“Here’s the thing-” Lily said,
marching into the pub and pulling out a stool.
“We’re closed.” James interrupted
without looking up from wiping down the bar.
“I want a dog.” Lily barrelled on without
hearing him. “But my landlord doesn’t allow pets so I was wondering-“
“I’m not getting a fucking dog for
you.” James said firmly.
Lily blinked at him. “I was going to
ask if you thought it was morally wrong to raise it in my air-vent.” There was
a silence. James was caught between hoping she wasn’t serious and knowing that
she was. “Your idea seems better.” Lily admitted.
“Really. Talk me through that, is it
because there is no animal abuse involved?”
“I was thinking more along the lines
of then you’d have to clean up the poo, but the no animal abuse is also good.”
“Y’know” Sirius was lying on top of
the bar, waving around a beer and staring at the ceiling. Nobody looked up. “I
always thought once we owned a bar we would spend a solid 60% percent of our
time drunk, and that hasn’t happened.”
Remus, still wiping down tables,
said “I shudder to think what you’d be like on your own.”
“Since we bought the bar we spend
more time drunk than we used to?” Peter consoled, baffled.
Sirius sat up. “I would say we spent
about 15% percent of our time drunk before
the bar, and after the bar we
spend about 25%. That is an increase of only ten percent.”
“Where are you pulling these numbers
from?” Lily asked while holding the ladder for James, who was avoiding the
dishwasher by pretending to fix the squeaky window.
“On top of being an excellent barman
I double as a statistician.”
“You are neither of those things.”
Remus said. Sirius glared.
“Fuck you Moony. At school you were
always saying I didn’t do enough math, and here I am, doing math, and you’re abusing me.”
Remus threw a dishtowel at him and
gestured to the kitchen. “Go unstack the dishwasher.”
“Fantastic.” Sirius said, throwing
his hands in the air. “This is what I get for my brief foray into math.
Insulted and unloading dishes.” He jumped off the bar and mockingly gave Remus’
back the finger. James laughed.
@softkent ‘s 14 Days of Love fic-a-thon, day 6: ruined surprises!
It all started because Katya decided to have mercy on Eric and let him take morning classes this semester. WGSS120 was an amazing class, Professor Atley had the coolest stories about how postwar industrialization led to compulsive female domesticity, and his seatmate wasn’t the worst thing to see at 9:30 AM every Tuesday and Thursday. He would have almost been dreamy if he had the slightest knack for small talk. As it was, Eric didn’t even have a name to go on, just intent blue eyes and an ass that even the baggiest of shorts couldn’t mask.
One day, Eric decided to drop a hospitality bomb on the guy and see if he could coax a response out of him. They were both consistently early to class, so Eric budgeted ten minutes for a brief chat before class started and turned to Cute Guy with a winning smile on his face.
“So how about that reading, huh? I thought it was fascinating how cake mix became a prestige thing- everyone in my family bakes, and I don’t think we’ve used a box mix in forty years.”
“Yeah,” the guy said, “I think it had something to do with the scientific advancements they made in food preservation for the troops. Shelf stabilization wouldn’t have been nearly as achievable in earlier years.”
Miraculously, once you got onto a clear subject, Cute Guy was actually a decent conversationalist. Eric found himself losing track of time as they dissected last night’s chapters of Marling.
“And the American National Exhibition anecdote!” he giggled. “Who can even tell the difference between Russian and American Coke?”
“I bet it’s easier with all of the Soviet Union breathing down your back. ‘Da, cola of Mother Russia is vkusno!’”
“Nice accent,” Eric told Cute Guy.
“Really? Thanks, I’ll have to tell Geno. He’s always knocking my Russian. He’s, uh, a friend of my dad’s, and we both play hockey.”
“So that’s what your weird doodles are? Hockey plays?”
“Yeah, I’m captain of the hockey team here. We’re not half bad, if I say so myself.”
“Wow,” Eric enthused, “you must be a pretty good skater, then.”
“Yeah, I guess. I could teach you sometime, if you want. I’m Jack, by the way,’ Cute Guy said.
Alright so imagine VM has to go to some formal ball or some thing and some herald needs there official monikers so they let Percy figure that out cause he knows what he’s doing, it starts off pretty normal
Pike Trickfoot, Daughter of Sarenrae , Champion of the Crucible
Scanlan Shorthalt, Kingslayer, Master of Mythcarver and Leader of Vox Machina
Lord Percival Frederickstein Von Musel Klossowski De Rolo III of Whitestone
But Percy needed to give his bestie credit for lobotomizing her nemesis
Keyleth of the Air Ashari, Voice of the Tempest, and Doom of the Diseased Deceiver.
Percy also needed to tease Vax, not to mention Grog’s title is very important
Vax’ildan, Champion of the Raven Queen, Slayer of the Cinder King and unnecessary bodyguard to the Tempest
Grog Strongjaw, Slayer of Umbrasyl, the Hope Devourer, Champion of the Crucible, Grand Poobah and official tour guide of Whitestone.
But the we get to Vex and at this point the poor herald wants to die but Percy likes to show off how awesome Vex is, maybe Syldor is there and Percy is allowed to hold a grudge.
Lady Vex’ahlia de Rolo, Whitestone Ambassador to Synghorn,Slayer of Vorugal, the Frigid Doom, Baroness of the Third House of Whitestone and Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt.
Essentially Percy likes showing off his frieinds accomplishments by torturing heralds…also maybe this is the first public appearance after the wedding.