stevecarlsberg
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Wednesday Night Trivia Rule 1: The person in charge of choosing the team name will rotate on a weekly basis in alphabetical order. That week’s decider can only be overruled by a unanimous vote from the rest of the team (per the March 2018 addendum).
He lets the group chat know he’s there, checks them in with the Quizmaster as To Be Perfectly Queer, (because he’s at least self-aware at this point in his life) and heads to the bar.
And immediately runs into Eliot.
Thankfully not literally this time.
Or: the one where no one has magic and Quentin and Eliot are just normal thirty-somethings who play on opposing Pub Trivia teams and they get to fall in love like real people dammit
Queliot Week Day 4 – Free Day- Language:
- English
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- 22,616
- Chapters:
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Bookmarked by stevecarlsberg
15 May 2022
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For his thirtieth birthday, Eliot goes to therapy.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,093
- Chapters:
- 1/1
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Bookmarked by stevecarlsberg
15 May 2022
Bookmarker's Notes
On figuring out how to be more than an uprooted root on your unwoven family tree
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When Eliot’s dad dies, he decides to make the trip back to Indiana. Quentin goes with him and along the way, he's forced to grapple with his feelings - for Eliot and about everything that happened after Blackspire.
Bookmarked by stevecarlsberg
15 May 2022
Bookmarker's Notes
my mother, alas, alas,
did not always love her life,
heavier than iron it was
...
My father
was a demon of frustrated dreams,
was a breaker of trust,
was a poor, thin boy with bad luck.
...
I mention them now,
I will not mention them again.It is not lack of love
nor lack of sorrow.
But the iron thing they carried, I will not carry.Mary Oliver, Flare
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Bookmarked by stevecarlsberg
15 May 2022
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"I’ve been thinking about you,” Eliot continues, and Quentin’s heart nearly stops in his chest. Warning bells, sirens, flashing signs—this is not good. Not good.
“Well—don’t. Stop,” Quentin says. The top few buttons on Eliot's shirt are undone and how is he supposed to just be an adult and say no to this?
Eliot cracks a small smile, sliding just a little bit closer. "Don't stop?" he says.
“Eliot—just—please go back to the bar. You don’t really want this.”
Eliot frowns. “I’m a big boy, Professor,” he says, huffing out a breath. “I know what I want. The question is,” Eliot continues, Quentin holding his breath as Eliot leans into his space, “What do you want?”
Quentin’s mouth goes dry as his brain spins with acceptable responses. For you to go back to Brakebills and sober up—A nice cold glass of water—A redo of the last five years—An actual responsible adult—but what comes out is, “What I want doesn’t matter.”
Eliot’s face grows softer, the frown disappearing and his eyes searching Quentin’s face. “It does to me,” he says quietly. Cold fingers encircle Quentin's palm, and he closes his eyes as Eliot slots their fingers together and squeezes.
Bookmarked by stevecarlsberg
12 May 2022