Harry Potter, author’s choice, a world where Sirius Black was appropriately punished for the ‘prank’ that could’ve cost two people their lives (honestly, how could Remus have stayed friends with him after that?)
Tseng let the newspaper fall from his face and glared at his second-in-command.
“Do you ever knock?” Tseng asked, for a second debating whether he should take the glasses off.
“You know I don’t. Anyway, in this broom closet, you should be able to hear me from a mile away. Or are your ears bad, too?” Reno grinned and Tseng entertained, not for the first time, the idea to roll up the newspaper and swat Reno on the nose with it.
“Don’t push it,” Tseng warned, taking a sip from his lukewarm coffee. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call my office a broom closet.”
His ‘office’ at Healin’ Lodge was barely bigger than a broom closet and only looked like one in the broadest sense of the word. An old dinner table and two metal folding chair -- it said a lot of the state the company was in.
“Sure, boss. Since when do you wear glasses?”
“Five years,” Tseng said, hoping that Reno would let it go.
“I’ve never seen you wear ‘em.” No, not letting go. Of course not.
“That’s because I usually wear contact lenses.” But he had run out and a trip to Meteor wasn’t planned for another week. Tseng didn’t like to be seen in glasses. Yes, he was vain like that. It made him feel even older than his job already did.
“No need to hide, Tseng. Doesn’t look half bad,” Reno said with a smirk and Tseng raised an eyebrow. Compliments from Reno came almost always with a downside. “Yeah, those thick black rims are kind of authoritative. You know, like those strict librarians in po--”
His speech was stopped by a thick, rolled-up morning edition of Meteor Times aimed straight at his head.
Was that particular pen designed by Leonard of Quirm or by BS Johnson? Because if it was Johnson, the range of uses potentially goes up (or rather, out) ...
Harry Potter, Oliver/Percy, after they've been together several years one of them tells the other that they had a crush on them while they were in school.
"I always had a thing for you, y'know," Oliver commented out of the blue.
It was one of those Sunday afternoons where the sun was bright but the air was cold, so nobody felt much like doing anything, and so they sat in the sitting room and read a book (in Percy's case) or tried to convince someone to go to bed early (in Oliver's case).
"Mmm-hm?" Percy mumbled over the top of his book, a book that looked so dull that Oliver couldn't even get past the first two words of the title: The History of something-or-other.
"Oh, yeah," Wood continued blithely, pretending not to notice that Percy's eyes had stopped moving and that the page he had been about to turn had stopped moving. "Prefect's badge, extra-neat uniform - those horn-rimmed spectacles."
"These ones?" Percy asked, lowering the tome and peering at his lover.
"The very ones," Oliver smirked.
"Then why didn't you say something? I mean, for heaven's sake, Penelope Clearwater told me I preferred... you... before I had even realised it," Percy asked, disgruntled.
"I'd have had to contend with the two finest Beaters ever to grace a Quidditch pitch sending every last Bludger my way, if I'd said a word about liking their older brother. Not to mention, Harry'd probably have sabotaged most of our matches out of some sort of misplaced not-quite-brotherly protectiveness. And I really wanted to win the Cup."
"Yes, you really did. I remember," Percy smiled in fond remembrance.
"Perce," Oliver began, in a purposefully offhand way.
"Yes?"
"Well, I'm just wondering... D'you still have your old Prefect's Uniform?"
"I think so, probably in that trunk of things from The Burrow that - Why?" he asked suspiciously.
"Well, I still have my Quidditch Robes from back then, and the attic is a bit like the dormitory tower..."
Percy was up, out of his comfy chair and halfway out the door before Oliver finished his sentence.
no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 05:06 am (UTC)Psych, author’s choice, this one time, Shawn got away with murder
no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 05:06 am (UTC)Psych, author’s choice, they all think they know Shawn. they don’t. (Preferably dark, please.)
no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 05:07 am (UTC)Sorcerer’s Apprentice, Drake Stone, what happened with his first master?
no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 05:07 am (UTC)Sorcerer’s Apprentice, author’s choice, Drake is the Prime Merlinian
no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 05:08 am (UTC)Harry Potter, author’s choice, a world where Sirius Black was appropriately punished for the ‘prank’ that could’ve cost two people their lives (honestly, how could Remus have stayed friends with him after that?)
no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 06:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 06:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-27 11:21 pm (UTC)Before I lose the courage to post:“Glasses?”
Tseng let the newspaper fall from his face and glared at his second-in-command.
“Do you ever knock?” Tseng asked, for a second debating whether he should take the glasses off.
“You know I don’t. Anyway, in this broom closet, you should be able to hear me from a mile away. Or are your ears bad, too?” Reno grinned and Tseng entertained, not for the first time, the idea to roll up the newspaper and swat Reno on the nose with it.
“Don’t push it,” Tseng warned, taking a sip from his lukewarm coffee. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call my office a broom closet.”
His ‘office’ at Healin’ Lodge was barely bigger than a broom closet and only looked like one in the broadest sense of the word. An old dinner table and two metal folding chair -- it said a lot of the state the company was in.
“Sure, boss. Since when do you wear glasses?”
“Five years,” Tseng said, hoping that Reno would let it go.
“I’ve never seen you wear ‘em.” No, not letting go. Of course not.
“That’s because I usually wear contact lenses.” But he had run out and a trip to Meteor wasn’t planned for another week. Tseng didn’t like to be seen in glasses. Yes, he was vain like that. It made him feel even older than his job already did.
“No need to hide, Tseng. Doesn’t look half bad,” Reno said with a smirk and Tseng raised an eyebrow. Compliments from Reno came almost always with a downside. “Yeah, those thick black rims are kind of authoritative. You know, like those strict librarians in po--”
His speech was stopped by a thick, rolled-up morning edition of Meteor Times aimed straight at his head.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 06:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 07:17 am (UTC)No fill
Date: 2013-08-17 12:40 pm (UTC)Re: No fill
From:Re: No fill
From:no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 07:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 09:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 09:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 09:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 09:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 10:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 10:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 11:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 11:18 am (UTC)Based on Two Themes from the Week That was in it ;)
Date: 2013-08-17 11:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 11:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 11:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 11:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 11:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 11:38 am (UTC)Small Fill
Date: 2013-08-18 01:07 pm (UTC)It was one of those Sunday afternoons where the sun was bright but the air was cold, so nobody felt much like doing anything, and so they sat in the sitting room and read a book (in Percy's case) or tried to convince someone to go to bed early (in Oliver's case).
"Mmm-hm?" Percy mumbled over the top of his book, a book that looked so dull that Oliver couldn't even get past the first two words of the title: The History of something-or-other.
"Oh, yeah," Wood continued blithely, pretending not to notice that Percy's eyes had stopped moving and that the page he had been about to turn had stopped moving. "Prefect's badge, extra-neat uniform - those horn-rimmed spectacles."
"These ones?" Percy asked, lowering the tome and peering at his lover.
"The very ones," Oliver smirked.
"Then why didn't you say something? I mean, for heaven's sake, Penelope Clearwater told me I preferred... you... before I had even realised it," Percy asked, disgruntled.
"I'd have had to contend with the two finest Beaters ever to grace a Quidditch pitch sending every last Bludger my way, if I'd said a word about liking their older brother. Not to mention, Harry'd probably have sabotaged most of our matches out of some sort of misplaced not-quite-brotherly protectiveness. And I really wanted to win the Cup."
"Yes, you really did. I remember," Percy smiled in fond remembrance.
"Perce," Oliver began, in a purposefully offhand way.
"Yes?"
"Well, I'm just wondering... D'you still have your old Prefect's Uniform?"
"I think so, probably in that trunk of things from The Burrow that - Why?" he asked suspiciously.
"Well, I still have my Quidditch Robes from back then, and the attic is a bit like the dormitory tower..."
Percy was up, out of his comfy chair and halfway out the door before Oliver finished his sentence.
Re: Small Fill
From:Re: Small Fill
From:no subject
Date: 2013-08-17 12:53 pm (UTC)