#*stresses out about my snafu characterization | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cantdwellonanyofit · 3 years

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Fic Dedicated to Stolperzunge - Ch 2.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28770078/chapters/70548765

Gene felt as if he’d been in line for days when he finally reached the ticket counter. As he spoke the words ‘New Orleans’ aloud, purchased his ticket, and turned to sit and wait for the train, he finally realized he had no idea where he was headed. Or whether Snafu even still lived in New Orleans. But he had come too far to turn back now. He couldn't imagine returning home. Couldn't imagine explaining, 'You know, I forgot I had no idea where my long-lost love lived,' to Sid without confessing the entire truth. He had nothing to return to anyway. Perhaps this could be good for him. Maybe just walking the same streets Snafu had walked would fill some of the gaping holes left in him from the war. Maybe coming home from the war had been so hard because he tried to return to his old life. The life he had before he ever met Snafu. It would be impossible for him to ever be the person he had been. Trying to fake it wasn't doing him any good.

When the train finally pulled into the station Gene had talked himself in and out of the trip about a dozen times. But he was doing this. He wasn't a quitter. He handed over his ticket and stepped up the platform onto the train. It wasn't the glamorous train they had ridden home from the war. It was cramped, and people were everywhere. Gene felt as though he couldn't breathe. He tried to take note of every exit available to him in case he needed to escape. He was catching pieces of conversations. Families trying to stay together. Men on business trips. Screaming children. It all slammed into his consciousness at maximum volume as his breathing sped up. He rushed past the seats trying to find somewhere he could be alone. Touching each seat as he passed and propelling himself forward. By the time he reached a compartment that was quiet, he had nearly reached the end of the train. He sat down in one of the empty seats by the window, and immediately propped it open. The mid-September air was still warm, like it always was in Alabama. But there was a gentle breeze that brought him some relief. He gulped it down like fresh water. He wished he had thought to bring a book or magazines. He was going to spend a day and a half with no one else for company but his own mind. This was going to be bad. He nearly bought a newspaper to read but thought better of it. He didn't want to risk reading about the war.

He sighed heavily and leaned his seat back to lay down. Then immediately regretted it and sat back up. He didn't like the feeling of not being able to see his surroundings. There were too many people around. He resigned himself to imagining what it would be like to see Snafu again. Those blue eyes. That sly smirk. He wondered what it would feel like to see Snafu outside of the battlegrounds. In America, in Louisiana, in his hometown. Wherever that may be. Gene had been a fool not to ask for Snafu's address before they boarded the train. They were all just so exhausted and ready to return home. They didn't much think about life beyond that. They had survived. It was inconceivable, unwanted, and unnatural.

Gene suddenly remembered a story Snafu had told the night of their drunken celebration with Burgie. Snafu had mentioned getting into trouble with the Baton Rouge police. Snafu had been pulled over for speeding, and when the officer approached the car window, he was met with Snafu's, “pale white ass against the glass.” As he had poetically explained it. Burgie and Gene had howled with laughter. Gene wasn't sure how Snafu managed to escape being detained, but they had been too drunk then to question it. If he were honest, Gene had been bordering on black out drunk at that point. His consciousness black spotted and stuttering like a worn-out filmstrip. He couldn't believe he remembered anything from that night. It boosted his spirits to know he had a starting place for hunting down Snafu.

He wondered if he was crazy. Obviously, Snafu didn't see fit to seek Gene out, but he didn't know what that proved. Considering Gene had just now boarded a train destined for New Orleans 7 months later. He couldn't believe 7 months of his life was already gone. It seemed he hadn't moved since disembarking the train home in February. Yet here he was, back on a train. Headed for great things or tragedy. He tried not to focus on the potential embarrassment of being rejected. What if Snafu pretended he didn’t know who Gene was? What if he was disgusted by Gene’s longing for him? And he had no choice but to accept that whatever connection he thought there was had been imagined. God would humiliate and ruin him again. He wasn't sure he could accept more of it. Maybe he'd die right there on the sidewalk in his several day-old clothes. Maybe people would just step on him as they walked by. Their feet passing through his ghostly form. The final indication that he never made it off Okinawa. And all the past several months were just the beginnings of his eternity in hell. He closed his eyes and tried to shut out the worst-case scenarios. Snafu had already rejected him once; he could surely live through it again.

---

As the train neared the terminal at New Orleans, Gene could feel his heart thumping in his throat. It didn't matter that he would just be stepping off the train to board a bus to Baton Rouge. He was virtually in the same city Snafu might be in. He may see Snafu again. He spent most of the train ride alternating between watching out the window, and fist fighting his brain into submission. Several people filed into the seats around him, and it made him more restless with every person that joined. Luckily, the person next to him had brought a surplus of reading material and offered him a book. 'Mind At The End of Its Tether," which had distracted Gene for a good half hour. And then another couple hours when his mind pondered if the book had been right. Maybe humanity would cease to exist. This aligned with his assumptions that God had expected both the Japs and Americans to die. War was everywhere. The world was on fire. And here Gene was, chasing a boy that might not want anything to do with him. What else was a guy to do during the apocalypse? He might as well get his first kiss before the world ended. Ed had poked fun at him for keeping his virginity throughout the entire war. But Sledge had also been a bit surprised and fed up with it. He wanted to forget. And he knew no better way than to give in completely to sin. The elderly woman next to him shifted in her seat, and Gene blushed. He sure hoped she couldn’t read minds. He carefully returned the book to her and thanked her.

Gene waited in line, boarded a bus, and did more waiting. Became more restless. He hadn't showered in days. He was still wearing the same clothes. At least if he ran into Snafu now, he'd be recognizable. He looked just as disheveled as he had in the war. He was buzzing with energy. Even though he hadn’t slept more than four hours both nights, he had never felt more alive. He was bordering on giddy. Finally, he stepped off the bus and into Baton Rouge. He was immediately met with traffic, people, and bright lights. His eyes landed on a Sears, and he decided he'd stop in for some clothes. He tried to imagine what Snafu would find attractive, but he had no idea if Snafu even liked men. Or him. He must've looked helpless because it wasn't long before he was approached and assisted. He considered asking, “Picture this, you decide to chase down the man of your dreams. But only after finally accepting you might perhaps be homosexual, and it took losing your entire identify in a hard-fought war to reach this conclusion. What would YOU wear?” But thought better of it.

"I'm trying to find clothing that would impress….someone." He finished lamely. He knew he looked ragged. It made him feel even more unsure of himself. "Delightful! Come this way, I know exactly what you need." Before long he was handing over money for several sweaters. Some had a chain-link pattern across the chest, while others were knit vests he could wear over the collared shirts he’d purchased. He bought suspenders, a gabardine jacket, cream trousers, and several brown and maroon pants. He delightedly purchased a couple of fountain pens and paper as well so he could write to Sid. He tucked the receipt in his pocket with the others so he could track how much money he owed Sid. There was no way he wouldn't pay back his friend. He stepped back out into the light and looked around. He needed to find a motel to stay in. He desperately needed a shower. He walked several blocks until he spotted a hotel called the 'Grouchy Hotel,' and stopped in his tracks. No wonder Snafu was the way that he was, the entire city called it like they saw it. Gene's arms were nearly numb, and he decided this would have to do. Grouchy personnel or not, he'd be delighted to check in.

Checked in, and successfully in his room, he dropped his bags all over the floor and immediately stripped off his clothes. He lingered in the bathtub, soaping up several times before feeling clean. If he was going to see Snafu, he wanted to be presentable. He toweled off, put together some of his new ensemble, and then felt at a loss at what he should do next. How was he supposed to find Snafu in this huge town? He had no idea if he had even chosen the right place. It had been one story Snafu had told while blindingly drunk. Gene’s stomach growled and he checked his watch. It was nearly 1600. He decided he’d venture back out in the street for a meal. He hadn’t eaten much the past few days. Mostly due to nerves, but he also had no idea how long he would be paying for a hotel, and they weren’t cheap.

Gene stopped at the front desk for some food recommendations then made his way out into the street. He headed towards the water, as he was told to. He hoped he would find it relaxing, and not an unpleasant reminder. He had a tumultuous relationship with water since the war. He used to love swimming, or the sound and feeling of fresh rain. But after spending months soaked to the bone, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to be wet again. He followed his nose until he had reached a pizza shop. His stomach groaned in excitement. Before long, he was seated and reviewing the menu. Contemplating whether he should buy one of everything. Suddenly a worker emerged from the kitchen walking backwards while he spoke to someone in front of him.

“I can’t thank you enough Mr. Shelton, you do great work.” Shelton, Gene thought, must be a popular surname around these parts. Great. It wasn’t already going to be hard enough to find Snafu. The odds continued to mount against him. It was likely he’d spend all this time, money, and return home just as lost as he’d been before he left. He was like a mistreated dog, returning to the only home he ever knew even though it would eventually kill him.

“It was nuthin’, Mr. Alesce. You enjoy that cool air, now,” Gene dropped his drink and didn’t even register when the glass shattered against the table, and then the floor. His Coke splattered all over him.

He’d know that voice anywhere. His head turned so fast to the side it cramped. He stood up and his chair tilted before it clattered to the floor. Time slowed; his blood rushed to his head. He was going to pass out. He turned and stared directly at Snafu, who had a faraway look to his eyes. The shattering of glass must’ve startled him. Or perhaps seeing Gene had caused the wild look in his eyes. Maybe Gene was the last person he ever wanted to see again. But in true Snafu fashion, he shook it off faster than Gene could. Someone rushed over, apologizing to Gene as if it had been their fault the glass shattered. Gene was standing in shards of it when he locked eyes with Snafu.

Those fuckin’ blue eyes. They were the same as the last time he saw them. Somewhat darker underneath from lack of sleep, but so beautiful. They stood staring at each other. Seconds, minutes, potentially hours passed. Maybe this was Gods final act. He’d let Gene have this moment for as long as he needed it, and then God would plunge him back into his home in Mobile. His chance at freedom ripped out of his hands. He’d be clawing his nails raw at the door, begging for another glimpse of the life he would never have.

Snafu was walking towards him. Gene backed up and hit the wall behind him. Then, as if the walls were made of rubber, he propelled himself forward and began walking towards Snafu. They met in the middle. Gene thought it funny that they were always doing that. Meeting each other halfway in every situation.

“You look like shit, Eugene,” Snafu smiled his stupid damn shit eatin’ grin. His attempt at a lighthearted hello.

“You—You fool. You fuckin’---Damn, piece of----. You absolute piece of---. You fuckin’…. Damn fool!” Gene’s voice was rising, and he couldn’t stop it. He knew he shouldn’t be causing a scene. He just kept hurling insults and growing louder. This is not how he imagined reuniting with Snaf’. Snafu’s smile dropped. He began pushing Gene towards the door. Gene was fighting him off. Hitting him with one closed fist, right in the shoulder, and then the other hand joined in.

“You have a great day now, Mr. Alesce. Ouais, t’inquiète! I got this handled. Merci, beaucoup. Naw, it’s on the house!” Snafu continued pushing Gene until he was out the door and on the sidewalk. Snafu grabbed Gene’s hands and dragged them behind his back until Gene was in front of him. Snafu held a tight grip on both of Gene’s biceps. “You gotta calm down, cher.”

Gene nearly fought his arms free so he could wrap both hands around that tanned throat. Cher…who the hell was he calling cher when he left Gene. Abandoned him. When Gene needed him the most, he just walked out. “Don’t you sweet talk me, you asshole,” Snafu chuckled.

“I’m not kiddin’ with you, Snafu! Why didn’t you wake me up? Why?!” Gene tried to free his arms but realized immediately it was pointless. All he managed to do was swing both men wildly from one side then the other.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think it’d matter so much to you. Just…thought you’d move on.” Snafu responded.

“Excuse me, is that supposed to calm me down because now I’m extra fired up.”

“What are you doing here?” That calmed Gene down. What a good question. What the hell was he doing here. Talking to this man who obviously didn’t think walking out of Gene’s life was much of a big deal. It seemed to measure up to swatting away a pesky fly to Snafu. He washed his hands of him, and then just continued his life as it was. While Gene’s life had completely stopped. Right up until the moment he locked eyes again with Snafu. Surely, he had broken the spell, and time would begin ticking again for him. Gene stopped struggling, and said in an icy tone, “Making a huge mistake, apparently. Let me go.”

“Now wait just a second, Eugene. I didn’t mean it how’ya heard it.”

“I heard it just fine. Let go of me.” Gene wrenched his right arm and swung both men to the right. Dangerously close to the road.

“I don’t want to.” Snafu said, matter of fact.

Gene laughed. “That’s rich. You did such a beautiful job of it the first time.” Snafu twisted Gene around so he was facing him. “Don’t mistake my absence for indifference. I-“ Snafu seemed to be bracing himself. “I’m incredible at fucking up my own life. Don’t take it personally.”

Gene hadn’t expected to hear such honestly. His mouth hung open as he tried to think of a response. He eventually just closed it. Did Snafu really think leaving Gene had fucked up his life? He seemed so aloof about it. Gene didn’t understand how Snafu could hold so much regret, and then just act like nothing was amiss when they met again.

Snafu twisted Gene back around, placed a hand on the small of his back, and began steering him. “Where you staying at? How long you been here? You really fucked up your clothes, man. I hope you got more.” Gene was barely registering his movements as he walked both men towards the direction of his hotel. His clothes. What a waste of Sid’s money. Maybe he should just walk them both to the water and jump in. Kill two birds with one stone. Clean his clothes, and the sin off him.

“I’ve been here for…Maybe a couple of hours.”

“No shit? Ain’t that somethin’. You got lucky; I’d been procrastinating this job because the bus ride here is a bitch.” Gene couldn’t believe his luck. The utter fate involved in his reuniting with Snafu. It was almost as unreal as their chance to meet in the first place. If the war had never happened, what would his life be like right now? Would he be continuing to force himself to go on dates with girls? Would he still listen to all the guys around him talk about the things they did with girls in the dark? While Gene continued to hope his innocence protected him from questioning? While Sid continued protecting him from questioning? Before long, Snafu and Gene reached the hotel. Snafu dropped his hands from Gene’s back.

“You know what brought me here? I remembered that damn story you told about mooning that police officer. That’s why I chose Baton Rouge.”

Snafu laughed loudly, “Aw, Gene, I can’t believe that. I made all that up!”

Gene nearly started laughing hysterically. Instead, an anguished cry ripped out of him and he began sobbing. Snafu was here. He recognized him. He had walked him back to his hotel. He regretted leaving Gene. Snafu looked incredibly startled and vulnerable. Like the face he wore when Gene threated to cut that Japs teeth out.

“Eugene, I’m sorry. I’m real sorry. I shouldn’t have made that up.” Snafu offered.

Gene laughed as tears slid down his cheeks, “That’s not why I’m upset.” He quickly wiped away the tears, embarrassed at losing his composure, “I don’t even know if I am upset. I just can’t believe I found you so quickly. My life stopped the second you left me on that train. I haven’t breathed in months. I feel like I died on that damn train, Snaf.”

Snafu looked genuinely confused. “Why? You have a great family. I thought….. A good home. Friends….” He trailed off. “You have so much good in your life.”

“I don’t care about any of that. They don’t understand. They can’t accept who I am now. That I’m not me anymore, and I might never be again. You were the only person to understand.” Gene paused; lowered his voice in case anyone walked by. They were in public after all. “You’re all I think about. All of the time.”

Snafu continued to look perplexed. Gene left Snafu’s side and opened the door for them to enter the hotel. “Let’s talk inside,” he offered. Snafu slowly nodded.

“Bienvenue, messieurs!” The man at the front desk called fondly. “Merci bien. Bonne journée,” Snafu responded. Gene smiled politely at the man. He was really going to have to pick up some French while he was here.

They remained silent as they walked to Gene’s room. Gene opened the door for Snafu, then quickly turned to close and latch it. When he turned around again, Snafu was on him. Pushing him against the door and touching noses with him. Snafu’s breath was a breeze against Gene’s lips. Gene forgot everything he was going to say. Every moment of sadness and despair. He forgot his own name. All he could think about was Snafu’s mouth on his.

Gene reached both hands towards the sides of Snafu’s neck. Gently touching his fingertips to his skin. Gene pressed, bringing Snafu toward him, and closed the gap. It was like dunking his head in ice cold water. He’d never felt so alive in his life. His heartbeat sped up. Warmth traveled from his mouth, down his throat, filling his chest, butterflies bounced off his stomach, and a ball of heat shot straight into his groin. He moaned in Shelton’s mouth. Snafu positioned both his hands firmly on Gene’s hips. Pulling him towards Snafu until Gene’s sticky clothes rested against Snafu’s. Gene wanted to chastise him. ‘You’ll get your nice work clothes all dirty,’ Gene thought. But he didn’t dare stop to voice his concerns.

Gene was softly rubbing his fingers along the back of Snafu’s neck, then he dragged his fingertips up along the sides. Landing in Snafu’s hair behind his ears. The curls were as soft as he imagined they’d be. He opened his mouth wider and slipped his tongue into Snafu’s mouth. Snafu moaned. Responding by sucking on Gene’s tongue and tightening his hold on his hips. Taking control of the situation. Of Gene. Gene was overheating. This was better than any fantasy he ever thought up. He must’ve said as much because Snafu chuckled.

“You think about this often, boo?” Gene brought Snafu in for another slow, open-mouthed kiss. When Gene broke off the kiss to respond, Snafu caught Gene’s lower lip in his teeth and sucked. Gene moaned and took a deep breath. “I can’t believe you left me. Left this.” Snafu seemed to be thinking before responding, which was a real first. “I thought it’d be better. For you. I couldn’t-“ Snafu struggled again to find words.

“I couldn’t stand bullshitting with you like we did with Burgie. I’d have asked you to come home with me. And I ain’t—Eugene.” He opened his arms wide, “I ain’t got shit to offer you here.”

Gene stared pointedly. “What do you think I need other than you? Just you. It’s simple as that.”

Snafu was shaking his head in disbelief, “I don’t understand you, Sledgehamma’. You got the whole world in your hands, and you’re just gonna keep chasing the one thing you think you’re missing.”

“I don’t understand you neither,” Gene retorted. “You claimed leaving fucked up your life, and you just walked away. Like you left one of your bags on the train. As if you might be able to just replace what you lost, so there’s no need to go searching for it.”

“I wasn’t interested in replacing it. I was just gonna add it to the list of irreversible mistakes and leave it at that.” Snafu reasoned.

“Why?” Gene’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

Snafu shrugged, “I told you, I don’t know. I just thought it’d be better for you.” Gene scoffed, “Well you got a lot to learn about what’s good for me then. I can take care of myself. You just stay out of making decisions for me from now on. I’m a big boy. You should’ve at least given me the option. I’d have come home with you if you had asked.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Snafu responded quickly. “That I’d hold you back. From moving on. From being happy. Starting over--” Gene interrupted, “There’s no startin’ over unless it’s with you.” Snafu smiled slowly, his eyes half-lidded, “You’re a real sap, Eugene.” Gene laughed. And it felt good. His stomach groaned loud enough for both men to hear it.

Snafu finally turned to look around the hotel room. Gene had left his bags scattered everywhere from earlier. “You get robbed while you was out?” Snafu teased. Gene started removing his clothes. Snafu went a bit red and turned around to offer Gene some privacy. Gene had to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing. “What’re you doing? You just had your tongue halfway to my tonsils, and now you’re protecting my modesty?” Snafu’s laugh burst from him. Gene’s grin nearly split his face. He missed this. The teasing, the laughing. It felt so good to be safe with Snafu. They could just be men. Boys. War had aged them greatly. Mentally and physically. But they still reached in and yanked out each other’s youthfulness. Their innocence. This is what he had desperately been missing.

“Shut up and get yourself cleaned up. I’m going to take you to dinner. Isn’t that how this works? Take you to dinner first before I take you to bed?” Snafu said it so matter-of-factly it was Gene’s turn to blush. “You’re an animal.” Gene kidded, and Snafu chuckled. “You chose this life, Eugene. Got no one to blame but yourself.” Snafu had no idea about the implication of those words. How true they really were. Gene had brought everything upon himself. The war, the anguish, the brokenness. But also, the joy, love, and growth. He didn’t want to imagine what his life would’ve been like without the war because then he wouldn’t be right here with Snafu. And that was a life he already tried to live and couldn’t. Gene changed out of his clothes and dropped them in the tub with some water. He soaped them up, but he doubted it’d do much. He might as well try, he figured. He quickly washed the stickiness off himself in the sink, redressed, and did a 360 turn for Snafu, who laughed. He was sitting on the bed, practicing patience as Gene tidied up. "You ready? Before the entire town closes down?” Gene crept up and stood between Snafu’s thighs, dropping a gentle kiss to his lips before standing and heading for the door. “Lead the way.” Gene had already followed Snafu to hell and back. He’d be delighted to follow him anywhere for the rest of his life.

#smutty #Whoops #Sledgefu #Eugene Sledge #Snafu #stolperzunge #*stresses out about my snafu characterization #Translations and comments are in the AO3 link #I'm too lazy to repeat myself

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cruelfeline · 4 years

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Agh, it got so long I had to read-more it; no one look at this; I just had to get it out of my mind, but don’t look at it just ignore this and go examine a pretty nature photo; honestly these just keep getting worse why does this keep happening? And I hate dialogue. And I hate characterization. Ugghhh... just insert a Mermista groan here.

also a more mature Catra helping Hordak on his journey provides me with happiness don’t judge me

Please consider, a concept:

A few months have passed since Prime’s demise. Reconstruction of Etheria’s damaged settlements is well underway, and all parties involved have gotten... if not entirely comfortable with one another, then at least able to interact with civility. Enough so that, when Entrapta and Bow end up delayed on one of their interplanetary trips, Hordak is only moderately uneasy about heading off to Bright Moon on his own. Oh, of course he’d rather wait for Entrapta, but certain planned meetings (dictated by Etheria’s terribly inconvenient seasons) simply cannot be delayed. So off he goes, determined to maintain decorum and dignity and uphold his end of all relevant treaties. He is received by Glimmer, Adora, and Catra. The other Princesses are all otherwise engaged (with what, he cares little, though he is admittedly amused to learn that Mermista and Perfuma are occupied with an apparently disastrous seaweed-related snafu). So it is the four of them against a whole mess of administrative work.

The girls, for their part, are equally uneasy but likewise determined to proceed as usual (Adora and Catra seeming particularly determined). They meet Hordak’s reserved politeness with a tentative poise of their own, and the group’s work commences.

And for a number of days, it goes fairly well. Even Glimmer has to admit that, whatever anyone’s misgivings about how an Entrapta-less Hordak might behave, things are running smoothly. She maintains control of the meetings, guiding them through agenda after agenda, while Adora and Catra provide input based upon their recent scouting trips to Etheria’s various corners. Hordak rounds the discussions out with whatever technological information is relevant. Their sessions run long most nights (too long, if Catra were asked her opinion on the matter, which she pointedly is not), but they are productive. The four of them get an impressive amount of work done, and all without any tense moments or uncomfortable quarrels. One might even say that they are getting along quite well, all things considered.

In fact, Catra is nearly certain that, when Adora mentions appreciating the work of some Dryl-made construction bots in a seaside village, Hordak subtly quirks his lips in what a careful observer could term a smile.

So the three girls are legitimately stunned when, about three-quarters of the way through their intended time together, Hordak’s behavior abruptly changes. His calm demeanor turns sullen and tense. Previously comprehensive explanations gain a taciturn edge, eventually devolving into clipped, half-snarled responses and sneered refusals to provide clarification. More and more often, words are accompanied by the baring of red teeth and the angry glare of red eyes.

Glimmer is... less than pleased, but between her own determination to make this treaty work and Adora’s dogged, somewhat frantic optimism, she strives to maintain civility long enough to get through the last few days. But, well... limits are limits. And limits are surpassed when, one evening, Hordak furiously declares that he has lost patience with their “embarrassing incompetence” and, with nary another word, storms out of the conference room.

“That’s it! How dare he?!”

Glimmer promptly explodes, and Catra spends the next few minutes watching Adora try to quiet what is proving to be a very loud, very angry, moderately uncouth Queenly rant. It is in the midst of this rant that Adora catches her eye and, with a quiet groan and a nod and a mental wish of good luck, Catra slips away with Melog silently following at her heels.

“I guess this is better than dealing with Sparkles,” she mutters to herself as she stands at the door to Hordak’s temporary quarters. Beside her, Melog trills encouragement, and she sighs. They’re right, of course: between the two of them, Adora has more experience dealing with an upset Glimmer. And Catra... okay, so she doesn’t have “experience dealing with an upset Hordak.” Not... not good experience. But she worked with him for nearly a year. And, given what she’s seen, what she knows... she has a fair idea of what’s been happening. She’d been quietly hoping that it would work itself out, or that it wouldn’t become enough of a problem to cause trouble before they finished their work, but alas: it seems that that sort of luck just isn’t on their side.

Which, given the fact that Hordak seems to have the worst luck of anyone she knows, probably should have been something she’d seen coming.

Melog trills again, adding a gentle headbutt this time.

“Okay, okay... give me a second.”

She takes a breath, lifts a hand to knock, grimaces, and drops said hand. She clears her throat.

“Hordak?”

Nothing. She frowns and tries again.

“Hordak? Are you-”

“Leave.”

His snarl is all-too familiar, and even muffled through a door, it causes her hackles to rise, her ears to pin back, her tail to lash.

“Look, I just-”

“Go. Away.”

She grits her teeth, clenches her fists, and turns away, ready to return downstairs with nothing to show for her efforts but a bad mood. Next to her, Melog meows in protest. She rounds on them.

“What? If he wants to be a jerk about it, then that’s his problem! Besides, what am I supposed to do? Break down the door?”

And she resumes making her way back to the staircase, ignoring Melog’s continued protest (which, come to think of it, sounds fairly alarmed, but... well, what is she to do?) and... she freezes. The world around her is starting to shimmer. She knows that shimmer: teleportation via alien cat.

“Wait! I said-!”

And just like that, they’re in his room, and though Catra’s first instinct is to make her displeasure very loudly known, said instinct quickly fades at the sight of Hordak.

“Oh, damn it.”

From his place on the floor, crumpled in a sweating, trembling heap, Hordak looks up at the intrusion. His eyes widen, face twisting with fury as he prepares to shout what Catra predicts will be his trademark “get out,” only to choke up and curl in on himself as some sort of painful spasm races through him.

Once upon a time, this sight might have spurred Catra into a bout of cruel gloating, but circumstances are vastly different today.

Today, before either of them can really take stock of what is happening, she helps him up and half-leads, half-carries him to the corner sofa, depositing him with a strained grunt before taking a step back and giving him a moment to collect himself. Which he does while glaring at her.

For some time, the only sound between them is the ugly rasp of Hordak’s panting, then: “Get. Out.”

Ah. There it is. As expected. As anticipated. Catra’s ears flick at the command.

A part of her still bristles at his snarling, at his combative ire, at his accusatory glare... but a different part notices instead how that glare comes through dull eyes, how that snarling fades into exhausted panting, how he’s still trembling, even before his very unwanted audience. As the seconds pass, this part maintains its position at the forefront of her mind, until:

“You want some water?”

“...”

“...what?”

There’s a sudden lightness to her thoughts.

“I’m gonna get you some water. Just... stay there, okay?”

Melog punctuates her words with a happy chirp before providing the necessary teleport. A minute later, they’re back from the kitchens, glass of cool water in hand. Hordak remains where they left him, though he actually gives a bit of a start when they reappear. The momentary surprise disappears under a scowl as Catra holds the glass out to him.

He curls his lip. He doesn’t take it.

Catra remains steady. Next to her, Melog sits, tail waving a constant, slow path in the air.

Hordak bares his teeth.

“I do not require your pity, Catra.”

“Good, ‘cause all I’ve got is this glass of water.”

He gapes at her.

“Which, y’know, you should take. Because my arm is getting tired.”

His expression closes off again in another scowl (he never did see the humor in her sass, did he?), but after a few more moments, Hordak relents. Slowly, clearly trying to keep his hand from trembling too much, he takes the offered glass.

Catra sighs and, suddenly drained, sits down on the ground a few feet away from him, resting her back against the arm of the sofa. Melog stretches out beside her, and Catra turns her back to Hordak to focus on providing the desired belly rub. She swivels an ear towards him, listening for him to finish draining the glass. He does so.

She can hear that his breath has lost that ugly rasp, and a tightness in her chest that she hadn’t been aware of loosens.

“So,” she begins, trying to keep her tone casual, “do you... need to call Entrapta? Is it... is it your-”

“Entrapta is currently beyond the reach of our communication modules.” She’d steeled herself for another snarled response, but his voice is calm, almost quiet. “And no; it is not my armor.”

“...oh.”

A minute passes. Two. Catra starts to tentatively turn around, wishing to steal a glance, but Melog thrusts their head into her lap and refocuses her gaze downwards. Another minute passes, then:

“It... it has proven somewhat...” He starts, stops, starts again. Stops again. Something that is not pain chokes his words, and though she wants to somehow encourage him, a soft rumble from Melog compels her to wait.

“Even with the armor, there are times that I... have difficulties.” He is breathing quicker again, she can hear; not quite panting, but definitely breathing quicker. In her lap, Melog seems attentive but otherwise unconcerned.

“Particularly during periods of higher stress, or exertion. Though,” he suddenly hisses, and Catra hears claws scrape against fabric, “hardly anything about our current work should merit this... exacerbation.”

He falls quiet, and for what feels like a long while, neither of them say anything. Melog’s soft purring fills the silence.

“Sparkles is mad,” Catra finally says, “Adora’s calming her down.”

This time, when she tries to turn her gaze back to him, Melog remains quiet. She watches Hordak nod, sees his ears droop.

“My behavior has been... unacceptable. I shall go request an audience with Queen Glimmer and make an apology-”

“Uh-uh.”

He frowns at her.

“Oh, I mean, yeah! Definitely apologize. You were a jerk. But not now; you should rest first. I’ll go tell them that you’re not feeling great, and-”

His scowl returns.

“That is not necessary.”

She matches his frown with her own and scoffs. “Uh, according to what just happened, it is. What? You’re just gonna... pretend you’re fine and keep going?”

He looks like he wishes to say something less-than-polite, scowl deepening, but instead he turns away with a quiet huff. His ears droop even further.

“The terms of the treaty are fair, and it is my duty to adhere to them. This... lapse... aside, I am entirely capable of doing so.” He sighs and seems to will his ears into a more neutral position. “So yes: I shall ‘keep going.’”

Catra blinks at him.

“That’s... really stupid.”

He blinks at her.

“...what?”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s stupid. What’s the point of it... pushing yourself like that when you’ve obviously had enough? If you need a break, then-”

Suddenly he snarls, he rounds on her, teeth and eyes glowing too-brightly, and she nearly jerks back. Melog tenses beside her but remains still.

“Then what?! I should inform the Queen, and she will suspend proceedings and accept needless delays for my comfort? That is... that is-”

He stops abruptly because she’s laughing, a dry sort of chuckle that might have infuriated him save for the fact that, when she notices his attention and stops, it’s to smile at him. Catra smiles at him, and the expression holds an honest sincerity that he’s never seen her exhibit before. His indignation fades; his aggressive posture deflates.

“Yeah. That’s exactly what she’ll do.”

At first, he only stares at her, as if uncertain that he has heard what he believes he has heard, but eventually Hordak swallows, glances away, glances back, presses his lips together.

“That is... highly illogical, given the circumstances. I am not... I do not...” His voice fades, and his ears all but wilt.

For the second time that day, Catra does something without thinking, settling herself into the seat next to him and placing a hand over one of his. It’s tense and cold to the touch; her thumb begins to stroke his knuckles without her realizing it. Hordak remains silent, lips slightly parted, transfixed. He does not even react when, on his other side, Melog presses their body gently against his leg.

“It’s a treaty, Hordak,” she begins, and her voice nearly strains for a moment when her brain catches up with her actions, but she steels her resolve and continues, “not a sentence. Not a punishment. I thought it was, at first. I figured it had to be, because of all we’ve done... all I’ve done. But it’s not.”

Catra remembers how she first felt, all those months ago, and she makes the connection between her old fears and his current ones, unconsciously pausing to squeeze his hand; her ears have pinned back, and her chest is suddenly tight again.

“It’s not supposed to... to hurt. For either of us. Y’know? I mean... I was out with the flu for a week a couple of months ago, and the worst thing that happened was having to choke down Perfuma’s gross herbal junk.” She huffs out a laugh, but there’s no amusement in it. “This...”

Now her voice does strain, and she has to stop for a moment before continuing. Beside her, Hordak is breathing quickly again and trying very hard to stop.

“This isn’t the Horde. Either Horde. How we feel matters. How... how you feel matters. So if you need a break, you get a break. ...okay?”

It takes him some time to answer, and in that time Catra realizes what her hand has been doing; she snatches it back just as he finds his voice.

“If... if you believe that your suggestion is... appropriate, then I shall agree to it.”

Catra lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The smile returns to her face, and she nods. Melog trills happily and rewards each of them with a gentle headbutt.

For what had seemed such a dramatic conversation, the aftermath is anything but. Catra and Melog return downstairs and tell Glimmer and Adora of what has transpired. Their reaction is as expected: the work is postponed, and Hordak is given leave to rest as long as is necessary, no questions asked.

He spends the remainder of that day and the next in bed, rising in the late afternoon to deliver a very formal, semi-awkward apology to Glimmer. She responds with a very formal, semi-awkward acceptance. Their working session resumes, though Hordak finds that he needs to excuse himself again after only a couple of hours. That evening, Glimmer has a basket of strawberry tarts delivered to his room. She also makes a point of ensuring that their sessions no longer extend into the late night hours.

Catra remains nearby, much to Hordak’s (admittedly only half-sincere) chagrin, and between her stubbornness and Melog’s perception, he is kept well-supplied with snacks, water, extra blankets and, though both refuse to admit it, friendly company. Adora spends her time trying to contact Darla; when she succeeds, Hordak happily accepts Entrapta’s enthusiastic check-in (and assures her that, yes, he is being provided an adequate amount of soup).

A few days later, he is able to rejoin the group in full capacity, and they finish their work with little harm done by their extended schedule.

Then it is time for him to return to Dryl (Entrapta arrives the next day), but before he boards his transport, he takes a moment to do something he’d once never imagined he’d do: thank Catra. Awkwardly, as seems is his communicative style this trip, but sincerely.

She grimaces slightly, refusing to meet his eyes, and scratches absently at the back of her head. Next to her, Melog utters a noise that sounds like a warbling coo, their mane glowing a faint pink.

“Yeah... well... better than you passing out and bringing the wrath of Entrapta down on us. Bright Moon’s still rebuilding, y’know.”

This elicits an actual laugh from Hordak, sudden and rather loud, and Catra fails to keep the surprise from her face as he regains control of himself and gives his final farewell with a small, genuine smile.

Despite Melog confirming for the world that she is blushing under her fur, Catra smiles back.

#all right we are keeping this despite it making me cringe #catra #hordak #pc:ac

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jennycalendar · 4 years

Text

OKAY. issue 14! bet you’ve all really missed these posts, huh?

so as i mentioned earlier today: when i first saw that bitty preview, my heart went “it would be so funny/ridiculous/wonderful/tragic if jenny was staring into the camera contemplating how fucking much she really wished she hadn’t just hooked up with her kinda emotionally unavailable boyfriend,” and i reluctantly discarded that possibility as relatively unlikely (which i REALLY REALLY REALLY need to learn to NOT DO at this point given that boom studios has spent an entire year just going out of its way to exceed my expectations!!! ridiculous!!!) and moved on with my life.

And Then.

(a brief reprieve from my meta to SCREAM about giles and jenny and their HOOKUP. a THING THAT HAPPENED. she is IN HIS BED. the only canon i respect is reboot canon that’s IT.)

this conversation’s been a long time coming. jenny planted the seeds for it in issue 6:

and was subsequently (and gently) shut down by giles in a way that -- at the time, and without seeing his decision in the museum when the chips were down -- did seem like genuine growth and understanding on his part.

when we circle back to giles’s watcher-related hang-ups, it’s framed this time as something that has the potential to hurt jenny -- something that he will always place above her, in a way that initially made me assume that canon was building towards jenny demanding a relationship where she’s prioritized unequivocally first.

but jenny’s real concerns get brought up again in issue 14.

giles brings up the concept of “healing together,” framing the entire thing as just a communication snafu that they can work together to resolve -- and emphasizing that his priority here is rebuilding his relationship with jenny. his decision to let joyce die at the museum is described by him as “an unfair test that you had to endure,” and he very clearly sees the entire thing as water under the bridge now that they’re both safe, alive, and in their right mind.

jenny is very clearly not in that place.

and now it is time for me to SCREAM AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS, because THIS. THIS is the kind of jenny-and-giles content that i didn’t even know i wanted!!! they’re very clearly in love in a big, messy way that neither of them are trying to deny or work around; they’ve been an important part of each other’s lives for long enough that they feel comfortable calling each other out (whether it’s giles in issue 9 emphasizing that he’s “always been there” for jenny despite her tendency to shut him out, or it’s jenny in . uh. literally every single second she’s in a scene with giles, to be honest), and this is a genuine opportunity for growth on giles’s part that canon NEVER, EVER afforded him.

here’s where i stop waving my “jenny and giles have been married forever in boom reboot canon” flag for a little while, though, because i think that that actually detracts from the utter amazingness of jenny’s characterization here. when thinking of jenny’s determination to make knowledge accessible to all, coupled with the fact that any comments she made about buffy in canon reflected buffy’s age (i.e. buffy is a BABY), it’s pretty obvious that she would so not be okay with the deal buffy’s been handed. ESPECIALLY when juxtaposed with jenny’s own relationship to duty and destiny -- and the fact that she was herself forced into a situation she didn’t choose and cannot turn away from. obviously original canon never actually explored jenny’s motivations, personal philosophy, and internal thought process (because original canon kinda just threw random plot points at jenny so that giles would have a hot girlfriend, which is gross), but jordie is doing a PHENOMENAL job of that here. it doesn’t MATTER how long jenny and giles have been dating in this situation: jenny is not here for your watchers’ council patriarchal bullshit, and she is ESPECIALLY not here for the fact that buffy and kendra are on death row while giles gets to opt out.

and before we dissect what quickly becomes an INCREDIBLE AND EXTREMELY CHARGED CONVERSATION, here’s an important thing that @ifeveristoday brought to my attention: the fact that jenny’s calling him “giles” and not rupert.

way back in og canon, names were a HUGELY important part of both giles and jenny’s character arcs and their relationship to each other. they both had fragmented, fractured identities (jenny and janna, rupert and ripper, i’ve talked about this literally so often let’s move on), and the way they addressed each other very often said a lot about where they were. jenny almost always called giles rupert in canon, very clearly as an attempt to bridge the gap between them; the only times she calls him giles or mr. giles are in “when she was bad” (when she’s clearly trying to keep herself balanced in the face of new and fluttery feelings) and in prophecy girl (yeah, that one’s just inconsistent writing. that’s how jenny’s character flows.)

keeping that in mind, i always was a little bit thrown by the fact that jenny’s called giles by his surname so often in this canon -- but now that we’ve got a pretty solid arc going when it comes to their relationship, there’s a pretty established pattern in the writing.

outside of this issue, here are the places where jenny’s called him giles:

and in each of these other instances, you wanna guess what she’s doing? shutting him out. it’s a little gentler in issue 6 (and she’s more easily swayed), but in all of these situations, she is very clearly distancing herself from him. jenny’s got a habit of trying to pull back and away when the going gets tough, specifically because she knows giles well enough to know that she’s not gonna get through to him on watcher-related matters.

back to THIS.

FELLAS. OH MY FUCKING GOD. i don’t even know where to START here, so let’s go with the easiest one: issue nine set me the FUCK up!!!! jenny pulling away from giles, jenny expressing deep hurt and sadness when it becomes clear that he prioritizes buffy over all else...i automatically assumed that this is her realizing that her boyfriend would have let her die and being horrified about THAT. but the reality of this -- the reality revealed by this issue -- is SO MUCH FUCKING BETTER: the horror that we see on jenny’s face is because the man she loves has been warped by a corrupt system to the point where he doesn’t understand the kind of hurt he’s perpetuating.

and then !!!! jenny absolutely refusing to accept giles’s answer of “this is so much harder for me than you can ever understand,” because he is a grown man with the ability to opt out and she is advocating for two teenage girls who do not have that same luxury. he keeps on trying to turn the argument into something about how buffy’s life isn’t THAT bad, about how buffy’s not REALLY on her deathbed, about how buffy is strong and incredible and jenny is doing her a disservice -- but jenny repeatedly shuts that shit down. “it’s like a religion for you,” she says, like that’s not the rawest fucking line she’s ever gotten to say. thank you, jordie bellaire, for my goddamn life.

and then jenny LEAVES. and she does not fall back into giles’s arms when he says that togetherness is such an important component of healing after the hellmouth. and that says a whole damn lot about what both of them want: jenny wants giles to take accountability for the shitty things HE did and continues to do, and giles...loves jenny and wants her in his life to the point where he’s not listening to a single thing she’s trying to say.

let’s bring back my favorite panel from issue 9:

this sums up my point pretty well, i think. giles keeps on thinking that jenny doesn’t hear what he’s saying -- that if he says it a different way, stresses a different point, she’ll cave and understand how much he loves her and wants to be with her. but the thing is, he’s the one who isn’t listening: jenny is repeatedly saying that she loves him, and that that’s why she’s holding him to the standard that she does. she knows that he can be better than he is, and she’s disappointed in the man he’s becoming.

at this point, i’m pretty sure there’s more to come with regards to giles and jenny. this is a narrative that has very clearly tossed the concept of “world’s best watcherly dad” in favor of “the watchers’ council fucks up the lives of teenage girls and giles is complicit in that.” jenny leaving giles has the potential to push him towards positive growth and character development -- or he could continue to firmly and stubbornly ignore the reality of his situation.

personally, i’m DEEPLY hoping that it’s the former -- and that we get to see giles and jenny come together again after they’ve had the opportunity to grow outside of their relationship. i think there could be something really powerful and wonderful about seeing giles deconstruct his shitty watcher-related views & work towards becoming someone who can genuinely help buffy and kendra (AND smooch his ms. calendar silly, bc she’s sure been having a time of it as of late.) and can you imagine how great 2020 would be with a giles and jenny who have actually learned how to effectively communicate???? ASTOUNDING.

tl;dr: rupert giles and jenny calendar are VERY much in love with each other, VERY sick of each other’s bullshit, and VERY stupid. let’s hope they get their house in order.

#meta #btvs comics #calendiles #funerary relics #WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS ISSUE HOW DID IT GIVE ME FOOD THIS GOOD #i had to write a literal essay to process all of my goddamn feelings #giles and jenny are literally a CORNERSTONE of this reboot! oh my GOD

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