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bookishable · 4 years

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deathly hallows book moments

warning: this one’s a rollercoaster ride of emotions, read at your own risk.

‘the idea of a teenage dumbledore was simply odd, like trying to imagine a stupid hermione or a friendly blast-ended skrewt.’

“i don’t think you’re a waste of space.”

‘he felt like asking them to show a little more respect for his privacy as they all began stripping off with impunity, clearly much more at ease with displaying his body than they would have been with their own.’

ron: why do i have to clean my room? mrs weasley: !!! WEDDING !!! ron: theyre not getting married in my damn bedroom

“we’re coming with you. that was decided months ago—years, really.”

“if i picked up a sword right now, ron, and ran you through with it, i wouldn’t damage your soul at all.” “which would be a real comfort to me, i’m sure”

harry waking up on his birthday forgetting he was 17

“accio glasses!” although they were only around a foot away, there was something immensely satisfying about seeing them zoom towards him, at least until they poked him in the eye.

ron giving harry a book called twelve fail-safe ways to charm witches for his birthday

“i’ve learned a lot. you’d be surprised, it’s not all about wandwork, either.”

‘the rest of her speech was lost; harry had got up and hugged her. he tried to put a lot of unsaid things into the hug and perhaps she understood them’

“are you planning to follow a career in magical law, miss granger?” “no i’m not, i’m hoping to do some good in the world!”

“it’s time you learned some respect!” “it’s time you earned it”

hermione: when we were little we heard stories like snow white and cinderella ron: what’s that, an illness? harry: rip me i never got read any stories

“a brutal triple murder by the bridegroom’s mother might put a bit of a damper on the wedding.”

“merlin’s beard, what is xenophilius lovegood wearing? he looks like an omelette.” excuse me why wasn’t auntie muriel like this in the film

“he used to down an entire bottle of firewhisky, then run on to the dance floor, hoist up his robes and start pulling bunches of flowers out of his—” “yes, he sounds a real charmer”

harry suggesting that xenophilius lovegood’s deathly hallows necklace is the cross-section of the head of a crumple-horned snorkack

“vot is the point of being an international quidditch player if all the good-looking girls are taken?”

‘harry heard her mutter a suggestion as to where ron could stick his wand instead.’

harry reading lily’s letter and noticing that they wrote their g’s the same way as each other, i’m sobbing

‘the letter was an incredible treasure, proof that lily potter had lived, really lived’

KREACHER’S GODDAMN TALE

kreacher hitting mundungus over the head with a saucepan “perhaps just one more, master harry, for luck?”

“if anyone shouldn’t go, it’s harry, he’s got a ten thousand galleon price on his head—” “fine, i’ll stay here, let me know if you ever defeat voldemort, won’t you?”

‘with a twinge of regret that had nothing to do with food, harry imagined the house-elf busying himself over the steak and kidney pie that harry, ron and hermione would never eat.’

‘not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.’

the sign outside the wreckage of the potters’ house, covered with messages left for harry

the child who had the nerve to say “nice costume, mister!” to mr tom riddle the dark lord voldemort, what an icon

“after you left, she cried for a week. probably longer, only she didn’t want me to see. there were loads of nights when we never even spoke to each other. with you gone… she’s like my sister, i love her like a sister and i reckon she feels the same way about me. it’s always been like that. i thought you knew.”

“you’ve sort of made up for it tonight, getting the sword. finishing off the horcrux. saving my life.” “that makes me sound a lot cooler than i was” “stuff like that always sounds cooler than it really was, i’ve been trying to tell you that for years.”

ron single-handedly fighting off five snatchers by telling them he was stan shunpike

“he must’ve known i’d run out on you.” “no, he must’ve known you’d always want to come back.”

“i just think it’s a bit spookier if it’s midnight!” “yeah, because we really need a bit more fear in our lives”

“death’s got an invisibility cloak?” “so he can sneak up on people, sometimes he gets bored of running at them, flapping his arms and shrieking…”

luna decorating her bedroom ceiling with paintings of her friends (i’m not crying, you are)

POTTERWATCH

“we’re all human, aren’t we? every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.”

“i’d tell him we’re all with him in spirit, and i’d tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right.”

hagrid throwing a ‘support harry potter’ party

“the fact remains he can move faster than severus snape confronted with shampoo when he wants to”

“no! you can have me, keep me!” this book went from making me smile to shattering my heart in around three pages

‘hermione was screaming again: the sound went through harry like physical pain.’

ron’s ‘passable imitation of wormtail’s wheezy voice’

“so young, to be fighting so many.”

‘ron said, “blimey, a baby!” as if he had never heard of such a thing before.’

‘he seemed set on course to become just as reckless a godfather to teddy lupin as sirius black had been to him.’

“he was never free, never, the night that your brother died he drank a potion that drove him out of his mind. he started screaming, pleading with someone who wasn’t there… it was torture to him, if you’d seen him then, you wouldn’t say he was free.”

“i’m going to keep going until i succeed—or i die. don’t think i don’t know how this might end. i’ve known it for years.”

“i got this one for asking her how much muggle blood she and her brother have got.” “blimey, neville, there’s a time and a place for getting a smart mouth.”

“yeah, well, food’s one of the five exceptions to gamp’s law of elemental transfiguration,” said ron, to general astonishment.

“why would harry potter try to get inside ravenclaw tower? potter belongs in my house!”

‘harry heard a little strain of pride in her voice, and affection for minerva mcgonagall gushed up inside him.’

harry using the cruciatus curse on amycus in front of mcgonagall because “he spat at you”

mcgonagall dueling snape and sending a swarm of daggers at him

“where’s professor snape?” “he has, to use the common phrase, done a bunk” minerva i love you

neville throwing mandrakes over the walls

“is this the moment? OI! there’s a war going on here!” “i know, mate, so it’s now or never, isn’t it?”

‘and percy was shaking his brother, and ron was kneeling beside them, and fred’s eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face.’

‘a herd of galloping desks thundered past, shepherded by a sprinting professor mcgonagall.’

harry stunned the death eater as they passed: malfoy looked around, beaming, for his saviour, and ron punched him from under the cloak. “and that’s the second time we’ve saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!”

trelawney using crystal balls to knock out death eaters ‘with a movement like a tennis serve’

“are you a wizard, or what?”

“you must kill me.” “would you like me to do it now? or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?”

‘this cold-blooded walk to his own destruction would require a different kind of bravery.’

‘he was tiny in death.’

‘he felt he would have given all the time remaining to him for just one last look at them; but then, would he ever have had the strength to stop looking?’

“we’re all going to keep fighting, harry. you know that?”

“i am sorry too, sorry i will never know him… but he will know why i died and i hope he will understand. i was trying to make a world in which he could live a happier life.”

“until the very end”

“this is, as they say, your party.” harry had no idea what this meant; dumbledore was being infuriating.

“it is a curious thing, harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it.”

“do not pity the dead, harry. pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love.”

“of course it is happening inside your head, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”

‘the scream was the more terrible because he had never expected or dreamed that professor mcgonagall could make such a sound.’

ron breaking voldemort’s silencing charm “he beat you!”

“i’ll join you when hell freezes over, dumbledore’s army!”

harry calling voldemort tom riddle like “yes, i dare”

‘tom riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken’ where please, movies?

‘mcgonagall had replaced the house tables, but nobody was sitting according to house anymore’

peeves’ song voldy’s gone mouldy

‘tears were sliding down from behind the half-moon spectacles into the long silver beard, and the pride and the gratitude emanating from him filled harry with the same balm as phoenix song.’

harry FIXING HIS DAMN WAND

“i’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.”

“if you’re not in gryffindor, we’ll disinherit you, but no pressure.”

albus complaining that everyone is staring and ron being like “it’s me. i’m extremely famous.”

‘the scar had not pained harry for nineteen years. all was well.’

#deathly hallows is the best book and i am not taking criticism on this #congratulations if your eyes are still dry #hp book moments #deathly hallows #harry potter books #harry potter quotes #hp textpost

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nancywheelxr · 5 years

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If I haven't missed a request window?: Something where Elrond is an A+ dad (with Estel, &/or the twins, or Arwen? your call there) + also somewhere included there's an adorably disgruntled bird (like maybe a pigeon or a duck, idk? — I seriously just tried to look up what kinds of birds might actually live around Rivendell but I got nothing bc I suck)?

Hey! I wasn’t sure which bird to use, either, but I hope you like how this turned out!

There is a commotion in the hallway outside.

To be completely fair, they sound as if they are trying not to make a disturbance, but experience shows his children have never been very successful at that. True, it’s been far too many centuries since these halls have held a child’s laughter, but Elrond remembers. Most elves do, he’s sure, considering the fair amount of antics the twins have gotten up to over the centuries. Somehow, adulthood has yet to change that.

Another crash sounds just east of his door.

He should probably make sure nothing dangerous is going on.

The door swings open carefully and he steps out to find a suspiciously empty hallway– which is not to say there isn’t plenty to be worried about here since the only thing lacking are the culprits of the mess left behind. At his feet, one of his once priceless vases is in pieces, ceramic dull in the sunlight, and more concerningly, mud stains the carpets, the walls, the– ceiling?

“How on–” Elrond murmurs, frowning as it drips lazily on the carpet.

Well. That settles it. “Elrohir,” he calls, following the trail of dirt along the halls, “Elladan!”

Silence is all that answers him, as it was expected, and Elrond sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Briefly, he considers leaving it be, but it would only be a matter of time until someone came to him about this, undoubtedly aggrieved.

Outside the sun is shining warmly over the grass, a truly lovely day if he says so himself, and the creek in the woods is babbling gently, softer in this spring, and he wonders if he should expand his search to the nearby clearings.

As it turns out, there’s no need for that.

While Elrond is looking for his sons, the culprit for the mud trail skids around the corner and dashes right into his robe with a graceless flail of skinny limbs.

“Estel,” he half asks, more startled than anything, and helps the child up, taking the opportunity to check him for injuries. Not that he would be able to tell at first glance, considering he is covered in mud from head to toe as if he’d spent his afternoon rolling in a puddle. Still, first things first, he supposes, “are you alright?”

Realization dawns on him and his eyes grow large, likely guessing he’s in a fair amount of trouble. “Oh, Ada?” Estel fidgets, blinking up in an effort of making himself look as innocent as possible, “I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can,” Elrond says, allowing a touch of his amusement to show, “but I would rather be certain you are not injured in any way before listening to what I’m guessing is a quite long story?”

“Erm,” he shuffles, wiping watery mud from his eyes, “no, not hurt, no. I mean, yes, it is a long story but I don’t think– I’ll explain, I swear! I just need to do something first, so, uh.”

Elrond frowns as Estel’s eyes dart around quickly, but before he could inquire further on what could be oh-so-urgent, two sets of footsteps round the same corner Estel had sprinted from.

“We found her!” Elrohir is announcing loudly only to stumble to a stop once he catches sight of Elrond, his face falling into guilt. “Oh, Ada, you are… here,” he finishes weakly.

Never too far from his twin, Elladan appears soon after and– is that a duck?

“Well,” Estel says, shrugging, “I guess I don’t have anything to do anymore.”

The duck still in Elladan’s arms squawks indignantly, ruffling its feathers, and Elrond finally takes in his sons’ appearances. They both have mud up to their chests and splattered over their faces, he’s guessing courtesy of the equally dirty duck, and Elrohir has a scrape on his cheekbone.

Apparently, all three of the boys seemed to have thought today was, indeed, quite a lovely day outside.

“We can explain,” Elrohir tries, squirming under Elrond’s raised eyebrow, “I mean, Elladan certainly can.”

His brother coughs, startled, where he had been in the middle of passing the aggravated creature to Estel. Surprisingly, the duck takes to him without a fuss, shuffling in his arms. “I–” he glares at Elrohir, dusting feathers off himself, before turning sheepishly to Elrond, “see, Ada, the first thing you must know is that this is in no way our fault.”

“Nope,” Estel nods, his young face schooled in an overly serious expression that is almost entirely obscured by his duck, “not at all.”

Elrond crosses his arms. “Is that so? And which one of you would like to explain why you have a duck?”

“She’s mine!” Estel pipes up, grinning toothly and holding up the bird like a particularly treasured gift, “her name is Bain ‘cause she is pretty! I found her in the pond and she followed me home!”

Oh, dear. He decides to tackle an easier route for the time. “And how do you two add into this?”

“Hm,” Elladan stalls, kicking his twin unsubtly in the ankles, “we were in the kitchen?”

“When Estel came in,” Elrohir supplies, “with the duck under his arm.”

“And already covered in mud,” Elladan hurries to add, “but then the duck escaped–”

“Her name is Bain!”

“And of course we offered to help–”

“ – and we went after her–”

“She is faster than expected–”

“ – and we found her in the pond again–”

“ – but she went loose in the house–”

“ – it was an accident, Ada–”

They all talk over each other, finishing and overlapping sentences, and Elrond has to admit it’s been a very long time since Elladan and Elrohir have looked quite this excited about something. After Celebrían– it hurts to simply think about it, truly, and it’s no secret the whole ordeal has been rather harder on the twins, having found her in that state and never quite getting their mother back wholly despite it, not until she was standing in the docks, backlit by the sunset and the promise of a better place waiting for all of them should they choose it.

In any case, things have never been the same ever since.

And while he can’t say it has now, it is unquestionably better. Since taking Estel in, the hunting trips have been further and further apart, shorter, few and far between. The human boy has his brothers wrapped around his little fingers, really, and Elrond cannot deny even shenanigans like this are welcomed after centuries of somber silence.

If he’s being honest, he’d say he almost missed this sort of thing.

“That’s quite enough,” he cuts in before they worked themselves into an argument, “the lot of you will help to clean the mess the duck has wrecked, yes?”

They nod in surprising synchrony. Elrond spares a moment to thank Eru that Legolas is not visiting at the moment. He doesn’t think the house would stay standing for very long with a fourth menace up and about.

“And Estel,” he crouches in front of the child. Not even ten years have passed and he’s grown so much– much too fast, in his opinion. Elrond fears he’s too used to the slow drag of time for elves. Humans, he knows, don’t have centuries to grow into adulthood; too soon, Estel will be leaving him for his own adventures and a fate he doesn’t dare think about. Now, though, Elrond softens. “I’m afraid you will have to let her back into the pond.”

Predictably, that upsets him greatly. “But, Ada– can’t she stay? Please?”

“She is a wild animal,” Elrond explains gently, “and she needs her freedom. Birds are meant to fly free, not live caged within walls.”

“But, but,” he hiccups, eyes growing watery bright, and Elrond notices the twins shuffling restlessly, “she’s a stray, like me, see? Why can’t you take her in, too?”

“You are no stray, Estel,” Elrond rests a hand on his shoulder, smiling as kindly as he can, “you are a part of this family and this is your home. Would you not miss us, were you to be away?”

He nods miserably.

“I’m sure Bain has a family she would miss as well,” he wipes a bit of the mud from his cheeks, his nose, his chin. “She wouldn’t be as happy here as she is in her home.”

Estel looks at the duck, then at Elrond, then at his brothers, before sagging in defeat. “Alright.”

“You can still visit her, though,” Elrohir suggests, taking the duck from him, “I’m sure she would like that.”

That seems to cheer him up quite a bit, even if he still looks a tick away from bursting into tears. “Bye, Bain,” he whispers to the duck and the bird quacks at him in response. Remarkably intelligent animal, that one is.

“Make sure to ask for bread in the kitchen before you go,” Elrond tells them and Elladan shouts his agreement as they hurry away like that would get them out of cleaning up the mess. He snorts quietly, straightening up and holding out a hand for Estel, “now come along, we should get you in a shower before Erestor catches sight of all this mud.”

He makes a face. The concept of showering is still not to his liking, or at least until he’s actually in the water. “Ada, ‘Ro said Legolas is visiting soon. Can I show him Bain?”

Elrond counts to ten. This is news to him. “If he agrees, I don’t see why not,” he answers calmly, carefully keeping his resignation out of his voice, “did Elrohir have a specific date?”

“No,” then, “oh. He did say not to mention that to you. Erm, oops.”

Well. This can’t be good. He’ll have to have a talk with his sons. And possibly King Thranduil, although he’s not looking forward to that particular headache. “Don’t worry,” he ruffles his hair, ushering him into the bathroom, “do you want your boat?”

Estel nods and reaches for his little toy boat, happily forgetting about their conversation, and Elrond makes a mental note to have a guest bedroom opened before the end of the week. With a sigh, he settles to wrestle the child out of his dirty clothes and prepare himself for what is undoubtedly going to be a very long week.

#lord of the rings #elves #elrond #lotr #elrohir #elladan #estel #aragorn #lotr fanfic #look an ask #lotr tag #imladris tag

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bigsnzstanacct · 4 years

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Captain A

A piece of C*ptain A/mer/ica ABSOLUTE crackfic bc I wanted to imagine Ch/ri/s E/van/s with sneezes that can blow out walls and apparently I didn’t want to have a plot. Not canon compliant in the slightest.

“Ahhh… AHHHHHH…”

“Oh shit, hit the deck, Stevie’s gonna…” Bucky said.

The other two just looked at him like he was crazy.

“What are you talking about?”

“AAAAHHHHH… AHHHHHHHHHHHH… O-out of the…”

“Stevie’s gonna blow!”

The two strangers just stared, like they had no clue what was about to happen. For a second, the realization crossed Bucky’s mind, but he only had half a second to realize, think about how bad this was gonna hurt, and lunge towards them, putting enough strength to knock Captain America to the ground in his leap… “AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH-CCCCHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

Classic Stevie sneeze, a perfectly enunciated ah-choo, as American as apple pie and with all the power of a good old-fashioned American detonation of a few tons of good-old fashion American TNT.

When the dust settled—and it was a good thing the dust didn’t set him off again, maybe the years had pushed Steve past his allergy to plaster dust—Bucky was on top of, well, Bucky as well as Steve, the other Steve. And of course, a large chunk of the wall of the SHIELD safe house they were in was blasted to kingdom come. And Bucky’s shoulder hurt.

“Sorry, fellas.” Stevie said, obviously trying to put Captain into his tone, though his flushed cheeks gave him away, as ever. He was always embarrassed when he gave into his allergies accidentally, back when he was tiny little Stevie and after the serum, when he was big, massive Stevie. Tiny Stevie had been embarrassed of his body, of the harsh fits of sneezing that seemed too powerful for his small frame, and yet oddly gentle. Massive Steve was embarrassed of losing control of a body with enough power to smash through walls… which of course he’d done, again. As usual.

“Don’t be sorry Steve. That was a little one for you. At least you didn’t blast the whole building down.” Bucky said, walking up to Steve and rubbing his back. “And you gotta let ‘em out, you know holding it back doesn’t do anybody any good, not now. We’re not trying to stealth our way through Germany anymore.”

Meanwhile the other Steve and the other Bucky just stood, mouths hanging wide open, astonished at what they’d just witnessed. At least, they did for a moment, until the Winter Soldier’s eyes narrowed in a way that meant “threat”, and Bucky Barnes looked up at Steve Rodgers in a way that meant “threat?” and Captain America assured went into “assessing the situation” mode, with a soft “it’s all right, Buck.”

“So… what exactly just happened here?” Other Steve asked, and Bucky had to bite his cheek to avoid laughing. He couldn’t help, though, elbowing his Steve in the ribs and saying, “I told you so.”

Steve just rolled his eyes, and said straightforwardly, “I sneezed.”

The Other Steve just stared him down, obviously not satisfied with that answer. Bucky was really fighting not to laugh now. “I told you, punk, of all the Steve Rodgerses in all the universes, you’re the only one where the A in Captain A stands for…”

Steve put one hand up, and used the other to elbow Bucky in the ribs, much harder than Bucky had elbowed him, which set the dark-haired man back a few paces, doubled over. That hurt!

“Jerk.” Steve said.

“Punk.” Buck spat back.

The Other Steve was rubbing his temples by now, obviously exasperated and in part fighting to avoid smiling himself, the old Brooklyn banter having put him in an old Brooklyn mood. “Alright, alright. Calm down you two. Listen, Rogers,” Other Steve said, walking towards his doppelgänger with narrowing eyes. “we both know that wasn’t just a sneeze. Are you telling me that in whatever alternate universe we’ve stumbled ourselves into, I’m a walking, building-destroying uncontrollable biological weapon?”

“Well, not completely uncontrollable, we have some tricks…” Bucky started, before Steve cut in with, “Yep, Cap. That’s about the size of it. It comes in handy more than you’d think.”

Other Steve’s eyes narrowed further. “You all got a Hulk here?”

“Yep.”

“You two must be a holy terror together.”

“There’s a few buildings that would agree with you, yeah.”

Other Steve paused, clearly considering it in a Captain America way the tactical pros and cons. Then he frowned. “But how often does… that happen.” Other Steve said, gesturing towards the wall. It wasn’t the totally reinforced steel of a primary SHIELD safehouse, but it the usual sturdy construction of a SHIELD lab, and he had just witnessed an alternate universe version of himself sneeze a hole through it large enough for two Hulks and a Thor to walk through comfortably, side by side.

Back in the day, Bucky would have stepped in to defend Stevie’s honor but even though there was a blush high in Stevie’s cheeks that Bucky liked to think only he could see—though if there were any other folks presently in the universe who’d see it, it was Other Bucky and Other Steve—Bucky knew that Steve was capable of explaining his whole nasal… situation just fine. Even if it did deeply embarrass him.

“I do my best to keep things under wraps. But, can I assume you also had pretty severe allergies as a youngster?” Steve asked. His doppleganger nodded. “Well while it seems that for most other versions of Steve Rodgers the serum destroyed those allergies, for me it didn’t. My allergies haven’t gotten any better. If anything they got more severe, more sensitive when I got the serum. These sneezes are this super-sized body responding to any threat it sees, with violent force. I can fight it, and I do. Bucky and I have a few tricks when what I can do fails. But honestly, from time to time I lose control. I can’t always fight my allergies. So, when I can’t fight the sneezes, I assess. I’ve gotten very, very good at assessing the difference between a sneeze that would do that…” he said, gesturing at the hole in the wall, “and a sneeze that would bring the ceiling down on our heads. That sneeze was the former. If I had tried to fight it off though…” Steve pointed to the ceiling and mimed it falling down. “Sometimes a controlled detonation is an acceptable outcome. Does that make sense, soldier?”

Other Steve still eyed Stevie uncertainly, but Stevie had gotten better at this, Bucky thought. Right after he got the serum, nearly blew New York City to bits with a fit of sun-induced sneezes and got shunted to show duty as far away from feathers, fans, and flowers as possible, Stevie had been terribly awkward: about his body, about his allergies, about his powers. But now, to see him so confident… it warmed Bucky’s heart a little, it did. And if his confidence could stand up to Captain America’s scrutiny—even that of a different Captain America—well, Bucky had to give credit where credit was due.

At last, Other Steve nodded. “I don’t like it, but I get it. Bucky knows,” Other Steve said, tossing his head back towards his Bucky. “before I got the serum, I got sneezin’ fits that felt like they could turn my lungs inside out. And if my allergies were even worse, and in this body… I get it. You’re makin’ the best of it, I know that much.” Other Steve said, Brooklyn creeping into the tones of his voice, as it often did when he reminisced on old times.

“Well glahhh… g-glad you g-get it, soldier, cause…” Steve was already scrunching his nose. Maybe he wasn’t so immune to plaster dust as Bucky had hoped.

“Step back boys!” Bucky called out, “you wanna be behind him when he’s about to blow…”

Steve walked towards the hole he’d created—clearly what was coming on was closer to a “blow down the house” level sneeze than the previous “hole in the walls” sneeze.

“hhhEEEEHHHHHhhhh… HHHHUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhh… b-biHHHHHhhh… big wuhhHHHHHHHH… HUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHH…”

“Oh shit. Did he just say…” Bucky warned. “Oh shit. Guys, uh… you might wanna take cover…”

“HHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH..” it was a vast, smooth gasp in, his chest swelling perceptibly as more air and more air and more air fllled Captain America’s super-strength lungs, preparing to be expelled with all the strength in Captain America’s body. He’d walked right to the edge of the hole he blew in the wall. Several large trees swayed in the breeze as Steve sucked in air, leaves flying off in a swirl of colors, before being joined by twigs snapped off, and then branches.

Bucky shouted over the immense bellows of Steve’s inward gasps: “When they get this big, he pulls in a lot of debris, make sure you don’t get hit!”

And indeed, soon it wasn’t just small branches flying, it was a wall of dust big enough for a dust storm, it was rocks dredged up from the ground, and trees were being uprooted even by his heavy breaths. It was like being in the eye of a hurricane. It seemed as though the entire world was swirling around the storm system that had Stevie’s itchy, irritated nose as its epicenter. As terrifying as Steve’s big sneezes could be, Bucky noticed, not for the first time, there was something almost beautiful about it, about how much power the formerly-little, presently-huge Steve Rogers was uncontrollably summoning, and how something far far far tinier pushed him to this uncontrollable precipice.

It was just a few more huge gasps, each one seeming to shake the building’s foundations: “HUUUUUUUH! HEEEUUHHHHHHHHHH! HUUUUH!”

And then the explosion.

“HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

He doubled over with the force of it, and Bucky couldn’t help but notice—even amidst all the chaos—the round bubble of Steve’s butt, practically shaking in sympathy as the roar of a sneeze mastered his heroic frame. He aimed it towards the hole in the wall, but the force of the sneeze blew an even wider section of the wall out impossibly far, further than the ordinary eye could see, though once the dust settled and Steve recovered, this crew could spot where the debris of the sneeze landed what seemed like a mile away. That debris included every tree in a hundred feet, uprooted and tossed like a twig from the wild destructive force of Steve’s sneeze. If he’d aimed the wrong way, he’d have probably blasted the whole safehouse a mile down the road. It was at least a Hulk level of destruction, but Bucky wouldn’t want to lay a wager either way. It would come down to how mad the Hulk was—and how allergic Steve was.

As the dust cleared, Other Steve and Other Bucky stood up from their crouched position, surveying the damage. With a whistle, Other Steve said, “that, I take it, was a big one.”

That slight blush was heating Steve’s cheeks again. “It was above-average” was his very diplomatic response. Obviously Other Steve knew a political response when he heard one, but obviously decided to let it slide.

For a second, Bucky noticed Steve’s nose twitching, and he thought he might succumb to another sneeze… but then he straightened up, gave a hard sniff, and smiled sheepishly at the group, one hand behind his head, looking for all the world like little Stevie from Brooklyn, having stolen from the cookie jar.

“So, uh, yeah. That’s why they call me Captain Allergy.”

— Two things that didn’t make it into this fic that I nonetheless wish to share:

Steve’s sneezes get bigger every time he tries to hold back. He didn’t let the first sneeze out full force, ergo the even bigger second sneeze. And eventually the sneeze he fought off at the end (bucky was right that was definitely a nostril flare) is gonna come out. That will be a big one.

(Other) Bucky: “So that’s your secret? You’re always sneezy?”

#snz story #male allergies #gigantic sneezes #snz fanfic

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melyaliz · 5 years

Text

Now or Later

anonymous: Jason x reader they've been dating for a while and she's become rlly good friends with Roy who she met via Jason and one day Bart comes from the future and he sees Jason's gf and he's like hey mrs Harper! And Roy Jason and gf all are like wtf does that mean and then Bart is like oh shit after he realised that he's entered the past but of a different time line. He said Mrs Harper bc in his future, Jason didn't come back to life, she met dated and married Roy. Gimme jeason drama jay! Heheheheh

Fandom: DC / Young Justice TV show

Pairing: Jason x Reader X Roy Harper

Notes: Happy Halloween! I love how none of my stories are ever on trend with the season.

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

----

“Good luck kid,” she said as Bart grabbed the power core he needed for his time machine. Her gray and white hair pulled back in a braid half her head shaved showing off her scars proudly. Once beautiful now hardened by the turn on the world. “Go save our world, save my husband,” she said before pulling out her crossbow shooting at the minions who had them almost cornered. Trying to make his an escape root.

“I will,” Bart said nodding before dashing off. Leaving her to fend for herself. He knew she could. He prayed he was right as he ran.

Or maybe she wouldn’t have to if he succeed.

Crash the mode.

---

You laughed tossing your hair back as you pulled out your crossbow. A million other weapons strapped to your back but there was something about the sound of a bow that just was so comforting.

“Don’t worry Hot stuff, you covered hot stuff” you said letting another round of arrows loose on the crowd. You had been flirting with your boyfriend Jason and his outlaws this whole mission.

Ok more like flirting with Starfire the whole mission.

“Watch out your girl is going to leave you for Star” Roy laughed as the red head in question ducked letting her adversaries fall from the arrows.

“Many would, given the choice,” you added jumping down high fiving Roy.

“I don’t see why you must leave anyone to be with me” Starfire said knocking out another goon with such grace she made it look like a dance.

“See Jason I don’t have to leave you.”

“Ok haha so funny.” your boyfriend said coming up behind you shooting a goon who was running at you with a huge ax. Who even were these guys? Like, ok Paul Bunyan, who uses an ax anymore?

“I don’t see how you can’t appreciate how hot this is” Roy added summoning the jet as the four of you come together ready to be picked up.

Turning you laughed leaning forward as Jason pulling you into a deep kiss -there may have even been some tongue, “I don’t really share well” he mumbled and Roy made gagging noises next to you.

“Gross. Just get a room you too”

“Aw Roy don’t be jealous, I promise I’ll give you Jason back soon,” you said pulling at Jason’s belt winking up at your boyfriend as the Jet floated overhead dropping down a rope for you. “But, not tonight, tonight I was promised a much overdue date night.”

Date night was amazing, as was the morning after, and the morning after that.

In fact date night turned into date week and probably would have been longer if a certain redhead hadn’t barged in.

“Jesus you two! It’s 3pm. Where are your clothes!?!”

“That’s what you get for barging in Roy!”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting you too to STILL be in bed.”

“It’s a bedroom what else would we be doing in here?”

“Ok, ok, but still…”

“What brings you to our love nest, Roy?”

Roy laughed at your comment, eyes still on the ceiling, “Dick apparently needs us at Young Justice Hall or whatever they are calling it these days”

“Ok”

Roy stood there glancing down at you “Ooookkkk” you said again waiving your arms to shoo him out.

“Alright, alright I’m leaving!”

After he left Jason leaned toward you kissing you on your shoulder, “I love you” he whispered, “Not sure if I mentioned it,” he added tracing a few of your scars that ran across your shoulder, “but you are perfect”

“You may have… just a few times” you whispered kissing him on the lips

He chuckled as you deepen your kiss, his hands wandering across your body

You pulled away “Don’t start or we will never leave...”

Letting out a moan Jason flipping you over so you were straddling him. His arms wrapping around your waist. Kissing your hips, stomach, chest, as you looked down at him trying to muster the will to fight him.

“Ohhh make Dickkie bird wait” he told you between kisses making his way to your lips.

------

“How’s your little one doing?” Dick asked Roy as the archer waited for the rest of his team,

“She’s good, oddly good. You would think with her mom she would be a little more of a… handful.”

Bart was only half listening as he waited with Jamie and Tim for the Outlaws to show up. He knew Roy a little in passing but had never met the rest of the team, but he had heard stories. Apparently, they were deadly accurate and still hadn’t come across a mission they couldn’t complete. Perfically in sync. Something they Young Justice needed at the moment.

You walked confidently into the base. Don’t show any weakness. While you didn’t like new things you also knew this was a good change. Much like your team’s name suggested sometimes you guys didn’t always do things… above the books.

As you walked into the base a red-haired boy, you assumed was the speeder from the future, looked up. When he saw you his eyes light up. “Y/N Harper!” Impulse said dashing toward you giving you a hug.

“Fucking what?” Bart pulled away to see Jason standing behind your mouth open,

“Oh… uhhh… Roy said his daughter so… I thought you guys were already married. Who are you?” The last comment was at a very annoyed Jason.

“What is he talking about?” Roy asked coming up next to you. You glanced from Bart to Roy who looked like he had gotten punched in the gut. That was nothing to the look Jason was giving you. His face was white as you knew he was coming to the same conclusion you were.

“I… uhhh, got to go” Bart mumbled dashing off

“Please tell me that isn’t the kid who is from the future,” Jason said his hand taking yours holding it just a little tighter than normal. You winced as you looked from Jason to Roy. The awkwardness thick in the air. Part of you (ok all of you) wished you could dash out like Bart.

Dick sighed rubbing his temples “Yeah, shit you must be that woman he was talking about.”

“What woman?”

It turned out that in the future you took Bart under your wing teaching him. Bart hadn’t said much other than your husband, Roy had died trying to save your kids, a few years before Bart had come to the future.

Also apparently you were a pretty badass.

Halfway through the story that Dick and Jamie pieced together, Jason had left. Next to you Roy hadn’t stopped moving obviously totally conflicted. Maybe as much as you were.

Years Eariler

Jason had called you in for backup. The two of you didn't know each other long. Meeting while both going after the same ring of gangsters you both had decided to work together instead of copeet. And after that you both kept running into each other. Whether intentional or not you would never admit.

But this was the first time he had officially asked for your help.

“I need your… spark.” he had told you as you both lay in his bed. You laughed rolling out from under the sheets grabbing your shirt that had been thrown across the room the night before.

“Anything for you hot stuff.”

So you had been sneaking around the large warehouse setting up your beautiful explosion when you noticed the archer, Arsenal, in a bit of trouble. His back against the wall while trying to take down 7 or 8 guys. Not that he wasn’t doing a good job, but Jason had asked for your help so why not?

Three went down as you shot your crossbow Arsenal taking out two by bashing their heads together as you jumped down knocking out another. One more ran toward you only to shot down, one in the leg one in the arm.

“So you’re Y/N”

“How did you know?” You asked turning to the red-haired archer.

“Ohhh just a hunch” Roy laughed pulling out on arrow shooting a gunman who was behind you. You glanced over your shoulder before turning back to you pulling out your explosive trigger.

“Ready to blow this popsicle stand?” you asked “I loaded up this building with so much CC there will be nothing left but dust.”

“Please tell me you added some fireworks in.”

You laughed “obviously, what other way could you celebrate New Years?”

“Of course you are Jason’s.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Present

“Hey” Roy said taking a seat next to you.

“Hey” you mumbled looking up at him

“What are you thinking about?”

“The first time we met”

Roy smiled running his hand through his messy red hair before putting his hat back on, “Awww the day you met your future husband.”

“Not funny,” you said rolling your eyes, “Why are you taking this so lightly?”

“I mean I’m the one who lucks out in this scenario.” Roy chuckled “I mean even my death sounds pretty epic,” However, his smile faded when noticed you weren’t finding the same humor in this situation. “But in all seriousness, it doesn’t mean much. If Bart is right and Jason was dead in his timeline things… are different now.”

You both lapsed into silence.

“Hey Roy, that time we met and you said you knew I was Jason’s because of a hunch, what did you mean?”

Roy sighed looking down at his boots as he tapped his heels, “Only Jason could find the perfect woman.” he said looking up at you.

“Roy,” you whispered feeling your heartbreak, all those memories of Roy. those glances you had always thought were just your imagination. All those lingering touches, hugs that were just a big tighter. Those smiles and jokes. You had banished those thoughts as you just being a silly girl.

“Look,” Roy said turning to you, “Maybe I have feelings for you but I also love you as a friend too. And Jason, I love Jason like a brother. And I’m not the type to break a great thing. And Jason and you are a great thing.”

“But in another world, we were a great thing.” you whispered doubts creeping in. Maybe you were meant to be with Roy. Maybe you had made a mistake with Jason and it was the faits way of correcting itself. It wasn’t like you hadn’t made mistakes before in your life. Many mistakes. Some had scars to prove it, both inside and out.

Maybe you chose the wrong one.

“Hey that’s not fair, I’m trying to be the bigger person here,” Roy said

“What am I supposed to do?” you said looking at him. Roy shrugged,

“Are you asking me? The king of bad decisions?”

You couldn’t help but crack a smile, you both had that in common. Something the two of you had always joked about. You and Roy would just be in so much trouble if Jason wasn’t always bailing your asses out.

Jason.

Standing up you shoved your hands in your pockets. “I have to go,” you mumbled walking away leaving your future husband (in some timeline) behind you.

-----

“Y/N, I’m not letting you go”

You looked up from the bag you were packing, off to find answers. I mean this is the world where Gods existed and boys from the future came to save us all from blue aliens who were trying to destroy our planet. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities you could find the answers to the questions you were looking for. Maybe on some himalayan mountain or some sandy beach. (You hoped it was the latter)

“Jason, what if this is the universe telling us we aren’t supposed to be together? I mean I don’t want to wreck the timeline.”

“The universe also said I was supposed to be dead and look at me, do I seem dead.”

“I just…”

“Do you have doubts… about us?”

You winced, it would be a lie. But it wasn’t really Roy that gave you those doubts. It was yourself. You had always been a lowner. Someone who relied on themselves. And now here you were, being told your good friend was your husband and your boyfriend was… well not.

What about your children? Bart had said you had kids. If you didn’t end up with Roy would that mean they would never exist? And Roy was, Roy. Your good friend, someone you would trust with your life. Something you had never thought you could do again. Trust.

But Jason, he had been first. He was… Jason. The man who had pulled you from a very dark path and took you on the adventure of your life. You loved him so deeply sometimes it hurt. And you couldn’t lie, scared you.

What if you weren’t supposed to be with any of them? What if this was life’s way of finally catching up. Pulling away from the good… no amazing thing you had.

Your fingers danced over the scars on your arm. The scars that reminded you that you didn’t deserve either of them. Didn’t deserve that happiness you had felt.

Your head hurt.

“I don’t know Jason.” he pulled away from you as he if you stabbed him, a hot crowbar at the heart. “No Jason. I just. I love you, you said grabbing his hand. I love you so much it’s just. What if I was meant to be with Roy? I mean, what if we aren’t meant to last. I just…”

“You love me or you don’t,” Jason said eyes hard.

You winced, your whole life had been running from people, believing they would always leave you. And there was a certainty that something would work out, but it wasn’t with the man in front of you.

Maybe safety was with the other. Or Maybe rocking the boat would tip it.

What were you supposed to do?

-GET TAGGED!-

Tagging: @royslittleharper @the-shadow-of-atlantis @coffee-randomness @daisyboobear @werewitchling @jason-redhood

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botanistlester · 6 years

Text

Sweet Pea (18/34)

Summary: A nickname that goes bitter in your mouth. Cries for help that no one listens to. Gentle hands that make you quake on the ground you’re standing on. When Phil first met Nico, he thought he was a gift from the heavens. But behind the mask lies something daunting, something unnerving, that Phil never foresaw. Through his journey, he finds solace in Dan, the regular at his workplace, who seems to be the only one who sees through Nico’s mask to the darkness underneath. Warnings: Abusive relationship, violence A/N: thanks to @snowbunnylester for editing this for me! The lyrics at the beginning of this fic are from the song Dive into My Sun by Citizen (bc every lyric is from them oops theyre just so relative to this story)!

I have started a patreon account for those of you who would like to support me and my writing endeavors! You can find my patreon account here, and also find more information about perks of this here!

Previous | Masterlist

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Chapter Eighteen

I'm conditioned well; A sliver from my lovers, something I hold on to.

“Phil, can we talk?”

Those were the words that Phil never wanted to hear, especially from Dan. Why did everyone always want to talk to him now? Couldn’t they see that he didn’t want to talk? About anything? Couldn’t they see that he felt just fucking peachy? He just wanted to be left alone. No more “talking”, no more “fretting”. He just wanted to be.

But he didn’t say that, because this was Dan. This was Dan and he had done so much for Phil already that Phil couldn’t possibly turn him down. He could complain all he wanted, of course, but he could never turn Dan down. So he grumbled, tried to unwrap himself from the duvet, poking his head out from under the covers to pout at Dan. “Do we have to talk?” Phil whined, waiting, hoping with each breath that Dan would just say no, we don’t actually have to talk.

Dan nodded and shook his head at the same time, which was honestly the strangest thing that Phil had ever seen in the entire world. He looked like a bobble head, one that was real and living and apparently uncertain about everything. “We need to talk,” Dan said more firmly, and proceeded to push Phil over so he could slide under the covers as well. Phil didn’t complain about that, only moved over more so that Dan had enough room.

They stared at the dark ceiling for a moment. All of the lights were off in Phil’s room and Regular Show was playing in the background, casting blue and white shadows over the walls. The volume was turned down so quietly that Phil could barely hear it, but that was the point. He had been trying to take a nap, the exhaustion seeping into his bones and making it nearly impossible for him to move.

Eventually, Phil opened his mouth. “What did you want to talk to me about?” he whispered, because he was scared. Talking, in Dan language, usually meant discussing Phil’s recovery plan. It meant trying to get Phil to go outside, to see friends other than him. It meant trying to help Phil get over Nico. But it never worked, because Phil didn’t know if he even wanted to get over Nico in the first place.

Dan sighed, and that wasn’t good. That really wasn’t good. “I talked to your lawyer today.” Phil flinched at the words. Ever since the whole police fiasco had happened, Phil had been assigned a lawyer until he decided whether he wanted to press charges against Nico or not. He had only met with the guy once, but he seemed really kind and like he did his job well. The only issue was that Phil didn’t know if he wanted to press charges against Nico.

In his eyes, Nico hadn’t done anything that warranted jail or prison in the slightest. Sure, he’d smacked Phil, but Phil’s smacked his brother before and he still didn’t deserve to go to jail. Yes, Nico was manipulative and he had made Phil really upset when he left, but that still wasn’t jail material. Phil didn’t think he deserved it, but it was always Dan who told him to at least consider the options.

“What did he say?” Phil asked shakily, bracing himself for the worst.

And it was bad. Dan explained in a soft voice that even if Phil wanted to press charges, there was no promise that he would win in the first place. They needed evidence to come to a conclusion, evidence in the form of pictures or videos. Evidence that Nico truly deserved to be called guilty for a crime. Dan explained this with his hand brushing through Phil’s hair in a calming manner that, because Phil’s bruises were emotional and not physical, there really was no evidence at all that would let Phil win the case.

“However,” Dan started, despite the way Phil was currently pushing himself under the covers more and more with each word. Phil perked up at that, only slightly. “The lawyer said it’d be very possible for you to get a restraining order instead. Those are typically much easier for you to obtain if you can’t press charges.”

Phil took this information in with a hum of discontentment. But what if he wanted to talk to Nico again? He would legally not be allowed to. He voiced this to Dan, who gave him an unimpressed look.

“Phil,” he said softly, putting his hand back on Phil’s head. He brushed his fingers through his hair softly, obviously trying to calm Phil. “You won’t be talking to Nico anymore. As your friend, I won’t let you do that to yourself.”

The first thought that Phil had was, but what if I want to? It coincided with a feeling of mass anxiety, of suffocation that welled up in his throat and made it hard to breathe. He took as deep of a breath as he could, focusing on the soothing massage of Dan’s fingers in his hair. But why would I even want to? He asked himself instead, shaking his head a little bit. He was slowly trying to get used to the fact that he didn’t need Nico in his life anymore, but it was hard. It was so hard that he constantly had to try and yell at himself to remind himself just what Nico has done to him.

He shuffled under the duvet until his face was completely covered and only his hair was sticking out, perfect for Dan to keep running his fingers through. “You’ll come with me to get my restraining order?” he asked quietly, and he didn’t have to look to know that Dan was nodding his head yes.

“Do you really think I’m just gonna leave you to fend for yourself by now?” Dan teased, and the covers shifted a little, only for Dan to scoot closer to him, their arms brushing lightly. Dan met Phil’s gaze in the darkness surrounding them, and his smile was bright, even underneath the shadows. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, Phil.”

Phil sighed and closed his eyes. Once upon a time, he had felt too claustrophobic to bury himself under blankets. He hadn’t liked the way that it felt as though the space was getting filled with his own breath, how the shadows seemed to crawl into his skin and down his throat, choking him until he could do nothing but gasp for air. But now, he was under the covers more often than not, welcoming the feeling of the darkness shrouding his mind and his lungs.

But for some reason, it didn’t feel quite as suffocating with Dan in there with him, supporting him, making sure that he was okay.

The possibility of a restraining order was scary. He wasn’t quite sure that he wanted to even get one, that he wanted to commit himself to something like that. What if he wanted to talk to Nico? What if he was the one who broke the order and submitted to Nico once more? He didn’t know if he could handle the idea of never seeing or speaking to Nico again, and he still wasn’t convinced that he even needed the restraining order. Nico wasn’t going to kill him. That’s what restraining orders are for, right? Because a person is terrified of another person to the point where they’ll get badly hurt?

Nico wasn’t going to hurt him.

But maybe that was why he needed one. Maybe he needed one because he didn’t think Nico was going to hurt him. Maybe he needed one to hold himself back, to protect himself from succumbing to the darkness of his ex boyfriend once again. Maybe he needed to do this to make Dan believe that he was okay, that he was getting better, that things won’t stay like this forever.

With his heart in his throat, he opened his mouth and nothing came out. He swallowed and tried again, his voice coming out more confident than he felt. “I want to get a restraining order,” he said firmly, and it felt like he had closed the door to his past relationship and locked it up with steel. Maybe now he could start to heal. Maybe now he could start to feel.

Charlie - 6:34pm

Shabbot shalom! Are you feeling a bit better?

Phil Lester - 6:36pm

Not particularly. Still sulking

Charlie - 6:40pm

:( Dan taking good care of you?

Phil Lester - 6:41pm

Perfect, as always

Charlie - 6:43pm

Great! I expect you to come hang out again soon. I miss your dumb face

Phil Lester - 6:44pm

Miss you too

For once, Phil was going outside. Without Dan.

When he told Dan he wasn’t going to be home today, Dan was curious, but he didn’t ask too many questions. Maybe he knew that Phil wouldn’t tell him what he was doing, not because he was ashamed, but because Phil knew that Dan would try to stop him if he told him what he was up to. It seemed as though Dan was just happy that Phil was getting out of the house, so he didn’t ask questions and just let the situation be.

Phil didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

He didn’t know how he was doing it honestly, but he got up, put on some mildly okay-looking clothes, and straightened his hair. He made sure that he looked vaguely alright, that the bags under his eyes were covered with a light layer of makeup, that his hair was in place and not greasy. When he was ready, he stepped into the bright sunshine, making a face of disgust as the sun immediately attacked his eyeballs.

It was a nice spring day, and Phil was going on a date.

He took a cab to the pizza place where he’d promised that he would meet Jace, a nice little family owned joint called Pizza Mia. Phil had always liked Pizza Mia, because it was nice and cozy with yellow walls and burgundy booths. There were televisions in the corners of the rooms and beautiful paintings all over the walls. The staff were all super friendly with each other, regarded each other with politeness and laughter. It was refreshing, to say the least.

Jace was already there when Phil arrived, sat in a booth in the corner. His hair, which was in tight black braids, was tied back into some sort of ponytail, and Phil liked it because it showed off his shaved sides. He was as good looking as the last time Phil had seen him, and Phil had a moment of guilt because he liked Jace, but he couldn’t help but feel as though he was using him.

Using him just like Nico had used Phil.

He wanted to walk out, but he didn’t. Instead, he slowly made his way over to Jace until he caught sight of him, smiling that beautifully white smile that Phil definitely didn’t deserve. He stood up and Phil didn’t quite understand why until he was bringing him into a large hug. “Phil!” Jace exclaimed, backing away. His hug was warm, but it made the guilt crushing to the point where Phil had to force a smile on his face. “How have you been? Your piercings look like they’re healing nicely.”

Phil nodded and sat down in the booth across from Jace. His fingers were shaking and he hid it by burying his hands between his thighs. Stop it, he told himself, because there was nothing to be afraid of or guilty for. He was allowed to go on dates. He was allowed. “I’ve been doing pretty well,” he lied, because that’s what you do with people you barely knew. They weren’t supposed to know the darkness yet. “What have you been up to recently?”

Jace seemed pleased that he had asked, settling back in his chair and biting at his lip piercings. He had an orange Fanta sitting in front of him that he sipped at before replying. “Just been piercing people. The usual.” He shrugged and Phil watched the way his broad shoulders rippled as he did so. He was wearing a nice gray tank top that showed his muscles off, and for some reason that made Phil feel a bit nauseous.

Slut, his mind whispered, but he shook that off. Jace was a nice guy and he was taking Phil on a date. Phil couldn’t call him a slut because of his outfit choices. Outfit choices didn’t matter - but the voice in Phil’s head didn’t leave, and he hated how much it sounded like Nico.

They talked some more about what they’d been up to, Phil excluding the whole hiding-under-his-duvet-like-a-burrito part, and the nasty break-up that had resulted just after Phil had gotten his piercings It was nice, and Phil found himself relaxing slightly as Jace made him laugh a few time, his smile just warm enough despite the fact that Phil felt nothing. His phone vibrated and he reached to grab it, knowing that it was probably Dan, but the waitress walked up to him before he could read his message.

“Welcome to Pizza Mia! My name’s Betsy and I’m going to be taking care of you today. Can I get you started with something to drink, or are y’all ready to order?” She was speaking mostly to Phil about the drink part, and he ordered a coke because he hadn’t really thought about it and that was the first thing that had come to his mind.

Jace ended up ordering for them. Apparently he was a vegetarian, so he got a medium pizza with spinach, mushrooms, and red peppers for himself, while Phil got the exact opposite of that and put as many meats as he possibly could on his pizza. They were like two completely different people, and Phil couldn’t help but wonder if Jace would like him any less just because he ate meat, thinking Nico was right, who would ever want me?

He voiced these thoughts aloud once Betsy walked away, staring at the gray speckles on the table and mindlessly picking up a napkin to tear it between his fingers. “Are you bothered that I eat meat?”

Jace laughed and shook his head. Phil glanced up to see that his eyes were shining, his face bright and not judgemental in the slightest. “Are you kidding? I’m not going to hate you just because you have a different lifestyle than me.” He put his head in his hand and winked as he said, “But I may have you brush your teeth before I kiss you.”

It took a moment for the comment to sink in, but when it did, Phil couldn’t help but squeak, his entire face turning an ugly shade of red. He hid his face in his hands, trying to calm down a little bit. Still, he felt uneasy at the same time, even though he had no reason to. He had to remind himself that Jace was not Nico. Jace was just trying to show Phil a good time and get to know him. That meant flirting. It wasn’t insidious. It wasn’t supposed to be.

“I’ll brush my teeth, in that case,” Phil promised, because he didn’t know what else to say, eyes glinting and shy.

It was the right thing to say apparently, because Jace’s grin was blinding in response. He could see why. He’d just admitted that Jace could kiss him. Although, Phil didn’t even know if he would like that. He hasn’t kissed someone other than Nico for a year, and the thought of kissing someone new was honestly terrifying. He didn’t know if he wanted to, didn’t know how to kiss someone else.

Plus, that stupid guilt was still crushing him from the inside out. He couldn’t help but feel as though he was cheating on Nico, knowing full well that he had broken up with Nico and was now about to get a restraining order. He was a mess.

While Jace went on another rant, Phil dug his phone out of his pocket, clicking it open. He was right, he did have a text from Dan. Pretty much the only people he texted were Dan, Jace, and Charlie. Occasionally Jane would text him, and he’d just started texting Ledjon too, but the only person who frequently checked up on him was Dan.

Dan Howell - 7:30pm

Hi how are you doin? X

The use of kisses in the text wasn’t anything weird from Dan. It was one of the ways that Dan showed he cared, and Phil had long since learnt not to be freaked out by it a very long time ago. It made his chest feel a bit warm to know that Dan cared about him that much.

He responded quickly to Dan because Jace was still talking, and Phil couldn’t really fit a word in edgewise. He was a super talkative dude, while Phil was just more of a listener than anything else. He didn’t mind. It just got a bit hard to follow.

Phil Lester - 7:31pm

Good. on a date

The response came as soon as Phil set his phone down, and he nearly laughed at Dan’s eagerness. He could practically imagine the shock now. Phil? On a date? It was a ridiculous picture, and yet here they were.

Dan Howell - 7:31pm

A date? Since when have you been talking to someone?

Phil Lester - 7:32pm

Jace. He did my piercings. We’ve been talking for a little bit now

Their pizzas were placed in front of them then , and Phil set his phone down, deciding to ignore Dan’s surprise and instead focus on the delicious food in front of him. There was so much meat piled on top of Phil’s that he could barely see the cheese underneath, but that was alright by him. He wasn’t exactly the biggest cheese fan in the world, so he would much rather eat an entire meat pizza than one with a lot of gooey, disgusting cheese. Jace’s, on the other hand, had so much spinach that Phil’s nose crinkled up with disgust. He liked spinach, but that much? On a pizza? That was more like a pizza salad, in Phil’s opinion.

His own pizza was good, at least. He’s always liked the pizza here, so even if his date talked a little bit too much, at least his pizza was good. Phil gulped it down like a hungry wolf, and Jace laughed at him, knocking their feet together in a game of footsies. Phil let him, because he didn’t have anything against it, so that was fine.

Even so, he felt as though he couldn’t completely enjoy his date. Sure, Jace was wonderful. He was attractive and had a great personality. He talked a lot and seemed to have cool hobbies, and the fact that he thought Phil was pretty was a plus as well. But Phil just didn’t feel anything for him. He felt like this was all wrong, like he wasn’t supposed to be here. Maybe he could be good friends with Jace, but this date? Phil didn’t want this. He didn’t want this.

He wanted Nico, damn it, and he hated himself for the thought even crossing his mind.

After they finished their dinner and got up to leave, Jace smiled at him, so large that it made his entire face shine bright like a star. “I had a lot of fun with you,” he said honestly, seeming like he put his whole heart into that sentence.

The first thought Phil had was how? But he didn’t say that. Instead, he smiled, his face made out of plastic. Instead, he said, “Me too.”

“Can we do this again sometime soon?” Jace asked, hopefully, and Phil felt his stomach sink because Jace definitely wanted to date him, and Phil didn’t know if he was capable of being a good boyfriend right then.

Still, he put on his best smile, and nodded his head yes. “I would like that,” he replied robotically, and he could feel his body float away from his consciousness. Suddenly , he was back in the bath tub, rubbing at his skin until he could no longer feel the touch of Nico’s skin on his own. He completely shut down and let his body do the actions without any thought whatsoever. “Yeah, I would like that,” he said again.

And when Jace leaned up to kiss him, his lips soft and warm and foreign, Phil kissed him back because that was what he was supposed to do.

Dan Howell - 7:34pm

Dont move into anything too fast yet. Pls take care of yourself first

Dan Howell - 8:10pm

Phil?

Chapter Ninteen

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #botanistfics #botanistlester #fanfic #fanfiction #sweet people #phan fanfiction #gay #writing #sweet pea #sp #phan chaptered #phan angst

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sundogsandrainbows · 7 years

Text

No Shems Allowed

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: Dragon Age Origins- Awakening

Words: 7242

Relationships: Velanna/Mahariel friendship, Warden Alistair/Female Mahariel pairing

Characters: Velanna, Female Mahariel, Lenya Mahariel, Alistair, Anders, Female Cousland, Evie Cousland, Nathaniel Howe, Oghren, Ser Pounce-a-Lot

Tags: (copied from Ao3, bc I’m lazy) Female Friendship, Developing Friendships, Drunken Shenanigans, Established Relationship, Alcohol, General Chaos, Warden Alistair, Post-Blight, Lenyaverse, Elven Wine, Lots of it, This Got Out Of Hand Fast, Sorry Not Sorry, Humor, Or More Like, Attempt at Humor, Teasing Alistair, Is My Warden's Favorite Pastime, Even When Drunk,Especially when drunk, Sexual Humor, Drunken Kissing, Mild Sexual Content

Summary: Even months in after taking over the arling of Amaranthine to rebuild the Wardens, and thus her being the acting ruler of this region still felt utterly bizarre and unreal. A notion which quite a few humans shared with her, if the rumors of an assassination plot were to believed.

Been there, done that, Lenya thought, not less bored. Though she would actually prefer a dozen crows and/or nobles descending from the throne room's ceiling than listen any further to the petty squabbles of too many humans still in line for an audience. Stabbing, she could handle. Diplomacy and politics? Not so much.

----------------------

Velanna and Mahariel bond over the ridiculousness of life in a human dominated society. Dalish/drunken shenanigans and chaos ensue, starring (almost) the whole Awakening crew (+ Warden Alistair). Two shot.

Links: AO3 | FFN

Full Story On Tumblr Under The Cut:

"We should do what?"

The human man in front of Lenya bristled and huffed indignantly. The tension built up letting him appear less stocky than he actually was. Though his round face slowly adapting the red hue of his hair certainly compensated for the momentarily loss of volume.

Looking away was all that kept her from rolling her eyes at him and his more lanky neighboring farmer he'd bickered with for the past ten minutes. "Cut the goat in half," she repeated, and the animal in question bleated in response. Or rather, in protest. Lenya could sympathize, for it had to endure these two even longer than she had, hence this solution would be one in kind.

Somewhere outside her vision, she could hear Varel sigh, most likely with resignation. Surely, the first or second time of her holding court in the throne room he'd still tried to intervene, urged her to be more diplomatic and patient. To his credit, he'd long given up on that, and had learned quickly that Lenya was neither.

"Arlessa?" The man urged, sounding whiny, confused. It took her a moment to react, to remember that it was really her he meant with that title. Even months in after taking over the arling of Amaranthine to rebuild the Wardens, and thus her being the acting ruler of this predominately human region still felt utterly bizarre and unreal. A notion which quite a few humans shared with her, if the rumors of an assassination plot were to believed.

Alongside the utterly stupid title of 'Hero Of Ferelden' she was certain that it all belonged to a subtle but elaborate revenge plan of Queen Anora, for not sparing her father's life. That and her severe allergy to Alistair taking over this whole Arl part, of course. As if sitting here on this sorry excuse of a throne would rekindle his already tepid wish to become king and overthrow her after all. Hah, she'd bet it would rather have the exact opposite effect.

Her eyes narrowed at the thought, inwardly cursing her lover for lucking out on passing this position. And of course Alistair wasn't even there today to quell her boredom while holding court. Instead he was out in the city, looking into the same assassination plot Lenya wished to happen right now, probably even stabbing people for information.

Life wasn't fair.

The goat bleated anew, keenly reminding her that she still needed to elaborate. Straightening her hurting back, she looked back and forth between the two farmer. "Each of you is saying that the other stole the goat, thus one word stands against the other. I have no evidence to disprove either of it, so sharing the goat would be the compromise."

"But the goat -"

By Mythal, if she had to hear that man saying 'the goat is mine' one more time, she'd stand up and cleave the animal in half herself. "Isn't he your neighbor, though?" Lenya quickly cut him off.

The red-haired man frowned. "Yes, but..."

"Then he is part of your close community, even." She tried her best to not let the contempt for some of these humans' selfishness bleed into her voice. For her as a Dalish it was utterly incomprehensible how someone could argue over resources much better spent shared. "I'm aware the times are trying right now after the Blight, which is all the more a reason why you should support each other, like communities do. It is really not that hard a concept." Well, trying had here been the operative word, after all. She heard Varel sigh anew, while ushering them away.

Collectively muttering under their breath as they turned away, both men clearly were not satisfied with this solution. If its reluctance to follow was any measurement, the goat was neither.

Tough luck, Lenya thought, but seeing the sheer mass of people still waiting, she also applied these words to herself. Sinking back into the hard seat of her throne, she braced herself for the next one in line and the many hours of complains still to endure and address.

::::

"Stupid humans and their stupid politics," Lenya groused, far more many hours later than wished or expected.

"I agree."

She flinched upon the unexpected answer, half-expecting to see Seneshal Varel there to reel her back in after bailing on him. Apparently, his idea of unwinding after dreary hours in court included such fun things as writing report letters to the warden main quarter.

Creators, that man must be the life of every party.

Not to mention that it was somehow surprising that there was even still correspondence to be held with Weißhaupt after her first letter containing a colorful collection of her best swearing words to the First Warden. This was only to thank him for his oh so helpful support during the Blight, of course. Perhaps Varel had intercept and changed the letter before sending it. Nosy as he was, it would be fitting an action for him.

It was however Velanna who looked at her upon turning. Still undecided if this was an improvement, Lenya kept her wary stance. The couple weeks ever since she'd become a Warden had been...trying, to say the least. Not only did Velanna never miss one opportunity to make her disdain known for her relationship with Alistair, a human, but she also remembered Lenya way too much on how she'd been back in the day. Maybe this was why she showed uncharacteristically so much patience for the acerbic, standoffish behavior of her fellow Dalish.

Lenya knew too well how it was to lose someone close, to be thrown out into the world of the humans with no way to return to your old life or clan. For Velanna it was her sister instead of a best friend she'd lost, for whom she'd even joined the Wardens, in order to be able to pursue Seranni and the darkspawn holding her captive. Certainly not the most unambiguous motive to ultimately taint and damn yourself to a life of hunting darkspawn. However given the still ongoing shortage of Wardens in Ferelden, Lenya took what she could get. If only the Dalish mage wouldn't always feel the need to comment on her relationship with Alistair. Or sounding like a yesteryear version of herself, for that matter, that would be great, thanks.

"...do it."

Lenya's head snapped up, blinking at the blonde Dalish, as if in a daze. "Huh?"

Velanna rolled her eyes with an accompanying sigh, yet found the grace in herself to repeat her sentence. "I don't know how you do it."

"Because I must?" The scoff escaped her almost at its own volition but her stance relaxed in contrast. She had no desire for yet another discussion or confrontation with Velanna, not after so many hours spent talking and debating in court today. "Look, Velanna, I'm tired, hungry and not in mood to fight with you."

"Who said I want to fight?" The Dalish frowned at her, which furrowed the lines of her vallas'lin. "I simply can't understand how you can endure the constant drone of their whining. For hours, even. I would have called down lightning on their heads after mere minutes."

Lenya wanted to mention how she'd already done exactly that with a group of humans she wrongly believed responsible for her comrades' deaths and kidnapping of her sister not long ago. Though belatedly she remembered how this would very much contradict her prior words and only lead to more friction. "I was tempted to," she said instead, forcing a smile. "At least to stand up and walk out on them, that is." Idly she wondered what Varel would have done then, or why he hadn't tried to reign her in again for the task she'd abandoned.

Letting her eyes wander to the flickering, large centred hearth fire, she noticed how its warm glow drew long shadows upon the rough stone wall and its high-arched windows. Daylight was slowly fading away, making her wonder when Alistair and his party would finally return from Amaranthine City. She could really use his presence, for a hug or two, and maybe even more for losing this damn tension that had been steadily building up inside of her body all day. Lenya rolled her shoulders and hated the strain within. It wasn't the good kind of ache either, like after a battle. No her muscles and back did hurt from sitting on her ass all day. Ugh.

"Why you did stay then? Why do you always do their bidding?" Her question pierced through the stillness that had laid itself over the dormant main hall like a cloud. It was posed without the initial malice in her voice and yet Lenya couldn't help but to let out an annoyed groan.

Not this again.

She'd discussed this matter time and time again with Velanna, even seized the argument of duty she hated so much to hear herself. Feeling a pressure building up behind her skull again, she motioned Velanna to follow her. Fresh air was what Lenya needed most now, and if she wanted any answers the mage would have to pursue them in the courtyard.

Besides, leaving the stuffiness of the main hall behind also had the nice side-effect that Varel couldn't find her at first glance. Lenya liked if he had to put at least a bit effort in catching her. For all the boring, if necessary, paperwork he made her do, even after a day of court hearing, this was only fair.

::::

The air smelled like rain, fresh and cold. Dark clouds overhead were stealing even the remaining vestiges of daylight and heralded a downpour soon to follow.

Lenya didn't mind. She was used to Ferelden's fickle weather and its briskness, even amidst late spring. Taking a deep breath, she leaned herself back at a stone pillar, savoring the crisp smell and stillness of this place. Back in her clan, she used to break away and seek out places of solitude, whenever the commotion became too much to bear for her.

Nowadays however, with the tasks of an Arlessa added to the already weighty responsibilities of being a Warden, Ferelden's acting commander, even, she found less and less a chance for doing so. Sure, there always were these stolen moments with Alistair in between their shared duties. Not to mention these passionate nights spent entwined together, or stay in bed mornings, but these were becoming more rare and rare occasions in times of food shortages, assassination plots, and talking, intelligent darkspawn. As if a bloody archdemon hadn't been enough already.

Lenya sighed into descending darkness above, while first driblets of rain greeted and wetted her face.

"Brr," a voice said behind her, shuddering. "I do not see the point of having walls around oneself, if you are just as cold outside as you are inside these walls."

So much for peace and quiet. Turning, Lenya looked at her fellow Warden still standing in the courtyard's door frame. "It is easier to endure harsh weather like a storm on the inside of four solid walls than in a tent or aravel, believe me," Lenya offered with a shrug. "It took me some time to get used to it myself though."

Velanna eyes narrowed, their glow in the half-dark diminishing. "And now you are?"

"Sort of." Lenya watched her approaching, how she reached out to the open sky to catch the raindrops now falling in a more steady, quicker rhythm. "I still prefer open space and finding a patch of nature, whenever I can, which isn't often lately, alas."

"So I have noticed." The mage tilted her head, appraised her. "You do their bidding, live in stony buildings just like-"

"Just because I don't hug trees or live in the forest anymore, doesn't mean I am less Dalish!" Lenya burst out, fed up. "You know what? Forget it." The dramatic gesture of her departure was severely undercut by Velanna's flat palm at her shoulder, stopping her.

"Creators, I didn't mean to..." she sighed, frustrated. Falling silent, her ears twitched once, twice. Then Lenya felt something cool and heavy within her hands, before Velanna reestablished the prior generous personal space between them.

"What is this?" She looked down, recognized the object as a bottle of wine.

"A peace offering. Or rather...a thank you for the book you gave me last week. I do not like to feel indebted to you." She glanced away, then up into the rain-filled sky. "I have decided to fill its empty pages with new stories of our people. For those who come after me, be it my own children or other da'len of my- a clan."

Lenya didn't miss the hitch in her voice as she quickly corrected herself. Come to think of it, Velanna hadn't spoken of her clan yet, beyond of being a First and her derision for most of her Keeper's decisions. It seemed generally a touchy subject for her with which Lenya could well emphasize, given her own...rebellious history with her own clan. Her intent to officially bond with a human naturally didn't help to smooth matters over much either.

"You must take me for a sentimental fool," Velanna scoffed, obviously misunderstanding her silence for something negative.

"No, not all," she rushed to say before her fellow Dalish could copy the attempted dramatic of her departure just moments ago. "It is a nice idea, actually."

Y-you really think so?" Whipping around, Velanna's eyes went wide, her tone as hopeful as a child expecting praise. Not a moment later, the ever-prominent scowl found its way back into her features. "Not that I care."

Arching an eyebrow, Lenya laughed out a snort. If traveling a year with Morrigan had taught her one thing, it was the more someone emphasized their indifference for an opinion or person, the more they most likely cared about it. Unless they really were as callous and cold an ass as they pretended to be, but this was Velanna definitely not. Lonely perhaps, a bit cynical and awkward toward other people certainly, though not callous by far.

"Yes, I think so." She nodded, showing her an honest smile. "We Dalish have lost so much, most of which we can never recover. But we can always create and add new tales of and for our people. A history which is actually remembered this time."

"Ah." There flitted something akin to humor over Velanna's face, tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You mean, like the story of a Dalish Warden, who slayed an archdemon, stopped a Blight in under a year, and lived?"

"Ugh. I'm quite sick of hearing that one already." She wrinkled her nose. "At the last Arlathvhen just months ago, there was a teenage girl, from Clan Lavellan I believe, who kept staring at me. All the time. Basically they all did that, gaping at me as if I was some kind of reincarnated elvhen god." She groaned. "Very annoying."

"Oh yes, must be so hard to be revered as hero by our People. Poor you."

Ignoring the sharp bite of sarcasm, Lenya rolled her eyes at her. "On the plus side, for all their staring, they at least didn't cook up yet another stupid title for me."

"The Hero of Ferelden," Velanna said deliberately, as if testing each of the words in her mouth. Then, she snorted. "It is indeed silly. Who came up with that?"

"Queen Anora. The Arlessa thing is also her damn fine work."

"Of course," her huff ended in a sneer, she'd come to know so well of the mage. "Humans."

"Yeah, them..." she sighed into the night. None of them spoke for a long while after that, and the pitter-patter of rain upon the cobblestone became the only audible sound. It was nice, actually. Lenya could appreciate the company of someone who didn't always feel the need to fill silence with needless words. Something Alistair had to slowly learn over time, while being with her. Not that it stopped him from falling into this old habit from time to time, nonetheless.

"Do you ever wonder how it would been, if Arlathan hadn't fallen?"

"Yes, sometimes maybe," Lenya confessed with a half-shrug. "Our people would have a permanent home then, instead of being forced to wander, I guess." She smirked at her. "Oh, and you would be much grousing less about humans then, that's for sure."

"And you would have a better taste in...your bondmate," came as deadpan answer.

This again? Though now it lacked her usual disdain, so Lenya decided to humor her. "Alistair?" She blinked rapidly, faking confusion. "What about him?"

"Ugh." Her face twisted in a scowl. "He is..."

"...different," Lenya finished, unbidden. "You know, some humans aren't bad."

"Yes, sure. Until you have outlived your usefulness to them and they try to get rid of you." The mage gave her a pointed look.

"You mean my assassination some of these petty noble assholes have allegedly planned?" Lenya shrugged, couldn't care less. "Pfft, some of my best friends wanted me dead at first. A whole army of darkspawn with an archdemon at the top definitely wanted me dead. Several antivian crows, bandits and other assassins tried to murder me as well. So it must be Tuesday."

"You are...disturbingly unfazed by all this."

Lenya snorted joylessly. "You would be too, after living through all this shit for over a year. Just give it time." Finally she managed to uncork this damn stubborn bottle with her skinning knife after battling with it for several minutes. Taking a small sip of the wine to probe its taste, her expression lightened up immediately. "Oh, this is Dalish wine. Much better than the box of sickening sweet Orlesian swill Evie just brought in from her last palace visit. A gift from the queen, or something Evie talked her into giving her, dunno. You know how good she is with politics and words. Comes with a noble upbringing, I guess."

"Yes, this human always speaks too many for my taste." Velanna squinted first at the bottle, then at her. "So you...like the wine?" She glanced away, her shoulders sagging. "It is the last thing I had left from my clan."

Upon hearing that, Lenya nearly spat out the mouthful of wine, shocked. "And you give it to me then?" she managed after swallowing and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Seeing the scowl curling back into the Dalish's expression, she hurried to add. "Not that I don't like it, I do, but shouldn't you rather keep it then?"

"Why?" Her lips pressed into a fine line. "As a sentimental monument to times past? Don't be foolish. Like I said, I simply don't like feeling indebted to you. This..." Velanna gestured to the wine bottle."...makes us even."

Lenya didn't fail to recognize the irony of Velanna -of all people- not wanting to preserve a thing from past times, though omitted to mention it. "I see," she simply said instead, nodding. "Well then, I insist on sharing the wine with you, at least."

Before the mage could protest, she ushered her back inside and toward the kitchen. "And with that I mean all of the wine."

::::

Maker, he was so glad to be finally back.

Standing under Vigil's Keep shielding rock at last, Alistair shook himself. It was far less effective a maneuver than Shira shaking off the water of her fur of course, which was also due to him being drenched to the bones. At least the massive downpour took care of the darkspawn entrails prior plastered to his armor. Well mostly, that was. He shuddered again, hated the fact to be kept so long from a nice warm place by an unforeseen darkspawn ambush, after their trip into the city. Darkspawn who now talked back at them and used intricate battle formations to counteract their own. Funny how killing these bastards were far less complicated during a damn Blight going on, of all things.

"Bronto Piss! This sodding, nughumping open sky with its too much sodding water falling down from this gaping hole."

Even long before Oghren became even visible in the encroaching darkness, his tirade made clear how he felt about the weather, and most likely everything else today. Stopping, the mabari turned with a low whine, unwilling to go inside without her mistress at her side. Evelyn appeared with Anders in tow not a moment later, and eager to finally reach the first dry place in hours, they quickly pushed past him. Nathaniel only huffed out a grunt, probably hoping his everlasting brooding aura would repel any excess water on its own.

Upon reaching the main hall however, all four Wardens came to a screeching halt so suddenly that he nearly barreled into the group, after absentmindedly following them inside. Forgetting every complain about the weather and their own drenched state, they fell silent and collectively gaped at a particular corner of the throne room.

Alistair blinked, slowly. Once, twice, simply hoping he'd seen it wrong. Towering over them with his height, he looked over their heads at it again. Nope, still there.

Oghren was first in breaking out of their wide-eyed, speechless stupor and doubled over in bellowing, rough laughter. "By the stone's pebbled balls," he snorted, loudly. "Missy sure knows how to party."

That was one way of putting, the very recent, um, redecoration of said corner and the whole main hall, basically, in words.

The two dark, elongated and massive dinner tables were no longer visible, buried as they were under a rather oddly precisely placed assorted mishmash of bedsheets, curtains and drapes. On top of the hidden table and some stray griffon banner, chairs were stacked. And not only some chairs, no. Alistair was pretty damn sure that this was the whole inventory of every chair in Vigil's Keep ever. Same could be said for the extensive collection of pillows and cushions, which were placed on top and around the table. It did build a massive trench, as if intended to keep others out. The air around them was leaden with the smell of wine, and faint but distinctive giggling came from the impressive pillow-fort's center.

To top it all off, hastily glued together pieces of vellum served as huge sign in between chairs, on which was drawn in scrawly writing: Shemlen suck. Elvhen rule.

"This is...new," he eventually managed, unable to stop staring at the...everything of it.

"Soooo," Anders drawled, turning around to him with a bemused grin, his gaze questioning upon himself. "Is this what happens when she gets bored?" Then, falling back into his cocky smile routine, the mage added, "Maybe this is just me, but I feel you don't tire the Commander out enough at night, Alistair."

"Nope, not just you," Evie agreed in a cheery sing-along, barely containing her amusement. Damn her! She picked up an emptied wine bottle Shira held in between her massive jaws, pointedly ignoring his glare as she praised her dog. "Good girl."

Oghren was still snort-laughing and it didn't look as if was stopping any time soon.

"Did you hear that?" Nathaniel squinted past the centred hearth-fire, taking a step forward as he strained his ears. Hit by his momentum, another empty wine bottle clinked and skittered away over the patterned stone ground. Maker, how many were there? Did he even want to know?

The dwarf's sniggering made it nigh impossible to distinguish what sound Nathaniel meant, so Alistair elbowed Oghren and reprimanded him to be silent. Rolling his eyes at first, he eventually complied and stifled the remainder of his amusement into choked snorts. With him no longer obstructing the source of sound, Alistair could hear it too. It was a muffled sound, as if someone was persistently yelling and knocking on wood.

"There!" Nathaniel pointed to a hallway behind to the throne and rushed to it, Alistair and others in tow. On his way passing the pillow fort to what seemed the door to the larder, he stumbled over two other bottles of wine, both as empty as the others.

Arriving at the door in question, subtly decorated with a sign saying "No shems allowed!" in the same scrawly writing like the other one placed on top of the tables. Underneath the vellum, a fine layer of a magical barrier flickered in an unnatural light, causing Nathaniel to frown at it.

"Hello?" The voice behind the door sounded much like a panicked version of Mistress Woolsey, and had a shrill note. "Is there someone? Help us we are locked in here."

The creak of wet metal rang as Oghren heaved an armored shoulder to a shrug. "Well at least they won't sodding starve to death." He grimaced at the water still dripping from himself. "But I will of cold, if I don't get out this bloody armor." Not a moment later, he started to unbuckle the straps of his heavy armor, slowly dressing down amidst the hallway.

"W-what are you doing?" Evie sounded almost as shrill as the captive treasurer as she waved about at him letting the parts of armor fall where he stood.

The dwarf rolled his eyes at her. "What does it look like, princess?" With not a care for the world or people around him, he continued to undress.

"Time and place, Oghren." Towering over him with her sheer bulk and height, she looked as if she was ready to punch him out. "This is neither."

"Heh, instead of whining like a tea kettle, you better undress soon too, princess. Lest your noble bum gets cold."

"Yes, I will," she hissed through gritted teeth, still glaring at him but stepping back. "In my own room. As should you."

"Evelyn? Oghren?" Another voice, Varel, broke through their bickering, halting it. He let out a relieved sigh. "Thank the Maker you are here."

"Yes we are," Nathaniel replied in their place. "Don't worry we will get you out of there." Considering how his frown deepened, the door seemed to win the ongoing staring contest between them. "As soon we have figured out to break the magic barrier."

Ah. Of course. "Let me..." Alistair motioned him to step aside, intended to use his templar talents to dispel the ward. Before he could concentrate enough to call it forth however, there was an electrical charge rushing through the air, followed by a scream and a loud thump. Alerted by it, Evelyn ran past him and back into the main hall containing the elvhen pillow fort.

"Ouch!" a voice cried out, unmistakably belonging to Anders. "These bloody elves have--"

"Andersss, Anderssss, can't even take a ganderssss! Andersss, Anderssss, can't even take a ganderssss!"

Not only had Lenya and Velanna apparently mined the pillow trench with magical runes, they even managed to make up a mocking, if slurred, song on the fly, effectively shutting the mage up. If it weren't all complete chaos left to handle for him, Alistair would even be inclined to give credit to their booze-induced creativity.

Deciding Varel and the others were more safe behind the door than freed at the moment, Alistair spun to return to the main hall as well. "Nate...stay here at the door and..." He blinked back at the dwarf and immediately regretted it, for he was completely undressed by now, save for his unmentionables. "...um, watch Oghren?"

"Don't need to, heh." He showed him a toothy grin, and patted his naked, hairy and round belly. "See ya later boy. I'm gonna sit down by the fire now to warm up. Missy better left any of the booze in this sodding keep untouched, especially mine!" With that, Oghren spun on his bare heels and left into the opposite direction.

"You forgot your armo-" Alistair stopped with a sigh. Why did he even bother?

::::::

"They took my blanket!"

As soon Alistair re-entered the throne room, Anders didn't waste any second to complained to him with the indignation of a five years old. Dressed down to his breeches, the mage looked positively disheveled, his long hair standing up on all ends. Which was probably due to the electrical charge of the runes and also the reason why Evelyn was now the one doubled over in snorting laughter. Shira jumped up and down in front of her mistress, woofing happily along. All the while the giggling of both elves never abated.

Great.

Too caught in his own misery to notice Evie's amusement about his rumpled looks, Anders pointed at a vague spot high up the pillow fort. "And they took my cat!" He flailed about, tone whiny. "Do something!"

At that, a pair of light-reflecting cat eyes blinked down from the elevated cushioned seat within the magically warded area. Ser Pounce-a-lot yawned lazily and let out a content meow, blissfully unaware of his owner's distress. Or he simply didn't care, which given how comfortable he looked on top of the pillow fort was more likely.

"Oh, Maker...." On days like this, Alistair idly wondered if leading a country wouldn't have been easier than...whatever this was. Though as quickly as the thought came, he dismissed it again. Chaotic as it was at times, he wouldn't want to miss it for all in Thedas. Well, this situation in particular he'd gladly pass up on, of course, but this sense of belonging and purpose along with always being side by side with the love of his life? Nope. Never.

Come to think of it, Lenya owed him big time for wreaking such havoc in their home. The rare times she'd been too deep in the cups, he'd gotten to know her as a lazy drunk, who became laid-back, relaxed and cuddly. A bit giggly too perhaps, sometimes even, ahem, horny, but never as productive and hyper as she'd been tonight. Taking this knowledge, he could try to make her come out of her fort by appealing to her heightened need to, well, snuggle. Yes, this angle could work, with added benefits for himself, even.

Though he should probably deal with Anders first. Twitchy mages were never a good thing.

"Tell you what: Why don't you go and aid Nathaniel in dispelling the ward at the door to free Varel and the others?" I will deal with, um, that, and get your cat back."

"And my blanket!" Anders huffed, eyes narrowed. He drove a hand through his mussed hair, futility attempting to straighten it out again. "Or I'll set them both on fire!"

"Yes, yes." Alistair waved him off like a father did with an indignant child. With Anders vanishing into the other room, Evie finally started to calm down again. Alistair threw her a pointed look.

"What?" Evie chortled, shrugging at his gaze. "It is funny."

"Right," he retorted in the most sarcastic tone possible. "I can hardly contain myself." A pause. "Don't you want to continue laughing at Anders in the other room?"

Cousland regarded him, amused. "Oh no, I'll stay here." Then she leaned herself at a wooden beam, and adapted a relaxed pose, in spite of her warden plate armor. "I wouldn't want to miss this for the world."

"Suit yourself." Turning away from her again, Alistair decided to no longer care for her antics, or presence. His eyes focused on the pillow fort in front of him, while he started to undo the straps of his armor. Not only needed he to get out of this drenched thing anyway, it could also proof effective to motivate Evelyn to leave after all. Seeing how non-existent her interest in men were, especially watching men undressing.

"Leeenyaaaa," he tried, drawling out her name, while methodically dressing down. He didn't plan to imitate Oghren in this regard, but what was the harm in already losing all the bulky armor parts? The rest could -and would- follow later, in private. "Love, I'm back."

She replied with a non-committal grunt, followed by a giggle. Or maybe the grunt had been Velanna's, it was hard to say.

"Atisssh-" Lenya started, before Velanna hushed her.

"Nooo sssshems, rememberrr?"

She however was having none of it. " But 's Alistair. 's okay!" she explained to her with slurred words, eliciting another, now peeved, grunt from the elvhen mage.

So far so good, for she was receptive to his words. He stepped closer to their fort, though remained a respectful distance to the magical runes hidden within. "It's been a loooong day, Len," Alistair added, deliberately slow. He drew out each word, his voice warm and dipping low. "And I'm tired. So I want to go to bed now. I was just wondering..." He swore he could hear how Evelyn rolled her eyes behind him. "...if you are coming with me? Oooor do I have to sleep alooone tonight?"

"Really? This is your brilliant plan?" Evie replied in Lenya's place, huffing out a long, suffering sigh. Meanwhile both women begun arguing, one slurred elvhen word following the next.

He took the moment to glance at Evelyn over his shoulder with a grin, and shrugged. "You wanted to stay here, remember?"

Then, there was a loud crackle, the telltale sound of magic being diffused. Other than expected, it didn't came from the hallway where Anders and Nathaniel still worked on opening the magically barred door, but the center of the main hall. As Alistair turned to the source of the sound, he saw a flash of blonde hair running toward him.

"Atiiiish'aaaaaan!"

Having no time to prepare for the impact of a distinctive elven-shaped ball jumping him, he was nearly thrown down to the ground. Instead, Alistair just crashed into the wooden beam behind him, thankfully hindering his fall. It still did hurt, of course, though he was quickly distracted by the way her firm legs wrapped itself around his waist, and, oh Maker, wriggled as she searched for purchase. Instinctively, his arms wound around her, pressing her even closer to him. It was, after all, the only sensible thing to do. Then again, he suddenly struggled to think straight for some reason.

Encouraged by his reaction, Lenya continued her onslaught with a series of sloppy kisses into his neck. "Mmmissed you," she mumbled into his skin, her breath hot and smelling of sweet, fruity wine. Also, he noticed, she wasn't wearing any pants, which didn't exactly made this whole rational thinking thing any easier.

Belatedly, he remembered how his dear commander was currently somewhat mooning her fellow Warden, long, oversized tunic in spite, and thus quickly turned her away from Evelyn's sight. "Love, where are your breeches?" Alistair asked, when she finally paused her affections for a moment.

Looking up to him, Lenya only shrugged. " 's hot in there. Sssooo, I got rid of it. I'm Dalish and we need no pants in Arlath'an." To demonstrate her point, she tugged at her other pants with a giggle.

"No, no, no." He grasped her wrist. "The undergarment stay on, Len." For now.

"Thank the Maker for small mercies." Instead of annoyed, Evie sounded amused, way too much for his taste, that was.

Glancing past Lenya, who busied herself with poking his face, he couldn't help to smirk at her in triumph. "See? It did work!"

The poking of his face stopped. "You're ssssooo wet, Atish'an."

"Yes, it did rain a lot today, dear," he replied absentmindedly, his focus still on Evelyn.

"Then I'm gonna lick you dry," Lenya decided and languidly drove her whole tongue from his throat to his jawline, and over the shell of his ear. Stumbling back, he felt his eyes rolling back into his head, unable to stop the moan escaping him.

Someone next to him cleared their throat, bringing him back to reality. Turning, and subsequently wishing he hadn't, Alistair looked at Varel, whose face had adapted a deep shade of red. Whether it was due to his involuntary time spent in the stuffy pantry, anger, or the situation just observed he couldn't say, nor was he keen to find it out. For the shred of dignity's worth still present, he really, really should let go of Lenya now. Though doing so would reveal other, um, pressing matters to them, and hence was out of the question.

Lenya giggled into his shoulder, completely unbothered by the sudden audience. "Fuuuuunny..." she said, loud and clear for everyone to hear, "...first I poked you and now you are poking me!" Alistair let out a weak whimper, distantly wishing for a hole to appear and swallow him completely.

"Yep, it all worked brilliantly, indeed, Theirin." Patting his free shoulder, Evie laughed out and slipped past her fellow Wardens to leave, Shira in tow. Her laughter rang through the Keep's hallway, even long after she wasn't visible anymore.

And while Alistair wallowed in between self-pity upon the embarrassing situation at hand and useless indignation upon Evelyn daring to use that name, Lenya squinted at the group beside them. "Waddah ya want?"

"Oh, I don't know, Commander," Anders bit out, pushing past the others. "How about my blanket?" Leave it to the mage to care about the things that really mattered. "And-"

"-the fact that you locked in Varel and the others in the larder and magically locked the door," Nathaniel interrupted him, and warped Anders' words to something more, well, substantial.

Lenya made a face, then pointed sloppily to the still intact pillow fort, from which now emitted a strange but soft snoring sound. "'s wasn't me. 's was Vaa-Velen-Velanna," she finally managed and nodded, thoroughly content with this explanation.

"...my cat!" Anders finished his sentence in spite. He was persistent, Alistair had to give him that. Jumping down from his cushioned seat, Ser Pounce-a-lot finally found it in himself to appear in front of his owner.

"There you have your cat." Ser Pounce-a-lot blinked up, first to Anders, then to Alistair and meowed loudly, as if agreeing. A mistake obviously, since Lenya now became aware of the small animal beneath her.

"C-caaat," she shrieked while squirming in his arms, effectively causing very unhelpful friction between them. He felt suddenly very hot, drenched clothes notwithstanding. "Shoo, shoo," Lenya gestured into Ser Pounce-a-lot's general direction, and pressed her chest closer to his, fearful. Alistair bit down hard on his insides of his mouth and idly wondered how or why his head hadn't exploded yet. Perhaps because all the blood had already rushed...elsewhere.

"Pfft, you and your fear of cats," Anders' eyes narrowed at her. "This isn't normal. Grow up."

Pot meets kettle. Pot meets sodding kettle.

Lenya bestowed it with the dignified answer it deserved, and blew raspberries in his direction.

"Come Ser Pounce-a-lot, we are going!" The animal replied with another meow and followed the huffing and puffing mage, who reclaimed his beloved blanket before finally vanishing. Alas it also elicited the same squirming motion from her, flush against him. Alistair wanted to cry, his already thin patience frazzling. Maker's bloated ass, why were so many people still standing about here anyway?

"Can't we discuss all this tomorrow?" he ground out, his voice hoarse. "When Len...the Commander is sober again and is actually wearing pants? That would be great, thanks."

"Mmhm," she agreed. "Sssleepy noow."

Nathaniel cleared his throat, looking away. "And not nuzzling your throat..." Ah yeah, that.

"Get a room, you two nughumpers, heh," resounded from across the hall, before the door closed again with a bang.

Alistair bit down a whimper. I'm trying.

"You are right, Warden Alistair," Varel agreed, however reluctantly. He shifted, visibly uncomfortable. "Err...rest would do us all good now. We shall resolving this matter and chaos tomorrow."

Distantly behind him, he heard Nathaniel sighing. "Right. I will take care of Velanna, then."

"Just, um, what I wanted to hear, thanks. Bye, then." Red-faced, Alistair practically fled away from them with Lenya in his arms. It was better this way, lest he started doing things here, which weren't very much suitable for an audience. As he moved forward with quick strides, Lenya wrapped her arms and thighs even tighter around him and added more dreaded pressure this way. She giggled and licked a sloppy trail from his throat over his ear. If he didn't know it any better, he'd say she did all this on purpose.

"I'm gonna ride you like a pony," she whispered into his ear right after, stopping Alistair dead in his tracks. He had nearly dropped her then, if it were not for her own iron grip on him.

Yep, definitely on purpose. Devious minx.

"But what about all this mess?" Madame Woolsey seized the chance to ask the distant but still visible pair, while Alistair still reeled with her unexpected declaration, breathless. "Who is cleaning it up?"

He took several stabilizing breaths through his nose, before trusting his voice enough to speak. Biting down his neck, Lenya did her best to change that again. "Tomorrow..." he ground out with his back turned to them, voice strained and small.

Alistair didn't know how he managed to reach the corner down the hall that shielded them from their stares. Only that he did. The way back to their shared quarters, however, still seemed cruelly long and distant. Having let go of biting his neck at last, Lenya busied herself now with squinting at his ear, while poking the other. "Hmm, Atish'an, your ears aren't really that round as I always thought."

"Fascinating, love." He was too busy to navigate Vigil Keep's many hallways, stairs and corners with her in his arms, to really pay heed to her words.

"Are you a sssecreeet elf?" She beamed at him. "If ssso, you can come with us into our kingdom. 's Arlath'an. Vele and I rebuild it!"

Instead of a reply, Alistair let out a relieved sigh, which was due to coming face to face with the door of their room, at last. Fumbling with the doorknob a bit, he managed to open it and immediately rushed to their large bed. Lenya yelped with laughter as he let her plop down onto its mattress. To him, this was the sweetest sound, always would be.

Remembering the open door, he quickly backtracked to kick it closed and turned the bolt. "I don't know," he said, more than a bit out of breath and sweaty. While getting rid of his still wet shirt, he quickly returned to the bedside, and her. "I don't think I'd fit in your pillow fort, err, Arlath'an. I'm a big guy, after all."

Her gaze flitted down to the very obvious bulge in his breeches with a snort. "Hmhm, biiig."

Maker, how much he loved this ridiculous, wonderful woman. Leaning in for a languid kiss, he let her know this. And again, with more fervor, as soon as he'd settled next to her in bed, hovering over her. Nuzzling his throat, she giggled into his skin there. "'s here is Arlath'an too, you know?"

He withdrew to look at her. "Oh, really?"

"Yeeep." Lenya nodded, sloppily, under him. He felt her hands tugging at his breeches. "Ssso no pants."

Laughing, Alistair was more than happy to comply.

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zaxal · 7 years

Note

boyfights heh - "Have you ever wanted to hate someone?"

link to this on ao3 bc tumblr is garbage

Michaelhated being home. People at school, customers at the banana stand –they were all looking out for themselves, interested in their ownbusiness, hardly even glancing sideways at him until he volunteeredhimself for their attention. He could be braced for it, then.Prepared for the worst.

Thefamily wasn’t that different. Most of them were absorbed in their ownlittle lives, too busy to pay attention to anyone but themselves. Hisfather had the Bluth Company, his mother had a social life thatrevolved around one-upping Lucille Two and her other ‘friends’ asoften as she possibly could. Lindsay was balancing her dating life ontop of cheating her way through school, and Buster… Well. Bustertended to fall off Michael’s radar the way he fell off everyone buttheir mother’s until there was a “Hey, brother,” in hisears and hands on his shoulders.

Butthey all pulled him into their respective drama without hesitation,the very second they needed to instead of thinking about how Michaelwould prefer to be left alone.

Gobwas the outlier. All of the siblings fought and fussed, but Gobdirected his attention at Michael more than anyone else in thefamily. Hitting, hugging, general harassment. And, unlike the others,Michael couldn’t just lock him out of the room when he’d had enough.

“Mikey?”

Michaelstared at the windows in their room at the darkened sky. He wasn’tsure what time it was, only that it was too damn late and Gobapparently couldn’t sleep either. “Mikey,”Gob hissed louder, apparently intending to wake him up if he wasn’talready awake.

He heard an angry huff, the only chance he had to brace himselfbefore Gob’s bed creaked and something – some knickknack off thebedside table – flew through the room and hit the back of his head.

Michaelflopped over to glare at his brother before picking up the toy andflinging it back at him way harder than was strictly necessary. “Whatthe fuck, Gob?”he whispered back.

“Ow,” Gob complained, sitting up and searching with hishands, but apparently his one piece of ammunition had bounced off hisface and landed somewhere else and he didn’t feel like looking forit. “I just wanted to talk.”

“I was asleep.”

“No, you weren’t,” Gob shot back. “You were ignoringme.”

“Close enough.”

“Come on, Michael, if you’re not sleeping, why can’t we talk?”

“Because we’re not a couple of girls at a sleepover.”

Gob made a disgruntled noise and rolled over so his back facedMichael. He fell into a silence for which Michael felt inexplicablyguilty. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Whatever.”

“Gob, don’t-”

Gobcurled up tighter in his blanket with another noise that soundedclose to a growl. Michael rolled his eyes and contemplated turningback around and staring out the window again, but… talking didn’thurt. Usually.

Making a slight concession, Michael slid out from beneath his coversand padded across the space to the other bed, sitting on the edge ofit.

“Goaway.”

“No. What d'you wanna talk about?”

“I don’t. Jesus, Michael. It was- it was a joke.”

Michael fought off a long-suffering sigh. Thanks to Gob scooting tothe far, far side of the bed, he had barely enough room to squeezeonto the small mattress, laying on top of Gob’s covers. Gob kicked athim, the movement hampered by their configuration so barely any forceactually hit him.

“Is it about graduation?” That was in a few months, somaybe-

“Ugh,” Gob groaned. “No. Not even a little.”

“So you are gonna talk to me.”

Gob tried to muscle him off, turning again on his back and nudging.Michael, somehow more curious than annoyed, sat up and swung himselfover his brother, frowning down at him from his hands and knees. Gobsulked visibly.

That alarmed Michael more than anything else. Gob usually brightenedwhen Michael was this close unless they were boyfighting.

“Tell me?” Michael allowed a soft pleading into his voice.

Gob was weak to it, his own expression faltering as he stoppedglaring at the ceiling and actually allowed himself to look at hisyounger brother. “Have you ever wanted to hate someone? But youjust couldn’t?”

Michael nodded slightly. He wanted to hate most of the family most ofthe time. They dragged him into their petty drama without thinkingabout what it might do to him, how stressful it could be. They’d beendoing it for as long as he could remember. But no matter how stupidthe problems, how many awkward situations he was expected to be apart of for someone else, he couldn’t… stop loving them?

“Who?” Gob asked, surprised and sounding almost hurt.

“Not you,” Michael answered, lied. The last time he’dreally wanted to hate Gob had been about twenty minutes ago when Gobhad first whispered his name. “Why?”

“And you won’t hate me?”

“Depends,” he said warily. “What are you thinking ofdoing that might make me hate you?”

“It’s not what I’m gonna do, Mikey. It’s… what Dad’s gonnado.”

Michael frowned. “I mean, he hasn’t made me hate you yet. Andhe’s tried.”

“Yeah,but I’ve been around,guy.”

“Well,where are you going?” Michael demanded more heatedly than hemeant to, feeling some strange anxiety when Gob wouldn’t just tellhim. Gob’s expression began to shutter again, another wall startingto come between them. “Why,”he started, switching tracks, “do you think I’ll hate you?”

“Dad’s kicking me out at the end of summer.”

“What?” Michael almost mouthed it, his voice was so soft,caught in his throat.

“Hetook me aside a few nights ago, said that if I don’t have a job – a’real’ one – and ifI’m not in college, then I’m out. And I, I know what you’re thinking,just 'go to college.’ But it’s not that simple. I mean-”

“So… we’ll find you a job.” Even as Michael said it, heknew it wouldn’t work. Gob didn’t work in the banana stand, bothbecause he didn’t want to and because no one particularly wanted himthere. He couldn’t imagine someone who wasn’t family hiring him.

“Just gonna give up on school right away, huh?” Gob’s mouthtwitched into a frown, but Michael knew, perhaps better than anyonein the family, that Gob wouldn’t last even a full semester before hegave up going to class, stopped trying to do homework, and droppedout. In fact, Michael was pretty sure Gob was only graduating highschool on time because of his willingness to acquire illegalparaphernalia requested by the teachers.

Not to mention there was the whole… reading thing that Gob hadnever been good at. The first time he’d seen a Q on a Queen in a deckof cards, Gob hadn’t known it was a real letter. It might have beenmore endearing if he hadn’t been 9 at the time.

“It doesn’t seem like your kind of place,” Michael admittedreluctantly.

“A fraternity might be,” Gob said, almost sounding hopeful.

“Still. Have to go to class-”

“Ugh.”

“-do homework-”

“No.”

“…You see where I’m going with this,” Michael guessed.

Gob nodded with another huff, eyes cutting to the side as his frowndeepened. “I want to hate him.”

“At least he’s giving you the summer.” Michael couldn’thelp but defend their dad. It was ingrained into him, that thingscould be worse, and they should be grateful that they weren’t.

“Yeah.”Gob continued to sound miserable. “The whole summer to ride myass about what a failure I am.” His jaw tightened, body goingstiff beneath Michael’s as he tried to get his emotions undercontrol. “He- he doesn’t do this to you because you’re perfectMichael, the kid they wanted. Lindsay and Buster, they wanted-”

“Hey,hey, they-” Okay, he couldn’t lie and say that they’d wantedGob, but he was too far into the sentence to back out completely fromtrying to comfort his brother. “They don’t know how lucky theyare,” he finished lamely.

Gob scoffed. “I mean, duh. Look at me. I’m great.” Hedidn’t sound completely sure of that, himself.

“And I’m not perfect. They just… think that.” Michaelsighed, exhaustion settling on him like a weight. His own gazewandered away, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth. “No, theydon’t even… They push me to be perfect, and I- I do it. As much asI can. And one day? I’m not gonna be able to do it anymore.”

“Ofcourse you will,” Gob said, his voice more serious, morecertain. “You’re Michael.”

Michael was shaking slightly, both from the effort of holding himselfup and with the knowledge that when their parents found out hisweaknesses, he’d be no better off than Gob. If he ever stoppedpushing, they… They would hate him for misleading them, for notbeing an obvious waste of time and energy before they spent so muchof both on him.

“Hey, Mikey. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It will be, right?” Michael glanced down at him, annoyed,but Gob was watching him back with a steady earnestness that was,unfortunately, endearing. “No matter what they think. We’ll haveeach other.”

It was a childish way to look at things, but Michael found himselfnodding. “No matter what happens. Yeah, of course we’ll haveeach other.”

Gob cracked a tentative smile, and before Michael could think betterof it, he leaned down and brushed his lips over his brother’s. It hadjust… happened. And Michael was too tired to follow it up with hisusual lines of protests and excuses.

When he leaned back up, Gob’s smile had widened into that warm, fondexpression that looked as if he could start glowing.

Michael nudged him, and Gob shuffled until they could lay next toeach other, Michael’s head nuzzled beneath his brother’s, breathingwith him. He didn’t intend to stay in Gob’s bed for the night, butfor now?

For now, this was fine.

#ask answers #arrested development #michael bluth #gob bluth #bluthcest #boyfights #incest/#fic post #crow-feathers

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sirivsblaxk-blog · 7 years

Note

Prompt: Percival is found but everyone thinks he's dead because Grindelwald cursed him to appear so. A grant funeral is held with Newt and the others in attendance. Just as Seraphina is about to light Percival's funeral pyre, a large from Newt's case bursts out and rushes to Percival, using its magic to free him. Percival wakes up and immediately asks who's creature this is and whether they have a permit, all the while enjoying being loved up by said creature. Newt falls head over heals.

Okay so they missed out what animal it was so I’m just gonna use dougal bc he’s cute and I can now imagine him cuddling Graves and I know they don’t really have much magic and it doesn’t work but whatever I’m doing it anyway (:

Newt straightened out the front of his black formal dress robes, black wasn’t a colour he usually wore so it felt strange on him. He was still unsure of whether he should go today. Would be be wanted? Welcomed? He hadn’t even known the real Director Graves, it seemed a little strange to be going to the funeral of a man he never even knew. But Tina had asked him to come for support and she was a friend so of course he agreed.

“Newt? Are you ready?” Tina pokes her head into the room he was dressing in to check on him.

Newt replies with a nod, “All ready,” he answers quietly, “Everyone else?”

Tina nods solemnly and leaves to go back to the living room, Newt following closely behind. Everyone was dressed in fancy black attire, they all looked marvellous, if it wasn’t such a sad affair he’d have complimented the girls on how nice they looked.

“They’re holding the funeral at MACUSA,” Tina explains to Newt when she notices him in the room, “We decided it would be the safest place without No-Maj’s noticing us.” She didn’t mention that Director Graves also spent most of his time at the building and it would be nice for him to be back there, one last time. “They’ve set up a very nice area in the basements, it’s all been decked out to look wonderful, I’m sure he would of loved it.”

Newt just nods to show he was listening, he didn’t know what to say. Tina was acting strong but one of her oldest friends? if you could call them friends, had been found dead. Murdered by a dark wizard. She had been there when they found his body.

She hadn’t cried. She was bottling up her emotions and it wasn’t good for her, but Tina was a very strong, independent woman, Newt knew if she wanted to cry about it with them she would. She was being strong for Queenie.

“I just can’t believe he’s gone,” Queenie sighs as she pulls on her coat, transfigured to appear black for the day, “It just doesn’t feel real. He was so powerful, it’s strange to think someone could do this to him.”

Newt rubbed her shoulder lightly and then Tina apparated them all to an alleyway just beside the MACUSA building. They all quickly entered the building and Tina led them down into the basements. They building was empty, Graves had been a good boss and if not a friend but a great alli to everyone here.

The basements really were decorated wonderfully. Candles floated about the arrangement of chairs, most of which were full but they three of them managed to find a couple near the walkway in the middle of the room. A lot of workers and friends stood around the back and sides of the room, he was sure some would even have to stand outside too. The walls were lined with sleek scarlet satin drapes, each embroidered with the MACUSA sigil in a dark grey thread. He didn’t know Director Graves but he was sure he would have liked it.

Once the room was full and everyone was settled down Seraphina Picquery opened the back doors with a piece of wandless magic and music began to play. Everyone stood as four of the best aurors (including Theseus who had flown here on a hippogriff to attend his friends funeral) carried the sleek black coffin down the isle and set it on the pyre at the end of the room, centre for everyone to see.

Once everyone was seated once again Picquery began to speak, “Percival Graves was not only a colleague and a wonderful boss, but also a dear friend to many of us. It is with a heavy heart I am stood here today to talk about sed friend and lay him to rest.”

The President spoke not only of Director Graves’ many accomplishments within MACUSA but also of his life, his friendship and his great heart. Newt could feel himself tearing up and he didn’t even know the man, how the President could stand and talk without shedding a tear right now he would never understand. She had more will than he did. He could hear Tina and Queenie sniffing beside him but he couldn’t spare them a glance, he couldn’t bare to see them upset.

Abernathy got up behind the podium and spoke of how great it was to have Director Graves as his boss, how much he’d helped him not only become a great auror but in his life problems too. Theseus then took the stage and spoke of how he met Percival, how they’d clicked instantly and stayed good friends even after their training. Newt had heard Theseus talk of Percival many times and knew how much that man had meant to him.

By the end of the service there wasn’t a dry eye in the house, even Picquery was welling up as the took the torch from the wall and walked over to the coffin. Tina had told Newt how Percival had always said he wanted to be burned when he died, said he couldn’t stand the thought of laying buried under the ground.

Just as the President was lowering the flame a body appeared on top of the open coffin. Not just any body, but a small one covered in white fur. Newts eyes widened as he realised it was a demiguise, his demiguise, it was Dougal. He was shielding Percivals body which caused Picquery to pull back the flame. Newt quickly jumps from his seat and hurries up the isle to the coffin.

“I’m sorry I’m so sorry. I don’t know how he could possibly have gotten out.” Newt was apologising as he ran up to collect Dougal.

Dougal shook his head at Newt and then placed his small hands on each of Percivals cheeks, closing his eyes as a soft yellow glow evolved around the both of them. Then, something changed. Percivals once closed eyes now stared up at the ceiling, brown orbs looking around confused as he slowly sat up.

Newt and Picquery shared the same shocked expression, eyes wide and mouths slack as the man who was supposed to be dead sat up in his coffin, his eyes settling on Dougal.

“What is this?” he asks, his voice hoarse from nonuse, “Who does this belong to?”

“Uhm…he’s mine…sir?” Newt stared down at the man in confused.

“Do you have a permit for that?” Graves asks with a hard expression, seeming to be completely oblivious to what was going on around him. Dougal was clinging to Percival, making soft cooing sounds as he stroked the mans hair slowly.

“Director Graves?” Comes Picquerys voice, “You’re…alive?”

“Of course I’m alive! Why wouldn’t I be alive? I only saw you yesterday!” He then looks around and seems to suddenly notice everyone else around him and then looked down and finally recorded the coffin, his eyes growing wide. “What is going on here?” he demands.

Shocked and confused friends and workers were hurrying from the room, all chatting away to each other. The President grabbed Newt by the arm and led him and Percival into a side room, Dougal still clinging onto Percival.

“Director,” Picquery begins, “You have been missing for six months, we found you. Dead, last week.”

Percival raises an eyebrow at the President, “Quite clearly Madam President, I am not dead nor am I missing. I think I would remember that.”

“You were poisoned.” Newt piped up, “Draught Of Living Death,” he starts to explain to them, “It causes the drinker to fall into a death like slumber. Appearing dead to all those around them. Its actually very hard to make and even harder to get completely right. Obviously you had been slipped it without you knowing and then were continued to be given doses during your disappearance. I’m surprised you survived being fed that potion for that amount of time.”

“Well who gave me this potion?” Graves asks as realisation dawns on his face, this wasn’t one big joke, he had actually been missing and then believed dead by his friends, “You were going to burn me!” he points an accusing finger at Picquery.

“We thought you was dead!” The President shoots back before going on to explain, “For the past six months the dark wizard Grindelwald has been parading around in your body. It was Mr. Scamander here who realised the imposter and helped find you again.”

“You were in your apartment,” Newt told him, “It seems Grindelwald had been living there while pretending to be you, which would explain how he kept giving you the potion.”

Graves nods his head and considers this new information for a while, “I think I need some time to process this.” he tells them, looking up to see the both of them, “If that’s okay?”

“Of course Director. As long as you’d like.” The President said and left the room, leaving Newt alone with the Director.

“He’s yours then?” Percival asks to which Newt nodded, “And do you have that permit?”

“I’m working on it.” Newt replied sheepishly to which Graves let out a laugh.

“You’re brother did always say you had a slight disregard of the law, Newt.” Percival smiles, Newt felt butterflies at the sound of his name on that deep voice, he knew he was blushing but didn’t even try to hide it.

Newt took Dougal back from Percival and held him close. “It seems I have to thank you, for finding me and again for your creature saving me from being burnt alive.”

Newt smiles slightly and shrugs, “You don’t have to,” he mentions, “Only doing what I could.”

“I will thank you,” Percival insists, “Maybe, over a drink one evening?”

Newt bites his lower lip and slowly nods his head, “I’d like that.” he mumbles, not stopping the grin from forming on his lips.

#gramander #percival graves #newt scamander #fanfic #prompt

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