“This is my favorite new coffee shop,” Hermione said, the bell over the door chiming softly as they stepped into the bright, high-ceilinged shop. “Go sit down,” Hermione pointed to an empty table near the counter, “I’ll order for you. I promise you’ll love it.”
Harry made his way over to the table and slid into a seat. It was the only empty table in the busy store, through everyone seated already had their drinks so of the two baristas only one was actually working, a young woman with her short black hair cut into a blunt bob.
The other employee was bent over a newspaper, folded in half at the crossword. He was tall and lean with impossibly white blond hair that would fall over his eyes whenever he bent over to fill in an answer. He rolled a blue pen in his long fingers, his brow creasing faintly in thought. Harry watched spellbound as the gorgeous blond tapped the pen on his mouth and then bit the end absentmindedly, his eye teeth sinking into the plastic.
Harry started and flushed, “Y-yeah?”
Hermione followed where Harry had been looking and grinned, “He’s cute.”
Harry groaned, “Please, no, ‘Mione.”
She rolled her eyes, “You’re no fun.” She dug around in her massive shoulder bag and pulled out a book, settling back in her chair and opening it to her place, “Don’t mind me.” she shooed at him with one hand, her eyes already glued to her book, “Go back to your staring.”
Harry felt himself flush, but despite his embarrassment, found his eyes pinned on the blond again. He had paused from chewing on the pen to press his lips together into a thin line and slowly relax them, tracing the shape of his bottom lip with the end of the pen.
The blond looked over at the black haired girl, “Hey, Pansy, what’s a ten letter word for 'smitten’?”
Pansy had her back to him, finishing their drinks, and shrugged dismissively.
“You’re absolutely no help whatsoever,” he retorted with airy dismay.
“Says the one doing the crossword instead of working,” Pansy muttered just loud enough to carry.
Harry bit his bottom lip and impulsively blurted out, “Captivated.”
Harry didn’t think the blond could be any more attractive until he looked over at Harry with the most amazing pale grey-blue eyes, framed by pale lashes only a little darker than his hair.
Harry swallowed hard, “A ten letter word for smitten, captivated.”
“Hmm…” the blond looked down at the paper and shook his head, “No. The 'ed’ at the end is right through,” he leaned over on the counter, “any other ideas?”
“Fascinated?” Harry said, his mind already winging ahead for other words that might fit, his hand under the table counting out letters of words.
The blond glanced down and then back up, a smirking smile on his mouth, “Nope.”
“How about….” Harry’s brow furrowed and he chewed his bottom lip, “…Infatuated?”
He glanced down and smiled triumphantly, “That’s it!” the pen scratched across the newspaper filling in the missing word.
Pansy bumped the blond with her hip and pushed two cups into his hands, “Be useful Draco,” she nodded at their table.
“Your name is Draco?” Harry asked as the blond walked around the counter carrying the two cups.
Draco nodded with a grimace, “Constellation names are somewhat of a tradition in my family.”
“Um, I’m Harry,” Harry said hurriedly as Draco slid the cups onto the table.
“Nice to meet you, Harry,” Draco smiled.
Hermione pulled out her phone, which absolutely hadn’t gone off, and said, “Well, would you look at that, it’s Ron. Sorry, Harry, I have to get going. Wouldn’t want to keep my boyfriend waiting.” She pulled her bag over her shoulder and put her book away in one smooth movement. She was was out the door before Harry could say a word.
He finally managed a groan and glanced over at Draco, his cheek feeling hot.
Draco was looking faintly flushed himself, “Well. That wasn’t subtle at all.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Harry agreed.
Draco went back to the counter leaning over and grabbing his crossword and pen. “I’m going on break, Pansy.”
“You’re an arsehole, Draco Malfoy,” Pansy retorted without looking up.
Draco came back to Harry’s table, “Is this seat taken?” he asked.
“No, not at all,” Harry said.
Draco sat down across from him, sitting the crossword down in front of himself and helping himself to Hermione’s abandoned latte, “A ten letter word for hopeful starting with P.” He tapped his mouth with the pen and then carefully wrote in, “P-e-r-s-u-a-s-i-v-e.”
“You do a lot of crosswords?” Harry asked.
“There’s a lot of downtime working here,” Draco said, one side of his mouth quirking up in a smile. He barely glanced down at the paper and said, “I need a four letter word for dinner and a movie.”
“A date?” Harry said after a half a seconds thought.
“I’d love to,” Draco said.
Harry let out a startled laugh.
“Too cheesy?” Draco asked.
Harry shook his head with a grin, “How about tomorrow?”
At his last White House Correspondence Dinner, President Obama joked about how foreign leaders are already looking ahead to the end of his presidency. He mentioned his meeting with Prince George, who was up past his bed-time and came out wearing his bathrobe.
warnings: depictions of violence, descriptive smut, mention of minor character death
A/N: thank you to @kenwayer27 for helping me develop the plot of this series. thank you to @gukvory for putting up with my constant teasers and torment.
a cog in the machine: a small or insignificant member of a larger organization or system
“Run!” you heard Hyunsik shout behind you as your feet gained momentum on the pavement. Yoongi was already several yards ahead of you, leading the way to safety. The three of you had been ambushed. Your targets now made you the target.
You could feel your heartbeat in your chest as you tried to run as fast as you could, but you were stuck in place. There was no place for you to go. There was no place for you to hide as the sounds of their bullets started to ring through your ears.
“I told you to run!” he shouted again, angry that your feet hadn’t made any progress.
“I can’t move!” you shout as you turn around to face him.
The air gets knocked out of your lungs when you see the sight in front of you. Hyunsik is on his knees. Flowers grow from chest where the metal bullets made impact. He silently begs you to turn around, not wanting you to see the gardenia’s blooming. You let out a silent scream, no one able to hear your cries as you watch the petals of the white flowers spread open as they drain the light from his eyes.
Your eyes snapped open to a room full of darkness. You were dreaming. It was just a dream. You grabbed at your chest only to find that you weren’t dressed. Sitting up, you realized that you had fallen asleep in his bed. The clock on his bedside table read 4:30 in the morning. You had to be up in 30 minutes.
He doesn’t stir as you slip out of his bed, cursing yourself for breaking one of the most important rules between the two of you: never stay the night. Sleeping with your partner was already a very bad idea and neither of you wanted to deal with what could happen if either of you developed feelings. Emotional weakness could get either one of you killed.
And as your dream reminded you, you had already lost enough.
This was a lot gayer than I thought it would be. I owe the outline of the first part to @thesickficsideblog, but I kinda ran away with it at the end. I swear, it wasn’t supposed to be Klance, but my hand slipped. I’ll put it on ao3 later.
Summar: Lance gets trapped in a room full of fear gas, and the team can’t do anything but watch.
1. Kagehina. I’m so weak for everything related to their height difference. Not to mention all the times that Kageyama effortlessly picks Hinata up by the shirt or that time when Hinata hid himself behind Kageyama and he actually moved a bit to cover him more and ???? honestly guys idk I just love them so much they make a mess out of me
2. Iwaoi. THE WILDES CONCEPT IN HAIKYUU HISTORY WILL ALWAYS BE IWAIZUMI BEING SHORTER THAT OIKAWA #BLESSED literally that’s one of the best ideas Furudate ever had, kudos to him
3. Asanoya. They are the ultimate height difference couple and the definition of a smol tol (ง •̀_•́)ง and a tol smol (;;;*_*)
4. Kurotsuki. Kuroo’s true current concern is not “I can’t get rid of my bedhead hair” but “what if…Tsukki….never stops getting taller?” (he’s already 3 cm ahead and he’s 2 years younger than you Kuroo….RIP)
5. Kuroken and Yakulev (bless Nekoma). JUST LOOK AT THEM. If there’s something extremely comforting in how Kuroo is way way bigger than Kenma, the fact that Yaku could be that sassy and terrifying despite being so chibi is…just amazing. I live for the day we’re gonna see Lev picking him up (and getting killed right after) tbh
rules: reimagine your founder (or a sim you made as an adult) as a teen! maybe even on prom night?
For this tag, we have my dearest Amara, a sim for a story im writing (which I haven’t updated in over a month). I won’t reveal too much about teen Amara because she’ll actually make an appearance in my story at some point. But, for the sake of this tag, i’ll throw in a few things.
As a teen, I would say that Amara was sort of dependent on others in the sense that she would make decisions based on the opinions of others. For example, most of Amara’s fashion choices were heavily influenced by her ‘friends’ opinions, like trading in her ‘dorky’ glasses for contacts. She’s grown out of this for the most part, but when faced with difficult or important choices to make, she’ll still tend to lean on others a little.
why you are a better language learner than a young child
children are still learning their first language(s)
less of your energy is spent on growing, sleeping and cognitive development and so more can be put into language learning
you have already grasped the concept of complex language and the way symbols on paper or a screen can correspond to speech
your brain is already far more developed than that of a child, and you are able to grasp new concepts much faster and understand explanations of things like grammar, or definitions/translations of words using the language you already know as a crutch
you already know how to control air flow and move your mouth and vocal cords to make sounds
your ears are already tuned to pick up human speech and your brain has already developed the ability to decode this
unlike a child, who is only able to learn what it is exposed to, you are free to learn literally whatever you want, provided you can find materials for it
most children are first introduced to the concept of reading around the age of 3, but are not able to read and write with a relative degree of fluency before the age of 9 or 10, so if you already feel comfortable reading and writing most things in your target language after just 3 years of study, you have leant at least twice as fast as the aforementioned children
you are able to actively seek help with aspects of the language you find troublesome
you already know how to hold and use a writing utensil, how to look things up in a dictionary, type on a computer, use the internet
you already have a much wider understanding of the world and your surroundings than a child
if the language you are learning uses an alphabetical writing system, you are already miles ahead of any child who is not yet able to read any kind of alphabet
even if the writing system is not alphabetical, you still already understand the concept of written sentences, punctuation, paragraphs, arabic numbers, etc.
you already know how to infer meaning from context, including images, body language and vocal hints
Hi, for the prompts, can you please write - "54. He thinks he’s a mind reader.". Thank you!
I did a thing, kind of mostly a crack!fic. I’m sorry for the wait hun, life got crazy. Here’s #54: “He thinks he a mind reader.”
“You need to relax Der-Bear.”
Derek glared at his older sister, debating if smacking the cotton candy out of her hand was worth the backlash. It wasn’t.
“I am relaxed,” Derek said, barely weaving around another person in the crowd.
“Are you kidding me? Your shoulders are up to your ears and I can hear you gritting your bunny teeth,” Laura sighed, plopping another glob of cotton candy in her mouth, “this is supposed to be relaxing. Fun.”
“Yes, my idea of fun is walking around a circus slash amusement park all day,” he huffed.
His sister rolled her eyes, looking forward to watch where she was going. Derek didn’t like this at all. The crowd, the sounds, the smells…oh God the smell was terrible. For a werewolf this was sensory overload and he had no idea how Laura was handling herself this well. About four kids have already rushed ahead of him and stepped on his toes in the process, this dumb group of teens shoved them and cut them in line for a ride Laura insisted on riding, and it’s been well over six hours.
Laura is lucky he loves her or else he would’ve left the moment they pulled up here.
“Hey! We should try it,” Laura said suddenly, pointing to a tented booth.
Derek followed her gaze to the blue and orange striped tent –what a horrible color combination– with a bright neon sign flashing “The Good, The Bad, and The Psychic”. He couldn’t help the unamused growl that left his throat, eyes hurting by how hard he rolled them.
“A mind reader? Really Laura?” He asked.
She glared at him, “come on Derek. Live a little, plus it’s going to be bullshit anyways, just for fun.”
He opened his mouth to protest but her face was pleading at this point…and dammit he was so weak with her, “fine. Fine…let’s go waste some money.”
His sister made a happy sound only to grab him by the arm and pull him over to the tent. Inside smelled faintly of incense and greasy fries. It was hollow; one person left as they entered. Other than that it was just a woman behind a desk. She was suspended in one of those aerial performer cloths, red hair falling down in soft waves, her eyes focused in a book.
The redhead looked up and shut her book, a manicured eyebrow arched a bit as she looked over them. Derek felt himself shrink into his jacket a little bit under her gaze.
“Twenty bucks per person,” she finally said, swaying a bit in the cloth swing.
Laura huffed but pulled out her wallet, “that’s a little steep.”
“You’re paying for the real deal sweetheart.”
“Uh-huh, sure, I’m just here for entertainment not for my life to flash before my eyes,” Laura said.
Derek cleared his throat and pointed to a small beaded curtain entrance, the redhead nodded and bitterly resumed her book. He motioned for Laura to follow him which she gratefully did instead of picking a fight with the desk lady. Within the room…well it was just a bunch of pillows, rugs, and tapestries.
“This is so cliche. This guy…he thinks he’s a mind reader, he has a snippy desk lady, are you sure about this Laura?” Derek asked.
Before she could respond a person stepped in through another door, looking unimpressed.
“Mind reader? I’m offended because a psychic is totally different. I read energies and auras and use them to make inferences on people then give them advice,” the guy spoke.
Derek looked him over; he was in those bizarre drop crotch pants and a loose shirt. However his skin was pale and dotted with moles, his hair was wild on his head, but what Derek couldn’t get enough of where those weirdly bright honey colored eyes. Laura’s hand on his shoulders got him to blink out of whatever dazed state he was in.
She smirked at him and he flipped her off.
“Forty bucks, do your psychic thing,” Derek snapped and sat on the carpeting and pillows.
The guy sat across from him looked at them both for two minutes, teeth gnawing on his plush pink—his lips. After a moment he sat up straight and held up his hand, “well call me Stiles. I have a feeling that this isn’t the last time we’re going to see each other.”
Derek rolled his eyes and Laura shrugged at shook his hand.
Stiles smiled, “now…let’s start with you Missy, I’m sensing you’re caught between…a few…no wait three guys and I think I can help–”
“Oh my God, Laura…three?” Derek gasped.
He’s never seen his sister look so red and regret forty bucks so much.
“–please. Her guy problem isn’t as bad as yours.”
It was Laura’s turn to gasp, “wait since when are you into guys?!”
“Since he saw me,” Stiles supplied with grin on his face.
This has been the best forty bucks Laura has ever spent he decides.
It is the
29th of January, and I am eighty-nine years old, sitting in the
garden of my Sussex cottage and watching the world’s only consulting detective
play the violin. Her blonde hair is a mass of curls and the heels of her shoes
are sinking into the grass as she sways and dances with the instrument.
Sherlock has been dead for two years and missing him is an ache in my chest,
except for those brief moment when I close my eyes and listen to Rose coax his
instrument to life, and dream.
Daddy,” comes the soft murmur as the music stops. “I’m going to have to go
soon. Miranda said she might need me to look at this really interesting murder
I nod and
smile and get to my feet and-
I’m standing in a lab at Bart’s and the most
unearthly man I have ever seen asks to borrow my mobile and I say yes, and I do
not understand in that moment that I will never stop saying yes to this man.
under my cheek and Rose is crying as she turns me
I am strapped into a bomb and I am telling him
to run, and I do not know that I have just carved out his heart and taken it
for my own.
haloes her hair and tears fall on my face.
I am standing in front of a grave and asking
for another miracle, not knowing that my miracle is making his way toward me as
I stand there.
I try to
tell her not to cry. I am not sure if I succeed.
I am standing in front of the man I love with
tears on my face, and he draws me close and enfolds me in his boundless
at me and throws her phone to the ground and holds my hands in hers. The sky
behind her is fading to grey, and it occurs to me to wonder if I am dying.
I am wordless and at the end of my rope, and
Sherlock has mercy on me and kisses me and I know that I hold his heart in his
hands and he, mine.
speaking but I can’t hear her. There’s a sound like a train whistle, like a summons
bell, and I can’t hear her.
I am on my knees and I have just asked Sherlock
Holmes to marry me, and he falls to his knees with tears in his eyes and says
yes yes yes like a prayer or a song or the only word he knows.
her hand across my brow and smiles at me again, and the whistle fades.
I wake up every morning for a thousand days and
he’s there, sleep-rumpled and happy and smiling at me as though I’d hung the
“I love you,
Daddy,” she murmurs as her hand cups my cheek. “Thank you for staying so long,
I love you but it’s time to go.”
I’m watching my daughter get married and my
husband is at my side and we go home and cry tears of joy on each other’s skin
and make slow love in front of the fire.
Sherlock I love him, and I’ll see you again someday,” my daughter says and
kisses my forehead.
I’m standing at the foot of a hospital bed, and
monitors are screaming and doctors are shouting but they needn’t bother, he’s
already gone. Always rushing ahead, my beloved, leaving me to tag along behind
him. Well, no matter, I’ll catch up.
I am adrift
in whiteness but there, there is a tall shadow in the distance. A man, perhaps,
running. He has his coat collar up so he looks cool, and he’s shouting ‘Come
on, John!’ and I follow. I will always follow. My legs are young and strong as they haven’t been in forty years or more, and the head of the man in front of me is dark as the midnight sky, and I am young and he is young and we are young here, together. Forever.
(My party, consisting of a Rogue (me, Blood Elf), Ranger (Tiefling), Druid (Elf), and Alchemist (human), along with NPCs (dwarves and a halfling), make our way out of the Underdark to the surface, accidentally surfacing on barbarian terrain.)
DM: You see an elk run in front of your party, before it’s shot by a spear coming in a direction from in front of you. A man appears from the tall grass and, with one hand pulls his spear out of the fallen and dead elk. He looks up at your party, and then, goes like this. *covers face in hand*
Barbarian: We’ve been hunting this elk for several days now….
Ranger: dude okay we’re just passing through, we don’t want the elk, please don’t–
Me: WAIT. I got this. Okay, ready. *to the barbarian* We… are a hunger-based hallucination.
Entire party: *goes silent*
DM: …. roll Deception.
Me: already ahead of you–pleaseworkpleaseworkpleasework *rolls an 8* goddammit.
Barbarian: *stares at me, before putting his hand over his face again*
if you’ve already sent me an ask about this just ignore this ok
i can’t believe i’ve reached 1k! ever since i’ve started this blog, it’s been a milestone that cam of two months ago would have only dreamed of reaching :^) one thousand people actually want to follow me (idk why but,,, thANK YOU)
so to celebrate? validate myself? thank you? i will be doing some url edits !!
Request: Hi! Can u do one where the reader is in love with Dean and one day he brings a girl to the bunker and introduces her as his girlfriend and the reader is kinda mean to her, but later on tries to move on from Dean with Crowley and Dean finds out and you decide how it ends?
Pairing: Dean x reader/Crowley x reader
Word Count: 1,900ish
Warnings: language, implied smut
A/N: Oh you really shouldn’t have let me decide how to end this one…