#this is the most random assortment of gifs but well. i have not giffed in what feels like eons

[tesb]

@SWSOURCE STAR WARS WEEK Day 2: Trilogy Wars – Favourite Trilogy THE ORIGINAL TRILOGY (1977-1983)

Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hmm? Hmm. And well you should not. For my ally is the Force, and a powerful ally it is. Life creates it, makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us, and binds us. Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter. You must feel the Force around you; here, between you, me, the tree, the rock, everywhere, yes. Even between the land and the ship.

[problematicweather]

The Game is Afoot (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

Sherlock Holmes x GN! Reader 

summary: you’re an old friend of sherlock’s and admire him so. as you gaze around, you can’t help but think about the past and the future.

word count: 1.1k+

this one is random, i wrote it because why not?

warnings: unedited, a tad bit dark because it involves a hint of stalking but it’s fineee, i still have not watched enola 2, GIF NOT MINE !!

     Fingers sweep against the bookshelf, filled with an assortment of books that could only be read by an intelligent individual. One who may have had too much time and devotion to uncovering the secrets of the world– secrets of people’s minds. Because what is life without a tinge of curiosity? Without the occasional adrenaline rush as the gears begin to turn, and the clock has finally chimed to a new day. 

     Comparing him to his older brother, they had nearly nothing in common. Sherlock had maintained his oddities and interest in chasing the mystery, meanwhile, Mycroft had subjected himself to mingling with society’s aristocrats. Perhaps too caught up in upholding the family’s image, his methods of displaying affection towards his family were unorthodox, and often showed more irritant than any other emotion. 

     Nevertheless, you had grown to know both– and it wasn’t a mystery to acknowledge Mycroft cares for the family. But through his perception of looking through a business and government lens, he’s often clouded by the idea of perfection, the idea of anything otherwise frustrating him to no end that leads to the most questionable decisions taken.

     Yet with all that past knowledge, they still managed to have their names constantly written within the papers. 

     Sherlock was London’s gossip. It seemed the country had gotten a rise out of investigation and justice within the corrupt system. Though some predicted it would fester and spoil the relationship between social classes. That didn’t matter, you knew, it was broken from the very beginning. However, those who weren’t in it for the mystery– were very much reading the papers for Sherlock.

     As you had moved to London, all that seemed to carry in the air were the thoughts of him. Whether it be his physique, intelligence, his most recent case, or all. 

     The thought did linger, how did he manage to look after all these years? 

     Hopefully, he was much better tending to himself than he cared to tend his flat. Scattered parchment in stacks all throughout the main room, books in heaps. Some were built on different levels, a variety of different candelabra spread out and notably used. Old wax still formed on the tray beneath. Most seemed to crowd a large map encompassing all of the city. Around, laid different colours of string strung around and held together with scribbled notes of ink and bright red thumbtacks. 

     The wall alone had bubbled your curiosity and overpoured. It seemed that Sherlock had already gotten his hands full, a case seemingly catching his eye. And by the looks of it, one that he’s followed for quite some time. Various clues and hypotheses were dispersed across the wall and tabletop, as well as a violin and cigar tray less than a foot away. He’s been observing. 

     Your own fingers trail along the string, eyes scanning through his clues. It was so easy like this, to read his mind. As more notes were piled on top of one another, his methods of uncovering the truth were fascinating. You could almost picture it– him staring at this board as you are, mind dizzying with the possibilities of the truth. 

     Sherlock had a temper of his own. His pace would quicken as he took a stroll around his furniture, fingertips feeling the materials around. Smoke would be filling up the room more than he’d like and eventually aggravate him, opening the window before returning to his routine. His eyes narrow as he stared along the seamless pattern of his wooden flooring, avoiding the known areas to creak in the slightest. As his patience thins, he would place himself on the sofa and stare absently at the wall again. Back leaning against the sofa as he finally uses his hand to remove the pipe from his lips, puffing out smoke as his eyes trail back to his wall. This action repeats again and again. 

More ideas would befall his inquisitive mind as he dissects them piece-by-piece, before ultimately discarding them as another wild possibility. A visitor  would then arrive moments and tear his attention from the master mystery before he could draw another conclusion and process it once more. 

     It was impressive to see his own line of work. 

     While he unveiled and sought to break the mystery, you yearned in forming them. Complicating them by various simplistic overlaps until even your own mind was left unsteady, and then add a bit more for the flare of being dramatic. France had been left in shambles at your mind games, ignoring the obvious signs while indulging in the fake clues a little too often to your dismay. They were the experiment used for the lesser plan– enough of a conundrum to set off the people working under the government. How easy it was, to frame the works of a powerful nobleman or a series of them. 

     It seemed Sherlock had caught traction of that. Already tying the relation to the foreign case solved suspiciously sudden to the most recent cases sparking among the busy streets of London. Words couldn’t express the adrenaline and excitement that engulfed you, not only by the chase but in the idea of playing with a dear friend. A memory. 

     Sherlock Holmes. Private detective and investigator, fuelled by his lifelong passion for mystery and unpicking the society of London lock by lock. It was an exciting thought. 

     To see if he could defend London before you shatter everything beneath your feet. To abolish the system of corruption– of aristocrats– of the Queen. 

     Heavy feet echoed outside of the flat and a final smile dawned on your face. Placing the parchment back into its messy display, you made way for your exit and paused. Watching as Sherlock entered his flat, unfastening the buttons on his coat as he made his rounds around and through inspection. After, he had placed himself on his desk and began occupying himself with ink and quill. 

     “Until another day, Sherlock. It’s my turn to advance.” And with that, you had gotten down and disappeared into the night. 

.

     A small smile left Sherlock’s face as his hand settled on the desk. With sharp eyes scanning the linked letters, reviewing the loops of his writing and grammar before a pleasant huff escaped him. Earlier that day, Mycroft had retained a gossip. One of an old friend that had recently moved to London he had recognized while conversing with a well-connected businessman. Mycroft, being himself, retrieved an address for his younger brother and tucked it into Sherlock’s gloved hand– ‘to distract him from obscene findings in the paper.’ 

     As he flipped over the letter and folded it properly, he wrote in the front the required information to have it sent tomorrow morning as well as a name. 

     Y/N L/N. 

     How great it would be to have your presence near him again, after so many years? 

—————————

hope you enjoyed !!! thanks for reading :))

[regarding-stories]

Tropes, I guess (things happening a lot in light novels, anima, and manga)

Just a random assortment of things that recur a lot in anime, but also in light novels and manga. Mind you, I'm pretty late to this game, but these are the ones that quickly keep piling up.

Shrine Maidens

While watching A Couple of Cuckoos I did wonder where I had seen another character that is a shrine maiden. For Gingitsune: Messenger Fox of the Gods it was an obvious necessity for the plot, so that wasn't it. That took me back a few years to my first encounter with Steins;gate, the shrine "maiden." (Lukako's gender is only one of these interesting tidbits that make Steins;Gate stand out. Just watch the anime. I love it.)

While shrines are a part of Japanese culture, the Japanese aren't very religious (I hear) and hence shrines typically feature for the visit on the New Year (including receiving fortunes). As far as I can see, shrines are tended by families and shrine maidens are portrayed as children that work and learn the trade early.

Double-Ds

It's hard to miss. In order to be a love interest, the girl often is quite well-endowed. Boys regularly obsess about the formidable frontend of fiery females, comment about it - or the lack thereof.

Gratuitous look at the locker room? A Couple of Cuckoos has you covered to remind you about Hiro's and Erika's assets. So does Ruka's original sweater entrance in Rent-a-Girlfriend. The artist creating the inserts for Sword Art Online openly admits "upsizing" little sister Suguha when designing her look. Then there are the top-heavy insanities of Cautious Hero.

Sometimes male protagonists obsess (Jobless Reincarnation, Rent-a-Girlfriend), sometimes they are completely oblivious (Quintessential Quintuplets), or some middle ground. Don't worry, though, the camera will ensure that you see what the protagonist doesn't.

Visits to the theme park, arcade...

I get it. Tokyo is one of the most densely populated areas in the world. But I still give bonus points to Sword Art Online for featuring a date happening in the gardens of the Imperial Palace. Because nature. The artificiality of date activities is keenly reflected in the artificiality of the spots. Sad.

Odd, though. Karaoke isn't that heavily represented. Rent-a-Girlfriend features it mostly as a workplace. Aggretsuko has it, but also for plot reasons. Maybe it's more associated with what drinking age adults do?

Drinking

And not just drinking. Drinking like you want to die. When it's on, it's on. It's not a pleasant pub chat with beers. It's for getting pissed. Apparently, if you want to enjoy your alcohol, maybe go out for eating instead?

Understandably less featured when focusing on younger people, with an odd emphasis on "I'm not old enough yet." Age 19, no no. Age 20, binge up!

Overcoming inhibitions through alcohol seems to be a major Japanese cultural theme, like the idea of telling your boss your opinion while drunk, and drinking often seems to follow cultural rules that sometimes seem a bit odd to the outsider.

Shower (and bath scenes)

I really wanted a GIF of an Asuna shower scene to illustrate this one, but I found none... Asuna gets shower scenes even if the book doesn't have one (strictly speaking). In a callback to "Double Ds" section above, the character also keeps getting curvier - definitely when compared to what she was originally conceived to look like (illustrated by the author). Why am I calling out the Sword Art Online Progressive movie, specifically? Because Asuna is 15 at this point.

Shower and bath scenes are obviously primarily meant for the male part of the audience (or anyone who enjoys such), it's fan service over and over. Rent-a-Girlfriend definitely likes showing off its main love interest deliberating things while having a shower when she doesn't actively feature in her Katsuya's fantasy sequences. But there's a charm to Katsuya's fantasies, as they hit home how many men think. The shower scenes, however, do not.

We encounter our female protagonists covered in nothing but foam, their own luscious long hair, or "peeking out" of conveniently opaque water. In some cases, like the Quintessential Quintuplets scene with Itsuki at the baths in her grandfather's inn, basically nothing is left to the imagination.

Until I watched My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU I wasn't sure there was a series that didn't showcase its heroine like that. (Damn, that show is good.)

Forced apologies

(I really couldn't find an image for this one.)

Apologies feature a lot in anime, bowing your head, teary-eyed saying you're sorry, prostrating yourself on the floor - that's standard fare. And shows of gratitude borrowing the humble language.

What sticks out, however, and always gets to me, is the forced apology where somebody bows down to apologize for somebody else and forces that person's head down as well. There's so much encoded in that scene, usually.

In Romantic Killer, his asshole dad forces Tsukasa to apologize for being a burden, something that does not even reflect the real dynamic between him and Anzu. In A Couple of Cuckoos Erika forces Nagi to apologize with her to Hiro's mother in order to initiate her plan to soften that mother's stance on arranged betrothals. In Quintessential Quintuplets, we see Takebayashi (?) do this to her childhood friend Futaro - as an apology to some of the quintuplets, no less.

Forced apologies feature power, control, humiliation, and social convention in one tight package. They establish one person as superior, whether through status or rank, or by implying that they have the (more) appropriate assessment of the situation. When Tsukasa is made to apologize, his dad forces his view of the situation on him, expressing how much he lacks in understanding his son's anxiety. When Erika plays the "fiancé card" that allows her to do this to Nagi, she probably knows this creates an opening with Hiro's traditional mom to actually talk. In Quintessential Quintuplets, I can only assume that Takebayashi stirs the pot by making this a show of "I know him longer (and hence better)" regarding Futaro, but the scene still mystifies me.

Regardless of intention, this implies that one person has rights regarding the other, and supposedly the better sense. It's very intrusive and powerful.

Little sister has the (legal) hots for Onii-chan

I wouldn't exactly call this commonplace, but seeing it happen twice still counts for a lot. This is not a "hot stepsister" situation. The people involved grew up thinking of each other as blood-related brother and sister until one event reveals they are not.

Suguha from Sword Art Online discovers that she's Kirito's cousin while he is trapped within the deadly game. She then develops feelings for him - twice in fact. In one case to the actual physical person she sees day to day, and in the other case to the virtual person Kirito she meets in Alfheim Online - and both times she's doomed to fail right from the start. (In the end, everybody knows. Or at least the endearing Girls' Ops manga set in ALO suggests so.)

Sachi from A Couple of Cuckoos always had a bit of a big brother thing, but when Nagi and Erika are betrothed she learns that they were never blood-related to begin with. She then immediately begins to become jealous about Nagi's crush on (and his dates with) Hiro. It doesn't help that Nagi's biological father from the Amano family suggests she could also marry Nagi to bring the two families together.

Whereas Suguha's crush is something that might be conceivably happen.... maybe.... A Couple of Cuckoos definitely takes things in a weird direction just for establishing a third heroine with basically no chances whatsoever. Yikes.

Notable for the great lengths of contrived circumstances established to make this happen, while carefully skirting the legal definition of incest.

My friend/grandson/brother is trash, but...

Seems to be a Japanese thing. I mean, a best bud or family member talking favorably of somebody to a love interest - that could happen everywhere. But somehow this whole thing in Japan seems to start with declaring that that person is unworthy scum, buuuuut....

When Klein starts such a speech to Asuna about Kirito I was still surprised. By the time it happened twice (best friend Kibe and his Katsuya's grandma) in Rent-a-Girlfriend I definitely had picked up on the pattern. Little sister about older brother. Etc.

Always ends in declaring that the respective individual is unworthy of someone except that he's really a good person. Way to go.

Boys that fall on girls

Nowhere more parallel world physics are involved than in leading to the inevitable scene where a couple of not-yet-involved people end up on the ground with one of them basically almost pinning the other person down. Everybody blushes, the sudden closeness has its effect, somebody may avert their gaze - and in some cases there's even a swift kick to the unmentionables.

Outright staple in Rent-a-Girlfriend where you can use it to track the "progress" Katsuya and Chizuru are making, but present across the board. Almost hilariously double-inverted in My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU when this happens in the end by the still-young teacher falling on top of Hachiman.

As a scene this is a convenient staple to bridge the carefully maintained distance that keeps the Japanese out of each other's space unless they ride a subway.

Hilarious for the great lengths that are sometimes employed this happens. Watch the camera and motions carefully how they are arranged to hide the fact it is physically impossible. When Chizuru leans over the railing and Katsuya pulls her back by the hips (eventually) they both stumble but he still ends up on her, inspite of both stumbling backwards and him pulling. Bugs Bunny has nothing on it!

[danepopfrippery]

Thank you @countesspetofi for tagging me to share my 10 favorite characters from 10 different fandoms!

LET THE PARADE OF BLORBOS COMMENCE

(Cuz adhd im just gonna not rank, just a random assortment of my obsessions)

Pam Poovey (Archer)

Pam saved me from a bad relationship so ill always love her. Im basically Pam irl but classier and not as physically tough (also shes literally fucked everything and everyone on the show minus ray, not for not trying, so shes cooler than me). She says the most inappropriate things (as above) but she tells it like it is

Jane (from Daria)

Jane was so cool. Jane is more who i am as an adult vs as a teen, as a teen i was all sourpuss daria wishing i was quinn. She has some of the best lines in the show, she always rebelled against authority, and was just a bamf. I love her

Lisa Simpson (the Simpsons)

Cant tell im an animation geek? While simpson finally lost me in s33 but Lisa raised me. Im not sure i could ever meet Yeardley Smith, id prbly snot cry

Ed (OFMD)

I love him. Hes a damaged hottie whos a murder and a softie (much like Guillermo). I cried when he was in the blanket for. Taika seems to be immensely annoying as a person rn (blackfish wife and not apologizing for terf ass shit from 2013-14) but ill always love his acting in this. Thanks Kayvan for teaching me to separate the character from the actor

Miss Fisher (Miss Fisher)

I dunno why i took so damn long to watch this show given i love feminists, 1920s, and sassiness. She is the og bamf. And id kill for any part of her wardrobe

Val (Uncle)

Val is so awesome (nvm gorgeous con o neill with his titties out owning a male strip club and being a good dad). Val isnt a main character and you can tell by the end they were figuring reasons to keep him (Val identifies as male) around. His relationship with Andy is really great too. Starts out pure hatred, for bothering his daughter (Andy’s ex). Ends with them being good buds

Laszlo Cravensworth (WWDITS)

Much like ofmd this list could be pure wwdits if not per fandom. Im going with Laszlo. Id fuck him today. Id also fuck matt berry today good god that man is sexy af. Believe it or not pre wwdits i hadnt really heard of him (i hate it and im american so most of it passed me by). Hes a good dad, unlike nandor he found a way to grow even if small. Hes a loving husband, and beyond that he doesnt give a fuck about anyone. Just fucking and sucking, loving his wife and his son

Franklin Sherman (The Critic) (shame on tumblr having no gif)

Franklin is what u get when u mash Frank Reynolds with Pam Poovey. The Critic was a brief but shining star and its Simpsons crossover gave us some great lines. Franklin was rich as piss, former govenor of new york, and completely well despite being a weirdo (theyd tell ppl he had a stroke to explain his personality like nandor). I love Franklin

Peter (The Great)

I call The Great straight Ofmd. Same loose history as ofmd about Catherine the Great. Irl she killed Peter. In the show she imprisons him. He starts as an enemy and does shit as dumb as Nandor (kills her lover cuz she actually loved him despite peter fucking everything). BUT then he takes a Laszlo turn: hes deeply excited to be a dad and is actually a good dad to the point other rich ppl are like ew wtf? Hes also extremely wtf?

Roger Smith (American Dad)

Wonder why Guillermo doesnt bother me? Been watching this dude since 2005. Hes an alien the smiths take in while playing every gender and sexuality he can think of (to the point the world falls apart without him unless the illuminati have killed him). Hes also a serial killer, commits many acts of violence, says he hates sex back home on his planet cuz its ‘all consensual.’ Hes also fucked and been many celebrities real and imagined

I dont think i got 10 active mutuals on here but ill try a few: @hotdiggitydollie @pundromeda @liliam4066 @cookinguptales @mulderscully @ritahayworrth @elite-earthbender

[gyllenhaalstories]

RED VELVET — SUB!JAKE GYLLENHAAL 🎂

summary: it’s your birthday and you treated yourself to a trip to the toy store. i let you guess which kind of toy store i’m talking about.

warnings: food & brief inappropriate use of food, curse words, reversing the dom/sub roles was previously discussed, smut (finger sucking, nipple play, blowjob & handjob, spit, rimming, use of toys & lube, pegging, humping, overstimulation, tons of begging, praise kink) 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 3030

gifs credits: me / divider credits: firefly-graphics

notes: today is my birthday and i will make it everyone’s problem with this self-indulgent fic.  thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

Jake refused to let your birthday go unnoticed. It was just another day of the year, you told him the older you got the less you cared about celebrating. To that, he agreed. He did not like to throw parties for his birthday either, but he refused to let you develop that same bittersweet aftertaste about life that he experienced from time to time.

He called you when you finished work, he told you to stop by the grocery store and get something for yourself. Candles, balloons, flutes, confetti; anything your heart desired. So, you did just that.

“Treat yourself, it’s your special day.” He insisted.

Oh, if only he knew how special this day was going to be.

So there you were, sitting around the kitchen table with store bought goodies and decorations you picked up at random. Jake, who lost the privilege to use one of those annoying flutes after he kept blowing it in your ears and singing you happy birthday on repeat since your arrival, unwrapped your red velvet cupcake and set it down on a Disney Princess themed paper plate.

“If you sing the song one more time, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

He knew you did not mean it, he lost count of how many times you had told him you slept better when he was next to you. Something about his light snoring resembling a white noise machine, you mentioned, but he knew that was another lie. You liked the comfort of his presence, and also the fact he never cared when you stole the blankets. He just laughed and took a joyful bite into the tasteless dessert.

“Don’t move, you got some frosting on your chin.” You warned your boyfriend and sat up to reach to his face. “I guess nobody ever taught you good manners, you’re so...” You picked the thick frosting up with your pointer finger and before you could move your hand away, his tongue slipped out of his open lips to clean you up. “Messy.”  

Jake hummed, enveloping his thin lips around your digit while he sucked oh so gently on your finger, that soon became plural when you added your middle finger in his mouth.

“Still messy.” You commented with a smirk when he let your fingers rest on his flattened tongue, which was sticking out.

Spit was sliding down your fingers, but he proceeded to suck them back in his mouth and let them go with an audible pop. “Sorry.” His cheeks turned a deep shade of pink.

“Don’t be.”

Jake smiled and finished his cupcake. He looked around you, there was wrapping paper and packages spread all over the floor. Most of it belonged to gifts he had bought you and ranged from lingerie to puzzles, passing by new candles and a mint coloured stand mixer. It was an original assortment, but thoughtful nonetheless. “Did you have a good day?”

“It was wonderful, thank you.” Your hand rested on his cheek and your thumb stroked his stubble. “It’s not over yet.”

He squinted and tapped the screen of his phone to check the time. “It’s already tomorrow, well, it’s today, but it’s the next day...”

You chuckled while he got twisted in his own thoughts and explanations. “We’re not done yet.” With that announcement, you rose to your feet and brought the dirty plates and napkins to the trash bin. “Would you mind getting the shower ready? I’ll join you in a moment.”

*~*~*

He wiped the foggy mirror with a towel and smiled at your reflection.

You pulled on his hand, causing his head to turn towards you so you could press a kiss on his nose. “I’ll let you finish, I’ll be in the bedroom.”

He nodded and you did as you told. You checked the hallway, making sure it was cleared, so you could pull out a package from the wardrobe, hidden by shirts that fell from the hangers and other miscellaneous items. You opened the box carefully and pulled out its contents, spreading them out on the bed. You rubbed your hands together in excitement, though you could not hide the nerves all that well. It became such a common discussion topic for weeks, if not months. You both put a lot of thought and research into it, training too, to be honest. You were ready, most definitely. But, was he?

Judging by the look on his face when he analyzed the objects waiting for him, he was ready too. He pointed to his chest, silently asking if those were for him. You nodded, so he approached the bed. His fingertips brushed lightly over the straps of the harness, it looked like a pair of panties, with extra pieces to insure stability. His eyes landed on the silicone dildo, which was slim and red. He smiled to himself, knowing you remembered what colour he not-so jokingly picked when you both discussed about it the first time (he judged that funky looking toys were better for the future, the first time needed to be special). Finally, he acknowledged the few bottles of different lubes that completed the present.

“I know what you’re going to say,” you cut him off before he could even open his mouth. You tried to mimic one of his funny voices. “It’s my special day, I should do what I want.” He shrugged, agreeing with you. “Well, that’s what I’m doing, more like that’s who I’m doing.” You smirked and picked the harness up and pressed it on your waist. It was black, it was elegant almost. “Only if you want this, if you’re sure.”

Jake nodded slowly, his imagination running wild already.

“Use your words, baby.”

“I want this. All of this.” His hand gestured over to the bed. “Please.”

“It’s a little too early to beg, but I appreciate the effort.” You stroked his cheek lovingly again. The vein on the corner of his eye was already bulging, signifying you he was enjoying himself just as much, if not more than you. “Make yourself useful, help me put the strap on.”

In a blink of an eye, he was down on his knees. He pulled the pair of panties you were wearing down with him and helped you switch to the other pair.

You messed up his hair, causing him to look up at you with big, bright blue eyes. “You look so pretty like this for me.”

He pressed a kiss on your pelvis when the strap was secured.

“Want to help put it in too?”

His excitement appeared to be a response in itself. Jake walked on his knees towards the dildo and presented it to you so you could fit the bottom part in the elastic fabric of the strap.

You sighed when it was in position, it pressed on your clit in a strange, but not unwelcome way. You wondered what if would feel like, later on. “Let me help you now.” You watched his Adam’s apple bop while he cracked a smile, still looking up at you with all the love and lust of the world in his eyes.

The research came in handy, the communication prior to this day did too. Jake had found videos for the two of you to watch, not too long ago. Amateur films, mostly, he said he preferred the cinematography. You laughed, but you agreed. They felt more inviting, more relatable. While you were taking mental notes of the positions of the girlfriend hoping to reproduce them later on, Jake commented on what he wanted and did not want. For example, he did not mind trying it in missionary or in doggy, but sucking the dildo off was a territory he was not interested in exploring just yet. You respected that, he appreciated it.

You let him take off his pyjama pants, revealing his hardening cock. He positioned himself in the middle of the bed and you followed him, you knelt between his open legs and brought the lube closer to you. It was not your first time playing around, but he still needed all the preparation and stretching he could take. But you did not want to do that. Not yet.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered and you caged his head in by putting one hand on each side and leaning down to capture his lips with yours. He deepened the kiss, he was hungry for you. His hands fell from your cheeks to your shoulders, down to your breasts that he groped and massaged until you moaned into his mouth. Then, he moved to your sides, all the way down to your hips and he pressed you against him.

You felt him against your stomach, he felt you against his. Your tongue fought for dominance in his mouth and easily won. He was ready.

Jake pulled away from the kiss to beg you to touch him. He would take anything, he told you, but you already knew that.

You spit on your hand and guided it down to his cock. You jerked him off, slowly, twisting your wrist and brushing your thumb over his sensitive tip. You trailed kisses down to his neck, his collarbone and his chest. You gave gentle, kitten licks to his left nipple.  His cock twitched in your hand. So, you did the same thing to his other nipple, but you also sucked it in your mouth. You raised your eyebrows and looked up at him for a sign of discomfort, but you found nothing but pleasure written all over his face.

Your boyfriend planted his feet on the mattress and started to fuck himself in your hand. Precum started to leak, making it that much easier to hump your hand.

Your understood the message and continued to press your lips on his warm skin until you reached his cock. You leaned further down, with your ass propped up just how he liked it. You twirled your tongue over the tip of his cock, then proceeded to wrap your lips around him. You pulled away to spit on him and suck him with long, deep strokes. You did not want to push it too far, but you wanted him to relax.

When he felt your pointer and middle fingers massage the rim of muscles, he flinched and tensed up at the sensation. You cooed, reassuring him until he calmed down.

“Get on your knees, baby. It’s gonna be easier that way.”

So, he did just that. He leaned his head on his arms, parted his legs and knelt for you.

With one of your hands, you started to jerk him off again. You massaged his balls too when his breathing got a little too fast and his moans a little too loud to your liking, he could not finish just yet. He knew that. You spit on his exposed hole and pressed your thumb on it. “Breathe in,” you instructed and circled your thumb on him. “And out.” Your finger slowly disappeared until the first knuckle. “You know how it works, don’t you? Show me, make me proud.”

Jake kept breathing, slowly and deeply. Every time he exhaled, you could either push your finger further inside of his hole or pull it out and back inside. “Fuck!” He squealed when you replaced your thumb with your tongue.

You spit on him again, making sure he was lubricated enough to welcome your tongue inside of him. You noticed how he gripped on the bed sheets, how the muscles of his thighs and calves tensed up from the pleasure of having your tongue in him.

But he was needy, oh so needy. “More, please. Want more.”

“I know, baby. You can’t have me just yet.” You kissed his left ass cheek and reached for the lube. You popped the cap open and spread some on your fingers and proceeded to rub them together to warm the product up. it was another tip you learned from all your experimenting, Jake hated the cold of the lubricant. Your still clean hand reached for his cock while you now pushed two fingers inside of him.

“S-slower, yeah, just like that.” Your fingers were now all the way inside of him. You moaned in sync with him. He told you to keep going, so you did. You pumped your fingers in, then out, then back in, and out again... “More, more, more, more.” He chanted, so you gave him what he so desperately wanted.

You squirted more lube and joined three fingers together and stretched him open for you. Your fingers were thicker than the dildo, but it was better to be safe than sorry. “You want my cock, babe?”

“Yes!” He screamed out.

“Gonna have to beg for it.”

He groaned when you removed your fingers. “Please, please, please. Give me your cock, please.”

“A little more? Come on, be good for me.”

You were messing up with him, using tactics he knew all too well. He would use them against you at every possible opportunities and only now he understood how truly unfair they were. “Please, baby. Please fuck me.”

“Good boy.” You watched as the impact of the praise covered his body with goosebumps. You rubbed lube around the red toy and sat back a little. “Turn around, use that pillow under you.”

“Want to look at you.” You both said at the same time. Jake obeyed and turned around. The pillow helped him elevate his hips and made it easier for him to open his legs. Not the ideal position for his body, but the best one for both him and you to watch.

You poured more lube on his hole and held the dildo in your right hand, pushing his leg open more with your other hand. “Relax, I got you.” You reassured, your thumb stroking his skin gently when the slightly bigger tip of the cock pushed against his rim.

“You’re so big.” He breathed out, his eyes closing while he adjusted to the pain and welcomed the pleasure.

“You’re doing so good, I’m so proud of you.” You pushed a little more, then a little more again...

“Oh!” He moaned when the dildo hit his spot.

You wrapped your hand around his cock and gave him a few pumps, pulling sweet moans and whimpers out of him at the same time. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

His eyes met yours while he nodded, then threw his head back when you entered him fully. Your cock all the way inside of him and the fullness made him dizzy for a few seconds. He opened his eyes, he was seeing stars. He closed them again, it felt like he had a constellation on his eyelids.

You pushed on his legs again and imitated your initial position with your hands around his head. You leaned on your left head, the right one touched his face lightly.

He sucked on your thumb and resisted the urge to wrap his legs around your waist. “So good.” He mouthed against your lips when you kissed him and fucked him, slowly.

You rolled your hips at an angle that caused the toy to press against your clit, and you moaned.

Jake caught up on that, he let out an audible ‘ooh’ and laughed softly, then he brought your face closer to his again for a kiss.

You picked up the pace, and focused on reaching his spot that would drive him wild in no time.

“Just like that! Please, please keep going.” His hand reached between your bodies, but you quickly slapped it away.

“Mine.”

You jerked him off faster, tighter. You were making his brain foggy, his eyes glassy, and his cock harder. “What did you say?”

“Your cock is mine.” You repeated, taking a short pause in between each word to thrust inside of him. You synced your thrusts with your hand and kept going until he arched his back. “Look at me.” You slapped the back of his thigh when he did not obey. “I want to see you cum.”

“I’m so close.” His voice cracked.

So were you, the angle that made him feel the best also worked for you and you were determined to use that. “Cum for me baby.” You encouraged him and he throbbed in your hand. “Give it to me, give it all to me.”

Jake fist the sheets again and fought to keep his eyes open when he came on his stomach, all the way up to his chest. It was the most powerful orgasm he had ever experienced, even you could feel it. He had just enough lucidity to catch up on the fact you were cumming too and that your thrusts were nothing but an incoherent mess until they slowed down completely.

“You look so beautiful.” You repeated a thousand times until Jake whined and shook his head.

“Too much, too much, stop.” So, you did. You let go of his cock and you pulled out of him, slowly, and watched the rim of muscles clench around nothing until it closed again. Jake exhaled loudly and took a quick look at his torso, painted with ropes of white and drops of sweat.

You looked so gorgeous. Panting, sweating, legs cramping under you, you thought you were a mess but he would disagree. He did not need to speak, you could read it in his eyes. “You did so good, Jake.”

His breathing slowly regulated himself while you leaned down to lick him clean from his load and swallow it to the last drop. His knees blocked your attempt at moving away to clean both of you up.

“You can’t go to bed like that.” You frowned and looked at him while he sat up, awkwardly, which was understandable.

He helped you shimmy out of the strap, disregarding the toy further away on the bed. “I know I already had cake, but...” His hands were behind your thighs and pulled on you until you made your way to his head. “I want my favourite dessert.”

“Treat yourself,.” You let him pull you down until you pussy met with your mouth, echoing his words from earlier. “It’s my special day.”

[aamagi]

GOD UR ART IS SO CUTE OMG if its not too much to ask then arashi and anzu trying on dresses together??

beep beep beep.. dingdong! [ ^v^ ] order processed!!

enjoy adorable nonnie!! <3 underneath the cut are general rambles and my progress for this piece! its VERY long, and im not sure how the 'keep reading' tab works, so if this ends up malfunctioning somehow, lmk and i'll edit and cut out my rambles :o]

usually i dont go through insane lengths/thoughts to produce something, but i LOOVEE arashi so how could i not </3 first step of the progress was drafting and finding out what i wanted the two of them to wear!! it was teetering on being super fashionable (runway type of dresses) and just casual streetwear, but i went for the latter because it'd be really cute to imagine... like they're both trying out dresses together while on a date out!!?!??! YES ?!?!?! <3

you probably wouldn't guess it, but im quite the fashion holic!! cant say i dress up nice all the time, but i have an eye for things that look nice~ i drafted up a quick pinterest board on what i wanted their fashion to emulate :]

arashi is elegant but still girly, so i wanted some of those trendy jean skirts incorped into what they were wearing :]!! i wanted something round and long for arashi, so i ended up settling on a rather simple outfit, a lace tank with a buttoned cardigan with a slit jean skirt! the lace tank top is something super girly and cute that fits arashi well, and cardigans are a great way to make an outfit come around and feel more cuddly and warm! usually you'd wear something like a sweater or a turtleneck to nudge towards that theme of 'elegance', but i didn't want to hide arashis form or line of action with all that round and flowy fabric ^^ i gave arashi some really cute strappy heels :] it’s very classy but also super cute!!

next is anzu's!! it was something a little easier for me, since now i can go off what i just made for arashi's outfit!! i wanted something that opposed arashi's fit but still complimented it, and after a bit of pinterest roaming i ended up with something akin to a t shirt dress?!?! im not sure the technical fashion term but it's a blocky dress with no real curves, and i added some loose ruffles to the hem of it! its almost a little childish looking, but i feel like it's simple look compliments the beautifully simple anzu as well ^_^ i struggled with patterning for anzu, so i ended up with a simple flower design! i gave them the sort of ‘chunky fila’ shoe feel, if im being honest with you, i just ripped the design from the hi horses from splatoon (sweat)

after that is my funny little drafting progress! here's my tiny doodle page for what i wanted to draw -- you can obviously see which one i went with, ehehe :]

after drafting and choosing one, i import the image onto my drawing program and the magic begins! i go pretty quickly from my sketch to my 'lineart', i don't rlly have a stage between those... its easier for me to draw what i envision right onto my models, because if i have a preliminary 'cleaner' sketch i start to feel closed in to what artistic liberties i have ekekek... here's a gif comparing the lineart to the draft!

then, i get straight to the flat colors!! i make my canvas a darker color just to be able to clear blemishes more easily, which is harder with lighter colors and a lighter canvas backing ^^ this is the most tedious part of the drawing process for me, especially because im rlly horrid at making palettes off the top of my head TT you can definitely see what i mean in anzu's dress palette, where i just went for a random rainbow color assortment TT

shading is my favorite part of drawing, since it doesnt take much thought and i just slap colors randomly!! i usually do minimal shading first on a clipping layer, and then after that i choose a complimentary color and use it along the shaded area to create a more lively shadow! i also just go one tone up for light highlights, i think you can see it the best in this part of arashi's skirt!!

and after all of that, with a half butted attempt at a background, i finish the piece! if ur here reading this.... sorry for rambling so much, my creators forgot to give me something to cram my piehole with [ X_X ]=C i hope u enjoyed reading through my drawing process!

[kerie-prince]

daisy cafe

Harry Potter x Muggle!reader

not a request

warnings: mentions of death, ptsd?? (in the form of nightmares)

summary: Harry starts his healing journey after the Battle, and a rainy night after a counseling session brought him into your café

a/n: hope y'all like this random imagine i wrote <3 i was meant to post it last night but i got into a heated debate about ww84 and i don't queue posts so here's this. no lie, i had a hard time writing this lol it's a whole 4k long imagine (whoops) also, when i say 'football' in this fic, i mean soccer lol

(gif cred)

The Battle of Hogwarts.

There was a lot to say about that day. So many perspectives and interpretations from different people. And today, Harry would talk to his counselor about his. At first, he opposed the idea of having a counselor but Hermione insisted that he talks to a professional. Well, insisted probably isn't the word. If anything, Hermione probably forced him into it and made the appointment herself.

So here he sat in the waiting room, sitting awkwardly in an uncomfortable chair. Even the chairs in the Hogwarts classrooms were more comfortable than these. The room was small and had tacky sunflower wallpaper. Harry sat by himself and internally cursed his best friends for just leaving him there and drove off. ‘Call me when it's over!’ Hermione had yelled out through the window.

“Mr. Harry Potter?” a young man called out for him. Harry followed him into the counselors office, noticing that the room was much nicer than the waiting room and the chairs looked more comfortable. And if he was going to be stuck here for over an hour, he better not walk out with back pain.

Harry sat patiently as he waited for the counselor to come. He noticed the golden name plate on the desk with a name written in black letters. Jon Osborne. Harry’s leg was unconsciously bouncing in rhythm with the ticking of the clock on the wall. He didn't think he'd be nervous about it as he was now. He immediately stood up as he heard Dr. Osborne come in. “Mr. Potter, it’s an honor to meet you,” he stretched his hand out to greet Harry.

“Pleasure’s all mine, sir,” Harry said with a shy smile. Once they sat down, Dr. Osborne went straight into it, “So tell me, Mr. Potter, how have you been?”

“Great. I've been busy planning a wedding,” Harry stated like it was a normal conversation. “Congratulations. Yours, I'm assuming?”

“No, it's for my two best mates,” Harry corrected. “They're getting married pretty soon and I offered to help pay for it. Not really doing much of decoration planning, Hermione thinks Ron and I would pick something stupid,” Harry wasn't looking at Dr. Osborne directly, but he had a faint smile as he explained the details. “And are you with anyone?” Dr. Osborne asked.

It made the young wizard think. Ron and Hermione were getting married, Neville and Luna were having fun on small dates, and Ginny was still going back and forth with Dean. “No, I'm not with anyone at the moment.”

His counselor wrote something down quickly before going forward with the next question. “Do you think about it often?” Harry knew what he was insinuating. His breath hitched a bit. Harry certainly didn’t expect to be asked this question so early on. From Hermione’s explanation, he wasn’t expecting to talk about the Battle for maybe another couple sessions. And that was if Harry even wanted to do other sessions.

“You don’t think you need to be here,” it was like he read Harry’s mind. And it was true. “Well, I do have a pretty solid support group. We all went through it together.” Harry rubbed the palms of his unusually sweaty hands against his pants.

“So because you and your friends went through it together, you're okay? Nothing about it bothers you?” had Dr. Osborne’s tone altered just a bit, he would've sounded condescending. He sounded a bit empathetic. It made Harry actually want to talk. “Do you and your friends actually talk about it?”

The answer was clear to Harry. No. If he was being honest, he didn't think there's even a reason to talk about it. The worst had been over, and now that him and his friends and family – and by family, he meant the Weasleys – were finally in peace, Harry figured that he wouldn't have to think about it again.

But the nightmares were relentless. It wasn't like the ones he had when Voldemort was in his mind and showing him things he wanted to show Harry. These nightmares were worse. They consisted of the worst that could have happened that day. Watching his friends die, his professors, his peers. The worst of the worst. And there's one that he hated the most. Being in Voldemort's point of view and killing Harry successfully and for good this time.

Hermione tried to get Harry to talk, but he's too stubborn. So she figured the only way to get him to talk was to schedule this appointment. He was promised confidentiality and listening ears with no judgement. Harry accepted because he knew that even though Hermione would always be there, she would probably say something like ‘You're not alone in this, we're all here for you and with you.’ Ron would listen to the whole thing and suggest getting a drink and food. Harry loves his friends, but it's hard to talk about such things when they've gone through it too. He wondered if they felt the same.

—

Harry was leaving his fourth session with Dr. Osborne. Unexpectedly, he enjoyed these meetings. It felt good to talk to someone outside of his friends. Hermione noticed how he was returning to his old self, joking around and enjoying playing quidditch at the Burrow.

Harry decided on taking a small walk around the Muggle London street before calling Hermione and Ron to pick him up. After ten minutes, though, sprinkles of rain were falling down. And sprinkles turned into hard falls. Harry covered his head with his hands and looked around for someplace to run in. Next to him was a dental office, but to his luck the door was locked. He kept looking and looking for some place to stay inside until finally, he saw a building across the street with a lit up ‘Open’ sign.

Harry looked both sides of the street before running across. He was getting soaked by the second and when he ran inside, his jacket was dripping onto the mat. The place was warm and smelled lovely. Harry took his glasses off and wiped it with the driest part of his shirt. The cafe looked as warm as it felt. There weren’t any guests inside and he didn't find anyone working there. Harry saw the bell on the bread display and pressed on it a few times. After a couple of minutes, a girl came to the front. “Sorry for taking so long, how can I help– oh are you alright?” You saw the puddles of water that were splattered all around the floor. But your worry was with the stranger that was most likely freezing. “D-do you happen to have a phone around?” Harry asked you. He was shaking where he stood and all he wanted was to go home and get into some warm clothes. You nodded your head and went in the back to get the phone. Harry wanted to sit down, but he didn't want to make more of a mess than he’s already done. You came back quickly with a phone and a few rags so he could dry himself.

Harry dialed Hermione’s number and waited for her to answer. She didn't answer the first or second time which made Harry frustrated. They better not be in the middle of it right now. Finally, she answered on his third call. “Hello?”

“Hermione, what the bloody hell have you been doing?” Harry sassed. When he looked up, he saw how you stood awkwardly to the side, surprised that in contrast to his sweet demeanor, he sounded like the opposite. But that was just your assumption.

“Harry? Is that you? Why are you calling from this number?” In the background, he could hear Teddy joyful coos. “I was just giving Teddy a bath, I couldn't hear the phone.”

“Oh. Well, it’s raining really hard, can you come pick me up?” Harry felt your eyes on him still and he smiled awkwardly.

“Of course, are you still in the office?”

“No, I’m– hold on” he stopped mid-sentence and lowered the phone down, “where am I?” It took you a couple seconds to process that he was talking to you now, “Oh, uh, Daisy Cafe.”

“Daisy Cafe,” Harry repeated back to Hermione. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” And she hung up. Harry handed the phone back to you, “Thanks.”

Your hand was warm against his, a warmth he wished he had instead of the cold that enveloped his body. Harry’s legs were getting tired from standing so long and you noticed the shift in his position. ��Please, take a seat,” you had gestured to a table. Harry insisted that he didn't want to ruin the chairs, but you didn't mind.

You checked the time on your wristwatch and ran to the back leaving Harry alone. He wondered what you were doing until he saw you come back slowly dragging a large heating machine. Harry stood from his seat and rushed to help you, “Where did you want this?”

“I was going to put this in front of the table so you can warm up. Don’t want you to get sick,” you spoke softly. You felt yourself warm up on your cheeks, somehow shy in this moment. On a daily basis, you talk to loads of strangers and some of them were quite attractive. But something about this stranger felt different.

Harry blinked with an indescribable look in his eyes as he stuttered a ‘thank you’. You turned on the large heater after Harry sat back down and slightly shifted his chair so he could be in range of the heaters’ direction.

You grabbed your keys from your back pants pocket to lock the door and turned the ‘Open’ sign off. “Would you like some coffee?” you offered him. Harry nodded and searched his pockets for his wallet before you stopped him, “Don't worry! It's on the house.”

There was a pot of coffee that was still hot on the warmer and you grabbed a tray, filling it with a mug, creamer, sugar, and a small plate of assorted biscuits in case he was hungry as well. You walked to his table and sat them down. He was in awe of all the things you brought out for him and felt grateful that you would do this for a stranger. “Thank you,” he nodded his head at you with a genuine smile.

“It’s no trouble,” you smiled back. You sat across from him with a mug of your own and sipped on the hot beverage you made. Harry took a sip of the coffee he finished preparing and nearly sighed at the feeling of it warming him up inside. Mixed with the heat that was coming from the heater, he felt brilliant as he usually says.

“Do you live around here?” You started small chat to get out of the awkward silence.

“No, I live just outside Ottery St. Catchpole.” Harry stated. He noticed the confused look on your face, you had probably had no idea where that was. “It’s kind of in the middle of nowhere.”

You nodded in response. Harry then asked if you lived around. After a while, you had gotten to know each other pretty well. He learned about your two cats that are always fighting, you learned about his friends always pulling pranks on each other in the house. As Harry waited for Hermione to pick him up, he was enjoying talking and laughing with you. You two were having such a good time getting to know each other in what felt like thirty minutes, but was actually an hour.

Once Hermione was in front of the cafe and beeped the horn of the car, Harry felt a bit disappointed to leave. This was probably the first conversation he had with someone who he didn't already live with or paid to listen. And it was a bonus that he found you quite attractive. “That’s for me. Thank you… for letting me stay.”

“Oh it’s no trouble. Safe travels on your way home! I hope you don’t get sick,” you waved off as you opened the door for him. Harry ran through the hard rain to get into his friend's car, but once he opened the door to the front seat, he turned back to you. “I never got your name!” Harry yelled out.

“Y/N! What’s yours?” You voiced with the same energy.

“Harry!” You smiled and waved one last time before closing the door and got yourself ready to go home. Harry fastened his seatbelt and held a small smile nearly the entire ride home. Hermione cleared her throat to get her friends’ attention. “How was the session today?”

Harry nodded ‘yes’ in an attempt to not have to talk. Not because he was gloomy, but distracted. He then processed what she said and replied back to the bushy haired woman, “Oh, i-it went fine. Good, great.” Harry was stuttering over his words. It was something that Hermione instantly noticed what was going on. The last time he was like this was when he first met Cho in fourth year. It was nice, she thought, that Harry was not only getting back to normal, but was also focused on something - or rather someone - other than his nightmares.

—

Harry goes to your cafe now after every session with Dr. Osborne. He finally went for his drivers license so he didn't have to depend on Hermione anymore. Ron and Hermione apparate to work anyway, so it granted him more access to the car.

Every Monday and Thursday, you would wait for him to walk through your doors. You would set aside a small box of warm biscuits for him that he seemed to enjoy and remembered how he took his coffee. After a couple of weeks, the people you worked with would give you a smirk and tease you with ‘He’s here~’. One of them, Jo, would constantly ask you if Harry has asked you out yet. And every time, you'd say ‘No.’ only for him to reply back ‘Well, why don’t you ask him out?’

You’ve definitely thought about it, but you didn't know how to ask him. There would be times that you thought Harry would do it before he left, but he’d just be a stuttering mess and leave. So, tonight before he leaves, you planned to just be straight with him and ask him to dinner.

Harry came later than usual today. After he stepped out of the counselors’ office, he checked his hair in the mirror he saw in the hallways. Tonight, he was also planning on asking you out. He likes you and he was pretty sure you liked him too. Once he stepped outside, he saw a flower cart in front of a local bank. Harry debated whether or not to buy you some, but opted out. What if she says no? What do I do with them at that point?

After an hour of having a mental pep talk, he entered Daisy Cafe. He didn't see you behind the bread display like he always had. Jo had recognized him immediately and watched as Harry looked around the small cafe for you. “She’s in the back, would you like for me to get her?”

“I-I can wait. She’s probably busy,” Harry stuttered. He didn't know whether it was a good thing or bad thing that your co-worker instantly knew what he was there for. Is it really obvious? Harry thought. He saw as Jo walked to the back anyway, probably announcing his presence to you. As it turned out, you were in the back checking yourself out in the small mirror that was hung on the inside of your locker. You ran out as soon as Jo said "He’s here" and dusted the flour off onto your apron.

“Hi, Harry,” you greeted.

“Hi,” Harry greeted back. “How are you?”

“I’m doing good, just cleaning up. Did you have a good day?” you asked. Harry nodded his head. He was about to order before you stopped him, “Your usual today?” He gave a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head, “I come in that often, don't I?” You chuckled and began making his coffee. “It’s alright, I enjoy your company.” The both of you blushed, more so you after the sudden confession.

You couldn't see him, but Jo was listening to your conversation and wanted to laugh. You looked at Harry for any signs of possible rejection and just as quickly looked away to finish his order. Jo came out from the back with his bag and keys in his hand, “I’ve counted the safe for you. Have a good night, I’ll head out.” You nodded your head and thanked god for the interruption, “Thanks hun, see you tomorrow.” He winked at Harry once you looked away as to say ‘Good luck’ and walked out.

Harry became nervous and thought about just grabbing his coffee and going home. He hadn't dated anyone in a long time and didn't know where to even start. Merlin, he didn't even know what to do in a relationship. And especially with a muggle. Harry nearly forgot what it was like to be around muggles after the Dursley's left their home on Privet Drive and Harry moved in the Weasley’s in the Burrow. He certainly couldn't bring you there anytime soon. Especially when Arthur would ask you loads of questions. Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Neither of you knew how to get a conversation going. You took your time stirring his coffee and grabbing the small box of biscuits before turning back to him. You made yourself tea instead, having drank too much coffee throughout the day to calm your nerves. He took the styrofoam cup and box from your hands and purposely brushed his fingers against yours but made it seem like an accident. Your neck stiffened at the sudden physical contact and pulled your hands back. He felt electric and if he let you, you'd grab his hands and keep them intertwined with yours.

It’s now or never you thought. “Do you want to go to dinner sometime–”

“Would you like to go out with me–” you and Harry spoke at the same time. You hadn't processed what he said so you questioned, “Huh? What was that?” Harry thought he heard you correctly, but he asked you again, “Would you like to go out with me? For dinner, maybe?”

YES, YES, YES you chanted in your head. Your heart was warm and you felt a butterfly flutter about inside you. On the outside, you were cool and collected. But your smile could have spoken for you. “Yes, I’d love that.”

—

Hermione helped Harry with looking for nice places in muggle London. George offered his best suit to the raven-haired boy, but Harry declined because he was significantly smaller in stature than the tall ginger, and also because he feared that George would have hexed the suit to either squirt out water, or have random objects falling out the sleeves.

George, Ginny and Ron would tease Harry about finally having a girlfriend, only to get scolded by both Hermione and Molly to stop. “Harry is a perfectly handsome young boy, he should be dating as much as he can,” Molly would defend.

“Ah, but mum, Harry isn't a boy anymore,” George joked. Molly hit her sons’ head with a cleaning rag and returned to what she was doing. Harry had picked a small restaurant that Hermione recommended that was inexpensive but not shabby. He never really liked expensive places or things even though he can absolutely afford them. She suggested that she helped him pick out something to wear, but he stopped her right there. “I can dress myself, thanks,” Harry sassed.

“The one you should be helping is my hopeless brother,” Ginny joked about Ron. He didn't find it all funny as Ron had a sour look on his face and whispered under his breath, “Bloody menace.”

“What did you say?” Ginny stood straight up from the couch and chased Ron throughout the house. She may be the youngest in the house, but it didn't make her any less scary when mad. George laughed at the sight of his siblings fighting while Molly yelled at them to be careful.

Harry finally put everything together – but if he was honest, he was putting together whatever Hermione said – and went to his room. There was still a couple days until the date, but he was nervous. He’s never really gone on a date. There was the night with Patil at the Yule Ball, but that didn't end well. There were a couple hang outs with Cho in the library, but never an actual date. So he hoped that this would turn out well.

—

Harry's breath was taken away when he saw you. You looked absolutely beautiful in the sundress you wore. Looking ethereal, you hadn't noticed Harry across the street parking the car. For a split second, he almost rear ended the car in front of him.

He walked towards slowly after taking a deep breath and held a single daisy in one hand. Hermione said roses were ideal, but he figured he should come up with at least one thing on his own. Your e/c eyes met his green ones and your heart did somersaults in your chest. Once he stood in front of you, you both said ‘Hi’ at the same time. Harry handed you the daisy and you were flattered by the gesture. It was a beautiful flower and you couldn't wait to put it in a small vase and display it at the cafe.

“Shall we go inside?” Harry had one of his hands pointed towards the door of the restaurant. You nodded and walked into the place with Harry holding the door open for you and another elderly couple behind him. He’s so sweet you thought.

The night was perfect; Harry had felt comfortable in your presence. Much like the first night you had met and the times after, you both spent the dinner talking and laughing. This was the most normal, but also best Harry had felt in a long time. He hadn't realized how he never really got to be a young person due to all the insane things he’d gone through his six years at Hogwarts and then before with his aunt and uncle. But here he was with you, doing the most normal thing. Harry’s troubles were lifted off of his shoulders. There was no threat of Death Eaters terrorizing the streets, there was no Dark Lord out to get him; it was just him sitting down and having dinner with a woman that he really liked.

He learned more about you tonight. For one, you were also an only child. Other than your cats, you also liked dogs. And you occasionally played football with some of your cousins. Harry had never played football, but if it was anything like quidditch, he was sure that he'd love it as well.

At the end of the date, he took you to your underground tube station. You walked side by side, hands slightly brushing against another. You walked a bit faster to stop in your tracks right in front of him. “I had a lot of fun,” you confessed.

“Me too,” Harry expressed. You looked down at your fiddling hands while Harry couldn't take his eyes off of you. He was about to say ‘good night’ before you built up the courage and kissed him on the cheek. “Night, Harry,” you beamed at him. Harry was turned into a blubbering, love-struck fool as he saw you walk further and further away. Finally, he yelled out, “I’ll see you on Monday!”

Before turning away into the tube, you waved and repeated his words back at him, “See you Monday!”

—

“Well you're certainly in a bright mood today, Mr. Potter,” Dr. Osborne observed Harry from his seat. Since the date, he’s been talking a bit brighter and his smile is more genuine than when he first came in. “Could it be because you’re seeing someone after you leave?” All Harry could do was smile. “Well I’m very happy that you now have a companion aside from your friends.”

Harry nodded before he replied back, “Thank you, sir.”

“No need to thank me, Mr. Potter. You did this on your own,” Dr. Osborne stated. “Will you bring her to the wedding?”

“No, I don't think we’re ready for that,” Harry informed. This wedding would definitely include magic and you hadn't been close to any exposure of it. “Of course.” Dr, Osborne added. There was a bit of silence after that, which gave the counselor an opportune moment to ask about some of the things that were the reason for his weekly visits. “Do you still have the nightmares?”

Harry’s smile lowered. “Yeah, I do. But not as frequent as I used to have them.” It was true, it went down from him having them about nearly everyday to only get them once every couple weeks. He thanked Merlin you were kept out of his nightmares. He didn't need to see something traumatizing.

Dr. Osborne took notes and set his notepad down. “Well, Mr. Potter. I have seen excellent progress since day one. I think we can move down to just one session per week and work our way down to once every few weeks. I'll see you next Monday.” He opened the door for Harry and shook his hand as Harry left. Harry went to your cafe right after. The daisy he gifted you was on display above the glass bread display in a small, white vase. He hoped that you regularly watered and fed it so you wouldn't notice that Harry actually hexed the flower to never die. You were currently helping someone out when Harry stood in line. Once the customer you were with left, you noticed your boyfriend – at least you assumed he was, now – standing behind a couple of people. He waved at you, and you pointed to the usual table he sat at. It was almost like you reserved the table only for him. He nodded and sat down, patiently waiting for you to finish the line of customers.

Harry was mesmerized watching you work, the beautiful, kind smile you had when talking to customers. Some of them were obviously regulars as you asked one elderly man how his grandchildren were. Once she finished helping everyone, she started working on the usual coffees and tray on biscuits for the two of you.

Harry loved hearing about your day and he wished he could tell you more beyond what happens at home that didn't include magic. He didn't know when he'd tell you about him being a wizard. Ron and Hermione told him that if he were to tell you, you're more than welcome to attend their wedding which was still a few months away now that they have all the time in the world to plan it. He didn't know what to say, but there was one thing he was sure about. He really liked, maybe even loved, how comfortable he felt around you. He liked the way your hands felt in his, your eyes shying away when you looked at him for too long. And he loved the feeling of your warm, soft lips against his at the end of the night when you had just locked the doors and he just went for it. Because in that moment, he wasn't the famous Harry Potter who saved the wizarding world, he wasn't Harry Potter who was recovering from the aftermath of the Battle. He was just Harry, and he really liked being your boyfriend.

At least he assumed he was.

—

requests open!

[ohnohetaliasues]

Stones to Abbigale {Ch. 1}

(Kat)

This is going to be the worst thing I’ve ever read, isn’t it?

Am I going to actively want to die? Yes, most likely. But apparently, because I run a blog like this, I can endure suffering.

Flashbacks to Blood Raining Night.

Here we go. We will start with the introduction, written by the onion lord himself.

I want to be direct, my name is Greg. I go by “Onision” online.

Okay, I dunno what it is, but something feels off about this sentence.

This book is made up of events that occurred in my own life mixed with fiction from the made up life of James. James is essentially a better version of myself.

I can’t imagine how good that could be, seeing as the man who wrote this is a child predator and is just an overall piece of hot garbage.

His home, his school & his life all resemble my own at his age.

Don’t ever use a fucking ampersand instead of the word ‘and.’ It’s just bad grammar.

The people James analyzes and is surrounded by are not so unlike those I’ve known as well.

Analyzes?

Why?

I have experienced much of the loss James has however his happier moments are more often than not also mine.

Then write a memoir. Not this.

I want to share my story without it being purely non-fiction.

I mean, some people do this with books about their lives, but this feels... Odd?

I simply felt this approach would make for a far better book. At points I cried while writing this, at others I laughed.

Congratulations.

I don’t care.

Stones To Abbigale is not just a book I wrote, it is a piece of who I am.

That’s a given for all writers, but I still don’t care. 

I’m going to rip this book to shreds.

Okay here we go.

I was asleep until I met her, but when I woke, I learned the meaning of "perfect imperfection."

Is this Onion boy trying to be poetic?

It actually made me want to die.

I've always been the type of person to focus on stars as we spin beneath them, the cool breeze on a sunny day, scattered patches of grass under my feet, the world around me, often forgetting to even glance at the one within.

‘The one within.’

Okay so the way this is written makes those three things seem disconnected. I often do stuff like this when I write, but I’d write it like ‘as we spin beneath them, focus on the breeze on a sunny day, on the scattered patches of grass, etc.’

You couldn’t pay me all the money in the world to rewrite that garbage sentence. This is all very waxing poetic and not in a good well structured way.

I had remained emotionally unexplored for so much of my life.

That must’ve been boring, not experiencing human emotions like the rest of us.

You sociopath, you.

It's painful knowing some can go an entire lifetime without understanding their own heart, an internal lock waiting for the right key to change everything.

Yeah, whatever, shut the hell up, you whiny idiot.

This is like an introduction by a teenager who just opened a poetry book and was like ‘yup. I wanna write like that.’

Except you aren’t William Blake or Walt Whitman and you never will be.

Sorry, Onion boy.

Except I’m not.

Die mad about it, grease ball.

It was the first Monday of November. I opened my eyes, blinded by my recently painted wall-to-wall white room. Even my bed frame, constructed of purely metal, was painted white.

Okay, cool. I’m a descriptive writer and I take every chance I can get to mention details, but even I find this description awkward. It feels irrelevant in this situation.

It bounced off the walls causing my eyelids to desperately clamp together. Painting my room like this was a clear act of subtle self-inflicted psychological torture.

Then why in the sweet hell did you do it? Do you enjoy suffering?

Actually, he probably does.

Because this is edgy as hell.

I was going through another phase, from darkness to light, and repeat. Seemed like the story of my life.

This is so edgy I am in physical pain.

You know your symbolism is good when it’s so random that you have to point it out and explain it to your audience.

My mom could see the darker colors were depressing me, I felt comforted by them, but found there were good aspects of both extremes. I was happy to visit either side, they are both so simple. But right now the intense light bouncing from wall to wall felt like it was ripping my mind in two.

Am I an idiot or is that just... word salad?

My mom didn't wake me. My alarm clock sat on my dresser with no explanation for it's failure to function. The clock only illuminated a blank stare with 8:17 written all over it's face. While entirely robotic, I imagined the clock to have the dumbest possible expression, one complementing its failure to behave any way outside its random glitch-infested nature.

That was the worst way to write a personification ever, but okay.

In the reflection of it's plastic face I could see myself unconsciously making the dumb expression I was imaging the clock to have. I laughed in my casual dorky tone and began to get ready to leave home.

I’m not laughing, idiot.

Without breakfast, I left for school with a bogus note in hand to idealistically explain my tardiness.

You... You wrote a fake note?

Do you realize you could get in trouble for that?

You’re an idiot.

I think most of my teachers were too exhausted to worry about small variances in our appearance from time to time. With how low their pay likely was, I imagined there were very few rules most teachers cared about.

That isn’t true at all. Teachers have to pay attention to rules unless they want to get, I dunno, fired.

It was another cold day in Lakewood. The wind hit my eyes forcing tears to form in the corners as I sped along the sidewalk at a no-doubt unreasonable speed.

I cannot imagine any good imagery for this scene. I’m just imagining this gif:

I passed Lauren and Raymon walking the opposite direction, no doubt headed toward the nearby church where all the students go to smoke, make out and hide out till school ends.

Um okay. Does this guy know that if characters don’t have relivance to the story, if they have no reason to be named, than they don’t have to be?

No.

Because he’s a 34 year old man baby.

They seemed so childish as they held hands and smiled excitedly as if they had gotten away with some tremendous crime.

That sentence seems so robotic I genuinely can’t.

Mr. Hanson, my heavy-set, middle-aged history teacher, rolled his eyes as I walked into class. "James, talk to me after class" he said quickly, looking away from me as if I were an undervalued employee who was barely important enough to make eye contact with let alone deliver a full sentence to.

It bothers me so deeply that a new paragraph wasn’t started when this character talked.

"I have a note," I said. He ignored me, and continued his lecture on yet another topic that would not only be completely useless later in life, but wasn't even relevant for even a few seconds after the words left his mouth.

Why is this teacher acting like a petty teenager?

I’m deeply annoyed by this.

And yeah, it’s relevant. You have tests, you idiot. Take notes. And it’s also history, which is, again, relevant.

In conclusion, shut your mouth and stop bitching.

There was only 15 minutes left in the class, but I felt it would be more stimulating to integrate myself into the room to yet again study my classmates' behavior than to sit in a hall watching the rows of scum covered tiles inevitably slide off the decaying walls.

That’s a health code violation, friends.

Or Onion is an awful writer and he thinks describing a school like this is a good idea. My money is on that.

For as long as I remember I've enjoyed seeing how people move around and talk to each other, like they're all animals at the zoo.

Something is wrong with you, friend. Liking to people watch is one thing, but doing shit like this is something else entirely.

Uh, try sociopath-like?

Creepy as hell?

We’ll go with both.

I would try to deliver a more accurate analogy if I felt there was one

Bitch, there is. I can’t name one off the top of my head because reading this makes me feel like my brain is melting out of my ears, but I’m 100% sure there is a better analogy. Even though this feels more like a simile.

but so many of them seemed incredibly unaware of themselves, just living life as if it were some generic predefined routine.

Oh, and you’re so much better obviously, you pretentious bastard.

Sometimes I felt like an alien who had a VIP pass to submerge myself in primitive human culture just for entertainment.

Congratulations, that’s also what you sound like.

I sense everything I can take in around me. The seemingly limitless audible tones, tremors in the voices of growing children rang in my ears. In studying people, I found myself gradually learning to literally feel the various personality types I encountered.

Do you... Do you have psychic powers?

If not, shut your damn mouth.

I hyper analyzed every inconsistent smell, the seemingly random clothing styles, freckles, and assorted hairstyles filled my mind with questions. Trying to rationalize and understand what sequence of events led them to decide who they would become.

You are the most pretentious protagonist I have ever read. I’m half a chapter in and I already fucking hate you.

This character is so poorly written and immediately unlikable. i cannot relate to him at all and if someone does, I suggest you go get some help because how this asshole is behaving doesn’t sound human.

I took favor of categorizing most everyone around me. The socially inept know-it-all, the dumb attention-seeking drama kid

On behalf of all drama kids, go fuck yourself.

and the bleach blonde bimbo who gets overly defensive at the slightest hint of criticism.

Do you mean you?

Onion obviously didn’t let anyone edit this garbage.

Then there were the kids who just hoped no one noticed them at all. There was so much to be seen, to be considered and organized in my mind.

Mhm.

I don’t care.

Class had just ended so I walked over to Mr. Hanson's' desk &

And*

placed the tardy note down in passing. As I walked out with the rest of my class, he called after me. "James! We still need to talk!" I responded but continued to walk outside the room. "I have to be early to my next class! Let's talk tomorrow!"

You’re an asshole.

And I hate you.

I walked quickly down the hall towards my art class, which was awkwardly placed in a trailer outside my clearly poorly funded high school.

Um.

Okay.

On my way to the class a fight had already broken out between two jocks who, no doubt, both had controlling, iron-fisted fathers who brainwashed them into believing conflicts between men are best resolved with the bloodying of their fists.

That’s a bold thing to assume, dear Onion.

These kinds of men plagued my mind with wonder. I could not conceive a scenario in which they could justify their primitive & pointless mentalities yet they would always continue to perpetuate their self-destructive attitudes as if it offered the slightest legitimate benefit.

Oh, shut your pretentious mouth.

Most everyone nearby crowded around the fight. None of them likely cared who was winning, what it was about or how far it went. All they ever seemed to show concern for was their own amusement, always excited to see violence without having to pull out their wallets to pay for it.

Are you joking?

Where are the teachers?

This is complete bullshit.

This is high school, not a fucking fight club.

Does Onion even try to make this believable? Or is he just vomiting all over his keyboard and just accepting whatever nonsense that makes?

As the sounds of flesh collided fist to cheek & chest quickly followed the howls from the surrounding students. They would scream "Oooohhhh!" as if it were sincerely delightful to witness creatures like themselves suffer & fall apart before their eyes.

The use of ampersands is making me lose my goddamn mind.

Even if I had time to stop, I never really took pleasure in seeing strangers hurt each other. Most all fights seemed avoidable and were often initiated for a senseless reason.

Go choke on air. This protagonist annoys me more than any protagonist has. I’m not joking. Fuck this dickwad.

I know, you could say it's more complicated than that, I would like to think it were as well, but reality trumps the way I wish things would be. There's no sense in fighting it when doing so rarely helps anyone.

While this is true, this is worded in a way that’s so pretentious it’s painful and also in a way that paints this protagonist in such a white knight-y way that it makes me want to die.

As I approached my next class the image of Abbi's face illuminated the neon walls of my mind like a projector teasing a theatre screen with fleeting moments of depth & purpose.

That is complete and utter word salad. Stop immediately.

Ever since I met her, she had occupied a part of my consciousness; whenever I wasn't near her I missed her to an unrealistic extent. You could call my longing sad especially considering we had barely talked; she just had a strange effect on me, one no doubt similar to a willful addiction.

That’s called a crush, but the way that was just described is so creepy.

There are people in life which we pass by on a daily basis, barely aware of their existence, but on an exceptionally rare occasion you can find a person who fills an area inside your little world you didn't even realize needed filling.

While that’s technically not untrue, it feels like a lizard person is trying to tell me what having a crush on someone is like.

As I walked up the creaking stairs into my art class trailer I could see Abbi was sitting at her shared-desk, alone, same makeup, hairstyle & general appearance I had thought about repeatedly over the last couple days. She was drawing pictures on her blue-lined paper, distracting herself from the cold that filled the oddly glowing room.

This... This imagery is so fucking weird.

I smiled slightly trying not to be too obvious and sat down on my chilled metal chair positioned a few seats to the left in front of her. Glancing over, I could see she hadn't moved at all, I felt like she didn't even notice me come in.

You aren’t the center of her world, so yeah, she’s focused on something else. That’s just how it is, asshat.

I wanted to inspire some acknowledgment of my existence from Abbi so I opened my mouth to greet her when my fingers brushed up against freshly smeared gum under my desk. "Eeew!" I shouted out on impulse. She looked up at me with a blank expression.

I’ve accidentally touched gum on the bottom of my desk before, as I can imagine everyone has, but I’ve never shouted about it like a lunatic.

Bursting into the room came a group of boys. "Dude I think John's done bro!" one of the other boys laughed, saying "Won't see them for a week at least."

Nobody talks like this. Have you ever spoke to another human?

I looked back at Abbi to see she also didn't react to their outburst. Strangely knowing that her apathy was generalized and impersonal gave me comfort.

There needs to be a comma after ‘strangely,’ but whatever.

Her influence on how I felt was obviously dangerous but I didn't care as no matter how fond I was of the idea that I was not of the world, I knew my place and had no real interest in pretending otherwise.

Explain to me how in the hell that’s dangerous.

Jason, one of the boys energetically praising the fight they had just seen, sat in his seat next to Abbi. I smirked watching her shoulders shift away from him. Her body language sent a loud message that she had the same impression of Jason as I did. He was just another moron, placed on this Earth to live his life completely unexamined,

That word is not used properly in that sentence.

a pawn that had no awareness of its own role let alone that it was just another tiny component within a massive unstoppably twisted game.

Shut your pretentious mouth because that doesn’t make any goddamn fucking sense.

I know it sounds morbid and condescending but my attitude was just something that naturally developed the more I studied human behavior.

Bullshit.

I would be more optimistic but I find doing so would be like walking into a room with no windows and turning out the light. If you refuse to see the world around you for what it is you're just wasting your eyes.

Being optimistic means looking on the good side of things. You’ve heard the glass half empty or half full thing. it’s that. And as someone who jumps between optimism and pessimism, being optimistic isn’t like this at all.

Don’t try to be poetic or funny, Onion. Those are two things that you aren’t.

Art class was about to begin. My teacher, Mrs. Stanley, who looked like she should have retired a ridiculous thirty years ago, approached the front of the room talking about how art is sacred. She also discussed the random object she had us all draw the previous school day and ironically graded it by using her own narrow-minded definition of art.

That isn’t ironic.

I always wondered how teachers could even attempt objectively grading art. Is there any logic behind validating a form of self-expression using a cold black and white mathematical system?

It’s a class where you have to follow the curricula. Shut your damn mouth.

And this is coming from someone who hated her art teacher. But this art teacher was so utterly closed minded that she didn’t accept anyone else’s creative process. She basically told us that if we didn’t follow her process, we weren’t real artists.

"Today I'm going to place you with partners" Mrs. Stanley said as she pulled out sheets of paper outlining our activities to come. "To keep this simple, I'm going to partner you with the person you are currently assigned to share a desk with" she said. I sighed knowing I was bound to be paired up with Alex, a guy I had specifically asked to be seated away from ever since he peed in a jar literally right next to me under our desk, acting like he was so cool for publicly exposing himself while simultaneously urinating.

That... He expected to be treated like he was cool for this?

That’s fucking disgusting.

It happened weeks ago and I still can't figure out what kind of crazy it takes for you to, in the presence of people you barely know but have to see nearly on a daily basis, pee in a jar held in your hand just beneath your desk in the middle of a classroom.

At first when I read this, I thought that the wayit was worded made it sound like Alex forced James to hold the jar while he peed in it, but okay, whatever.

What then? You show it off like you will be praised and accepted as if it were an accomplishment? Alex, despite being borderline mental, was one of my least favorite people to study.

It is actually physically exhausting to read this shit. James is a pretentious asshole.

I couldn't help but feel there was some defect in his mind that invalidated the point of conducting a thorough analysis of him.

This just makes it seem like James has mind reading powers.

He was completely irrelevant when considering the realities of normal human behavior.

Behavior you don’t act according to, you lizard person sociopath.

As I was off on a tangent in my own mind I heard a familiar voice ring out, one that inspired the very same emotion you experience when a song you had forgotten you loved, randomly plays in the background of your daily life. "Can I be paired up with James?" her voice was just as I remembered.

Is this Abbi?

I have a friend who spells her name like this, so I really hate that there’s a character in this shitty book who shares a name with her.

Despite her having not spoken in class in some time, she hadn't changed a note. Abbi had interrupted the teacher just to partner with me, but I asked myself if was it really just to work with me or just to get away from Jason.

Um. Okay.

The teacher, looking irritated but understanding Abbi's discomfort with Jason responded "Alex and Jason, you'll be partners. James, switch seats with Jason" "Thank you!" Abbi said with a slight smile. With a cocky grin Jason stood up and in a comedic fashion smelled his armpit. "Wow, I didn't know I smelled that bad" Jason said as he walked over to sit by Alex.

That isn’t funny and Onion boy isn’t funny.

Approaching Abbi was no doubt a way scarier act in my mind than it was to everyone around me, I felt like my head was burning from the inside out.

That’s a little extreme.

Nevertheless I continued to remind myself that her public outcry to partner with me could have meant nothing. I sat down next to her and did all I could not to turn into a complete dork on her. She reached out and grabbed the project outline that was being passed out. Mrs. Stanley began to read the description of the assignment. "Today you will both be taking something meaningful, but expendable, from your own homes."

If something is meaningful it isn’t expendable. Stop.

Mrs. Stanley looked up and emphasized, "That you own!" then looked back down at her paper. "You will tear those items apart here in class. You will then take those items and, using the adhesives, staples and the strings available in class, find a way to create something new out of those possessions."

That’s actually kind of an interesting idea. But like. Maybe with a cup? I don’t wanna rip apart something I care about.

She looked up and said in a low voice sounding somewhat like Dracula "Two, will become one."

That is unnecessarily creepy. It reads like an innuendo.

Also, what in fresh hell does Dracula’s voice sound like?

Did she say it with a Transylvanian accent? I’m confused.

Jason raised his hand objecting, "All due respect Mrs. Stanley I'm not breaking something of mine for this class."

Jason has the right idea.

She replied putting her hands on her hips, "That's fine Jason. We'll supply you with a toilet paper rolls, we have plenty of extras around here." Jason suddenly looked disturbed and sarcastically spouted "Freaking great!"

Why???

That’s better than ripping apart a t-shirt.

Mrs. Stanley asked, "Are you sure? Your grade shouldn't suffer that much if you two just take Alex's piss jar and tape it to a toilet paper roll. You're already failing this class."

What in the literal fuck?!

You cannot say that to students. No, you can’t say that to anyone.

Jason couldn't believe what she had just said

Same.

and Alex maintained an awkward frozen facial expression with his mouth slightly open in his normal weirdo somewhat robotic fashion.

"Oh my god" Abbi whispered under her breath with a slight smirk. I grinned uncontrollably; just seeing her amused was amazing to me.

That wasn’t really funny, it was just shocking.

I could hear a scream in the back of my mind reminding me my dorkiness and borderline obsession was escaping through my face.

It's not that I couldn't help being in awe of Abbi and basically every little thing she did, I simply didn't want to change how I felt. In a way, she was like your favorite song or book, you could pretend not to like it and in time with the right mental coaching maybe you would sincerely dislike it, but life just felt so much better embracing your condition entirely, letting all your nerdy admiration flow freely.

This just reads like an obsession. I don’t have the energy to actually express how romantic feelings actually feel, but this is terrifying.

Mrs. Stanley continued, "If there's anyone else who has an issue, please take it up with my 1800 number which is?" She put her hand up to the air signaling the students to react but only a couple kids replied aloud with her catch phrase. "1-800-BOO-HOOO" they mumbled.

Sweet Jesus.

So this is what it feels like to lose my mind.

She continued, "Good, now for the rest of class please work with your partner on what you plan to bring and draw up a prototype sketch of what you feel your final piece of art will look like." Mrs. Stanley walked to the back of her room and sat down at her 1950's looking rust-infested desk.

Is this school just a giant health code violation? And what the hell do you mean by ‘1950′s desk?’ All I got when I googled that were pictures of wooden desks.

I would always laugh internally when I looked at the old thing. Maybe it was my way of coping with the fact I attended one of the most run down schools in the state.

I have nothing that isn’t full of curse words and fact checking to say here.

"What are you going to bring James?" Abbi asked.

This sentence is put so Abbi looks like she’s asking if James is going to bring himself without the comma after the word ‘bring.’ Did Onion really not edit his book at all? These are simple and fixable grammatical mistakes.

It was amazing hearing my name pass her lips but I had no time to think, if I didn't respond right away she would think I was totally awkward. "I... have no idea..." I responded. Smiling she said, "I'm going to bring my hamster cage", I asked, "Did he die or something?" she laughed, "No, I never got one, the cage was just a gift from my dad."

But you’re supposed to cut it up.

Hamster cages are made of metal.

Does Abbi just have superhuman strength? Is she going to bring a pair of bolt cutters?

"Your dad didn't get you a hamster... for the cage?" I asked.

My question exactly.

Sometimes you just...

You just gotta give your daughter a hamster cage but no hamster.

She paused and started to lose her smile.

Oh fabulous, she’s one of those characters.

At the first sign of her smile fading I felt a crushing pressure in my chest. "Hopefully you can find something that will work with that," she said. I couldn't help but feel like a total jerk despite not even knowing what I did wrong.

That interaction was so... Weird? Robotic? i don’t know. Something felt wrong about it.

I had the overwhelming urge to fix how she felt so I took a gamble, "Well, I could always bring that weird vibrating thing my mom hides in her drawers all wrapped up in a cloth" I said.

What is wrong with you?

I cannot fathom what made Onion think this joke was funny.

She busted out laughing hysterically as a huge grinned filled my face. I was so happy I could get her to smile again. "Eeew! James!" she continued to laugh as the extent of my grin began to stress my cheeks. I couldn't remember a time when I was this obvious about how I felt.

This... Something is wrong with just... all the dialogue.

And with the formatting. You make a new paragraph when someone starts talking. A 34 year old man should know this. He writes like me when I first started writing, and while this probably means he just started writing, I was 11 years old when I wrote like this.

He is a 34 year old adult. There is no excuse for how bad this formatting and how generally terribly written these interactions are.

Abbi's laughing trailed off and she paused. Turning to me she said, "You... you didn't actu- ally... your moms?"

*Pained groaning.*

I responded, "No, I wouldn't know about that, but I'm glad it made you laugh." She responded, returning to a soft laugh "You're more goofy than I thought James." I sat next to her looking at my fingers interlaced in front of me; my wide smile relaxed but still filled my cheeks with warmth.

This entire chapter, everything here, is so awkwardly written.

As class came to a close Abbi patted me on my arm. I turned and she handed me a note. Instinctively I put it in my pocket and said "See ya tomorrow", she just smiled and walked away.

????

On my way to my next class, I opened the note. I didn't understand why, but it read "NISEONE."

Not knowing what to make of it and with little time, I stuffed it back in my pocket to look over later.

Yeah, that’s cryptic as hell.

Not feeling like skating home,

Oh, we’re really getting into edgy 2000′s shit now.

I got on the bus to see all the normal rejects and misfits waiting. Davis, a short and scrawny kid who had been my best friend since middle school despite being one grade behind me excitedly waved me over.

Oh, good, more terrible characters.

"James! Nice to seeeee you!"

Oh, this bitch needs to die.

he said in seemingly the dorkiest way possible. I smiled as he stood up giving me the window seat, knowing very well by then that I preferred it.

Um. Okay.

As I sat down I began looking out the window, analyzing the little humans running left and right to get on their busses.

Buses*

And I am going to eventually kick your ass for this pretentious bullshit.

Something reached out and caught the corner of my eye. I immediately shifted my head to see what it was and quickly realized it was Abbi standing in the parking lot by some beat-up sedan.

"What'cha looking at James?" Davis asked. Without hesitation I began to respond, "Oh, it's Abbi, she's in my art..." my heart sank as I witnessed a boy I barely knew, named Seth, walk up and kiss Abbi on the lips.

Oh, boo fucking hoo. Get over the fact that she has a life outside of your crush on her.

"James?" Davis said, but by that point his voice was a faint echo in the darkness my mind instantaneously lost itself in. I felt like after a life of numbness I was finally about to truly feel warmth for the first time only to have it all taken away in an instant, leaving me hopeless in the shadows, alone once again.

Cry me a goddamn river.

You angsty pretentious idiot.

Don’t give me angsty word salad about how sad this makes you, I don’t actually care at all.

I looked down at my knees feeling as if I lost all muscle control in my neck.

That isn’t a thing that happens ever when someone is upset.

"Are... you ok?" Davis asked. I responded with hesitation "...I'm... just stupid."

You spoke to her once, you fucking dumbass.

"No you're not. You're one of the coolest guys I know!" Davis replied. I continued my silence as he offered words of encouragement. "Okie dokie, well, you're awesome and should be super happy so if you want to talk, I'm your buddy so... so I'm here to talk."

That’s uh, nice of him.

But the way he’s talking sounds like... almost mechanical? All he’s done since he was introduced has been compliment James.

I was too focused on the con- flict raging in my mind to hear anyone at that point. I couldn't think about anything but Seth kissing Abbi the entire trip home.

Oh, get the fuck over it.

That night my mom was literally just serving lentil beans she prepared on her crock-pot for the billionth time, a fair exaggeration but still, it was excessive to say the least. My sister was behaving as she usually did at the dinner table, talking about how stupid she thought school was and how she couldn't wait for college. "How was work mom?"

I mean, I’m also tired of high school. I’m really done with judge-y teenagers.

I asked trying to keep my mind off the haunting images looping in my mind.

YOU HAVE HAD ONE FUCKING CONVERSATION WITH HER. CRY ME A FUCKING RIVER, YOU BITCH.

Any normal person would express disappointment over the fact that a person they like has a boyfriend or girlfriend or partner in general, not go into a damn depression about it.

"Well, no one at work respects me or listens to me and I generally can't stand it, but you know, we still have food on the table" she said in a stern tone.

That

That is weirdly passive aggressive and mechanical.

My sister barked as food flew out of her mouth, "Well at least it's not high school. I'm learning how to be a successful person from a bunch of low-income losers."

Oh, I guess bitching runs in the family.

My mom replied "Whatever your teachers are, they have full-time jobs, which is more than a lot of people can say." My mom gave my sister Lisa a disap- pointed look. Lisa was well known for showing little respect for hard-working people. To her it didn't matter how much you gave back to society, it only mattered how much money you made.

That’s a very black and white way to look at things.

After the rerun of lentil soup I washed the dishes per my mom's orders and headed to the shower. I sat on the floor of the tub thinking about Abbi, barely feeling the water as it hit my chest.

Sat on the floor... while water hits your chest? Are you like sitting with your back arched so the water can hit your chest?

This imagery is so odd.

I was so consumed with what I had seen that I had completely forgotten the note until that moment. I quickly reached over to my pants resting on the toilette.

Why the fuck did you spell toilet like that?

That’s literally the word for ‘toilet’ but in French. It isn’t a spelling used in English. It just makes you sound even more pretentious.

Also, he reached over to the toilet to grab the note from his pants while he’s in the shower?

It’s gonna get wet, you idiot.

I had hoped I read it wrong the first time and that it would make sense with a second look only to see it read exactly what I gathered in my initial passing glance. "NISEONE"

I fucking hate you, Onion.

This literally looks like you scrambled your screen name up.

Die.

In a fire.

I mumbled to myself. I joked with the idea in my head that she handed me the wrong note but still assumed it wasn't a failed attempt to say "Nice one," which could be taken as a compliment if you were desperate enough.

That joke, while just a little funnier, is still fucking lame.

Seconds into looking at the note my eyes widened, having figured out what it meant, I jumped up slipping to my feet and screamed "YEAH!!!" I had cracked it, only to immediately after feel completely stupid for not having figured it out sooner.

I’m just done functioning.

My mom screamed through the door from her bedroom "WHAT?" I responded "Sorry! Nothing!" I hurried to finish showering.

I’d just assume he got really into jerking off.

I’ll see myself out.

Staring at my phone wearing only a towel, I smiled as I typed in "NISEONE" or "647-3663" into the number keys.

That is the most cryptic and strange way to give someone your phone number.

I assumed we shared the same area code otherwise she likely would have given me a longer sequence of letters and I was right. After two rings I got an answer.
"What do you want?" a disgruntled man's voice asked.

This... This girl gave this guy a home phone number?

I guess that’s fine since this is probably set in the early 2000′s, but it’s still odd.

Like a bad engine struggling to start in a monster movie I clumsily belted out a response "I... uh... I was looking for..." An unenthusiastic female voice in the background said, "Give me the phone." "Whatever" he said dropping phone in front of her.

James can apparently see through the phone, or he wouldn’t know that probably Abbi’s dad did this.

"Hello?" I could recognize the voice now it was Abbi.

Trying to hide my excitement by maintaining a normal tone I said, "This is James." Abbi excitedly screamed

Like how girls screamed in Disney Channel shows?

That’s ridiculous.

and responded "Oh my god you figured it out!" Hearing her optimistic tone I laughed saying, "So... why..." She interrupted. "I was hoping to find out if you figured out what you're bringing to art class."

Why the hell didn’t you just fucking ask? Or give him your regular phone number? This is just unnecessarily complicated.

I said "Oh!" and looked quickly around my room. I couldn't see anything immediately so I just said, "I'll... surprise you!" She then replied "Oh come on, tell me." My eyes locked on to a plausible item for the project. "How about my... bear... I'll bring my bear!"

You’re okay with destroying a teddy bear? Okay, I guess.

I said. She replied "Oh, ok, oh! I have an idea. Instead of the cage, I'll bring in a stuffed animal of mine and we'll make like, a zombie bear."

Sounds fine.

I don’t care.

You guys are fucking boring.

I laughed "Awesome" I said. "Ok, I'll see you tomorrow ok?" she replied happily. I answered "Ok, byeee."

I would appreciate it if you would fuck off.

I can’t believe this shit is on GoodReads.

Just before she hung up I could still hear her laughing, leaving me with a sense of accomplishment and a lasting smile as if it were painted across my face.

That’s the end of chapter one?

Oh god, okay.

That was.

Terrible.

The characters are bland and flavorless and I cannot get attached to any of them. I can already tell I’m going to completely despise this.

I’ll see you next time. I need to go think about my life.

~Kat

[myemotionalsupportcharacters]

Mission #5

Type: One-Shot Series

Pairing: (Kingsman)Merlin x Female!OC

Summary: To celebrate their new start, the current Kingsmen take a night off to hold a small party.

Warnings: A little fluffy, drinking games, thirst

{Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except those marked as OC, I hold no rights over anything from the Marvel universe. Otherwise all content is my own and any similarity to real people, events, or any other fiction is unintentional. Please inbox me if you believe anything within my work violates this disclaimer.}

AN: Enjoy some random Merlin content on my Marvel blog because I’m going though yet another fixation faze. PSA: Mark Strong got jacked and I’m weeping at this gif.

It had taken a few months, but everyone was now settled in at the new Kingsmen Headquarters, and after all that work, they reasoned that a party was the next logical step. A small affair, just the eight of them (of course Tilde was invited) before they began their recruitment phase, once again headed up by Merlin. They had all agreed it was only right that Harry should head up the new Kingsmen, and had subsequently ascended to the title of Arthur. Eggsy had married Tilde and was now a Prince by title. Roxy had made a full recovery from the missile attack on the old headquarters and was feeling (a little like Merlin) lucky to be alive. Tequila, Ginger (she was technically now Whiskey, but as she was currently on loan from Statesman to help Merlin rebuild the technical and medical departments, decided to go by Ginger), and Vermouth had all found their groove. 

Tequila mostly did what he wanted (just less recreationally) until it was go time for a mission. Vermouth walked around all day seeing where she could lend a hand and popping in to see Merlin when she could. They had developed a pattern. Harmless flirting, and secretive winks, although it was mostly Vermouth having all the fun. Merlin was a tough shell to crack, and with the lack of agents he'd been stepping out to do some recon in person. It was a party to celebrate many things.

So they gathered in the 'ballroom' as they had decided to call it. A large space in the centre of the new mansion that no one had really known what to do with until Vermouth suggested they let her do it up and make it into a ballroom. It was excellent and reminded Eggsy of his new parents-in-law's house. They'd all gotten dressed up, and hired Wilhem from the Tailors Shop to man the bar. A large jukebox in the corner linked up to the speakers and slowly they milled around, each picking a song of their own. 

Vermouth had chosen a long wine red dress, with a gold belt, thin straps, and a slit that ran up the front of her thigh. Merlin had braced himself on arrival, but he hadn't been prepared for that. He still wasn't as she sauntered over to him at the Jukebox, a glass of Single Malt Scotch in one hand, and a darker liquor in the other.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She held out the scotch, and he took it, raising it with a nod to thank her.

"I wanted to pick a song, but I'm a little spoiled for choice." He mused.

"Well, a little birdy told me that you had a thing for country western music, so I just couldn't resist loading it up with a couple of classics...and a couple of new ones." Her shoulder brushed against his as she peered into the machine, he chuckled turning to face her.

"What would you chose, Ma'am?" She smiled, bumping her shoulder into him, pressing a few buttons to bring up the next songbook.

"Hmm, the ladies choice. If I pick a song, will you dance with me?" She never took her eyes away from the machine, fingers hovering over the play button.

"I think that depends on the song." He smiled, taking a sip from his drink. She chuckled, before hitting the button, the intro to Darius Rucker’s Wagonwheel playing over the speakers. She took a couple of steps back, before holding out her free hand for his.

"Care to join me?" He took her hand, neither putting their drinks down to move to the free space and face each other. Meredith changed hands, placing her right on his shoulder, and Merlin placing his right around her waist. Slowly they began to sway and spin. "Not to be the one to break up the party, but someday, we're going to have to do something about this."

"I think you might be right, lass." She looked up into his eyes, for once without glasses, and saw the smile lines next to the frown lines, the way his eyes seemed to speak for him. She smiled before stepping a little closer and resting her right cheek against his firm chest. He looked good tonight, a white shirt, unbuttoned and tucked into black slacks. His legs were so long, and she wasn't sure what it was about that, but there was something. "Good song choice." She felt his chest rumble as he spoke, and suddenly all she could imagine was falling asleep on his chest and smiled.

"Alright, that's about enough of the easy drinking. Time to get the party really started." Tequila joked. Vermouth had to give it to him, he looked good in a suit. She, however, had swapped out her denim jacket for a black leather one, not quite ready to start wearing a blazer yet.

"What you got in mind?" She asked, familiar with most of his self-created party games.

"I was thinking, Winner Takes All." Vermouth chuckled and nodded.

"What's Winner Takes All?" Eggsy asked, curiosity piqued, Tilde right with him.

"A game of my own design." Tequila bragged. "A question is posed to the group about something within the group, the group votes, and the losers take a shot." He explained.

“You’ve missed out a crucial detail, T. Bets on.” Vermouth points out as she and Merlin slowed their dancing. She quickly pilfered some bottles from Whilhem who smilled and starting collecting shot glasses.

“Right, right! So if someone calls bets on, you have to prove it.” He beams at the group, arms open as if expecting applause only to be met by confusion and amusement.

"Plead the fifth!" Tequila hollered, and Meredith smiled, placing the assorted alcohol on the table before flopping down onto the sofa next to Merlin.

"Let's get started." She grabbed one of Eggsy's empty beer bottles and spun. 

“I’m not sure I understand how this works.” Merlin leant over to whisper in her ear.

“You’ll see.” She whispered back, and for a moment he got a scent of the sweet alcohol on her breath. It landed on Tequila, who whooped again.

"Alright, let me show you how it's done. We'll start tame. Which of the girls can do the most push-ups? Men vote." Slowly the votes trickled in. Tequila for Vermouth, Harry and Eggsy for Roxy, and finally Merlin also for Roxy. 

"No offence Roxy, but y'all are fools. Bets on." Tequila laughed as the two women stood up, moving to the dance floor next to the couches, and onto their knees. "All right ladies, nice clean push-ups from both of you. Highest wins. Go." A quick fist bump and they were off. They both kept as even a pace as possible, not wanting to wear out too quickly, until Roxy started to slowly fall behind, the lads cheered them on, but it was too late. Vermouth beating out Lancelot by fifteen.

"Bloody hell, Di." Roxy gasped, shaking out her arms, Meredith mimicking her with a laugh.

"Alright boys, drink up and think of a question for Tequila over there." The two women stood, making their way back to their seats.

"Alright," Tilde's eyes narrowed as she looked around them. "Who is the most buff of the guys? Girls vote." Suddenly, a devious smile settled across Meredith's lips, not going unnoticed by a few of the group. All the votes pointed to Tequila, Tilda giving Eggsy an apology kiss who argued he'd say the same thing. Everyone looked to Meredith, who took a little sip before leaning back.

"Merlin." Harry chuckled from the other sofa and seconding her, and Tequila puffing out his chest.

"No way." He argued, the others joining in on the confusion. "You agree?" He asked Merlin, who sized up the other man before giving a nod. "Bets on."

Merlin gave a resigned sigh before shooting Meredith a look that sid ‘i’ll get you back for this’. Both men stood, Tequila shrugging off his jacket as Merlin unbuttoned his shirt. By the time he was done, Tequila was shirtless and waiting. Merlin shrugged off his shirt, tossing it onto the couch next to Meredith, and she got the sudden urge to crawl inside it.

"Holy shit, Merlin. You're jacked." Eggsy spluttered, Harry laughing and tipping his glass to his old friend.

"How did you know?" Tilde asked, eyes narrowing at Meredith.

"I flew out to patch him up in Columbia. You can't apply an Alpha-gel patch over clothing." She explained simply. Tequila held a hand out to Merlin who shook it, and Meredith never looked away from the rippling muscles of his back. Slowly he sat down and pulled his shirt back on, leaving a few buttons undone like before, but opting to roll up the sleeves, and suddenly Meredith's legs felt weak. "Sorry Tilds, but I think that counts as my question." She smirked. The questions were a little tamer after that, and soon got so silly that Roxy and Harry slowly began to diffuse the situation.

Merlin waited as Meredith closed the ballroom up, and walked to the residential wing together. Whilst he still had his own house, Merlin wasn't currently in a state to drive and didn't fancy the journey anyway, so was staying in one of the guest rooms. He walked Meredith to her room like a true gentleman, holding her heels for her as she clutched the nearly full glass of Dissorano she had insisted upon taking bed with her in one hand, and her now slightly too long skirt in the other. Halfway up the second staircase, she had almost dripped, catching her self on her knees, Merlin's hand under her right forearm to steady her as she peeled with laughter. Once they finally made it there, they stared at each other in silence for a moment, assessing.

Merlin made the first move, weaving a hand into her hair and cupping the side of her head as he pressed his lips to hers. She lost her breath at the sensation, strength pouring through, whilst he was met with soft and yielding. He pulled away, stroking his thumb across her cheekbone, before moving away. Meredith reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt and pulling his back to her. It was a far more intense kiss, her tongue slipping out to run across his lower lip and he nipped at hers in response. Her back pressed against the door, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she reminded herself not to drop the glass. She tasted sweet, like marzipan, where he tasted of something woody, and strong. Remnants of alcohol brushing over her tongue. They parted, panting, eyes wide and panting breaths. amidst this moment she managed to mumble out,

"That's how you say goodnight."

[austarus]

Barry Allen x Reader A Berry for Barry

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to its rightful owner(s).

“All I’m saying, is that Charmander would be my best option if we’re talking about starters that would progress well in the game,” Barry shrugs from his seat at the soft couch of your shared studio, arm at the back of the couch when he glanced back at you. Green eyes gently watching your movements in the kitchen. You only rolled your own eyes at the Scarlet Speedster as you finish preparing your assortment of fruit. The flat screen TV had been set to The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, a show all your friends were raving about and you coaxed Barry into watching it with you since it does have some horror-ish aspects as well as some dark tones to it.

“Why not go original? No one can go wrong with Pikachu,” You stroll over to the living room with your bowl of berries. Blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, and blackberries. The supermarket priced them that they were basically a steal and you’d be damned if you weren’t getting your daily dose of good fruit. Taking a seat beside Barry, you pop a few in your mouth.

“But everyone chooses Pikachu-” Barry moves your legs to rest on his lap while you adjusted your position on the couch, bowl on you lap, “-not that there’s anything wrong with the little guy. It’s just much more competitive to have options that doesn’t include one that the obvious choice.”

You press your lips into a thin line, contemplating his words and shaking your head from side to side a bit before speaking once again. “Did Cisco specifically say that it’s between those two or can you choose from all the others?”

“Nah, we both agreed that if we include Pokémon from the other generations then it’d be too complicated to pick. It’s between Charmander, Squirtle, and Bulbasaur. He’s hell-bent on Bulba, who I have to admit is pretty cute.”

“There’s a ‘but’, so I’m going to ask. But?”

“But I just don’t find his skill set so useful in battle. Charizard’s moves can easily annihilate most of his enemies…” Barry went on, listing facts on the evolved form of Charmander and its various uses. Watching your dorky boyfriend ramble and munching on berries was definitely a better use of your evening than binge-watching Netflix. Just the way Barry’s green eyes light up and twinkle whenever he talks about something, he’s really passionate about absolutely makes your heart melt.

“Hey Barr, do me a favor and say ‘ahh’.” You cut his rambling short and hold up a raspberry to his lips. The speedster opens his mouth, lips taking in the fruit and brushing against your fingertips. You’re not sure why it made your feel a bit electric, but you kind of want to do it again. “A berry for my Barry.” You giggle at your own pun as you pluck up another random fruit form the bowl to feed him again, your pun earns a soft chuckle from Barry. Goodness, his smile and laugh makes you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

“I want to feed you too. Come here,” Barry’s large hands captured your waist and brought you closer to his lithe body, picking up a strawberry and reciprocating the gesture. You two continued to feed each other, but a mischievous grin graces Barry’s handsome features that with every fruit brought up to his awaiting lips the speedster makes sure to plant a feather-light kiss to your fingertips. That sparky feeling tickling you each time.

“You know, any more kisses and I’ll just melt in your arms. And trust me you don’t want to be carrying a bucket of me around.”

“You’d still be beautiful, and I wouldn’t mind,” Barry teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you as you roll your eyes before he captures your lips in a sweet kiss. “Mm, tasty as always, but a bit sweeter today.” Your cheeks heat up when he licks his lips at you, a suggestive expression ever-present on his face.

“Oh hush, you.”