this will probably not get any notes but eh

anonymous asked:

Evan you should probably leave the popcorn and a note for Connor, like, dude's getting p impatient for his popcorn

E: A-and I dunno, it just kinda broke me, I guess?

J: Look, Evan, you can’t bottle things up like that. It just turns out to be a super explosion of feelings and shit- and nobody likes that. If you ever feel like that again, just call me, okay?

E: Okay… Thanks, Jared, for being so nice…

J: Eh, it’s just your a friend of the fam, Evan. Don’t get any ideas.

E: Heh… *phone jingles* Oh shit. 

J: What? Is that your boyfriend or something?

E: Uh, uuuhhhuhuuhuHuhuUUUHHUHUHuhuHhu, Igottagosorrybye. *Evan leaves* 

J: Uh, see ya… And another day saved by the insanely cool Jared Kleinman… God, I suck…

Prompt for smilethroughthetearsss who wanted a continuation of this Harry Potter AU with Oblivious Muggle!Harry.

Finito incantatem! Ginny, you should have given me some kind of warning!” Mrs. Weasley said as she pointed around the room with her wand, trying to end all the charms and spells around their living room. Her knitting needles fell back on the armchair, motionless, at the same time several cups and plates returned to their places in the cupboard.

“What kind of warning could I have given you?” Ginny asked, as she grabbed the capes and pointy hats in the hanger to put them away somewhere upstairs. “I just met him this afternoon.”

“Why did you invite him, though?” Ron asked, coming down from the attic, where he had been making sure the ghoul had enough things to entertain itself and be quiet during the tea. “Is Dad’s love for muggles rubbing on you?”

“I was just trying to be nice,” Ginny cringed, only know realizing the predicament she had put her family at. “I didn’t really think he would accept!”

“I think it’s great!” Mr. Weasley said, as he strategically hid all the moving pictures behind books, vases and ornaments. “What did you say he did again?”

“He’s a writer of some kind,” Ginny said, throwing the capes and the hats at Ron for him to take upstairs. “I don’t know…”

“A writer! Marvelous!” said Mr. Weasley, with his eyes glimmering. “If he’s a writer, he must know how to explain and describe all sort of things.”

“Oh, Arthur, you’re not interrogating the muggle,” Mrs. Weasley said, with her cauldron in hand, looking around as she decided where to put it.

“Don’t call him the muggle,” Ginny said. “His name is Harry, alright?”

“Does the muggle have black hair and wears glasses?” Ron asked from upstairs.

“Yes, how did you know?”

“He’s coming down the road now.”

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I was tagged by @thencrthremembers and @baelishv 🌸🌸 

  • nicknames: Aghema (from my surname)
  • gender: female
  • star sign: sagittarius
  • height: 170 cm idk
  • time: 2.35 pm
  • birthday: november 28th
  • favorite bands: haim, of monsters and men, florence and the machine
  • favorite solo artists: tayIor swift owns my ass and so does Iorde
  • song stuck in my head: homemade dynamite 
  • last movie I watched: the secret worId of arrietty
  • last show I watched: orphan bIack
  • when did I create this blog: 2012
  • what do I post: petyr baeIish owns my ass
  • last thing I googled: how to write dynamite ehe
  • do you have any other blogs: nope
  • do you get asks: not really
  • why did you choose your url: bbc sherIock used to own my ass
  • following: 851
  • followers: 930, most of them probably dead
  • average hours of sleep: 8/9 
  • lucky number: never had one, sob
  • instruments: i used to play the piano but i don’t even know the notes anymore 
  • what am I wearing right now: a tee with lemons on it bought because, as i said, petyr baeIish owns my ass
  • dream job: idk… something with languages
  • dream trip: japan
  • favorite food: i don’t know?? that’s not something you ask an italian
  • nationality: italian
  • favorite song: treacherous by the blond snake

anonymous asked:

124 + andreil !!

this has been in my drafts for like,, weeks i have no excuses but thank u anyway!!

124. “Are you wearing my shirt?” + andreil

After a bad game, the Foxes had come to have routine. They’d gotten too cocky after beating the Ravens, so when they lost a game after that, it always hit them harder than it had before Neil’s arrival. Andrew had started closing the goal like he actually enjoyed playing the game, Kevin could play with both his hands now, the new players helped them out a lot, so why weren’t they winning?

Disappointed and tired, all they wanted to do was change out of their sweaty gear and go to sleep. Andrew’s arms felt overworked, Neil’s feet throbbing after he played a full game running back and forth. The showers anyone had were short and silent, with no post-game chatter as there usually was. Neil still hadn’t become comfortable changing with the others, and was last to leave the showers, sweatpants and an orange t-shirt sticking to his half-assed attempt at drying himself, alongside his black wristbands to cover his scars.

“It makes me wonder how I tolerate you when you step out of a shower like that.” Andrew was the only one remaining in the room, rubbing a towel through his hair, only looking up at Neil for a second as he walked towards his locker.

“Like what? Dressed?” He threw his dirty jersey and pants into the almost-full basket of to-be-washed clothes, putting his bandana and non-washable gear back into his locker.

“Half dried. It’s disgusting.” 

“I’ll dry.” Neil leaned against the lockers and watched as Andrew towel dried his hair, only stopping to tell Neil to stop staring. When he was finished, he shoved the towel into his bag, to be cleaned back at the dorms, and shook his head like a dog before styling it with his fingers. He was wearing black sweatpants, tied with his usual wristbands and black Nike runners. It was then that Neil noticed what looked off about him, and it brought a smirk to his lips. “Are you wearing my shirt?” 

Andrew looked down at the t-shirt and shrugged his shoulders. It wasn’t something any of the other foxes would notice, but Neil knew it was his because he’d had it before he came to PSU. It was a plain, short-sleeved black t-shirt, with the sleeves slightly rolled up, but the distinction between that and any other t-shirt, was the small white logo on the left breast. It wasn’t a brand, but was an embroidered signature of some old Exy player from when the league first began. He’d found it in a thrift store back when he stopped off in Ireland on his way to America, and it was nothing memorable, but he recognized it in a second.

“Don’t get too full of yourself, Josten, it was the first shirt I picked up. Your style is still atrocious.” He looked down at the embroidery before rolling his eyes again at Neil who was smiling over at him. “I will change if you keep looking at me like that.”

“Tell me you don’t like it.” Neil pushed himself up off the lockers, and Andrew joined him in the middle of the room.

“It’s the only bearable item of clothing you seem to own. Yes or no?” Neil mumbled out a yes through a cheeky smile, and was met with Andrew’s lips on his own for only a second before Neil pulled back and rested his forehead against Andrew’s.

“It’s a little big on you, though.” He was tired, and his blue eyes flickered as he searched through Andrew’s hazel ones up so close. 

“Big means comfortable. You are not as tall as you think, you know that?” Andrew stopped the conversation there by kissing him again, and though Neil probably wouldn’t admit it, he kind of hoped Andrew would “accidentally” wear his clothes more often.