Ah Hogwarts, the beautiful castle on the beautiful hill, perfectly decorated for the spring dance. Students milling about- Why, I do believe I see Molly Prewett over there! Hello, Molly Prewett!
Don’t you look nice!
Are you ready to have a good time, Molly?
I’ll bet you are. And- My goodness, is that Arthur Weasley over by the punch bowl?
Why yes, Molly, he does look nice.
And are you going to ask Arthur to dance tonight, Molly?
That’s a little too scary for you, huh, Molly?
Well, would you like to dance with him, if he asked you to?
How are you going to get Arthur to ask you to dance, Molly?
Why, Molly Prewett, are you going to bust your best moves, in the hopes that Arthur will spot you across the dance floor, be overwhelmed by his love for you, and take you in his arms in a fit of passion?
Get it, girl.
…He doesn’t appear to be noticing, Molly.
Your flower just landed in the punch bowl, Molly. Now he’s trying to figure out where the flower came from.
It isn’t working, Molly. You may need to do more.
That one only really works when your partner is looking at you, Molly.
It’s safe to say that that’s not working for anybody, Molly.
You’ll not get a dance with Arthur Weasley if you do the twist, Molly. Be bold! Shake your groove thing!
me drinking tea: life is so beautiful, it is a tragedy that everything moves so fast. i want to embrace life. maybe i will do yoga later? haven’t been journaling for a long time, i could start again! life is beautiful.
me drinking coffee: alright motherfckers i have to get shit done and nothing will stop me!! this essay? i will finish!! no shanon not now i.have.to.be.productive. let’s get started #girlboss *falls asleep*
“you’ve been camping in a crappy tent next to my really comfortable caravan/motor home and it’s been raining cats and dogs for ages, do you want to come in and have a cup of tea to warm up?” (5000 words, rated M) AO3
Setting her Kindle down on her chest for the third time in ten
minutes, she covers her eyes with her palms and tries to shake away the thought
that keeps creeping past her well-constructed rules. Rules that don’t allow
welcoming strange men into her camper. Rules that don’t care about the flash
flood warning that keeps popping up on her phone and definitely don’t care that
his tent is at the bottom of a hill. Sure, he’s seemed relatively harmless the
few times they’ve crossed paths, twice at the showers and once down at the
lake. His smile had been friendly each time, mildly flirtatious and
devastatingly sexy, but not smarmy and he’d left her alone. A casual wave is as
much as she’d gotten, one that she’d returned without thinking. She’d seen him
sitting at his campfire the night before, seemingly transfixed to the flames as
if lost in thought, or memories maybe, but that had just been her spinning tales as she’d gazed upon his fire-lit profile. Even after the logs were little more
than ash, he’d stayed there, waiting until the last ember floated away on the
breeze before turning in for the night. She can admit to herself that there’s
something about him that intrigues her, his confidence in his solitude,
perhaps, something she knows a bit about herself.
So why is she lying here fighting an urge to save him? Who says
he even needs, or wants, to be saved?
Frustration has her shucking the covers from her legs so she can
stand and pace up and down the narrow walkway between her bunk and the
kitchenette. Each time she passes the small window she pauses for a longer
look, the rain pelting the window obscuring the view the faint glow of a
lantern illuminating his tent from the inside. Eventually, she just stops and
stares, waiting to see if she will see his shadow move past the light. When she
does, it’s like a flip gets switched and a decision she doesn’t remember making
is already made and she’s shoving her feet into her hiking boots and fumbling
her head through the hole of her $3.00 rain poncho.
Her jeans and face are soaked almost immediately after stepping
outside. Curses fly from her lips as her boots sink into unseen puddles of mud
and she nearly topples down the hill, her hand grabbing a nearby tree catching
her fall. By the time she’s reached the side of his tent she’s convinced this
was the dumbest idea she’s ever had. It’s only seeing the shadow of him
standing and moving to the entrance that stops her from turning around and
heading back up the hill.
A dark head of hair emerges from the zipper, one hand shielding
eyes she knows are the brightest of blue from the unrelenting rain
“Everything alright, love?”
Bristling slightly at the endearment, she aims her flashlight
pointedly at the puddle overflowing into the opening of his tent.
Warnings: Tea, one shot, some mild awkwardness, rude hand gesture mention
Word Count: 2563
Author’s Note: Fluff for an anon. I really like tea, so this is a Tea House AU instead of a Coffee Shop AU.
“Why did I let you talk me into this again?” Virgil asked as he walked through the door to Patton’s Parlor, the local tea house.
“Because I need a wingman,” Roman replied, closing the door behind them and moving past Virgil towards the counter, perusing the large chalkboard menu like he hadn’t been in there every day for the past week, “and I showed you a picture of the cute new hire.”
Virgil quickly looked around to make sure mentioned ‘new hire’ was not within earshot before following to stand a couple paces behind his companion and fixing him with a glare.
“You are as subtle as a brick through stained glass Sir Sing-A-Lot. And, with that in mind, why don’t you just ask the owner on a date and be done with it? Why do I need to be here?” Virgil kept his voice low. The shop only had a few patrons at the moment and they were all chatting quietly at their tables over cups of tea and plates of treats There was some classical music quietly played through small speakers around the room, but it wasn’t enough to cover the sound of their voices. Too loud, and one of the patrons, or worse, the employee and owner, would hear them.
1.24.17 // 1/100 days of productivity; starting off the challenge with some sweet annotations of titus andronicus for my renaissance tragedy lit class!! now onto readings for political theory and revising the spanish subjunctive