adurostum‌:

                                                                      maybe.

         yes, maybe. does it burn for you too, gellert? he wants to ask, wants to know that this wasn’t something he is imagining or some one sided love ( desire and fascination! ), wants to take PRIDE in being the one to do the same to him too. after all, they are the fuel to each other’s fire. each word, each touch, each look only makes it grow ( they can never put it out! ). burning brighter, consuming everything. ENGULFING everything until nothing in the world exists save for the two of them ( or perhaps the world only should exist for the two of them ). it’s with that sentiment that it seems that with each single movement of fingers ghosting upon skin that leaves behind a trail of embers in its wake. higher, up and up ( brighter, burning, higher, up and up! ) and albus wonders if gellert can feel his pulse leap into his throat or the spark that draws him in further. 

                                                                     ❝ yes ❞

         his gaze does not falter, does not waver, does not break away. if anything, albus was TENACIOUS and never one to back away from a challenge ( even if he doesn’t recognize it ). even so, if anyone found them like this, he would lose all the COURAGE he had in a split second ( in a heartbeat! ). a sudden flush of crimson upon his cheeks and a sudden recoil, an instant to pull away and draw up some sort of excuse. because that image has to remain intact. a diligent student turned head of household, caretaker of a rebellious brother and a hidden sister. yet with gellert he was as he should have been. a young boy still yet to reach the peak of his abilities, eyes bright and filled with mirth, and head spinning with ideas of grandeur and noble causes. a boy with a softer edge than the other before him, yet all underneath the same charming guise. 

         a pause in thought the second gellert’s thumb brushes across his lip. slowly, carefully. 

                                                                 deliberately. 

          in the back of his head, a voice whispers of what dangers lurk beneath where the shallows no longer touch. a steep drop into the darkness where a great leviathan could come and swallow you whole. yet it’s with that sort of danger that seems to draw albus in like a moth to a flame. lips curl into a smile, one that could remind the other of what other dangers lie in the woods and not just the sea.  

                                                                    ❝ both ❞

both, albus says, and this time gellert is the one inhaling through his teeth. sharp, sudden. unexpected, but so familiar - this back and forth, when will one of them concede? never, he knows. they're both too similar, too stubborn, too determined to do the right thing... from their word point of view, though. it's entirely different, depending on which of them asked.  each question getting a different answer;  a new argument, a new debate.  a new challenge of which one would be right,  which would be the one to prevail.

his thumb drags across albus' bottom lip, deliberate and full of purpose. full of desire, and lust, and too many things that he ought to think of when they're out in the open and albus is talking about potentially falling in love with someone else. there could have been, for all he knew.  people before, because there wouldn't be any after.  that he would make sure of.  shameless to the core, uncaring with how obvious he makes it, either.

"both?"

he asks it as a question, although he doesn't expect an answer, leans in, in, in, until lips brush too close to his jaw.  his cheek.  breathes in, out.  inhales, exhales.  can't stop himself if he tries, because albus is intoxicating in ways that he can't quite place his finger on.

maybe,  maybe,  maybe.

yes,  he wants to tell him.  will never tell him.   maybe,  i love you.   maybe,  i know i do.  his finger presses into flesh firmer, threatening to turn improper,  pass lips,  before he's dropping it again.  finding petals of his own,  threatening to pull them apart,  let them fall to the foor.   he almost returns back to his book,  almost.  

"you play such a dangerous game,  sometimes,  albus."

adurostum‌:

@contemtus ✧ i’m only here to write gays with nadine, sorry everyone

           albus was never one for extremes ( though he was one for dramatics at times ). he never liked the overbearing heat. even if it meant drinking sweet teas and lemonade in the summer or an excuse to do absolutely nothing. he never liked the freezing cold. even if it meant hearing the firewood crackling and having warm wool socks to keep his feet warm. eventually he’ll find himself content, if only the changes made to stave off what nature fully intends. he just wanted things to be okay and the fluttering in his chest ( with thoughts of him going a mile a minute in his head! ) was an anomaly he tries to desperately understand. there was no calculation, no magical theory that could possibly account for this. what was this feeling? love, love, love? he’s never been in love, has he? 

          but albus waits ( wait for it, wait! ) because he knows that he has gellert’s attention. for all the lack of interest that may appear upon the other’s face or any other reaction, he has it. and if he waits, he’ll get what he wants ( the answer to it all! ). it’s an answer that he’s not sure if he likes. 

                                                                        ❝ oh ❞

                                                   maybe. maybe. maybe. but who? 

          there’s an ACHE in his chest at the thought of someone who could possibly have captured the other’s attention in such a way, perhaps even greater than what he tries to do on a daily basis. after all, who could possibly match gellert in all the things he could ever say, do and be? there’s a burning in his chest now, a bitterness at the back of his mouth. JEALOUSY. it was never an emotion he was familiar with. its cousin, envy ( for the families that were still whole and happy! ), but never quite jealousy. there’s a slight turn of his lips in a frown, eyebrows furrowing as fingers pinch at a delicate white petal with more force than necessary and it tears off instead.

          the sound of the book closing draws his attention once again, though this time he looks up. breath hitches as he’s suddenly face to face with the other. close, too close almost ( but he could have been closer ). ❝ just curious ❞ because he wants to know everything about gellert. everything. preferences, quirks, habits. EVERYTHING. even when hands covered his own and ruins his count of petals ( does he love you? does he not? ) or as fingers ghost up his forearm, he dares not break his gaze away from the other’s. albus answers back. not with much delay as gellert, but with something else.

                                                                    ❝ maybe ❞

                                                   like a challenge ( come find out ).

          he’s never been in love before, has he? too busy with his nose in the books, head in the clouds, and gaze searching farther than the eye can see. a visionary ( a revolutionary! ) in the making, but always too busy. too busy with his ideals and scheme of things, his ambition and desires to excel and exceed expectations ( his own and others! ). has he been in love before? the girl he asked for a dance was out of courtesy. the lingering gazes never lasted long. he was in love with intellect and wit, but gellert?

                              he would have the whole and not the pieces that suited him.

maybe,  albus repeats,  and gellert almost laughs. almost. if it wasn't for the fact that there's a burn in the pit of his stomach,  wanting to know if it was true - did he mean him, or another?  it must have been him.  there were no others.  gellert had been around too long,  snatched his attention from anyone else there could have ever potentially been.  selfish, greedy.  uncaring,  in the realisation of it all, heightening it all, because he wanted... albus. and he wanted albus to only want him, no one else.

the hitch in breathe rings in his ears,  and gellert skims fingers up, up, up, until a hand is ghosting his chin. his gaze never wavers, never leaves the other's. he watches, stares.

"maybe."

he echoes the word back to him, half curious, half infuriated. half wants to wrap fingers around albus' pale throat, to see what sort of reaction that receives. wants to watch him squirm, beg. to get something out of him.

"are you sure,"

a bold question that starts,  coming from the man that was playing games himself. lips parted -- if he just leant in that bit more, he could brush his mouth over albus' own. could help them both. could relieve them both. but it is a game now,  whether albus intended it to be or not.  and gellert is pulling petals from the other's fingertips,  throwing them to the side as he had the book in his hands.  fingers find either side of albus' face, and he's too close.  it's too intimate.  anyone could see them like this, find them, and gellert only craves the possibility. to see the other's features go red,  embarrassed, caught in the act.  does he want him, or does he want no one else to have him?

gellert can't pretend that it isn't hovering towards the latter in that moment, something possessive and ugly rearing its head. forcing itself forward until a thumb is dragging across the other's lower lip. slow, careful.

"or are you trying to get a reaction out of me?"

the summer sun beats upon them both and for time being, two young revolutionaries hide in the shade of a great oak tree. though gellert finds himself content with reading one of the numerous books within nicolas' collection, albus finds himself restless because of the slight flutter in his chest. he picks a daisy from the ground near. ❝ have you ever been in love before? ❞ he glances off to the other as he begins to pluck a petal one at a time ( he loves you, he loves you not! ).

it’s warm,  impossibly warm,  and gellert can find himself content with reading.   can find himself content in any situation,  really.   can bend it to his whim,  do what he wants with it.   this is no exception ;   minus the other,  all but squirming at his side with the need to do something beside bury his nose in a book,  as gellert had  plainly  made obvious was all that he had intentions for that afternoon.   the sun too hot in the sky,  too bright to focus on something else.   but,  there he goes,  demanding his attention.   drawing it in with questions,  with a restlessness that is contagious,  that makes gellert want to draw him in closer so that he can pin him down on his back.   hover over him and hold him still into albus concedes...    another time,  maybe.   when he’s finished his book,  maybe.    but gellert knows when he is an impossible situation,  as rare as they are,  and he can only raise his eyebrows at the question,  focus no longer on the words printed across paper.   his expression doesn’t betray otherwise,  though.   doesn’t look up,  traces index finger across the edge of the pages,  content to keep him drawn out.   waiting.     “maybe,”     he answers,  a moment later.   longer than he should have left him for an answer.   does he love albus?   maybe.   maybe.   maybe.   he doesn’t know what to call it;  this incessant need to always be around the other.   to stay awake in the middle of the night with thoughts of him.   to hover their mouths together,  watch him when he’s reading,  studying,  the way he brightens when he’s figured something out...     it’s beside the point,  isn’t it?    before,  albus asks,  as if he knows.   gellert wonders if he does.   he’s never truly been subtle,  has he?   never bothered to be,  before.   now,  maybe.   always full of maybes.   never sure when it comes to him.   albus could be his undoing,  and gellert would still feel this ache in his chest at the idea of before.   albus with his before,  his after.   after gellert.   no,  that wouldn’t do,  and the book is closing,  placed to the side.   he’s leaning in;  close,  too close.   no space left between them,  he could do anything like this.   hands covering his,  petals pulled from his fingers.     “why?”     he asks,  eyes on his.   fingers grazing up across his forearms.  maybe,  maybe,  maybe.   this is mine,  mine,  mine.     “have you?” 

@adurostum

smooches nadine!!!!! go away gellert.

     gellert vc:  we all know that is never going to happen

     I think I did, but I closed my eyes.

it's 3am when will someone punch gellert in the face

“please don’t misunderstand me.”

@contemtus​ ✧ a meme lost in the meme war

                                                            misunderstandings.

         was that all it was? MISUNDERSTANDINGS? shame wells up in his chest ( memories of summer appear! ), a feeling that only he could have drawn out. though, he supposed it was, wasn’t it? nothing but MISUNDERSTANDINGS because he was too blinded! how he had gotten so caught in the web spun by gossamer threads of grandeur and ambition, so enamored by sweet words that became engraved in his mind and promises that would be fulfilled ( they were promised a golden future! ). but he suppose life was the GREATEST teacher there was. the way it tears away at the seams of his heart and rips away those he wants to keep ( riddled with tragedy! ). though he tries - and tries and tries and tries! - his best, it’s never enough, was it? 

         there is a bitterness that coats his tongue as he looks upon the other. how time and life has hardened them both. a FRIENDSHIP that still lasts ( yes! ), but friends that stood together they were not. Certainly not as they had expected, had dreamed, had hoped for! and albus only wishes it were so, but he has to be WRONG before he could be RIGHT. isn’t that how it goes? lips curl into a rueful smile, one that most certainly does not suit him ( though perhaps it did ). 

                                       ❝ i could say the same to you too, old friend. ❞

         his hand sweeps to the side, draws attention to the smoke and ash ( the carnage, the destruction, the collateral damage! ). albus smiles still, even as his heart breaks and fear ( oh yes fear! ) tries to take hold.

                                                    ❝ this needs to END, gellert. ❞

                       it started with gellert, it grew with them both, and it will end with him.

                                                         ( isn’t that how it goes? )

i miss writing gellert,  i just want to write a bastard

bborzoi:

you know what trope pisses me off the most? when the protag is pointing a gun at somebody and they’re like “you won’t do it. you’re too good” and the person holding the gun is like oh shit i am and they slowly lower the gun while the other person laughs. WHAT THE FUCK. if i were there, and somebody told me “you won’t do it” i would immediately shoot them dead without hesitating. who are you to tell me what i wont do. musty bitch

i hate gellert but i find him way too interesting not to write why am i like this

‘you’re not gonna like this, but i think you need to seriously consider the possibility that all this… it’s in your head.’

STRANGER THINGS SENTENCE MEME

      his world grayed at the edges - the room turning in tandem with his stomach. A sharp, ragged farce of a breath pulled into through his lips but the air felt leaden. Weighed down and acrid on his tongue. There were hands on him. At his wrists, his neck - through his hair and across the sharp stubble of his jaw. But every time Percival tried to focus, his vision twisted. Faceless shapes weaving in and out of the light only to leave him horridly disoriented. 

      A distant laugh and a hard press to his jaw – then came pain. Heat blooming from the impact on his cheek enough to focus his gaze. Wide blown pupils staring unseeing into the light that shone down over the shoulders of a figure. A man. Grindlewald. His mind screamed that this was the man he had been hunting. Those mismatched eyes watching him as angular features grinned in duplicates down at him. Very much the predator and in control. 

      Barely able to hiss out the wizard’s name, Percival strained against his bonds - brows furrowed tight as he stared at the other… And then the features twisted. It wasn’t Grindlewald. It was an underling Auror. Jenkins? Garland? Faces blurred into one another and a pained moan left him as he curled in on himself - nausea crawling through him in sickening waves.    “ It’s you. I know it’s you - what have you…  ” words forced through clenched teeth as hands - gentle and wretched in their grip - cradled his face. Forcing him to look up and stare. Wrong. It was all wrong. 

                                                          – it’s in your head. 

      Denial rose fierce within him as he shook his head. Over and over, uttering to himself, “ You’re lying. It’s you I know it’s you. What have you done? Where are my Aurors? ” The words fell like a mournful prayer from his lips, barely any strength left to pull back from the caress as darkness threatened to grab his consciousness once more. Slowly he fell into it - in the grip and the deplorably warm presence before him… Unable to flinch at a sharp tug to his scalp. Unable to move apart from his lips as he sank further into himself. 

                                              “ – I’ll kill you. I know it’s you. I’ll – ”

i will be around more tomorrow but i am mainly in ims tonight as i gotta be up early tomorrow!

fuck off, gellert

        who knew dead men could still speak?

are people trying to hurt you...? i'll fight them.

          i think that you should. for me.

       all of these ugly old men trying to attack me while i’m just here to look beautiful

you. me - hard as you can, denny's parking lot 3 am. fight me.

    what self-respecting man goes to denny’s anymore?

PLANT PERSONALITY !

tagged by.  no one, yolo tagging.   everyone

DANDELION.

scrappy and tough, you’re a pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps kind of person. you don’t give up easily and you often thrive in situations that others would find discouraging. you have an instinct to serve others and see yourself as most useful in times or places of crisis, but you may over rely on your toughness and forget how sensitive you really are.

PEPPERMINT.

unflappable. you are cool in the crisis, calm in the storm, collected amongst the chaos. you’re a breath of fresh air, a waft of inspiration to the down-and-out, a refreshing, inspiring, uplifting person to be around. of course, even a cool cucumber like yourself can run into trouble. you may try to take on too much, which can leave you feeling weighed down and not quite yourself.

SLIPPERY ELM.

let’s just say you’re a vocal person. sure, that might mean you’re chatty. but it also means you’re the one humming in the hallway, singing in the shower, speaking your mind, standing up and shouting if need be to get yourself heard. you’ve got a voice and you know how to use it. Inclined to speak up for the voiceless, defend the defenseless or simply bring joy to the joyless, you may have a tendency to overuse your voice.