuri tried, but it was too late. The other skaters were already rushing to the top without him.

“Let’s hurry, or we’ll be left behind.” Victor’s smooth voice cut through Yuuri’s panicked thoughts. He was playfully rubbing Yuuri’s inner arm. “Unless that’s what you wanted… It’s just us now.”

Yuuri eyed him with amusement.

“Yeah. Just you, me, and Chihoko.”

He started up the stairs after the group, leaving Victor to absorb his words.

“Yuuri, that’s mean!” Victor wailed after him.

~

“How do you open this damn thing?” Yurio grunted as he pried at the doors with both hands and one foot.

“Maybe we have to ring the doorbell,” Otabek suggested calmly.

“Beka, what-?”

“This is ridiculous,” Seung-gil muttered.

“Maybe there’s a secret button,” Emil chimed in.

“Of course.” Minami nodded sagely. “Ninjas are very secretive. They don’t want just anybody getting in there.”

“Well I’m not just anybody, and I’m getting in whether Yuuri likes it or not!” Yurio swore. “Give me a boost!”

Otabek stooped a bit so that Yurio could climb onto his shoulders.

“I see an opening! Can you get a little closer to the door?” Yurio asked, wobbling a little as he stood up.

“Careful!” Guang Hong hovered nervously around Otabek, reaching out to brace Yurio’s legs.

“Maybe we should wait for Yuuri,” Leo offered. He exchanged a look with Chris, who just shook his head.

“Why wait? Fortune favors the brave!” JJ slapped Otabek on the back in support, causing Yurio to almost lose his balance.

“Watch it!” Yurio snapped, clinging to the building like a cat over a bathtub.

“Can you see inside?” Phichit asked, standing on tiptoe.

“I think… if I get on this ledge…”

“What are you doing??” Yuuri shrieked as he and Victor reached the landing.

Woah!” Yurio’s palm slipped and he toppled head-first out of sight. They heard him hit the floor on the other side of the door.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri said quietly.

Ow……Wow! Urgh… You guys have to see this! This is so cool!”

“Yuri, don’t touch anything!” Yuuri’s voice was firm and low.

“Hey, how come the floor is sinking? I didn’t break it just from falling like that… Crappy ninja architecture-”

Yuuri pushed through the other skaters, stripping off his windbreaker. He pulled his arm back and struck the doors of Hasetsu Castle hard with his open palm in several places, following some kind of pattern invisible to the others. The doors groaned open on their own, parting ominously.

“Yuuri-” Victor saw the expression on his fiancé’s face change. It was the same look Yuuri had right before a competition. When concentration overpowered any other thought and the rest of the world was blocked out.

Yurio was standing in the middle of an enormous, cathedral-like hall lined with pillars. Everywhere he stepped, a section of the floor began to lower out of sight, like a puzzle that was losing pieces, fast. He kept jumping back, out of the way, moving further and further inside.

“It’s just like Indiana Jones!” Leo mused aloud. Then realization struck him. “Oh no.”

“What are you talking about?” Yurio tripped and fell backwards, grabbing onto one of the pillars as he went down. The pillar emitted a buzzer noise and lit up red around his hand. “What th-”

It happened so fast that Victor wasn’t entirely sure that he hadn’t imagined it.

Thousands of small, square panels opened up in the walls, releasing a spray of shiny steel knives.

Yuuri lunged forward onto his hands and launched himself into the middle of the knife storm, twisting and flipping his way across the hall while blades from every angle sliced the air around him. A pit of fire opened up in the middle of the floor, spreading towards the very edges of the building. Yuuri’s foot caught the lip of the pit as the floor receded into the wall and he pushed off from it, ricocheting off the top of a pillar like a pinball, landing softly next to Yurio on the other side.

There was an electric whirring noise and Yurio looked up to see a set of circular saw blades descending from the ceiling above him. He tried to get to his feet but his legs felt like jello. He didn’t know where to step. A loud clank behind him made him freeze up. A grate near the back wall was opening, one bar at a time. Behind it a hungry-looking crocodile was opening its mouth and emitting a deep, rolling growl.

“D-Don’t leave me, idiot!” Yurio shouted as Yuuri sprung into the air again, glancing off a pillar on the opposite side of the hall, which lit up green under his touch. A pair of shuriken dropped from the ceiling, dangling from ribbons- as unreachable as stars above Yurio’s head. But he watched as Yuuri snatched them from the sky and threw them, mid-flight, into the back wall. They lodged with a hollow thunking noise, and- to Yurio’s great relief- the saw blades above him stopped moving. The crocodile let out a hiss of frustration. The floor began to close, concealing the live flames roaring underneath.

The shuriken had stuck in perfect parallel, barely an inch apart. Yuuri pulled them out and blew the dust off of them, shining them on his shirt.

“Now I have to reset all of this…” he sighed. He walked over to Yurio, who was still a puddle on the floor. “Are you hurt?”

Yurio shook his head slowly.

“I told you to wait for me,” Yuuri said, exasperated. “Well, as long as nobody was injured…”

He looked over at the entrance to find the entire skating community staring at him in shocked silence. Minami was the first to react.

“THAT. WAS. INCREDIBLE!!” he screamed in Japanese, tears in his eyes. “Yuuri-san, you really are the best!”

“My, Yuuri, what did we just witness?” Chris raised his eyebrows, both terrified and aroused.

Victor looked like his heart was going to explode. He was clutching his chest with one hand, bracing himself in the doorway with the other. Phichit patted him on the back sympathetically.

Yuuri shrugged, bashful now that everyone was looking at him.

“I had a lot of free time growing up in a small town.”

“Wow, Yuuri, I never would have guessed from looking at you that you were this cool!” JJ praised, putting his foot in his mouth as usual.

“Uh… t-thanks? So… Did you guys still want a tour of this place? This is just the foyer-”

Yurio ran past him in the opposite direction.

They were all in agreement with Mila, who said,

“No, I think we’re good.”

Freedom Part 4 (Greaser!Peter Parker x Reader AU)

Originally posted by kiingholland

Request: hi doll i was wondering if i could request a kinda greaser!peter parker au? like he saves you from your dick boyfriend and idk fluffy shit lmao sorry if this prompt sucks

AN: WOW! We have come really far and there is still so much to do! Thank you to all the readers and followers, I love writing for you all! I hope you like this one. As always let me know what you like, what you don’t, and what you would like to see in the future!

MASTERLIST

- Written by Kat - 


Your father had always told you that motorcycles were death traps, and those who rode them were just as dangerous; both were to be avoided. But the hum of the bike under you, the air rushing around you, the boy pressed against you, it was intoxicating. Being this exposed and so close to danger was thrilling, filling you with and emotion you had never felt before. It was addicting.

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Oath | Ch.27 | Jungkook

Genre: Angst | Mafia!AU

Members: Jungkook | You/Reader | Yoongi | Taehyung | Namjoon | Hoseok | Jin | Jimin |

Summary: What if one day everything you ever wanted is taken away and your whole world comes crushing down? If you were to forget today, who would you be tomorrow?

Originally posted by berry852

| Previous Chapter | Chapter List | Next Chapter |

Word count: 12,103

A/N: Please note that this is just fiction and the characters only borrow the names of the members, nothing more. Their actions, choice of words, relationships, and personalities do not reflect reality. I felt the need to say that before you dive into the chapter. You will see why. 

Catching a glimpse of the small screen above the elevator where numbers suddenly started changing, one after the other, in perfect order,  made your mouth run dry. Someone was coming up. And as far as you knew, only one person could use that particular elevator…Kim Taehyung. Each floor number added another heartbeat to your pulse. With a ding, the doors slid open. The second your eyes met you both froze as if surprised by the other’s presence. His face turned to a frown in the blink of an eye; as expected, considering you were on the wrong side of the door. By some sheer luck, you have been the first one to arrive. Ten more minutes and you would have been caught. Now, pulling on the same thread of luck, you hoped the lies you crafted will hold.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. He spoke in a voice that hinted more towards concern rather than anger. Or maybe a fine mixture of the two.

“I was hungry…”

“So?”

“So I went down to eat something.”

“You could’ve ordered room service. I told you to stay inside.”

“I’m sorry,” your warm voice softened his expression. “It slipped my mind.”

He pulled you closer and kissed your forehead. You closed your eyes in relief. It worked. Be it he was tired of fighting, or he really didn’t catch the lie, it worked.

“After what happened, I don’t want you walking alone in the streets. I’m not trying to make you a prisoner, princess. I want you to be safe.”

“I’m ok.”

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anonymous asked:

okay so i have a request okay so riding seb's (or one of his character's) thigh with daddy kink and hella dirty talk i will love u forever

Originally posted by protectbuckybarnesatallcosts

Sebastian always carried himself differently when he arrived home from a long movie shoot; he’d spend months away from you, only catching up with you over texts or late-night Skype sessions, which was never enough for either of you. The moment he set foot in the front door of your loft, the entire mood would shift.

“Get over here.” His voice is stern, something that went along with his personality change. You do as you’re told, crossing the room to meet him at the kitchen table. He turns one of the chairs around so the back is against the side of the table, before he sits down. “Take your panties off,” he says, hiking his basketball shorts higher up his legs.

Your eyes are already on the muscular thighs, studying them momentarily before you hear Sebastian clear his throat. Your eyes meet his again, as you slip your panties off from under your skirt. Sebastian holds his hands out to you, plastering a sideways smirk on his lips.

Your fingers tremble as you place your hands in his. He guides you to straddle his right thigh, setting your hands on his shoulders. Your eyes found his, noting the clouded gaze he gave you. You aren’t sure what he has in mind, but you don’t wonder long as you feel his hands slipping down your spine, landing at the curve of your hips.

“Remember when you told me how much you love my thighs?” His hands drag your hips forward, rubbing your wet core against his bare thigh. A smile pulls at your lips, as you begin to understand what he’s suggesting. Your hands grasp the back of the chair, rolling your hips on him. “Fuck, your pussy is wet already,” he whispers, dropping his hands to dangle at his sides while he watches the way you grind on his thigh.

Your motions are slow, deliberate; you’re trying to get as much friction from him as possible, but he remains still, implying that you should be doing all of the work. Suddenly, Sebastian bounces his leg, giving you that sought after friction; you yelp, arching your back from the unsuspected motion.

“C'mere,” Sebastian mumbles, grabbing a handful of your hair and dragging your head to his. “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks, coming home and letting you hump my thigh.” You try to focus on your motions, but you know that Sebastian had only just begun his dirty talk. “Do you like how it feels, baby? Do you like grinding your pussy on my thigh?”

“Yes, Seb.” Your voice is breathier than you expected, which gives Sebastian a self-assured chuckle. His grip tightens on your hair, yanking you forward to press your forehead to his.

“If you like it so much, maybe you should fuck it harder, like a good slut who wants to get off.” His piercing blue eyes are clouded over, looking into yours. “I want to feel you come on my thigh. I want to feel your sloppy, wet cunt dripping on me. That way, I know you’re ready for me to take you in our bedroom and shove my cock inside of you while you’re still trembling and moaning for me. How does that sound?”

“Good, so good,” you pant out. You bring your hands to the edge of the table, using it to help you pull yourself. Sebastian grins, tensing the muscles of his leg so you can feel it as you grind on him faster. “Fuck, Sebastian, this is–” He bounces his leg again, earning another yelp from you, your hands dropping to his shoulders as you pull your self closer to him.

“Goddamn, that pussy is so slick,” he groans, helping tilt your head so his lips are by your ear. “I never thought it would get my dick so hard feeling your pussy on my thigh like this. God, baby girl, you’re gonna get it.”

You let out a shuddered breath, grinding yourself faster on his thigh. It never occurred to you that riding his thigh would be able to get you off, but you could feel yourself getting close to your climax already. Sebastian senses it, feeling the way your movements are becoming too messy; his hands take hold of your hips, holding you down harder as he forces his leg up.

“You’d better come fucking hard. Get your pussy quaking for me. I know you like this, you’re so goddamn filthy.”

Sebastian’s head is tilted down, eyes on your face as you begin to climax. You hear him mumbling under his breath, telling you how sexy you look and how he loves the feeling of your pussy dripping on his leg. Your orgasm is more intense than anything you’d experienced it a long time; you clench your legs around Sebastian’s, letting out a ragged moan of his name.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be into the freaky shit, baby.” Sebastian helps you to your feet, steadying your body when he notices your legs shaking. “But, fuck me, look at how wet you got my thigh.” Your eyes trail over his leg, plainly seeing your juices covering his thigh. “Get in the bedroom, because I’m not done with you yet.”

Pirates of the Caribbean

Elizabeth:
Captain Barbossa, I am here to negotiate the cessation of hostilities against Port Royal .
Barbossa: There are a lot of long words in there, Miss; we’re naught but humble pirates. What is it that you want?
Elizabeth: I want you to leave and never come back.
Barbossa: I’m disinclined to acquiesce to your request. Means “no”.
Elizabeth: Very well. I’ll drop it.
[dangles medallion over the sea]

Loved this interaction, and yes I know the picture doesn’t actually go with the dialogue.  It may be time to repost my bad pirate voice.  Be afraid, be very afraid.  :)


Photo and dialogue via imdb.com

3

Tritium Power

Yes, another Tritium piece!  I like the look of exposed vintage screws (originally used in glasses) with the smallest hexagonal nuts I’ve ever seen.  The vial is wrapped in fine copper wire and sealed in a glass tube with vintage copper “acorn” end caps and tiny round finials. The curved vintage brass arms are secured to two gold tone brackets and secured with the screws.  The side pins have a tiny brass round “dangle” drop ball and are threaded with copper tubing and tri-ridged brass tube.  The brass knurled beads contain a tiny grub screw that secures it all.  

The Tritium tube will glow continuously for 12 to 15 years and doesn’t require “charging” like conventional glow in the dark.  It is currently used in high end watches, keyring fobs and military weapon sights.  

Dimensions:

The whole pendant section is just under 2 inches wide and 2 inches long.  It is on a brass facet cut brass cable link chain.  It drop (from the clasp to the pendant is 9 inches including the lobster claw clasp.  It is designed to be worn high on the decolletage but I’m happy to alter it for you.

This piece transcends the steampunk genre and would be an intriguing, unique addition to costume or contemporary clothing.  It’s US$195 including tracking postage and would be covered under Paypal buyer protection.  Just send me a PM if you are interested.   

Blind Date-Brett Talbot

Valentine’s Collection:#6

Teen Wolf Imagine:#105

Word Count:1,306

Warnings: Reader talking bad about herself.

SummaryBlind dates always suck, but this one will be her last.

A/n: So this is another combination with a request, something with an ‘unconventionally attractive’ looking reader. So there’s that in here as well as it being a little bit of someone’s request for ‘Shape of you’ (it takes place in a bar) and an idea of my own sooo I hope you enjoy it :)

Originally posted by teenwolf--imagines

Originally posted by sansasandorshipper

Masterlist

Coming Soon

Last Imagine

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The Foreseeable Future (an ep520 fantasy)

Felicity stood in the shower at the Loft, leaning into the hot water. All the dirt and blood and grime that covered her washed away and swirled down the drain as if she was shedding dead skin. The abrasion she received on her temple after the EMP blast threw her across the Bunker still ached, but on the whole, she felt a thousand times better and ten-thousand times more than what Oliver was feeling.

A part of her had wanted Oliver to come home with her, back to the Loft where she could help him convalesce.  The doctor at Argus told Oliver that he should stay off his feet for a few days and Felicity almost invited him to stay with her. But there was a bigger part of her who knew Oliver inside and out, knew that he would disregard the Doctor’s suggestion for rest. With Chase still out there threatening and creating havoc, taking some time off to heal would not occur to Oliver.

Felicity turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. A cloud of steam hovered over the bathroom, humid and dense. She grabbed a large towel and wrapped it around her body like a comforting shroud. Her left shoulder was still sore from Oliver exceeding his physical limitations when he pulled her literally from the drop of death she dangled over, hauling her full body weight back up to safety. When she wrapped her arms around his neck again, and when Rene pulled them up to solid ground, Felicity knew that she would hold on to Oliver and never let him go.

Still, she couldn’t help feeling maternal, couldn’t help wanting Oliver close. She used her towel to wipe condensation from the bathroom mirror, to reveal the tired and sore woman looking back at her. She could still hear Oliver’s confession echoing in her mind, could still see his tears trailing regret and pain down his face. When he passed out against that steam tunnel wall, Felicity dismissed the danger they were in, dismissed the possibility that they were trapped and might die from asphyxiation and poison, flammable gas. She held onto him, and all the separation and space that came between them over the past year evaporated. Dying in each other’s arms might have been romantic, even epic. But not having the one last chance to repair their damaged relationship would be the biggest loss. When he told her that he would always trust her, that it was himself he didn’t trust, Felicity felt as if the weight of a mountain had been lifted from her heart. Forgiveness was no longer a possibility—it was a reality.

Felicity left the bathroom and moved out into her bedroom. She grabbed her bathrobe from off the bed and put it on. He body was tired and the thought of sleep touched her mind like a slumberous idea. But what had transpired between her and Oliver down in those steam tunnels continued to resonate in her. She stretched out on the bed and it made her feel more alone.

Did she feel regret? Perhaps. The past 48 hours had showed Felicity many things, but it also gave her a new perspective on what both she and Oliver had denied themselves for what seemed like a very long time.

Each other.

She told Oliver that she got a tiny taste of what he’s been through. This was a truth. But she hadn’t just been sitting on the sidelines watching him suffer and lose the sense of who he was. Felicity also went through her own hell. She was shot and paralyzed. She had put her whole life, body and soul into believing Oliver would care for her, that he would be her legs and her courage. Then he lied to her, and all his platitudes, all his kindness and the love he lavished on her felt like betrayal instead.  And the first thing she did when she got out of her wheelchair like a miracle was to move away from Oliver, as if she would find solace in the absence of him in her life. Then, Laurel died, and for a brief moment, that solace turned to comfort as she clung to Oliver in that hospital corridor. But the most damaging occurrence, a fateful choice she was forced into, was killing tens of thousands of souls in Havenrock. That darkness consumed her, yet she felt it would be wrong, or maybe inappropriate, to go to Oliver and ask him for help in dealing with her grief and fault, to steer her away from apocalypse.  So maybe she did climb up to more than just a tiny taste of Oliver’s trauma. Maybe in the end, they both stood on the same plateau and saw how ruinous and tragic their lives can become.

Felicity let some of the strain and exhaustion in her start to push her down to sleep. Oliver was not her savior. It was not his responsibility to save her from the evils of the world. The choices she made while they were apart, were hers and hers alone. There outcomes, good and bad, were not laid at his feet of clay. He might have been a catalyst, but he wasn’t the reason why she let herself fall away from him, from them.

Her weariness started to take its final hold on her, and Felicity closed her eyes in submission.  Then a knock on her front door drifted up to her.  Felicity opened her eyes and sent her senses out to the sound of the knock.

It came again, a bit louder maybe.

She climbed out of bed and tied her robe tighter around her body. Felicity descended to the front door and pulled it open.

Oliver stood on the other side. “Hey,” he tentatively spoke. “I’m sorry…did I wake you up?”

“Oliver,” Felicity responded. She felt suddenly exposed, as if he knew or suspected that she was thinking about him. “Oliver…” she repeated. “Are you alright? What’s going on?”

He was wearing loose fitting clothes: sweatpants and a billowy tee shirt, probably due to his recent surgery, allowing for the wound in his back to breathe. “Uh…there’s nothing wrong,” he answered her. “Can I come in?”

Felicity shook her head, as if shaking loose from his unexpected arrival. “Yeah,” she replied, backing up to let him in. “Yeah, come in.”

Oliver moved past her and then stopped just inside the door. He looked unsure if he should be in their old home alone with her. But recent events had given him the courage to come to her. “Felicity, I wanted…well, I guess I didn’t want to be alone. I was thinking about what you said to me, that I should, you know, figure out what kind of person I am. Maybe because you are a big part of who I am, I could…we could figure it out together.”

Felicity did not know what to say.

“Felicity,” Oliver went on. “I can see that you look really tired. Maybe I should go and let you sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow and…”

Felicity reached out and took his hand. “No…no Oliver.  It’s okay. I’m not that tired.”

Felicity led him over to the couch. Together, they sat down and began to figure out what was next in their lives. 

@hope-for-olicity @louiseblue1 @it-was-a-red-heeler @almondblossomme @memcjo @dmichellewrites @flowerandsunshine @lovelycssefan @scu11y22 @tdgal1

Neville's Boggart

Theory time: Neville’s boggart isn’t actually Snape.

Now I know what you’re thinking. “What do you mean it isn’t Snape? It’s in the books and the movies and yada yada yada”. Cool off and let me explain.

Boggarts represent what we fear the most, correct? But it doesn’t necessarily have to be literal. Harry’s boggart was a dementor, but it wasn’t the dementor itself Harry feared, but the feelings they inspired in him. Helplessness, weakness, and the inability to save/help his mother. Harry is afraid of that feeling of weakness, not the dementor itself, but the way it makes him feel.

Same with Hermione. In a post I can’t find but I’m sure you’ve all seen, someone explains that Hermione’s boggart of “failing everything” and "being expelled" is representative of Hermione’s fear of being kicked out of the wizarding world, of rejection. Not necessarily failing, though I’m sure that’s part of it, but the feeling of being rejected and pushed away.

Now, Neville. I think his actual boggart is the feeling of inadequacy. Think. From what we’ve heard about Neville’s life, Neville’s been singled out as inadequate his entire life and disastrous consequences because of it. His Great-Uncle Albie or whatever his name was thought his magic was inadequate, and pushed him off a pier and dangled and dropped him outside a window and who knows what else. His grandmother is constantly holding him against his parent’s standard of character, making him feel lacking. I seem to recall Neville not wanting the boggart to turn into his grandmother, either. And just before the lesson began, Snape made a remark that made Neville feel inadequate to be practicing magic, causing the boggart to don the guise of Prof. Snape.

I bet you anything that if Neville encountered a boggart on the summer holidays, it would take the form of his grandmother or great-uncle or the last person that made him feel like not enough.

Thoughts?