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itsevanffs · 3 years

Note

Hihi!! I've been hyperfixating on tommary lately and I absolutely loved (In the dark!)! I wanted to see if u have any tommary/harrymort fics that u recommend.. preferably ones that feature a possessive Tom ^^ ty in advance

I guess this would be the right time to publicly declare my bookmarks as open? Everything on there is a hard rec, and I vigorously quality-check those... for my liking and my liking only. (Sorry, not sorry. They're there for me, after all.)

That being said, hmm. I've got a few you might like.

Below the cut: more (additionally to my bookmarks) Tomarrymort (Tomarry or Harrymort) recommendations with possessive/obsessive Tom in alphabetical order; NOT order of how much I enjoy them. I'd argue I enjoy them all equally, just in different ways.

Ps: thank you! I'm incredibly flattered you liked my work :D

and don't let the police know anything by littlecupkate https://archiveofourown.org/works/24920947

Ted Dirlod is dangerous, Harry Potter knows this for a fact, but the man was still his only hope at escaping a doomed fate. It is never wise to blackmail a crime lord. It is even more unwise(?) when said crime lord is obsessed with you. An expanded version of "praying to whatever's in heaven, please send me a felon"

Genuinely lovely? Ticks all my boxes, at least, and minimal angst, which is always a plus. That being said, you should probably read the work mentioned in the summary as well for context. But hey. Two cakes by one person ;) Can never go wrong, can it?

As Certain Dark Things Are to be Loved by Strange_Soulmates https://archiveofourown.org/works/6015619

Tom was Harry's best friend growing up and his first love. At eight, Harry gave Tom his first kiss before moving away. As a freshman in college, the name of the RA on the door across the hall is terribly familiar.

Also absolutely deliciously indulgent. Tom is a possessive terror and Harry loves him for it. Need I say more?

Harry Potter and the Search for Ancient Magic (series) by Snickerdoodlepop https://archiveofourown.org/series/1133141

Once Voldemort realizes that Harry Potter is his horcrux, his plans change drastically. So does Draco Malfoy's assignment for the school year. Harry's sixth year starts going very differently. Snape is on a mission. Harry needs to learn pureblood politics. Draco Malfoy is trying to convince Harry to forgive him. Voldemort finds himself visiting Harry Potter in his dreams. Everyone is realizing that no one is quite what they thought. And through it all, there's a mystery. What is Ancient Magic? Can Harry use it to save himself or will it pull him toward the dark side?

Honestly, genuinely, hands down the best fucking tomarrymort series I've ever read. Hard, hard rec from here. The first work is completed and the second is in progress, so it's a nice pile of words to chew through!

can't commit to anything but a crime by caelesti https://archiveofourown.org/works/27286483

Excitement is the word he does not dare utter, even in the privacy of his own mind. It’s wrong, he knows. These women are people, in their own right; people with fears and aspirations, with friends and families and dreams, and to have anything cut those lives short is nothing but tragic. To have anyone cut those lives short is nothing but condemnable. He doesn’t have James Potter’s laugh lines, but he does have his father’s innate flair for danger. He doesn’t have Lily Potter’s enthusiasm, but he does have her insatiable curiosity. (In every world, Harry will excel at finding the biggest spot of trouble available and sticking his nose in it.)

Hot serial killer serial killer hot. That's it, those are the thoughts. Please read.

Dripping Fingers by May_May_0_0 https://archiveofourown.org/works/25440826

When Harry finds Tom Riddle's diary he does not write 'Hello.' He does not write anything at all. He draws. Tom Riddle falls in love with the artwork. _________________ Sketch by sketch, drawing by drawing, the ink Harry pours into the diary manifests as creations in Tom's monochrome world.

Okay so if I'm the reincarnation of Shakespeare, May_May_0_0 is fucking... Ted Hughes. Which doesn't say much to your average viewer but that man wrote my favourite poem ever (the one I based my war fic off) and I hold him in very high regard. This story? It is poetry in its rawest form. Pure, condensed beauty. If you decide to read only one of the fics in this list, please choose this one.

Either must die at the hand of the other by Metalomagnetic https://archiveofourown.org/works/29356095

Voldemort survives the Battle of Hogwarts because Harry Potter had not been the one to kill him, as the prophecy demands.

When is Metalomagnetic not a master of words? When will I cease becoming breathless at every paragraph, at every cleverly twisted word that comes back and reveals itself so beautifully later?

Fine Line by galaxiesundone https://archiveofourown.org/works/26949952

Magic always leaves traces. The lingering darkness of Sectumsempra, combined with Harry’s nature as a horcrux, awakens the soul piece contained within Ravenclaw’s diadem. At twenty years old, Tom Riddle walks a fine line between man and monster, the devil and the light-bringer in one. His influence forces Harry to face an ancient enemy unlike anything he has faced before: temptation.

Long story short: Tom Riddle is Hot and Good At Being Hot and Harry truly doesn't stand a chance and I am here for it. Lord help me I love this fic to pieces.

Good Intentions by Strange_Soulmates https://archiveofourown.org/works/7035334

Five year old Harry Potter meets and befriends a seventeen year old Tom Riddle while hanging out at his dad’s station. James Potter decides to take Tom under his wing, using Tom’s connection with Harry to try and keep the teen grounded, even as he begins to investigate the Death Eaters, a dangerous organized crime group and their mysterious leader only known as Lord Voldemort.

The sheer potential of this fic. The horrible, terrible dread of future events that have yet to be revealed. I will cry.

Honey, Smoke, Shiver by machiavelli https://archiveofourown.org/works/16068062

Harry - Omega, only son of Lord Potter - is nothing more than a useful playing card in a political game of power and money, one that is bought by the famed Tom Riddle: powerful, dangerous, pureblood Alpha. Unsurprisingly, Harry loves being underestimated.

Machiavelli is always a rec from me. Sorry lads but that's the way it is. Never a moment where I won't recommend their stuff.

Sickly-Sweet Obsession by maquira https://archiveofourown.org/works/18259103

Quiet, studious Tom Riddle spends his first year thirsting after an older student—Gryffindor’s Quidditch Captain, Harry Potter. His crush is common knowledge, and even Harry finds it cute… at first. Possessiveness spawns monstrosities. Tom does all within his power to mess with Harry’s dating life. And one seemingly harmless crush spirals into something darker, begetting deadly consequences.

Again; the potential. Delicious. This will bloom into something beautifully twisted, I'm sure of it.

Stars, Hide Your Fires by Audair https://archiveofourown.org/works/27745546

Riddle’s undivided attention snapped to him with the swiftness of shattering glass. His turbulent magic receded from where it had besieged the shop. "You,” he breathed. Coiling in leisurely motions, the eager tendrils of his magic reached for Harry, swathing about his limbs and neck and chest with a liquid, flowing fascination. "I’ve been looking for you,” Riddle continued, tilting his head to the side and sweeping his gaze over Harry. It was an appraisal that felt simultaneously like the raking of iron nails and the tender drapery of silk. It was so familiar, and yet… so foreign. In the winding streets of Knockturn Alley, an intricate dance of mutual obsession unravels between twenty-three-year-old Tom Riddle and a time-travelling Harry Potter.

This work has recently been undergoing a rewrite, and I can tell you with certainty it's only gotten better for it. It's beautiful; the setting, the atmosphere, the vibes... Perfection. Captures Knockturn Alley's mood impeccably and does not disappoint a single moment.

the pleasure, the privilege by asterisms https://archiveofourown.org/works/21227528

It begins with Vernon Dursley's body, dead across the table. In which Voldemort is dosed with amortentia, and nothing is better for it.

Completed, terrifying... and gorgeous.

The Shrike (to your sharp and glorious thorn) by PaperWorlds https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380079

Shrike: A songbird with a sharply hooked bill, known for their habit of catching insects and small vertebrates and impaling their bodies on thorns, the spikes on barbed-wire fences, or any available sharp point. A young Harry Potter survives an attack by notorious serial killer Voldemort. Over a decade later, they meet again.

Lads I'm so desperate for an update from this fic that I might cry if I think about it for too long. I keep saying it and I'll say it again; this is one of those fics with amazing potential that are sure to never disappoint no matter what path they take. An incredibly hard rec.

To Raise a Servant by bluegrass https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780816

Tom had found the boy amidst pouring rain. He figured he'd always wanted a pet snake.

Surprisingly not quite as dark as the summary makes it seem? I certainly enjoyed it, though, and that's why it's on this list.

What He Grows To Be by Severus_divides_into_H https://archiveofourown.org/works/19042240

Tom Riddle is a frightening coil of darkness, cruelty, and greatness, and changing him is Harry’s only hope for saving people he loves. Going back in time, he takes Tom from the orphanage, but his optimism shatters with every year they spend together. Tom still longs for darkness. Tom stifles him in his possessiveness. Tom is fixated on him to the point of destroying the world just to keep him. But Harry loves him. And the future changes.

Beautiful. And absolutely terrifying. I've started crying mid-scene at least three times for this fic, and it honestly seems unfathomable if you haven't read it if you're on my profile, since I think this is one of the fics that have shaped my style and ambitions. It is what I aspire to be.

#fic rec #fic recs #tomarry #tomarrymort #harrymort #fanfic #ask #anon ask

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sergeantsporks · 3 years

Text

Detour

Rating: Gen, General Audiences

Trigger Warning for minor emotional manipulation

Morgana has one last stop before the Eternal Night begins, to eliminate a possible wizard threat from her past.

It doesn't go quite as planned.

Ao3

or read under the cut

Morgana studied the humans wandering below her. What were they wearing? Did she really have to… fine. Fine, she would blend in. She dismissed her helmet, and glamoured her armor into an off-the-shoulder top and a pair of leggings with boots. She shook her head. It was nice to feel the air on her face and let her bangs and braid flow free, at least.

Eternal night wouldn’t be much longer—it was almost time. She was wasting time, but she told herself that one less wizard in the fight would make things easier. One less wizard to deal with. This was most absolutely a necessary part of The Plan. Right. Completely strategic, and not at all self-motivated.

Morgana touched down outside of the city. She was thankful that the young shadow magician had run about the city while she watched so much, because she found her way easily to a small café and sat down in a chair outside to wait.

It was strategic, she told herself again, one less wizard to worry about. Her feelings had nothing to do with it.

“H—” A familiar accent cut short into a squelched yelp. Morgana turned to look at her waiter.

“Hello, Hisirdoux.”

When she’d possessed Claire, she’d snapped at him. Tried to get him away, to keep him away from Claire and any danger that came with the girl. Tried to scare him off so he wouldn’t recognize her in the girl’s body. He’d done a good job of acting confused at the time, but she’d seen that ever-so-slight change in posture, the slight tensing of his shoulders. Why he hadn’t confronted her, Morgana didn’t know. But he’d known she was possessing the young shadow magician.

Morgana nodded to the chair across from her. “Sit down. I want to talk.”

There it was again, that tensing, that slight edge away. Morgana pushed away a twinge in her heart. She shouldn’t care that he was scared of her. In fact, she should be glad. It would make her job easier. “I… really ought to be getting back to it, so if you want to order anything—”

“I said sit down,” Morgana said sharply. The chair floated up and hit the back of Douxie’s knees, making him sit down, and then scooted in close to the table. Douxie’s eyes darted everywhere, as if looking for someone to save him, but if anyone noticed the teen’s discomfort, no one intervened.

Douxie let out a deep breath, his shoulders still tensed. “Merlin won’t surrender, even if you have me hostage,” he said calmly, “He won’t let you win.” There was a slight tremor in his voice, as if he was thinking about what would happen to him if Merlin didn’t surrender, and Morgana felt that momentary twinge of hurt again.

She leaned back in her chair. Two could play at the ‘totally unconcerned’ game. “I’m not here to kidnap you. It would just be a waste of time—I know Merlin won’t trade for one life if the world is at stake. Even if that life is his apprentice’s.”

A tiny flinch. God, she hated this game. The emotional manipulation, the tiny stings of hurt that destabilized someone enough to make them do what you wanted without making them hate you—she’d never wanted to be anything like her old master. Running the numbers, calculating risk and reward, using people as pawns—that had never felt like her. But just this once, she would stoop to his level. Just this once, something was at stake that she’d lower her principles to get the job done.

She just wished Douxie hadn’t been caught in the middle.

“So, what, you want information? Because I can’t even tell you anything about Merlin’s plans, even if you torture me because—”

“Please, I don’t need you to tell me what Merlin’s up to. The old man keeps his plans close to his chest. Doesn’t share them with many.”

There. A slight pressing of his lips together. She’d touched a raw nerve—Merlin really hadn’t told him anything, but probably had told his trollhunter. And Douxie was acting as if that didn’t bother him. “Right, well, I’m assuming this isn’t a friendly social call, so what are you here for?”

The trembling. The slight shaking of his hands. He was trying so hard not to be scared of her, not to show any fear, and she hated every second of it. But she waved her hand as if she didn’t care.

“Well, quite frankly, dealing with Merlin is going to be annoying enough, and I don’t particularly want any other wizards getting in my way, not even little apprentices.”

The pretense of nonchalance dropped. Douxie’s skin was paler than paper. “So that’s it,” he said in a shell-shocked voice, “You’re here to kill me?”

Morgana examined her hand while her heart screamed at her to give him a hug and tell him that of course she wasn’t here to kill him, of course she wasn’t going to hurt him and she never would. “I don’t want to spill any more magical blood than I need to,” she said instead, “Merlin has to go, of course, but you don’t have to die.” Here it went. The pitch. She had to nail her acting perfectly. “Stay out of the fight, Douxie, and there won’t be any reason for you to get hurt.”

“So, what, just let you run rampant all over the world? Stand by while you destroy Arcadia?”

Morgana gave him a cool look. One more barb should do it. “Shouldn’t be a problem if you really do trust Merlin. Don’t you believe that he and his trollhunter can defeat me?”

“Of course I do,” Douxie replied staunchly, “They can defeat you, and Gunmar, and Angor Rot, and whatever else you throw at them.”

“Then it should be an easy decision to make,” Morgana countered.

Douxie hesitated. “Why do you care so much?”

A slight thrill of panic shot through Morgana, but she kept her outside cool and collected, hoping that Douxie wasn’t as good at reading her as she was at reading him. “Like I said. One less wizard to worry about.”

Douxie crossed his arms. Hm. Maybe he was able to read her. “If you’re so sure you can win, why does it matter if I’m there or not?”

“I’d rather not have one more nuisance in my hair if I don’t have to,” Morgana repeated, “And, like I said, there’s no need to waste magic.”

“If you do win, that’s not the end of it,” Douxie taunted, “If I stay out of the battle and you win, I won’t have any choice but to take up Merlin’s job and fight back.”

He’d gotten more perceptive in the last 900 years. Morgana had been counting him on being the same sweet, bumbling, somewhat-clueless moppet apprentice he’d been when she’d fought Merlin and been sealed away. Apparently, that wasn’t the case, and now he was going on the offensive. “I could just kill you right here, if you prefer,” she snarled, while her inner voice screamed at her not to threaten him.

Douxie’s gaze leveled with hers. “I don’t think you will,” he challenged, “I don’t think you want to hurt me.”

That was it. All the cards were on the table. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go! She’d been quiet too long. She needed to say something, or her silence would confirm just as much as a verbal agreement.

“I—” she stuttered. Oh, that was almost as bad. Fine. “And what if I don’t?” she yelled back, standing up with a scrape from her chair and leaning forward, her hands on the table while the little voice inside her cheered, “What if maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to see you—” people were starting to stare. She couldn’t draw attention to this. She struggled to get her breathing under control and sat back down. “What if maybe I don’t want to see you get torn apart by Gum-Gums, hm? Just—sit this one out, Douxie. You don’t need to fight this battle.”

He crossed his arms, looking away. “You know, for hating each other so much, you and Merlin apparently share a mind,” he said bitterly, “He told me to sit it out, too.”

Douxie was obedient to a fault sometimes—if Merlin had told him to stay out of the battle, maybe he would. “Good.”

“No! I don’t want to sit on the sidelines! My friends—”

“Friends?” Morgana echoed.

“Yeah. Claire. Jim, even though I think he maybe hates me for some reason? They’ll be fighting. And my human friends, my coworkers here, those odd siblings—Aja and Krel? Even if I stand aside and I live, all of them—they won’t survive, will they?”

His voice cracked, and Morgana shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t think about the casualties often. They were necessary for the greater good of all magical creatures. Maybe she was thinking a bit too much like Merlin—something she’d always wanted to avoid.

“War has casualties, Douxie, I cannot pretend otherwise. The trollhunter must die, yes, and I can’t promise that your young shadowmancer friend will make it out alive, either.”

“And I’m just supposed to sit back and accept that?! I want to protect the people I love, but somehow that’s wrong according to you and Merlin!”

“Douxie, you’re not ready for a war.”

Douxie laughed. “Morgana, you and Merlin were asleep for the last nine-hundred years, but I wasn’t. I’ve seen more wars than you or Merlin could ever understand, and some of them used much, much more horrifying weapons than what you and the Gum-Gums will do. I can handle myself, but you don’t think I’m ready, and Merlin certainly doesn’t. I’m not a kid!”

“No one said you were.”

“Merlin seems to think so.”

Yes, that sounded like Merlin. “Merlin is worried that if he lets you loose, you’ll end up like me. Don’t pay any attention to him.”

Douxie’s hands curled into fists. “I’m ready to fight—I am—but Merlin won’t let me. He says I need to keep myself hidden longer. But I’m tired of hiding! I’m tired of being a silent sentinel! I want to do something!”

What exactly was she supposed to say to that? At least he wasn’t scared anymore—he was a little bit too comfortable with her now, as if finding out she wasn’t going to kill him had sent him right back to where they’d been before she’d left—Morgana the older apprentice, and he the younger. Both of them looking for something more. Each of them a willing ear for the other when Merlin had shut them down for the umpteenth time.

“Well,” she said finally, “I don’t really want to fight and hurt you this battle. So perhaps it is a good idea for all our sakes that you sit this one out. It might get ugly if you join in.”

“You don’t have to fight anyone at all. Just call off the Eternal Night.”

She should have known this would happen. “Douxie—”

“You don’t have to go through with it,” he continued, interrupting her, “You could call off Gunmar, or better yet, just not start the Eternal Night and just watch them all turn to stone.”

“No,” Morgana said sharply, “I’m doing this.” She got up, turning to go. “Last warning, Douxie. Stay inside. Stay out of my way. I don’t want to hurt you. But if I have to… well, just make sure I don’t have to.”

Because I’m not sure if I’ll be able to if it comes to that.

#toa #tales of arcadia #tales of arcadia: wizards #tales of arcadia: trollhunters #morgana #douxie #older sister morgana #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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buttercup-of-kaer-morhen · 4 years

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Hello yes I am Completely Anonymous ONCE AGAIN and I have a prompt for you! Temporary (perhaps potion or drug induced?) Amnesiac!Geralt being absolutely floored and delighted that Jaskier is his lover. Please and thank you.

Hey completely anon,

I may or may not have gone a little off script for this prompt and really wanted to write more for my dumb magical college AU. Hope you enjoy it anyway. May I present!

Magic and Exams: Amnesia

Main tags: college AU, it’s modern but with magic slapped in, Jaskier and Yenn are besties (Fight me), Lambert/Aiden kinda?, Non human Jaskier, And they were roommates~, pure fluff, pre relationship, pining… Kinda, unbetaed, we die like Renfri

——

It was official! Fate was cruel and destiny hated him. Jaskier had been fine with how life had been going. Classes were good. Friends were great. And, you know, he had finally stepped into a tentative friendship territory with his hot roomie rather than that weird close relationship you develop with your roomie. Things were just grand!-- Ignore the fact that he had a monster crush on said roomie, not important!-- What was important was that Lambert, the ass, suddenly showed up on Jaskier’s free day-- a day he was dedicating to his reading and composing, bouncing around his hobbies as he pleased-- with a semi confused looking Geralt. The witcher had barged into the dorm room towing Geralt along as Aiden brought up the rear. Now, he was going to ignore this intrusion at first but Lamby seemed to have other ideas. He loudly proclaimed to the bewildered white wolf that this was his room and, oh look, his partner. “Go ham bro!” To which, Geralt’s gaze snapped to Jaskier and proceeded to silently stare at the musician in contemplation.

Jaskier, as one would imagine, was stunned as his brain tried to understand what was happening but the dickhead explained no further as he turned to leave. Having none of it, Jaskier quickly stumbled to his feet and bolted for the two retreating figures, almost tripping several times on the shit covering the floor-- he really needed to remember to clean one of these just as Geralt had nagged him to do days ago! He managed to get a hand on the other wolf before he fully got out the door. “Explain. Now.” He demanded, his voice warbling as his eyes darkened slightly.

“Woah shrimp!Calm your tits, you’re starting to look a little red around the gills-- Seriously though, a little siren is beginning to show.” Lambert tried to make light of the situation-- fish puns again, really Lambert?-- even though his smile gained a touch of nervousness as Jaskier tightened his grip. He held back his claws for the moment but he was this close to having a truly marvelous freak out on the man if he didn’t start giving answers.

“Calm down angelfish, Lambert’s just being a prick as per usual.” Aiden cut off anything Lambert was going to say. Lambert gasped in betrayal as he gave the third witcher a look that probably tried to convey how much he was wounded, he couldn’t really see though nor did he really care right now. “Situation is, we were having a class trip across campus, something monster related that our proff was gushing the fuck over and insisted we needed to see. Waaaay too excited over it if you ask me but while we were passing a class of freshies in an outdoor charms 101 class, this one chick starts going off at--” Aiden explained but really, it seemed more like he was slowly getting off topic as he spoke.

“Kitty, Get. To. The. Point.” He insisted slowly punctuating each word, while frowning in annoyance.

“Rude. I am! Anyway, this girl gets into a row with this guy in her class and fires off some kind of spell which was deflected but hilariously it ricocheted right towards us.” That was not hilarious in anyway but rather terrifying but Jaskier refrained from pointing this out. “You know Geralt though, life loves to fuck with him, so he gets hit straight in the back with it and Poof! He can’t remember some shit now. We think he only remembers up to starting college but nothing after.” Aiden finally finishes with a proud smile at having riveted the musician with his tale of adventure but it diminishes slightly in the face of Jaskier’s baffled expression. The half-siren really was quite proud of it, it just conveyed the right amount of Are you fucking idiots or did you just lose your brain on the way over!?

Jaskier took a deep breath and calmed himself before flatly staring both in the eye, his fingers steepled in front of his mouth as he thought of how to respond. “And why, pray tell, did you bring my accidentally spelled roommate to me rather than sending him to infirm?” He asked, deceptively sweet with a razor’s edge to it.

Lambert scoffed. “He was being fucking annoying--” His words were abruptly cut off by Aiden’s hand roughly smacking over his mouth.

“What he means is…” Aiden growled, glaring at the wolf to make sure he kept his mouth shut, to which Lambert huffed and flipped him off but otherwise remained silent. “Geralt kept prodding us ‘bout going to see his partner and, well, you were like the only one we could think of since everyone else has someone and this idiot is single like you.” The man punctuated his simplistic logic with a small shrug.

Jaskier took a deep breath through his nose. “Uh-huh… This is a terrible fucking idea--” Before he could finish what he wanted to say, Lambert suddenly yanked his self free of his grip and threw Aiden over his shoulder.

“Your problem now bard!” He called over his shoulder as he booked it down the hall, cackling like the bastard he was.

“Oh nonononono! Get the fuck back here!” He called after fruitlessly. They were already long gone.

Jaskier sighed as he turned and closed the door to their room. Geralt seemed to have ignored and blocked out the whole exchange. Whether out of courtesy for Jaskier privacy or in favor of refamiliarizing himself with their space, he’d never know nor did he really care. When he finally turned his gaze back onto Jaskier, he just stared while scowling intensely in thought. It was rather insulting if Jaskier was being frank. With a roll of the eyes, the musician realized he’d just have to roll with whatever the idiots told Geralt about their “relationship” but wanted to head off the coming disappointment from the witcher. Jaskier was obviously not what he had been expecting, especially since normally the man barely tolerated him much less ever tried to invite him out, but it would sting less if he were the one to address it rather than the larger man stating it. At least that’s what he told himself. “Ok, alright. I know I’m not what you were expecting and rather disappointing compared to some of your past dalliances but please, let’s just get you to infirm. Once you have your head back on right, everything will make more sense about the whole us thing and we can just forget about this whole embarrass--”

“You’re so handsome…” Geralt’s awed words cut Jaskier’s rambling off at the knees and had him blinking in surprise. “Or cute. No, both… How do you manage to be both?!” Geralt’s marveling had Jaskier at a loss for words. The witcher had never once complimented him in all the time they had lived together. Barbed jabs? Yes. Playful teasing? Very Often. Statements of facts? Definitely. But actual full on compliments? Nope! No, never happened. Was this how he actually saw the musician or was this some hokey hocus pocus side effect?! Or the man was dying as they spoke and was out of his mind. Either way Jaskier snapped his mouth closed, no it had not been hanging open thank you very much, and tried to get his brain to work again.

“Wai-What?” Smooth Jaskier. His flabbergasted tone and excessive blinking seemed to not queue in Geralt however.

“Man, I really lucked out. How’d I get a catch like you to even look my way? Wish I could remember how…” The normally stoic individual whistled long and low as he gave Jaskier a once over. A once over! Like Jaskier was a hottie from a club-- or however Ren said it-- instead of some music nerd overloaded with college minors! Jaskier was so astonished and caught off guard that he bagan sputtering incoherently, much to the Witcher’s amusement apparently if the wolfish grin was anything to go by. He was shocked and scandalized! Delighted but absolutely shocked! He had never witnessed this side of his roommate. Instead of addressing whatever was happening here, Jaskier stumbled over to his phone on the bed and quickly dialed Yennefer.

It rang twice before he heard the familiar click of her answering and began nearly shouting before she could give her usual passive aggressive hello. “Yenn! I need help--”

“Whoa, calm the fuck down Jask, what the hell happened?!” Her worried demands cut him off. It was rather heartwarming to know his best friend sounded ready to draw blood for him. He could coo and awe about that later though!

“I’m fine but Geralt got hit with some hoodoo amnesia magic but I think it’s really just killing him! He’s acting delusional Yenn! He called me cute-- Stop laughing! This is serious!” He attempted to explain what was going on but his witch cut him off with her hysterical laughing on the other end of the line. Rude, by the way. This was a very serious matter.

“Sorry Dandy, you just, whew, gave me the best pick me up, I could have asked for. You really got me.” Yenn attempted to speak after most of it calmed down but a few giggles still managed to slip out.

“Yenn… I’m serious. He actually doesn--” He was cut off yet again. People really needed to cut that shit out.

“Lemme guess, Lambert is somehow involved?” She questioned, finally taking him a little more seriously, and he could practically hear her eye roll at the mischief maker’s name.

“Yes…” He confirmed slowly as his eye wandered to Geralt again as his panic died down slightly. The white haired man looked very confused as Jaskier tried to smile reassuringly but it probably came off as unsure at best.

The larger man came closer and placed warm large hands on his biceps as he looked intently into Jaskier’s eyes. “I mean it… I’m sorry if I never told you, I guess I was a pretty shitty boyfriend if I never told you how wonderful and caring you seem to be.” The other man apologized, as he looked away in shame. The words had the musician’s heart going wild as Yenn continued to talk in his ear. He really couldn’t hear her over his heart beating in his ears but it sounded like a demand to get Geralt to the infirmary.

To which Jaskier answered, “That’s nice dear. I think I have to go to infirm now because I believe my heart is about to give out.” His voice was sighed out in shock as he hung up on Yenn’s sudden worried screeching. Geralt on the other hand suddenly looked panicked and rather worried.

“What?” He questioned as he started to look over his “boyfriend”. “Don’t worry Jask, I’ll get you there. Just hang on.” Geralt tried to reassure him, his voice was handsome with how rough and rumbling it suddenly was, as he scooped the smaller man up into his arms like a bride. No, Jaskier did not swoon he’ll have you know! The wolf then booked it out of the room. “Damn it! I wish Roach were here…” He muttered in a growl and Jaskier thanked the heavens that the man did not remember his horse-- cat? Was in their room sleeping. There would be plenty of rumors after this but it especially would have gone down in infamy if the Witcher had rode like the wind across campus on horseback again. Jaskier couldn’t do much at that point except lay back, accept his fate, and enjoy the other’s cooing, about taking care of his boyfriend or how good Jaskier was, while it lasted. But hey, at least he’d finally get Geralt to infirm.

#Witcher #witcher netflix #Geraskier #fanfic #geralt x jaskier #gerlion #non human jaskier #college au #Lambert #Aiden #lambert/aiden #yennefer #Jaskier and Yennefer besties #Buttercup's writings

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[TRANSCRIPT] EPISODE 10: DESTABILIZING THE MECHA-WIFE DICHOTOMY

Cathy 00:00

[midi version of Just Wild Beat Communication plays, fading as Cathy speaks over it]

Cathy 00:03

Hello and welcome to another episode of Untitled Tallgeese Podcast. I am this episode's host Cathy and I am joined by my lovely co-panelists Kat, Mallory, and Caitlin. Today we will be going over Episode 19, "Attack on Barge" and Episode 20, "Infiltration of the Moonbase." We pick up where we ended with Zechs, who has been found by Howard, whom you may remember as Duo's scrap metal salvager. It turns out that Howard used to be one of the engineers who helped design Tallgeese. Howard offers Zechs a way back into outer space, which Zechs eventually accepts, but not without first posturing in classic 19 year old fashion that the man formerly known as Zechs Merquis is now dead.

Cathy 00:44

Meanwhile, Duo stages an attack on OZ, but his Gundam is beaten by the Taurus mobile dolls, and he himself is captured when his self destruct mechanism doesn't work. His arrest is broadcasted everywhere on the Colony News Network, capturing the attention of Heero, who menacingly implies that all weaknesses must be eliminated. After infiltrating the OZ base where Duo is captured, however, and faced with actually needing to pull the trigger, Heero thinks better of it and breaks them both out by tricking the mobile dolls into believing the OZ's own Leos and spacesuits are the enemies. However, Heero and Duo are sadly forced to leave the damage Deathscythe behind.

Cathy 01:20

Elsewhere, Wufei stages the episodes titular attack on the Barge. He just so happens to intersect with Lady Une, who, in her peaceful ambassador persona, has an elaborate telepathic conversation with Wufei and her second command Nichols about how Outer Space should be reserved for peace. Nichols, frustrated and confused about Une's dueling personas, orders the Barge's beam cannon to shoot at Wufei. It manages the damage Shenlong Gundam marginally, but sacrifices a number of OZ's own soldiers in the process. Wufei, disgusted, uses his triton to light a literal fire under his own ass and flies off.

Cathy 01:55

In the next episode, Heero explains that he must kill the Gundam scientists, who under the thumb of OZ have been ordered to make all new and better mobile suits, the Mercurius and Vayeate. Duo wants to go with him, but injured is forced to remain behind. Speaking of injured Gundams and their pilots, on Earth, Sally Po tries to destroy Sandrock but encounters the Maganac forces who are trying to rescue it for Quatre. After realizing they should form a support group, and that the Maganacs actually have names, Sally Po helps them escape.

Cathy 02:22

OZ has been very busy. For one thing Lady Une submits a proposal for the colonies to form their own nation with one catch: they have to help OZ produce mobile suits and military equipment. Understandably, the colony representatives are wary of this proposition. But Lady Une goes full Treize on them, talking about how fighting is part of the spirit and beauty of mankind. At the same time, OZ has been trying to recruit random amateurs to act as test pilots, only one of those amateurs turns out to be none other than Trowa. As his final test. he's ordered to destroy a damaged site while Duo helplessly watches a broadcast. Because Trowa makes it to the final rounds, he wins a meeting with Lady Une. His barbed accusations that OZ is pretending to be friends with the colonies in order to win them over causes Une to have a mental breakdown. After she recovers, Une escorts Trowa and four other lucky pilots to the Gundam scientists where they meet the new mobile suits, the Veyeate is not actually functional. It reacts seemingly to the presence of Trowa, only to reveal that it's Heero clear snuck aboard. Unfortunately for Heero, Trowa manages flip through the air and get to his own gun faster, arresting Heero on behalf of OZ. And scene.

Caitlin 03:33

Can I just say, that, remember being 19 and thinking, [dramatically] "my former self is dead!" [laughter] and then totally, totally reinventing your look and your life for college. I think that's Zechs in these episodes. [laughter]

Mallory 03:53

Zacks is going away to college

Kat 03:54

To space college!

Caitlin 03:55

You've broken the mask of your like, high school nerdiness and now you're [laughter]

Mallory 04:02

now you're free faced and hot.

Caitlin 04:04

To be you sexy self, yes.

Cathy 04:07

I didn't think of it that way but that is totally true. And Zechs, he plays a surprisingly marginal role in these first, in these two episodes, which is kind of surprising because he'd been really important in the episodes leading up until now. And I didn't really process that until now, where you point out that literally the only thing he does in these two episodes is act like an emo fool and then flies off. [laughter]

Caitlin 04:31

Well he's dead. So he's,

Mallory 04:32

Yeah.

Caitlin 04:33

He's like, in exile because he's dead right now. [laughs] He's, he's like resting.

Mallory 04:38

Yeah, he's like symbolically killed himself.

Kat 04:40

Yeah, and complaining about getting help from Howard. Like, "Ugh, this is so much trouble to just get me to space."

Caitlin 04:46

This is like Genji in the Tale of Genji when he sent off to like, it, be punished in exile for a couple of months, [laughter] whatever. And all he does is like hang out by the seaside and like make a new girlfriend. [laguhter] This is Zechs right now. How, Howard is the girlfriend? [garbled] Serious, Genji in Exile.

Kat 05:07

I'm glad you're bringing this serious analysis here.

Caitlin 05:10

Yeah, this is, this is literature.

Cathy 05:11

I love it. And I'm glad we somehow managed to shovel in Tale of Genji into this because [laughter]

Caitlin 05:16

Uh, this will not be the last time we talked about Tale of Genji, all right?

Cathy 05:20

So, you know, I have to apologize, I know that I am supposed to be host and I've admitted that I don't really have any deep thoughts about episodes 19 and 20 other than I love them, and they're really entertaining. So I guess I'm gonna throw Kat under the bus, one of the things you wanted to talk about is the OZ use of propaganda and kind of information control in these two episodes.

Kat 05:44

Yeah, so we've spent a lot of time as a podcast talking about Lady Une, and the different roles that she takes on. And it's really interesting to see her utilizing the broadcast television that they have going on in the colonies. I'm not sure if it's clear if that's getting broadcast to Earth or not, but she's definitely using it to control the flow of information to the colonists, including when they captured Duo -- deciding whether or not maybe jokingly, to execute him publicly, whether or not he's, he's pretty enough or ugly enough that the colonists would sympathize with him if he was ugly.

Caitlin 06:20

And unfortunately, he's extremely good looking.

Kat 06:23

He's too beautiful, so he must die. And I think it's kind of the culmination of all the control that she's had over their media streams leading up to this episode.

Mallory 06:34

And you also see, like you hear the spin in the broadcasters and what they're saying, which is really interesting, like, they're always like, "these young troopers are vying for a spot with OZ!" You know, like there's a, there's a celebratory kind of tone to all of the newscasts that we are seeing and hearing

Kat 06:55

And we get a lot of plot exposition in those news broadcasts of these episodes, I think a little more, like we've gotten clips and stuff, or they just want to explain something. But I think it kind of leads the plot in these episodes in a way that it doesn't quite do elsewhere.

Caitlin 07:11

One of the things that I think is really interesting about the use of propaganda here is that it comes along with the realization of the split in Lady Une's personality and I think that there is a way in which you can view her split personality as mirroring, or like metaphorically performing the split between OZ's reality and OZ's performance, right? OZ's propaganda image. To a certain extent, it's like she's become like the physical and mental manifestation of the doublethink required to be both the front-facing OZ image of a peaceful colony helper, trying to bring everybody together. And the cutthroat OZ that we know is the reality.

Mallory 07:54

Exactly. She's a hamfisted metaphor for like the cognitive dissonance at the heart of Oz. You know, like this focus and emphasis on niceties and gentility and grace and saving face versus the cutthroat merciless militaristic takeover that OZ and the Romefeller Foundation are actually carrying out. It's like sort of her mental break at this point -- is it signaling a split between these two factions? Like Treize seems like he's at odds with the Romefeller Foundation in some way.

Cathy 08:28

Yeah, absolutely. I mean, at one point in Episode 20, right, when she goes back into her room after she talks to Trowa, she says, something like, "Am I doing this for OZ? Or am I doing this for Treize?" [crosstalk]

Mallory 08:37

Yeah, "Or is my master Treize?"

Caitlin 08:39

I thought, I thought that was very interesting. It also reflects the parts of her that are... So like, her considering, "Do I work for OZ? Or do I work for Treize?" is also, "Aam I doing this work as the harsh and cutthroat colonel?" versus "Am I doing this work as the kind and gentle Lady?" Where like, one of them is the person who works for OZ, and one of them is the person who loves Treize and is just doing this out of duty and affection for him.

Kat 09:09

The episodes are so blatant, and kind of the colony-facing version of her is weaker, like she's stronger in uniform, and it's sort of like this weaker facade that they are putting on to the colonies? But also it's working, so I guess it's a testament to how intensely she's making herself believe in this persona slash, she has to put her entire belief into it for it to work.

Mallory 09:34

For her.

Kat 09:35

For her.

Mallory 09:35

Right, because it's been established that like, part of her character is that she can't, she's a bad liar. So it's almost like she has to make herself believe that what she's doing is good?

Kat 09:46

Yeah.

09:46

In order to promote this soft face OZ

Caitlin 09:50

It's what politicians do, we see it all the time.

Cathy 09:53

To me a really interesting part of this, and I don't think it's explicit. I think this is just me projecting on it, but there seems to be to me like a hollowness or an emptiness about what OZ actually stands for other than wanting power. We just have Treize, right? Like Treize is the entire idealistic "heart" of OZ. And when you remove that from the equation, it's kind of like, what are we even all doing? Like how does, how do any of the powers differ from each other? They really don't. [laughs] They just want power. And so I really find this interesting, trying to grapple with like, what power means or what, what anything stands for, what do ideals mean? and seeing Lady Une like, break down, actually, physically and mentally in a way that was really obvious, felt really like relieving to me, just to be like, that is the thing we all struggle with. And I think, surprisingly, Gundam Wing made a really potent and relevant comment about it. Like, it is just hard to understand what any of us are fighting for, when it comes to big power structures. It doesn't mean anything. We're all meaningless in it.

Mallory 10:57

Yeah especially when, like, the lines that you are being fed by those powers are like vague things about the heart of OZ. And what does that even mean? Like you can't base a belief system on like this vague concept.

Kat 11:12

It's hard to base like a whole governmental structure around the nobility of man's fighting spirit?

Caitlin 11:17

But also that is, this is fascism,

Mallory & Kat & Cathy 11:20

[crosstalk of agreement]

Caitlin 11:20

that you have. It's purely a lust for power. There's, there's a creation of a set of ideals, that -- those ideals only exist to keep people in the existing power structure, and replacing any sort of actual belief with a fixation on one central leader, as Treize has done. It's fascism. It's what we're seeing today, basically. [muttered] Sorry, not not to get political at our Gundam Wing,

Cathy 11:46

Not to get political in our, in our podcast about an anime that is about politics.

Kat 11:50

Well, I was gonna say, I think as a kid, when I watched this, I think I was a little more sympathetic, but in a more simplistic way about Lady Une? And to me, it felt very much like, she suddenly saw that peace could be achieved and realized that her true self was fighting against it and couldn't handle that dichotomy. But now that I know that every politician can just live with 1000 pounds of cognitive dissonance in their head at all times, I don't know if that's really a thing that's going on, like if that was a naive reading of it.

Caitlin 12:23

Yeah, if you, if you recall, from our argument last time, about like, is she, has she already sort of lost herself at that point? Or is she in the process of losing herself, we were sort of, we were sort of split on whether this was an active choice that she'd made, if it was like a deliberate choice to sort of split this part of herself off, or if it just sort of ruptured by mental break. And I think now we sort of see the transition. Whereas like, last, the last few episodes that are lead up to this, I was like, okay, she's deliberately creating this persona, because she knows that she's not really good at this stuff.

Kat 13:00

Right.

Caitlin 13:01

So she's created this other other person. Now she's now she's broken,

Mallory 13:06

It was sort of the ease with which she could do that was a foreshadowing of the cognitive dissonance that would then come back to haunt her, and that we're seeing her sort of pay for now.

Kat 13:18

She seems so assured of herself and like the Lady Une militaristic persona, even though she doubts herself when Treize chastises her, but that's the only time she's not like, do these fucking plans, like I'm telling you to do it, now. And for her to be so unsure of herself in the other persona is really interesting.

Caitlin 13:38

I'm actually kind of sick of her. I feel like this is kind of a hackneyed plot move

Mallory 13:42

Mhmm

Caitlin 13:42

on their part. I don't really buy like split personality as a trope.

Cathy 13:47

Let's move on, let's move on then. Caitlin is sick of her crap. Let us move on to our second point: mobile dolls. So I think there's a lot of really interesting themes in these two episodes about what it means to be a pilot and kind of human intelligence versus robot intelligence. You know, we see this both in the way Heero escapes from the base with Duo. And then also in Episode 20, when we reunite with the Gundam scientists, and their whole point is essentially like, it doesn't matter who's who in the mobile suits. It just matters who the pilot is.

Caitlin 14:21

Yeah, there's a really great moment where the mobile dolls very stupidly kill their own people because they're in the same suit that Heero was wearing. Yeah, they've had their targets switched around, which demonstrates that the mobile dolls are not a great solution to the problems [laughs] of war? I like that, though it's sad that they killed their own guys.

Mallory 14:44

Yeah, I mean, it's like a real surprise that an unmanned machine could be manipulated, you know, hacked.

Kat 14:50

Weird.

Mallory 14:51

Strange.

Cathy 14:52

Totally weird.

Mallory 14:53

Who could have predicted that?

Caitlin 14:55

AI did not solve all of our problems.

Kat 14:57

I like how pissed Nichols -- or possibly not Nichols -- is though when Trowa goes, "it doesn't matter which one is better because the better pilot will win" or whatever. And the OZ soldier flips out because I guess he's bought totally into this too. And they did take down at least one Gundam pilot with the mobile dolls. So like, how dare he even question the idea behind the mobile dolls, even though they brought him in literally to be a good pilot.

Caitlin 15:28

And then you have the whole thing where Heero's in the suit that's supposed to be non functional so it seems like it functions and then Heero -- it's actually Heero, that whole thing. I was sort of thinking of our other big contemporary mobile suit in the room, Evangelion.

Cathy 15:44

Oh god [laughs]

Caitlin 15:45

The, the machine is actually a part of them and it's not really about like pilot skill. It's about sort of a connection that is like, primal and animal. Whereas in Gundam Wing you have a connection with between the pilots and their suits? We sort of see this when Duo flips out about that's like being publicly executed.

Caitlin 15:45

Which came out the same year. The whole, the whole like, thing is that this terrible idea of children piloting a mobile suit only really works if the mobile suit is some sort of like biological and psychological projection of themselves slash their mother.

Cathy 16:04

Yes.

Caitlin 16:07

And with Quatre and the Maganacs, who are like we have to rescue Quatre's Gundam.

Mallory 16:29

Yeah.

Caitlin 16:29

Yeah. But that isn't like, the same thing as a mobile suit can function without the pilot or a mobile suit is something that needs, is an animal that needs control, like an Evangelion.

Cathy 16:39

Although it's interesting because I think in the last four episodes, we have seen examples of this. So for instance, Sandrock, of course, just kind of walks off right without Quatre.

Caitlin 16:51

And he's like, get out of me.

Kat 16:52

Yeah [laughs]

Cathy 16:53

It was kind of like a weird open question as to whether or not Deathscythe, like didn't want to blow up with Duo in it? or if there was actually a failed self destruct mechanism. And they leave that kind of open. Similarily, and I know I called this out in my background when I was summarizing this, I love the way the end of Episode 20 is set up because there is this moment where I was almost wondering if my memories of this episode were incorrect, and that Mercurius and Veyeate really just sort of light up because Trowa is there, right? Like I was just like, oh, are they responding to Trowa? But then it turns out, it's because Heero is there. So there are all these little moments where they're kind of like building in this doubt, like, what are the Gundams? What are mobile suits? How tied, like what is that symbiosis. And I think it is really interesting that it comes out at the same time where Eva kind of like definitively falls one way or another on it, that they kind of just leave that open.

Kat 17:48

Bringing in Tallgeese, this episode too, like Zechs shows up just so we can hear again about Tallgeese and I think his relationship with that mobile suit is very much about his synchronisation with it. Like, it's harder to pilot than all the other ones so they continually talk about how like, you'd have to be a human or like, it gave him a frickin heart attack, because it's so difficult to pilot kind of thing.

Caitlin 18:12

So it does sort of reflect our relationship with machines in real life. I think a lot where you're like, Yes, I am, I am the driver of this car. I don't think this car is able to make its own decisions. I think most of us can agree that AI cars are kind of stupid, the self driving cars.

Kat 18:29

Yeah, thus far.

Mallory 18:31

I mean, I really want one but

Caitlin 18:33

When you think about people's relationship to their cars,

Cathy 18:36

Mmhmm.

Caitlin 18:36

It's an extension of self. And you get people who are who are obsessed with cars, who name their cars who refer to them by female pronouns. You have these really intense relationships with technology that the show plays with a lot even while saying, verbally, It's the pilot that matters, not the machine.

Cathy 18:55

So before we leave Mercurius and Veyeate, I want to say I actually found that really interesting and much more interesting when I saw them this time as I'm older. You know, they're red and blue. So I just want to like put that plug in, you know, there's a very kind of symbiotic relationship between red and blue.

Caitlin 19:12

[gasp]

Cathy 19:13

Just generally

Caitlin 19:13

I ship red/blue. All of my ships are reds and blues. Oh my god!

Cathy 19:18

Like they're, you know, there's a, there's a general kind of fandom-y trope and work trope, literary trope about red and blue. Heero ends up popping out of, I think it's Veyeate, who is the blue one, and the blue one is the one with the really great beam cannon. And then the red one, Mercurius has the shield. So I mean, the one interesting thought I had, like literally the only one thought [laughs] that I in these two episodes is that there's a great Chinese idiom called zìxīang máodùn" (自相矛盾). And máodùn is the Chinese term for sort of being self-contradictory and kind of like unable to go anywhere because you're kind of tying yourself up in knots. And that word in that phrase [Baldwin] actually comes from two separate words [mall], which is a spear or a lance and [twin] which is a shield. And it comes from a really classic story [Ed.'s note: from the Han Feizi] where this merchant is saying he has, you know, the world's best lance and then the world's best shield. And then somebody asked him, "Well, what happens if your lance attacks your shield" and he's unable to answer? [laughter] And so when we say "máodùn" like "oh my god, I'm so máodùn" like, "Oh my god, I'm so you know, I'm tied up in myself in knots, and I can't figure my way out," you know, I'm really confused, I'm really troubled, what we're really saying is, we have an unbreakable shield that goes up against an unstoppable lance.

Cathy 19:37

So I thought, you know, here, there's this moment where it's like, very much implied, they don't make a big deal out of it, but you have Heero and Trowa who I've always in my head kind of put in the same axis, you know, like they are kind of like the same people but on two different ends. And they are representing, they're both undercover in different ways, Heero has actually snuck into the beast, Trowa has gone undercover [laughs] as an amateur pilot for us. They end up kind of repeating this cycle sort of over and over again, throughout the series, and then it comes out in this really obvious reference to having a spear and having a shield. So I thought that was really fun.

Caitlin 21:20

Cathy you're not gonna believe this. It's the same word in Japanese. Oh, is it really? For conflict contradiction? It's mujun (矛盾). So I had to look at the characters of máodùn. But yeah, it's it's mujun in Japanese, which just means contradiction, but it's the same spear and shield, yeah.

Cathy 21:35

There is kind of a wonderfully elemental and like contradictory sense with Veyeate and Mercurius is that I didn't catch on the first time I watched it and just wanted to share with the group.

Kat 21:48

I think that's fascinating to me, because I love the interplay between Heero and Trowa there when Heero drops his gun and he's in the beam cannon. So in that case, shield wins. [laughter] Because I mean, Trowa's on the defensive

Caitlin 22:05

Shield wins!

Caitlin 22:06

You know what else is a dichotomy? [laughing] That is operative in many of these [laughing]

Cathy 22:15

Uh oh.

Mallory 22:18

Seme and uke.

Kat 22:21

Dammit

Cathy 22:21

Dammit. Alright, where's this going? [laughter]

Caitlin 22:24

It's not going anywhere, it ends right there, that's [laughing]

Cathy 22:30

Well, I am going to selfishly move this conversation then to I think I really love which is the whole Heero/Trowa/Duo like trio dynamic that is happening. There's a lot of stuff that is going on between these three people on every leg of this triangle that is happening in Episode 19/20 and I just would love to talk about it.

Mallory 22:53

There's a lot of emotional entanglement going on.

Kat 22:56

So I liked when Trowa sees that Duo is captured and then -- on his Gundam TV -- and is like, "I bet Heero will handle that, it's cool." Like just, just assumes that he's going to take care of that guy.

Mallory 23:10

Well he knows right you know knows that Duo is like Heero's first boyfriend.

Caitlin 23:16

I liked when Duo said, "I don't want anyone else besides you to kill, kill me Heero." And then when Heero's like, "Yeah, I'm actually going to kill you," Duo's like WHAT?

Mallory 23:24

"Why would you do that?" Sad puppy eyes.

Caitlin 23:27

"WHAT? You're really, you're really gonna do it?"

Cathy 23:31

And I love how that is also then followed up by a scene where Trowa is actually forced to shoot Deathscythe and doesn't hesitate.

Caitlin 23:42

That depressed me.

Cathy 23:43

There's like this beautiful like, to me. you know this like, I don't even know what to explain about it. Where like Heero goes with the express intent to kill Duo and then does-- isn't able to do it for one reason or another which is not really, you know, even lingered upon but it is amazing, see, I love that.

Kat 24:00

It's they're, they're in love.

Mallory 24:01

Could, he just couldn't he doesn't know why

Cathy 24:03

He just couldn't and

Caitlin 24:04

He's not good at killing people, actually,

Kat 24:07

He's not good at killing hotties he likes.

Cathy 24:09

What I love specifically is both of these scenes involve a thing where the assault ,the assailant throws away his gun. But in this case, Heero throws a gun at Duo and says "your right hand is okay, right?" being like, you can use this gun.

Caitlin 24:22

Aww

Cathy 24:23

And then in Trowa's thing, he throws away his puny little gun so that he can ask for beam cannon so they can actually destroy Deathscythe. So I, again, I have no idea who wrote this. But like if you read that in a fic, you'd be like hell yeah, this person knows what they're doing.

Mallory 24:39

Oh, yeah.

Cathy 24:40

I just wanted to point that out. I loved it. I ate that up with spoon

Mallory 24:43

The shipping the one true pairing OTP./OT3 energy is real strong in these episodes.

Cathy 24:49

Oh so good

Mallory 24:49

And Kat and I have been watching the dubs and then watching the subs after for each of the two episodes and the delivery of the dub actors versus the sub actors is so different between Duo and Heero that it like really informs the pairing dynamics that you might see in fic.

Kat 25:11

Yeah, watching the dub is like, "Oh, I see." Like, this is exactly fic duo where he's like, you're gonna kill ME? Versus like, "oh, you're really gonna kill me?" Like it's it's so different.

Mallory 25:25

It's it's really different. And like, for me the difference in the delivery of the the exchanges, especially as they're escaping after Heero has rescued Duo is so different. In the dub, Duo and Heero's relationship is more one-sided, like Duo likes Heero and has affection for him, but Heero is still kind of like closed off. But in the sub, I hear more, sort of, we're already in love with each other, but we don't know it yet. Whereas in the dub, this is like, pre we even have feelings for each other. Does that makes sense?

Caitlin 26:00

It's interesting that you do so much deep reading of these inflections when I was just like, the dub acting is not very good. [laughter]

Kat 26:10

Well, I mean, it could definitely be that.

Mallory 26:12

right?

Kat 26:12

But it just, it feels so different. But I guess more in terms of how it might inform fandom reading of the characters.

Mallory 26:21

Yeah,

Kat 26:21

Like watching one or the other. Like I if I watched only one I would have a different view of how those two characters interacted.

Mallory 26:30

Right, the first time I ever watched Gundam Wing and then went and read fanfic, I was I was really confused by the presentation of Duo because in fanfic he's just kind of this like hapless... I don't know sort of like [laughing] not the not smart character [laughs]

Caitlin 26:49

He's a baka!

Kat 26:50

He's a dumb baka.

Caitlin 26:52

That's the term.

Mallory 26:52

Okay, well, I just didn't, didn't want to say it. [laughs]

Caitlin 26:55

Do we, do we need to pull out the vows of not making Duo a baka again?

Cathy 27:02

Nooo we don't

Kat 27:03

Oh my god. Yeah.

Cathy 27:04

We don't we don't need to go to the Society for the Defense of Duo's Intelligence.

Caitlin 27:08

Yes, we need to review our laws of not making Duo a baka.

Kat 27:14

He has read one book. But I mean, he's, he's just not, like he gets overwhelmed by mobile dogs. It's not like he's a moron getting captured and stuff.

Cathy 27:23

I do also want to say that, like he does, he is following this particular like, hurt/comfort trope.

Mallory & Kat 27:31

Yeah/Mmhmm

Cathy 27:32

That I don't know why was so pop-- I don't know if it's still popular now but it was incredibly popular then. And in order for that trope to work, somebody has to constantly like be beat up or like in

Caitlin 27:45

Yes

Cathy 27:45

a state of pain or in a state of peril

Caitlin 27:48

Umm

Cathy 27:48

And unfortunately,

Caitlin 27:50

I think this is definitely still a thing but it's a little bit different now. Whump has evolved I think,

Kat 27:56

Yeah.

Caitlin 27:57

it still exists though.

Kat 27:58

It's not quite the same

Cathy 27:59

And, but it definitely doesn't exist the same way as it used to, which was very explicit and very blunt. And in order to get there you kind of had to put one of the characters kind of in like stupid situations I feel like? and

Kat 28:11

Yeah,

Cathy 28:12

Yeaaaah

Caitlin 28:12

And that was Duo so I,

Cathy 28:14

These days you're not allowed to beat characters up as much. You kind of have to justify it.

Kat 28:19

Yeah, I think also you find fewer authors that are like I'm gonna write 40 fuckin fic and Duo is gonna get his ass kicked in every single one of them.

Cathy 28:28

Yeah (?)

Caitlin 28:29

I don't know though, because if you, when you dive in, in the tags, you can see some really wild things with contemporary fandoms. It's just not the fic that's, that's dominating the like, rec lists or like the circles that

Kat 28:41

Definitely the whump is a lot less dark.

Mallory 28:44

Yeah.

Kat 28:45

Well, good thing Gundam Wing canon provides. Duo gets his ass beat multiple times n canon so... by other pilots, it is great. That's why he's a fave.

Caitlin 28:53

He looks beautiful in these episodes

Kat 28:56

He really does

Caitlin 28:57

When he's like beating up in the cell. When Heero's like, "No, you can't come with me because you're useless." [laughter]

Caitlin 29:03

And he's like, be a little kinder next time.

Cathy 29:06

I love that Heero was just like, well go to school for me. I'm like, are you?

Mallory 29:10

Yeah.

Cathy 29:10

[laughter] What is wrong with you, Duo doesn't look anything like you?

Kat 29:14

Didn't Heero already go to that school? [laughter]

Caitlin 29:16

He made a whole speech

Mallory 29:17

You made a whole speech in front of everybody.

Kat 29:19

"Oh, you're gonna be real popular buddy."

Cathy 29:23

And I kept being like, is that like, I remember this. I really do remember this scene where he's just like, go to school. And like now I'm watching and I'm like, it is just as weird as I remember it. [laughs]

Caitlin 29:33

Wait, wait, wait, you know what the real point of him saying that is so now we know that Duo knows that Heero used his name,

Kat 29:41

Right, yes.

Caitlin 29:41

to enroll in school. So now Duo in our fanfics can think, "oh my god, he used my name, he's obsessed with me."

Kat 29:47

"What a fucking weirdo." [laughter]

Caitlin 29:49

"Maybe he really is in love with me. Blah, blah, blah blah." So that is like, him saying that I think is some sort of like pure fan service where it doesn't really make any sense and it's just to let us know that this character now knows this other character thinks about him.

Cathy 30:04

I completely lost my shit at this episode, I just want to tell you. I was like watching it and losing my shit.

Caitlin 30:10

These are really good episodes. I like fell asleep during them 'cause there's something wrong with me obviously. But they're really good episodes, a lot of stuff happens to the point where I think it's hard for us to think of things to like, really substantive things to say. They're just good action episodes.

Cathy 30:25

So before we move on, one last thing, you know, we had this amazing moment with Sally Po and the Maganacs when they met each other and they're kind of like, "you know, a Gundam pilot? I know Gundam pilot." It was great. I'm glad that we haven't forgotten Sally Po.

Kat 30:43

I'd like that you shouted out the Maganac names because in one of my one of my notes is like, "it's so nice that they have names now."

Caitlin 30:49

They all have names

Cathy 30:51

I love them.

Mallory 30:51

And they have personality. And I like that they're ribbing with each other like, "Oh, Abdul's plans never work the way they're supposed to, ugh."

Caitlin 31:00

Yeah, there's a token fuck up. It's great.

Kat 31:02

Yeah. [laughter]

Cathy 31:05

I really, I mean, I, those are like the little things that I think. I don't know, it just overall, there is a really rich universe in Gundam Wing that I'd forgotten about the first time I watched it. And it was nice to see that there are these moments in the show that there's no reason for anybody to shout out. But the fact that each of the Maganacs had a name. Each of them had a personality.

Kat 31:25

And some style.

Cathy 31:26

Yeah. So we kind of had like a weird hybrid cultural artifact that we wanted to talk about today. Kat you had brought up this video, which is of Super Robot Wars.

Kat 31:39

Yeah.

Cathy 31:40

Which is a part of the Gundam franchise more generally. And then I also just wanted to talk about my experience with Gundam fighting games, but you first.

Kat 31:48

So Super Robot Wars isn't just the Gundam series, but it's most, most of them are produced by Sunrise, but it's like a Bandai Namco Entertainment game. So even Evangelion mecha have shown up in it. But there's a ton of different Gundam characters and robots, like a turn based RPG with different characters mecha and storylines they pull from all different anime series, mostly Gundam.

Caitlin 32:19

Does it give you more information about the Gundam Wing world? Do you get like more details with the characters?

Kat 32:27

Not a ton, sadly. I mean, not for gonna wing. Maybe for other ones. There's like one specific Super Robot Wars, Super Robot Wars W which was for the DS that had Quatre and Duo, and Duo is disguised as Heero Yuy and you have to play a mission to sneak them to Earth. I've watched like YouTubes but Super Robot Wars always felt like one of those canons like side canons that I could never really access as a kid? And now that I could do it, it's sort of like eh. Treize is in it actually, Treize is in Super Robot Wars W also, he's the Federated Earth Nation President.

Cathy 33:08

So I okay, so there there is a running joke I have with my friends and this is kind of rude and I'm really sorry. I do think there is a certain element of like, what I usually associate with kinda Reddit anime fandom, or a certain element of like, and I'm sorry to say this but like "cis male anime fandom on Twitter?" And I call them Dragon Ball versus Naruto fans and those are people [laughter] are always talking about who is stronger, or like who would win in the battle, Naruto vs Goku? And like, to me that is like the least interesting thing about watching either series.

Caitlin 33:43

It's the dumbest shit.

Cathy 33:44

Right? Like I don't give a shit. Like

Kat 33:46

Right, who would smooch who?

Mallory 33:48

Yes,

Cathy 33:48

The reason why I bring this up is like, is I wondering if, if that is what Super Robot Wars is supposed to appeal to? Like? Is there an element where you want to see all of the Gundams from, and all of the like, mecha from the different series come together and fight. Like who? Like what is the appeal of this game?

Kat 34:10

I think it is. It's like getting to interact like with all these different things from franchises you like. But it's not like a mecha-to-mecha thing all the time. I don't know it's maybe it is, it's not a fighting game though. You're, it's an RPG.

Cathy 34:26

Okay,

Caitlin 34:27

Interesting

Kat 34:27

The White Fang from Gundam Wing in the future is like a villain. Like they ally with a rebellion from Mobile Suit Zeta Gundam so like, so it's that kind of thing. But I

Mallory 34:41

I mean, I can see why people would why it would appeal to a certain segment of population that games manufacturers would assume are watching the shows. [laughter] You know, it's it's just like the novelty of seeing. I don't know, isn't that why movies like Civil War? And

Cathy 35:01

Yes, absolutely.

Mallory 35:01

all of those are so popular because it's like, I just want to see them bashing against each other like Superman versus Batman versus Iron Man, you know,

Kat 35:10

There's got to be a mecha versus mecha game though like that feels like it has to exist. This one is interesting, because I think it's interesting that Gundam Wing is sort of outside the greater shared Gundam universe. So for them to pull it in for this was always interesting to me, because I was like, I always liked Gundam Wing as a kid because it's like, "oh, I can watch this. But I don't need to watch this other stuff that's going to be like 20 bucks for a VHS tape with two episodes on it."

Caitlin 35:39

Right. But then you could you could get into Gundam Wing, and then you could be like, oh, Gundam Wing is in Super Robot Wars. So I play that and then suddenly you get into these other things,

Kat 35:48

Right. exactly.

Cathy 35:50

So I actually played Gundam Wing: Endless Duel on an emulator and Gundam Wing: Endless Duel is actually a robot versus robot fighting.

Kat 35:59

Hell yeah!

Cathy 36:00

And, um, I really don't remember how I got this. I think somebody handed me like a CD-R? of all these have like an SNES emulator.

Caitlin 36:10

C! D! R!

Cathy 36:11

And there was Gundam Wing Endless Duel and I think like a Sailor Moon flaming game, maybe?

Caitlin 36:16

There is a Sailor Moon fighting game.

Caitlin 36:17

Yeah, that definitely exists, yes.

Cathy 36:19

So I played, so I remember, you know, and my mom was never gonna listen to this, she'll never know that I did this. I used to, like sneak down into our basement, like get on the computer in our basement and like play, like, you know, from the hours of like, 2am to like 4am, play like Gundam Wing Endless Duel, which was all in Japanese at the time, I had no idea was going on. So I was just like, mashing buttons. I was not particularly good. But it is great. And there is a lot of like, you know, obviously everybody forms opinions about like, who is the best Gundam and who is the worst Gundam? Like I think Heavyarms sucks. [laughter] So it's always like, beat up on Heavyarms while you're playing? Because you're like, "Yeah, he suuuucks." And like, there is this really fun moment where you get to try on all these weird ideals that come up in Gundam Wing. And I'm sure that's true of every Gundam game, but I like there is a moment where it's like, "oh, yeah, this is what it feels like to be a cishet anime male being like Naruto vs. Goku." That was my Naruto versus Goku moment.

Kat 37:18

I feel like the suits definitely made it further then the characters and Gundam Wing

Caitlin 37:23

was very much their own characters in a lot of ways. And like a lot of fans are just really into the cha-- and into the suits. It's like, it's like, instead of your waifu who you have your mecha. Maybe or maybe you can have both.

Kat 37:36

Uhhh, my mecha could be my waifu. [laughter]

Cathy 37:40

On that note, thank you guys for joining us to discuss Episodes 19-20 and also marrying a robot.

Caitlin 37:48

Nothing wrong with that.

Cathy 37:49

Nothing wrong with that. We appreciate all robot fuckers on this podcast. [laughter] Thank you guys, see you next time.

Kat 37:59

Keep in touch! Hear about our new episodes on Twitter at TallgeesePod. Find our full transcriptions on Tumblr at UntitledTallgeesePodcast dot Tumblr dot com and follow us on Instagram at UntitledTallgeesePodcast for behind the scenes deets, fandom artifacts, and memes.

#gundam #gundam wing #mobile suit gundam #anime nostalgia #90s anime #anime podcasts #untitled tallgeese podcast #episode 10 #transcripts

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takivvatanga · 4 years

Text

what remains.

Brown paper bag. PATIENT PROPERTY. The top folded over one, two, three times, stuck down with a printed label.

VAR ANAHID-REID, Assire. Date of Birth, NHI number, Address.

Patient Deceased. NOK to collect written underneath in black pen.

These are the contents. This is what remains:

A crumpled feather, blackish brown. Damp.

8 hours remain.

“Mum, look!” Stella’s voice is insistent, serious. She’s fallen behind, easily distracted by her surroundings – she is her mother’s daughter. Assire checks her watch, turns around towards her daughter, her expression serious. Stella is crouched on the wet pavement, the hood of her coat pulled up over her head, dark curls spilling out in a stark contrast against the white faux fur lining. Sometimes Stella looks like Assire, other times she looks just like Jonathan. There’s hints of other people there, too. But most of the time, Stella just looks like Stella, and Assire loves her so fiercely that it hurts.

You’re the most impossible task I’ve ever tackled. You are the greatest thing I’ve ever done.

“What are you doing, Stella? We’re going to miss the train if you keep mucking around. Do you want to go to Emma’s house or not?!”

“Look what I found, Mum!” Stella raises a gloved hand, her breath rising in small white clouds. Assire responds with a stern look, an impatient gesture. Stella huffs a little but obeys, running towards her mother, her boots going splish splish splish on the wet ground.

“It’s for you, Mum. It’s from a bird.” She presents the feather with something bordering on reverence, and Assire accepts it without thinking, slides it through the top buttonhole of her coat.

“Why, thank you very much. I shall wear it with pride.” Stella beams at her, and Assire takes her daughter’s hand in hers.

“You have to wear it for the rest of your LIFE, Mum.”

“I will, honey. For the rest of my life.”

A raffle ticket. Number 47. Carefully folded in half.

7 hours remain.

Barbara has a round face and kind eyes. Her blonde hair is cut short and her earrings glitter in the late afternoon light. Her house is colourful and noisy, in a perpetual state of activity. Herbs grow on the windowsill of her kitchen. Dishes are piled in the sink. Children’s drawings cover the refrigerator door.

“What do you say to Barb, Stella?” Assire’s hands rest on her daughter’s shoulders.

“Where’s Emma?” Stella bursts out, already kicking off her boots.

Assire rolls her eyes, her lips forming a silent apology. Barbara chuckles, turns on the tap, hot water rushes into the sink.

“It’s all good, it’s all good. No worries, eh? EMMA! Come down, Stella’s here!” The sound of light steps racing down wooden stairs. A blonde head poking through the kitchen door.

“Hi Stella! Hi Stella’s Mum!” Stella’s best friend in the whole world forever and ever is small for her age and full of energy, a noisy, snot-nosed little kid with a big heart and an even bigger mouth. Assire is glad that her daughter has friends. She remembers what it felt like to be a lonely child.

“Stella’s Mum, do you want to buy a raffle ticket? I’m doing a fundraiser. So I can go to camp over the holidays.”

“Hello, Em”, she replies, letting go of her daughter’s shoulders. “Sure, I’ll buy a ticket. Today might just be my lucky day. Give me… number 47.” Emma squeals with excitement, produces a greasy booklet of tickets from the pocket of her jeans, flicks through, tears one out, passes it to Assire who hands over a crisp ten dollar bill in exchange.

“I don’t have change.”

“It’s fine, Emma.”

“Whaaaaa… THANK YOU! Stella your mum is cool.”

“You girls be good, okay? No staying up watching rubbish all night and Stella – you promise me to listen to Barb, please. Seriously, if I find out you made a nuisance of yourself, you know what that means, right? No more sleepovers.”

Stella looks up at her mother, nods quietly. “What time are you coming back?”

“In the morning, honey. Dad and I are going to pick you up in the morning.”

“In the car?”

“Yeah. In the car.”

“Bye, Mum.” Stella turns, opens her arms. Assire hugs her daughter goodbye. Neither of them know that this will be the last time.

A mobile phone. Shattered screen. A smear of dried blood.

One hour remains.

sms: Jonathan

[txt] I’m just about finished thank goodness. You wouldn’t believe what these absolute incompetents did to their server I am SPEECHLESS

[txt] but that being said I’m really enjoying being in this building all by myself. It’s like being a ghost. The benevolent spirit of emergency server repair. It’s so lovely and quiet and there’s people’s things just sitting around and I can’t stop wondering who the people are that those things belong to

[txt] you still on track to pick me up? I’m so very much looking forward to having some time with just US. And I feel so bad for feeling like this because you know how much I love stella but sometimes I just miss when it was just you and me

[txt] can we go for a drive over the bridge? I love the bridge at night

[txt] really? I was so looking forward to us having some time to ourselves. Nvm you do what you have to do hopefully your shift improves. I’ll catch the train and I’ll see you at home I suppose. I might text barb and see if stella can stay at hers until after lunch we can sleep in and just BE at least

[txt] yes I’m sure! It’s fine seriously! I can look after myself, remember :)

[txt] I love you too. Very very much.

[txt] see you soon x

A train ticket. Single fare. Western Line.

Forty-five minutes remain.

There’s no sense of impending doom. No oppressive atmosphere. No feeling that this is it, this is the end. Assire’s shoes echo on the subway stairs. She’s going to have to wait for a little while until her train arrives, but she doesn’t mind. Assire has always, in some strange way that she can’t quite explain, enjoyed the stations at night. Sometimes, they feel like sacred spaces, separate from the world above, existing in their own time, according to their own rules. She is disappointed when she finds that the platform is not completely deserted. A young woman wearing headphones sits with her phone in her hand, popping bubblegum against the back of her teeth.

An elderly couple, long distance travellers, judging by their suitcases, share a newspaper. Assire watches them with curiosity, wonders what it will be like to grow old, and all of a sudden there’s a dreadful thought screeching through her mind that she cannot silence.

What will I do, when I am old and he dies before me?

There is not a doubt in her mind that it is Jonathan who will die first. Everyone knows that women live longer, and his father died young, who knows what the burden of his genetic legacy will be. The thought grabs hold, cold and cruel and terrible, crushing her heart and constricting her throat. She scrambles for her phone, her fingers slick with sweat, it slips out of her hand, falls to the ground with an ominous thud. The screen shatters.

Shit.

The girl with the headphones looks up, grins, her expression pure schadenfreude.

Assire scoops up her phone, keeps walking. The lights at the other end of the platform flicker erratically, almost as if in warning. Assire does not recognise it, or else she does not heed it.

“Give me your wallet.”

“Excuse me?”

She never even saw him approach. He’s very young, almost still a kid, with big hungry eyes and a sad excuse for a beard dappling his chin. His hood is pulled right up over his head, his jeans are dirty, and he’s very thin. There’s an eruption of infected sores over his sunken cheeks, every part of his body seems to be in motion.

“You fucking heard me, bitch! Give me your fucking wallet!”

She should be scared. By all means, she should be terrified. But all she can see is a little boy, a desperate little boy. She has faced far greater fears than this. She shakes her head. She will not be intimidated.

“No.”

“You fucking bitch!” There are tears in his eyes. There’s a knife in his hand. There’s something sharp piercing her side, again and again and again and again. There’s something hot and red and viscous spilling out of her, dripping down her leg, blooming on her coat. There’s nausea, and dizziness, and a sound like a train approaching. There’s darkness closing in, clouding her vision. There’s the dirty subway platform floor, rising up to meet her. There’s a light. It’s beautiful.

A set of torn and bloodstained clothes.

Sixty seconds remain.

She recognises him. Despite the fact that his face is obscured by a surgical mask, despite the fact that everything is all messed up, despite the fact that she cannot focus her eyes. She would recognise him anywhere. She would know him in death, at the end of the world.

She is looking down on him, watching him work, his movements quick, frantic. His hands are shaking. She’s pretty sure that when a surgeon’s hands are shaking, the prognosis is unfavourable. Assire feels sorry for the person on the table, the person who is about to die. She doesn’t like this place. She remembers asking him what it is like, in theatre, remembers listening to him describe it, the way everything is deliberate, precise, orderly. This is not orderly at all. Discarded equipment litters the floor, there’s drips and machines and sharp metallic things everywhere. There’s a shoe on the ground, lying in a pool of blood. She has a pair exactly like that. They are her favourite shoes.

She can hear voices, but the words don’t make any sense. They don’t need to. This is nothing good. Assire knows nothing about medicine, but there’s blood everywhere, seeping out from underneath the sterile sheet covering the body person on the table, seeping, seeping, seeping. A river of blood that pours and pours and will not, can not stop. Someone pulls off the sheet, the sound of the machines rises to a crescendo. The person on the table is a woman. She looks familiar. Assire wants to get closer, wants to see her face properly. This is someone she knows!

“Excuse me. I need to look. Please. Let me look.” No one takes notice of her request. No one takes notice of her, full stop. Aren’t they surprised that she’s here, right in the middle of it all?

“Assire! No! Don’t you dare!”

He has noticed. He has noticed her, and he’s calling her name, and he is angry, so angry, and by all means he should be, she has no business hanging around in operating theatres!

“I’m sorry! Jonathan, I’m sorry. I just need to see, I’ll explain later. When you finish. When we’re home. I can explain. I don’t know how I got here but I can explain.”

He looks up, but he doesn’t see her. She knows he doesn’t. There are tears in his eyes and something else, a terrible, terrible grief and all she wants to do is to reach out and comfort him, to let him know that everything will be alright, she’s here

I’m here, I’m here!

and she’s both here, suspended above and there, on the table, in a pool of her own blood, not making a sound not moving not breathing not living it’s time to go but she doesn’t want to, she wants to stay!

I want to stay!

and it hurts, it hurts, oh God it hurts so bad until it doesn’t

It doesn’t hurt anymore.

It’s alright

Everything will be alright.

and darkness starts to close in on her but she’s not afraid of the dark this time, because there’s a light at the very edge of it and it keeps growing and pulling her towards it

The light is so beautiful.

and she turns around for what she knows will be the last time and she knows that this time he can hear her

I’ll wait for you. I’ll always wait for you. I love you. I’m sorry.

Goodbye.

@throatkissed why am I like this

#vignette: assire #verse: modern #tw death #tw stabbing #sorry not sorry at the dash #but legit i was just driving today #and all of a sudden i knew how her story ends in modern verse #IT'S OK THERE'S AN AU WHERE SHE SURVIVES OK

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mimik-u · 5 years

Text

Flower Child, Chapter 11: Texts (II)

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day, friends! I'm so very appreciative of you guys. Slowly, but surely, we're edging to the heart of "Flower Child." (If I can stop being distracted by the inner workings of characters' minds long enough to focus on plot, we might just get there soon, lol.)

AO3

Sunday, 11:32 AM:

Blue: Oh, Steven.

Blue: I’m so sorry to hear that

Her slender fingers hovering just above the touchscreen, Blue Diamond hit send prematurely and realized that she had forgotten to punctuate her text just seconds after she did. Of course, an unfinished sentence wasn’t the end of the world—not in this era of instant communication where proper grammar had been relegated to stuffy scholarly types (such as herself) and punctilious mothers over forty (such as herself).

But.

The mistake shattered her anyway.

Because it wasn’t about the sentence, nor was it about the grammar. It was about all of the other unfinished things that she had been intimately acquainted with over the course of her lifetime.

It was the fact that she had never finished Les Misérables in grad school, though she had written a beautiful essay on it all the same. It was unfinished diary entries and unfinished diet attempts, her unfinished career and the singularly unfinished look about her these days. In the mirror, she was a ghost’s approximation of a human, tall and smudged and broken. In the part of the world she once ruled with a sure fist, she was very well a ghost to all of the people who had once known her name.

It was her relationship with her mother that ended on the very day she started dating Yellow all those many years ago.

You should be ashamed of yourself, was paradoxically both a complete sentence and an incomplete one, drawing lines in sands and tearing her asunder at the same time.

And it was Pink Diamond—unfinished at twenty-one years old.

But then again, it was always Pink Diamond, everything about her—her high, lilting laugh and her freckled smile, the way she wrapped her thin arms around Blue’s waist and called her home.

It was that last unfinished fight that never ended in I’m sorry or I love you.

You’ll never let me grow up, will you?

And now, it was Steven Universe, the boy from the cemetery, the flower child, the first smile she had worn on her face in years.

Blue buried her long face in her hands and prayed to the God that she did not believe in anymore, that this child would not become another unfinished thing.

Sunday, 11:47 AM:

With a sigh that reached into her bones and hollowed them out for good measure, Pearl finished texting everyone who needed to be texted—all of their friends and family, and sometimes, the friends and family of their friends and family. The list of reassurances, blending into one another after awhile, went a little something like this:

Pearl: Thanks for checking in! I’ll keep you updated.

Pearl: He’s stable! Just resting now.

Pearl: Oh, sure! A casserole would be lovely. Thanks, Barb. Lapis and Peridot are house-sitting, so you can drop it off with them.

Pearl: Please don’t kill our cats. <3

Pearl: Thank you for the kind words.

And for the thoughts.

Prayers.

But not quite condolences.

(Thankfully, not condolences.)

Pearl: No, my apologies. Now wouldn’t be a great time to visit. Maybe later?

But at the same time:

Pearl: He’s fine! :)

Pearl: He’s stable!

Pearl: Don’t worry!

Pearl: He’s fine!

She was a broken turn table, all scratched up, repeating the same few lines over and over again until she forgot that there was such a thing as the rest of the song.

Stability was not a given for Steven Universe anymore, and fine was such a relative word.

He was fine yesterday, laughing and cutting up and inflating balloons on the beach.

He was fine a week ago, bruised and weary for sure, but on his own feet and independent of machines, giving flowers to random ladies in cemeteries.

And he was fine eight months ago, on the verge of becoming an eighth grader at the local middle school—and then he woke Pearl up in the middle of the night to tell her that it hurt to pee. There had been tears in his dark eyes.

Blood in the toilet.

A diagnosis three weeks later.

Pearl: Hello, I’m so sorry for the late notice, but Steven is in the hospital again. I won’t be able to make my shift tonight.

The three dots appeared almost instantly, much to her clammy chagrin.

Her manager replied: so sorry to hear that! i’ll take you off the schedule. do you need tomorrow night off as well?

Pearl: No! In fact, I can pick up a double tomorrow. Two to closing?

Manager: great!

Pearl needed to be with Steven, needed to hold his hand and press kisses into his forehead, needed to weather every tube and test, every hell and high water, but because life was perverse and they all had horrible health insurance, she needed the money to take care of Steven more.

Trying to ensure that someone didn’t die wasn’t cheap, they had learned fourteen years ago with Rose. But, of course, even that ample forewarning didn’t soften the blow of their current financial situation, which was… dire.

For a couple of months now, they’d been toying with selling with the beach house.

It was prime real estate, secluded on the far side of the beach as it was.

(It was home. How could they even dare?)

“You look like you’ve been kicked, Pearl.”

Pearl looked up from her phone to find Garnet staring at her from Steven’s bed, where she was still curled around their boy though he’d long been passed out from his latest puking spell. (Yogurt. He couldn’t hold down yogurt.) Her bicolored gaze had always been intense, for Garnet was an intense person, but now, it pierced through Pearl like an x-ray and found her wanting.

Her sadness was seen.

Keenly.

Summed up in seven quiet words.

“I’m working a double tomorrow,” she murmured, looking away, anywhere but those eyes where she was known. “You’ll have to call me as soon as he’s done with testing.”

Earlier, Dr. Maheswaran had told her that UNOS would require Steven to have nigh daily blood work done in order to ensure that he was still viable for a kidney transplant. More testing would also ensure that he remained relatively high on the list should a kidney ever become available.

Garnet nodded, meticulous to move only her chin so as not to disturb Steven and all of his tubing. One of his wire infested hands was curled tightly into her shirt.

“You know I will.” But then, with a wry smile hinting at her disdain for phones: “Or Greg will. Or Amethyst—if Amethyst will ever leave the room.”

It was both a joke and not a joke, a joke and a light admonition in that subtle way only Garnet could accomplish.

Shame was a hot trickle of dread in Pearl’s stomach, a pink blush across her cheeks.

“I went overboard last night, didn’t I?”

Another nod. The various machinery currently keeping Steven alive whirred around them in place of a reply.

“I hurt her feelings,” Pearl whispered as the night came rushing back to her—Steven pale and cold beneath her hands, the rage that snarled through her teeth as she locked eyes with Amethyst, who could only stand there and sob and apologize, and oh, how that had irritated her in the moment. “I said some awful things.”

The admission was a horrible creature, condemning her where she sat, twisting all her insides up until she felt like a monster.

“I should apologize,” she said, and then immediately added, “Right?”

Garnet—she could all but see herself in the other’s dual toned eyes, how her face was contorted in a desperate plea—shouldn’t I apologize? It feels like I should apologize, but I just don’t know anymore, and all of these decisions and words and empty texts are all getting to be so heavy.

Please.

Please tell me what to do.

I’m so lost.

Garnet studied her in silence for a longer moment still, her expression as impenetrable as ever, until her dark brow suddenly relaxed, unfurling across her eyes in a softness that was meant to be a tiny kindness for Pearl.

“You should apologize, Pearl.”

All of the puzzle pieces suddenly clicked into place.

She should apologize.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

“And Pearl?”

“Yes, Garnet?”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

Sunday, 12:09 PM:

Pearl: Hi, Amethyst. It’s Pearl.

Pearl: But you knew that, of course, because I’m programmed in your phone, and goodness, I’m already making a mess of this, aren’t I?

Pearl: -_-

Pearl: At any rate, I’m just texting to say… I’m sorry.

Pearl: I’m so sorry for how I acted last night, what I said to you and what I did. It was uncalled for in the highest order, which is to say that I unfairly blamed you for something that you absolutely could not control.

Pearl: Steven’s sick—really sick—and I’ve been trying to ignore that reality for as long as it’s been /our/ reality. When you opened that window last night, I presume you were trying to correct my mistakes when it comes to Steven. You tried to show him the truth, and that is such an incredibly brave thing to do.

Pearl: I’m proud of you, Amethyst, and I miss you, and I love you, and I’m sorry.

Sunlight leaned against her face, and exhaustion leaned against her entire body. Pearl closed her dark eyes in defiance of both of these heavy things and let her templed hands fall into her lap, her long fingers still curled around her phone.

“You did it,” Garnet murmured quietly from the bed.

“I did,” Pearl replied.

Oxygen hissed into Steven.

Wires measured the beat of his heart.

Pearl’s phone buzzed once and then twice.

Sunday, 12:11 PM:

Amethyst: love you p

Amethyst: b there in a minute?

A smile quivered across the thin line of Pearl’s mouth.

She was so happy, and she was so sad—all at the same time.

Sometimes, these two feelings felt like they were one in the same.

Pearl: See you then.

Sunday, 1:40 PM:

Connie: Hi, Mom, can I come visit Steven?

Priyanka: Mmm, for a little while if your dad will bring you up here. Don’t wake him up if he’s still napping, though. He has an early shift tomorrow.

Connie: Okay! :) We’re in the parking lot.

Priyanka: You’re in the WHAT now?

Connie: Well, I wanted to see Steven, and Dad wanted to check out that new wax museum between 2nd and 4th, so it worked out!

Sunday, 1:43 PM:

Priyanka: Doug.

Doug: Our daughter is a singularly persuasive human being.

Priyanka: Doug.

Doug: … Wax Fyodor Dostoevsky.

Sunday, 1:45 PM:

Priyanka: 4th floor. Truman Ward. I’ll meet you at the doors to let you in.

Connie: Thanks, Mom!

Sunday, 1:45 PM:

Steven: Hey, don’t be sorry!

Steven: It’s just a fact of my life, you know? I’m going to fight, Blue.

Steven: I promise.

Sunday, 1:54 PM:

Connie: Steven, I’m on my way up!

Steven: WOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Steven: Give me the play by play. I’m bored

Connie: Okay! First floor, passing the gift shop.

Connie: Now boarding the elevator.

Connie: Contrary to everything “Under the Knife” has ever told me, there are no meet-cutes between superfluously handsome doctors in this dingy little vessel. :(

Steven: You watch Under the Knife too?!?!?!?!

Connie: Yes! It’s one of my favorite shows! (On the fourth floor.)

Steven: Who’s your favorite doctor?

Connie: Oh, probably Stebbins.

Steven: :o

Steven: Stebbins is so mean, though!!

Connie: But he’s efficient! That has to count for something.

The three dots cropped up in a hilariously quick instant, but Connie was faster, shooting off a reply as her red converses squeaked to a stop at the double doors guarding Truman Ward from the rest of the floor. A plain, if abrasive, sign next to the doors instructed her to RING THE BELL FOR ENTRY, but the plexiglas windows in the center of the doors revealed that her mom was just on the other side, chatting with a nurse.

Connie lightly rapped on one of the windows with her knuckles to snag her mother’s attention. Attention promptly snagged, and with a visible sigh that could only be described as fond, her mother nodded and reached past the nurse to hit a button on the wall.

The doors spread outwards.

Connie barreled into her mom’s lab coated arms.

“Hi, Mom!”

“Hello, Connie.”

And then they quickly disentangled themselves, so they could study each other like the scientists they both were. In a sweeping glance, she could tell that her mom had had a rough night. Exhibit A: Her hair was in a ponytail. (It was never in a ponytail.) Exhibit B: She looked positively wispy with fatigue, all of the lines in her face frayed and fraying. It made sense. She’d been called out of bed a little after ten last night, and she’d just gotten off of a day shift a few hours before that.

Exhaustion was scrawled all over her like a prescription.

“I presume your father went to go ogle wax people?” Priyanka asked with a wry tilt of her head.

“Yup,” Connie replied, proffering a wry smile of her own. The nurse her mom had been talking to waved a polite goodbye to them both before heading out through the double doors.

“And I also presume that you’re not even remotely sorry for driving up here without asking my permission first, correct?” It was both a harsh question, and it was not, wrangled into something softer by the resignation in her brow.

Connie at least had the decency to feign shame.

“Something like that,” she said sheepishly, studying the floor and then her mother’s impenetrable eyes and then the floor again.

Priyanka sighed, but to her daughter’s surprise, hooked an arm around her shoulder.

“Well then, let’s go see Steven.”

The harsh overheads smiled coldly upon their heads as they began to walk. They passed a nurse’s station, a small girl whimpering on a gurney, swarming scrubs and lab coats. The air tasted like hand sanitizer, and the weight of where she was at, and why she was here, slowly began to dawn on Connie for the first time since she had conceived of this visit.

“Is it bad?” The question stumbled out of her mouth like an accident. Room 11030. Room 11031. They were getting close. Her palms were beginning to feel slippery. “I mean, is he bad?”

Her mother thought on it between Rooms 11032 and 11034, her frown deep, her grip on Connie tight.

“Yes,” she finally conceded, “but also no. He’s certainly in the most dire condition I’ve ever seen him, but I also think we might be close to securing him a kidney. He’s high on the list now. There’s no way that…” She trailed off suddenly, frayed and fraying, unable to complete what seemed like a consolation to Connie’s ears.

Her palm was carving itself into her shoulder.

Room 11037’s door was half-open, laughter and machinery spilling from the crack, an unlikely symphony, an oxymoron—just like him.

Him.

The disease.

His unwavering smile.

The machine.

Connie tilted her chin and found a confusion in her mother’s eyes that matched her own.

They were both problem solvers.

Mathematicians.

Logicians.

Scientists.

And here was a problem. Here was a boy who did not deserve what he had gotten.

And there was no easy solution in sight.

Connie leaned her head against her mother’s knuckles to show her that she knew, and her mother closed her tired eyes—just for a moment—to revel in the fact that she was known.

“You’re such a dork, Stevo,” Amethyst riffed from the other side of the door.

“Always,” Steven laughed—warm and bright, here and leaving.

Priyanka rapped smartly on the door.

Sunday, 1:54 PM:

Blue: You’re incredibly brave, Steven.

Steven: Aw, shucks. You’re flattering me!

Blue: Oh, I suppose I so.

Blue: Could I come visit you soon?

Steven: YES!!

Blue: Would tomorrow be a good time?

Steven: Yeah, I think so! I have a few tests in the morning, but my afternoon should be free. 2ish maybe?

Blue: That sounds perfect.

The living room was cavernous and lonely; sunlight streamed in from the floor to ceiling windows and contrarily had the effect of making everything it touched look all the more abandoned. The ornately embroidered sofa. The glass coffee table. Blue Diamond herself, sitting in her recliner, looking down at her phone. Her skin was so pale that it was stained blue by the light wash emitting from the screen.

So she was getting out tomorrow, it seemed.

To a place that wasn’t her doctor’s office.

Or the cemetery.

Or her doctor’s office.

Or the cemetery.

The action wouldn’t feel real to her until it happened, but the ache she felt for the boy on the other end of the line was raw and visceral, and it was so reminiscent of another time that was raw and visceral, that she began to think of it and her and that night and all of the empty time since and—

An involuntary cry escaped her.

She covered her mouth.

And closed her eyes.

And did nothing as a single tear spilled over her knuckles and into the dark folds of her robe.

But crying itself was just as untenable as not crying—old-hat and tiring and destructive—so she got up as swiftly as she could manage with her hip, and with her cane clanking ahead of her, traced a familiar pathway across the wooden floor. Past the kitchen and into the hallway. Past Yellow’s study, where typing noises and intermittent swearing could be heard from within. Past ghosts of little ballerina feet scampering down the foyer.

And Blue Diamond stopped at the door between the study and the master bedroom.

And she placed her hand on the knob, her shaking fingers disturbing the brass.

And she turned it, just a little, just enough to hear the door groan in compliance with her wishes.

And then she stopped.

She let go of the knob.

And slowly clanked back to the study and knocked lightly on the door. The typing on the other side stopped abruptly.

“Poppy?” Yellow asked.

“No,” Blue whispered, and that was all that was needed.

There was a soft oh of recognition and the creaking of a well-worn chair. The stumbling of feet. A handle pulled. Yellow Diamond was stark and brilliant, surprised and tender, in the golden light flooding from behind her. It was a Sunday, so she wasn’t in a three-piece suit, but her button-down shirt was meticulously ironed, the collar popped up around the sinewy muscles of her neck.

“Blue,” she said, quite unnecessarily, and she must have realized it because pink popped across her sharp cheekbones. She must have realized this, too, because she began talking and began talking fast. “Do you need something? Are you ill? Should I fetch Livia?”

It’d been a long time since Blue had intentionally sought her out.

Had come to her.

Had wanted her.

It was usually the other way around with them.

Blue slowly shook her head, her long braid swishing in time with the motion. Her right hand trembled on the head of her cane.

“I was thinking about Pink,” she said quietly, and Yellow’s instinctive rebuttal was clear in her amber eyes.

You’re always thinking about Pink.

But instead, because she was trying hard not to offend, simply whispered, “Okay.”

It was a vulnerable word, or she was vulnerable today one; the distinction was lost in the small space between them.

Yellow’s entire body was taut, a rubber band that had been stretched too far.

“And I was about to find myself in her room again,” Blue continued on, but then, seeing the stricken expression on her wife’s face, tilted her head to the side. “But I didn’t, Yellow… I didn’t chase her ghost today.”

If it’d been up to Yellow, the whole room would have been razed down. (Damn the logistics of destroying a room within a home.)

But because it was up to Blue, the room was a monument to their dead daughter. There were still pink sticky notes on her nightstand that reminded the twenty-one year old to study for an upcoming Calculus exam, books on the floor, clothes in the hamper.

Everything coated in a fine layer of dust.

Yellow swallowed thickly and looked away; even still, Blue could see every line in her face, the strain in them, how they convulsed against her will.

She wanted to reach out to her.

She did not.

“Ask me what I’m going to do tomorrow, Yellow.”

This certainly caught her attention, a command from a woman who had not done much commanding as of late.

Her gaze flickered to Blue’s and stayed there, searching and lost.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I’m going to visit a friend in the hospital.” She said it very simply, like it was just another part of her routine, but it wasn’t, and they both knew it.

It was momentous, and Yellow’s plump lips parted in quiet shock.

“You’re… you’re,” she struggled, the words seemingly strangled in her mouth, “you’re getting out?”

“I’m going to try to,” Blue replied evenly, and then she thought on it, clarified herself. “For him at least… his name is Steven.”

“The boy you had cakes with?”

“Yes.”

“The boy who… who made you smile,” she murmured this to herself as though she didn’t believe Blue could hear her.

But she did.

Obviously.

And it surprised her.

She studied the sharp planes of Yellow’s face and found quiet anguish, tucked in the way she pursed her lips, creased in the shadows beneath her striking eyes.

Unspoken: He made you smile. I could not.

“Yes,” Blue repeated because it was also the truth, even if it was a painful one to admit.

But to be fair, all of their truths were painful these days. Their daughter was dead, and her room was empty, and Blue Diamond half-wanted to be dead, and for four years, she had scarcely cared that she was living. And Yellow Diamond liked to pretend that none of this had scarred her in lasting ways, but there were lines in her face that had never been there before, and sometimes, just sometimes, she sat her in study and cried when she thought no one was listening. And they were approaching their twilight years, and there was no turning back. The bell was rung, and their daughter was dead, and they might never be happy again, and—

That was the truth.

Yellow closed her eyes and then unclosed them, obviously trying to master her emotions into locations that weren’t words.

“Will he… be okay?” But she was only human, despite what she'd have the common person believe, so strain leaked out into the innocuous question anyway.

“I don’t know,” Blue murmured, and this truth stung with all the others.

She could be caring for this boy only to end up shattered if he died.

And the possibility of this was not lost on Yellow Diamond. Cynical. Skeptical. Practical.

It shone in her eyes, in the firm set of her jaw.

What came next, however, was not an admonition, but a small gesture. And because it was a small gesture, and because small gestures were rare between them, it was felt: Yellow reached out, slowly, almost cautiously, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Blue’s ear. Her lined palm lingered against her cheek for an infinitesimal second before falling into a clenched fist by her side.

“Well, at least he’s got a chance.”

Unspoken: Pink didn’t.

Blue Diamond found that she missed her wife’s touch.

The weight of it.

The warmth.

“Yes,” she concurred. “At least he has a chance.”

Sunday, 2:25 PM:

Pearl: I absolutely love her!!

Amethyst: we’re literally sitting next 2 each other lol

Pearl: Yes, but I don’t want to embarrass them… I’m just so happy that Steven has a new friend! She’s so nice and smart!

Amethyst: to b fair he’s also friends w/ an old lady in a bathrobe now

Pearl: Ugh, don’t remind me.

Amethyst looked up from her phone at the very same time that Pearl looked up from her phone, and then they studiously tried to not look at each other as they trembled in silent laughter. But because they were both assholes, they failed at this monumentally simple task, and locked eyes just long enough to break them both.

“Stop,” Pearl moaned, clutching her stomach in a feeble attempt of getting herself back under control.

“You first,” Amethyst shot back, laughing too hard to punctuate the threat with a shit-eating grin.

The entire room turned to look at them. Dr. M drew herself away from her chart long enough to raise an eyebrow. Garnet and Greg stared, one quite subtly and one quite openly. On the bed, Steven and Connie extracted themselves from the book they were reading.

“Whatcha laughing about?” Steven asked cutely. He tilted his head with a conspiratorial smile, and his entire oxygen getup slid sideways with him.

“Nothing,” Pearl said.

“Cats,” Amethyst said at the very same time.

And they dissolved all over again.

Pearl placed a steadying hand on Amethyst’s shoulder, and Amethyst leaned into the touch as their bodies shook with laughter.

Nothing was right with their world, but just for a moment, they pretended like it could be.

Priyanka Maheswaran’s frown deepened the longer she stared at her clipboard.

And it positively turned into a scowl when she read Steven’s heart monitor.

Sunday, 3:18 PM:

Steven: Thanks for coming to visit me today!

Connie: Of course! I had so much fun meeting everyone!

Steven: They liked meeting you too!!!

Connie: Score!!!

Weariness was like a second skin on her mother as they walked down Truman Ward again. She said nothing, only deigning to nod at various colleagues who greeted her as they walked by.

Connie wanted to talk about Steven, wanted to talk about Garnet, Amethyst, and especially Pearl, whom she had a lot in common with—but she bit her lip against a torrent of questions and studied the way her shoes scraped against the clinically clean floor instead.

Because she knew.

She’d seen the way Steven’s whole body was manifested with tubes and the bags under his guardians’ eyes and the fear in his eyes that he tried so hard to hide with a smile.

When they had first arrived, she had hugged him as tenderly as his machinery would allow and asked him if he was okay.

And he only shook his head and laughed like he was.

Because he knew.

And she knew.

And everyone in that room knew.

(He was dying. It was happening fast.)

As they exited the double doors, Connie reached up and tentatively took her mother’s hand.

Her mother did not let go in response.

#blue diamond #steven universe #yellow diamond #bellow diamond #connie maheswaran #priyanka maheswaran #garnet #pearl #amethyst #s: steven universe #flower child #mimik-u

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faunusrights · 5 years

Text

OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG // CHAPTERS 10 + 11

we had a week of peace and now we’re gonna get annihilated!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i have no clue how long this liveblog may end up but hell and high water i’m combining them both

she tore the jade pendant from her neck and flung it into the darkness.

let’s give a warm welcome, to sadness,

i’m very excited for all-new cinder content hhhhhhh if u havent gathered by now I Love This Bitch and I Love Her Many Problems so im thankful for this gift 😞

Cinder was a ruin, her pride carved and served like slabs of meat.

i can FEEL diesel n kc rly patting themselves on the back for every bit of wet meat they can toss at me!!!!!!!!!! U HEAR THAT I CAN FEEL U!!!!!!!!!!! but also i still love this shit w/ all my heart!!!!!!!!!! IM NEVER GONNA STOP SAYIN IT

She had never looked at Glynda’s files.

im so sorry cinder baby but that whole thing? is still HILARIOUS oh my GOD i cannot believe you fucked up that badly. u shoved yr entire head into a beartrap. u absolutely crapped yr pants on that one. yr gonna be thinking abt that on yr deathbed,

/looks at the chapter title again

hhhhhhhh im. so pumped. its gonna be hard to talk abt most of this w/o doing a million fingerguns a minute but i’m gonna try my best

Cinder approached the mirror and touched its silvered face with black-tipped claws,

I SAID IM GONNA TRY MY BEST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She was iron barbs beneath the nail bed, glowing coals underfoot, the singular capacity to do harm. She was a beast, armed with fang and claw and a deep, dark void where her compassion should have laid, and she was dressed for dinner.

HHHHHH god YES THIS IS THE CINDER IM THIRSTY FOR............ i literally cannot say anything that isnt a massive 👈😎👈 but AAAAAAA

like im reading thru this and i cant cherry-pick lines this whole bit? is SO GOOD... kc n diesel are Yet Again obliterating me w/ their mastery of the narrative style of offal hunt and i just love all of this i rly wish i could explain how offal hunt is EXACTLY MY BRAND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! F U C K

The final touch on her mastercraft disaster: the four sawed-off horn stumps which grew among her silver-streaked hair.

HOOOO B O I i am. Losin it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE HER HORNS.......... CINDR...............

Wretchedly, she wondered: did Glynda even respect her now?

any other villain: my plan didnt work and im mad >:( cinder fall: my plan didnt work and now im mad but also mostly sad :(

CINDER’S TRYING HER BEST GOD.......... i literally hate how the remaster has made her So Soft, Actually... I BELIEVE IN U CINDER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE U!!!!!!!!!!!!! DO YR BEST

Every part of her was hot and hollow. She was sick with loathing.

i LOVE HER.... CINDER I HOPE U KNO THAT YR LOVED... god tho i dont like how SAD I AM RN... cinder’s so small and the world is so big and wants 2 Shit On Her blease

honestly like. im rly- LOOK I SAID THIS BEFORE BUT. this is why im rly lovin the new cinder content because in the first version we only got glimpses of her internal machinations and now we’re in full-blown Always Sad territory and everything is suffering :)

She blinked. Her double did not.

‘well’, thought murphy. ‘that’s terrifying.’

she’d only survived thanks to a keen instinct for danger, cultivated during her tenuous teenage years.

i NEED. I NEED. CINDER BACKSTORY. all these lil nuggets dont constitute a meal! I WANT A BIG MAC AND FRIES. WHAT THE HELL WAS THIS BABY DOING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

also again. the body horror of offal hunt? peak content. Im Lovin It

its getting harder to divine what is and what is not a 👈😎👈 because we got bits sprinkled around and theres only rly a spoiler potential if u glue em all together so im still being extra careful and the answer is blared in everyones faces so this whole kondor scene will go uncommented unless some Bullshit Happens which it will, so,

When she had become so invested in Glynda’s approval? When had a desire to be recognized as something inhuman, something ferocious, something black and terrible and capable of keeping up with Glynda Fucking Goodwitch turned into this?

oh! oh! i have the answer! i do! i know the answer! it’s you a lesbian,

The spectres of her youth haunted this city, owl-eyed children and fox-eared teens. They’d been a second sort of family, the only kind she’d had within these walls, and she’d wondered what had become of them in the past decades, but…

It was too sentimental, and she wasn’t meant to be a creature of sentiment.

oh boy okay wow

okay so actually this bit made me cry??? fuck OFF im losing it!!!!!!!! LET HER BE SENTIMENTAL!!!! LET HER HAVE PPL TO CARE ABT!!!!!!!!!! IM LITERALLY CRYING IM GONNA DIE!!!!!!!!!

She would go barefoot from this point on, her heels clutched at her side. When she left the hotel room to steal into the night, she promised herself not to look back.

im sorry im just. so sad rn. i havent cried over a fic in YEARS and we still have another chapter ago i hate this SO MUCH..............

here comes chapter 11

if i cry even once more im going to stab!!!!!! im not sure what BUT ILL STAB!!!!!!!!!!!!

Even without his wings, the Manticore would easily have been twice the size of any of the other Grimm, far outstripping them in sheer bulk.

HATI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HATI HATI HATI

holy shit we actually get to see him this time!!!!!!!!!!! WE GET TO SEE THIS LEGENDARY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS CHONCC,

also hes a manticore now which is, Radical, may i just say, and just a little bit sexy,

The effortless grace in each move betrayed power most Grimm would not live to achieve. Once he stood, he had to dip his head low to meet her eye to eye. His canines were the length of her forearm.

if u werent here for the remaster? we never even SAW hati but now hes here, hes Big, and rly thats all that matters,

Like a child who’d been allowed to lie and lie until at last they’d strangled themself in the web they’d spun, Cinder couldn’t speak. Could only wait on his verdict.

every single one of cinder’s inherent themes is killing me and this business w/ family? stop. im dying. this is rude

The scant space between them popped and cracked like an sparking flame, warm and effervescent, and this time, Cinder lingered, hugging Hati close.

IF I CRY ONCE MORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I MEAN IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IF U ASSHOLES MAKE ME CRY ONCE MORE I WILL DOXX YOU,

aaaaaaaaaaaaaah im loving this content i rly dont have words for it dhjfgsdfgjh i just, rly like the words, and the order theyre in, and i honestly keep forgetting to liveblog it cause i just wanna READ EM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tempting as it was—as it always had been, ever since she’d left the relative safety of the wastes and learned what happened to scraggly-limbed teens with horns and fangs and gleaming eyes—

with every chapter i desperately have 2 kno more abt baby cinder i HAVE to know i am so. UNBEARABLY CURIOUS... baby cinder what happened... what happened 2 u....

A lantern’s glow warmed her, bleeding into the darkness leeching at them both. It was a gentle gold across her skin, and like an answering signal from a distant outpost, Cinder saw a flush of light through the dark fur lining Hati’s throat, as though flames licked at his insides.

i forgot. that cinder glows like that when she feels Loved or full of pride and you know what i dont like these chapters. they were made to hurt me and i Dont Like That (im mclovin it)

From the safety of Hati’s neck, she found it easier—after all this time, he was still her bastion.

WHEN YOU REALISE? THAT YR ACTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES?? STOP,

For a regular person, the machine would be able to draw out short bursts of power, the likes of which no Semblance could ever channel. The taxation would eventually destroy the soul so deeply, so thoroughly, as to leave it empty for good.

For a Witch? For—

the fact. she cut herself off before she could think ‘for glynda’. has me on the FLOOR. this bit is just So Much i dont like it

Glynda Goodwitch would not abandon this hunt. Cinder knew it, had read it from her palms like an open book—Glynda Goodwitch did not know how to stop. If it had been anyone else on Remnant, they might never return, might never pull themselves back into action after today—but Glynda did not have a shred of self-preservation.

me, knocking against cinder’s head: u kno for someone w/ so many schemes in yr brain yr pretty dumb and gay, huh,

firstly let’s talk abt cinder’s “””””””””””””””””””self-preservation””””””””””””””””””” instin-- whats that? not found? yes

[Glynda’s] eyes were empty, hungry, insatiable.

i feel like ive read this line before! lets jump back a chapter--

In [Cinder’s] eyes, there was a subtle, endless hunger.

WAKE UP CINDER SHE’S YR SOULMATE!!!!!!!!!!! THE COFFEE’S READY U CAN SMELL THE BACON FROM HERE WAKE UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

With a fluid leap, they were in the air, the ground quickly shrinking beneath them. Pressing her face against his neck to shield herself from the wind, she closed her eyes and prepared herself for what was to come, trusting Hati to deliver her safely.

that said i ADORE my boy hati is literally the best part of offal hunt kc and diesel do not interact,

He was frozen in horrific anticipation, like watching an imminent tragedy and being absolutely helpless to stop it. Like all the tension was mixed with grief and hopeless, futile fear.

when will offal hunt be nice to me. when will any of these characters get to be happy. hello. im full of sadness.

The sound was like a saw working back and forth, but resonating inside her head, rattling every tooth in her jaw, deafening to her ears.

im literally gritting my teeth at this i can hear it in my own head and its Very Bad!!!!!!!!!!!!! GOD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

okay god i can barely handle to quote anything more this bit is hurting ME so lets swiftly move on before I Die

Cinder closed her weary eyes, sinking into sleep like a shallow grave.

BE NICE TO HER!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BE NICE TO HER JUST THIS ONCE, PLEASE, IM BEGGING YOU,

They only knew death, only ever sought death; fangs and claws slicked with blood, magic rending meat and marrow apart, and everywhere that choking, scalding heat, spilled blood like magma, like the core of a planet.

hmm... that seems like a 👈😎👈 ~reference~

They were all alert, ears pricked, hackles raised like Hati’s. They all fixed on the same spot, somewhere beyond the darkness of the cave opening, and though she could barely think, she knew:

She was out of time. The Witch was here.

oh no.

okay so THATS CHAPTERS 10 AND 11! i only cried ONCE and u kno what thats. a Victory. these two chapters were VERY GOOD i rly loved em and i can tell new readers r gonna have a blast w/ this shit!!!!!!!!!! meanwhile i, a veteran reader, am full of peril,

terrible.

#rwby #offal hunt #liveblog #in this liveblog murphy ACTUALLY CRIES

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wingedfabray · 5 years

Text

pride burns quick

Tagging: @hautekurture & Quinn Fabray Where: Undique Stadium When: Tuesday, 2019 What: In which Kurt and Quinn finally “practice,” and Quinn doesn’t drive all the way from Lake George for it. Warnings: Death mention

Kurt had returned from Ohio and thought the change of scenery would make him feel at ease. It didn't. It felt like there was something caught in his windpipe. Something trapped. Maybe the apocalyptic talk Dani randomly texted at him was sinking in. Great she got me paranoid too. Kurt thought. He was annoyed at feeling antsy over nothing. So he decided to message Quinn. Why? Misery loves company. Did you hear that the world is going to end.

Quinn thrived on keeping her life carefully constructed and controlled. Or she had, prior to enrolling at NYADA and immediately throwing all of her planning out the window to help her body-swapped peers. There was something about the campaign trail, and quiet nights huddled with her sister that reminded her just how much she'd changed. It was with almost a sense of relief that she opened up a message from Kurt Hummel of all people. Finally, something to shake up the monotony. Shame it had to be Kurt. I've heard rumor. Is there a reason you're texting me about it?

Kurt smirked and rolled his eyes. Of course Quinn Fabray wouldn't care about world ending rumors. He walked through his dorm and looked out of the window. The campus was empty. Pretty now it was May but empty. You don't seem to mind the rumors then. Apparently it has to do with Marley. Aren't you particularly close or. I don't know. Care? Apocalypse is nigh.

Quinn sat back against her chair, pulling her phone away from the pile of books on the table in front of her. Of course she cared. Kurt had a way of taking her words and either taking them completely wrong, or needling down to the absolute truth of them, the truth even Quinn herself hadn't acknowledged yet. It was unnerving. A door to another world opened up in my family room, took all of my family heirlooms, followed by Blaine. I'd hardly call an apocalypse a shock at this point. More like the inevitability we've all been barreling towards for years. She paused over the thought, glancing at the once-full curio shelves around her. As for Marley, we're more acquaintances. Not close enough for her to talk to me about anything as important as the end of the world. Again, Kurt, why are you texting me about this? What do want, an answer? I don't have one.

Kurt wryly texted back, This end of the world thing is a shitshow. Are you saying you're aware of an imminent crisis, one you've had a past trauma about, and yet you're what? In Belgium somewhere with your family and ignoring it? I don't need an answer. Just asking for you to match your actions with your beliefs. You probably haven't prepared.

Quinn huffed, tossing her phone back on top of the books. It was all history, stories that made patterns. It was everything she could find on portals, on different planes of existence and theories about worlds on top of worlds. She picked her phone back up, I'm trying to help figure out what, and why. I'm helping my sister campaign for stronger research, so that we can start understanding what it is we're preparing for and how best to do that, rather than just throwing ourselves blindly at defense, while doing what research I can. What would you have me do, Kurt? These texts can't be totally random, what is your brilliant suggestion?

Kurt squinted at the words on his phone hoping it would make sense. Nope. None. That's such a milquetoast answer, Quinn. Is this what voting for your family means? Incremental mediocrity? Why the hush hush. I expected bold leadership to face the very confirmed end of the world. What can I say. Maybe I'm worried my social partner person is going to be the death of me.

Quinn wondered if it was bait. If he just liked throwing words out there just to watch her leap to contradict them. On the contrary, while everyone else seems to be scrambling to build up a defense against something we don't even understand yet, it could actually be seen as bold to step back and look for answers. I believe working to understand what we're defending against is just as important as anything anyone else is doing. Of course, she leapt every time. She pulled in a breath, releasing it slowly before sending another text, Socius Pactum. I'm not going to get you killed. Did you just need reassurance? Is that why you've texted me, you're scared?

Kurt tsked under his teeth. Quinn has been away for too long from the scene. And how's that been. When was the door thing. Oh right. A year and so ago. Did you find the answers you were looking for. Or even the direction to look. This makes me think you're just a bad researcher now. You have all the money and power in the world, don't you? This is all you have? That's it? Oh honey, I don't think I have to spell it out for you. I'm not scared about you dying. It won't happen because I'm me. But in case. I'll say the man above said it was your time to go. I'm not scared about death. I don't want to leave the people I care about in the lackadaisical hands of the others I don't have any faith in. Do you think you can protect Blaine? You haven't reassured me you can help anyone. But yourself and your image. When was the last time you were in field missions, Quinn? When did you actually go fight for someone you cared about, or did you wait and research and blah blah. Again. How is that working out for you.

Quinn's hands clenched around her phone. The wall of text seemed to slam into her chest, burrowing beneath her rib cage and pulsating, barbed and immoveable. Quinn had long come to the conclusion that money couldn't fix this. That didn't mean she was throwing away her family's considerable influence and fortune. You're always so good at throwing out your assumptions as fact. You'll make a fool of yourself some day, and I can't wait to watch. She thought of angels, and worlds stitching together, of statues with chains wrapped around them, Enochian script at their feet that was leading her swiftly towards answers. I've come a lot farther than you think. The fact that you haven't received an update personally speaks only towards my lack of confidence in you. The rest, she mustered what humility she could, I have admittedly fallen short on Field Missions. This says I'm busy, not that I've decided my family and friends' safety is any less important to me. What do want, Kurt? For me to prove I'm not going to sit back and let others die? That I know how to cast a spell? I won't, and I can.

Kurt had put his phone away confident he had shut Quinn Fabray up. He was channel surfing for the sake of keeping himself entertained when his phone started lighting up. At first Kurt assumed it was Blaine discovering another puppy and sending him multiple photos. When he checked, it wasn't several blurry movies of Blaine saying who's a good boy. It was Quinn. Kurt tensed his jaw at her comments. He had so much to say. However he didn't. You can?

Quinn watched the phone just long enough to know a return text wasn't imminent, before setting it carefully back on the table. She rubbed at her temples in the following silence, until the quiet buzz had her jaw clenched and shoulders tense once more. I can. Maybe it's time we actually trained, as a Socius Pactum. As soon as the text read 'Delivered,' Quinn wanted to take it back. Too late, she buried her nose in a book, and hoped Kurt chose to ignore her, just this once.

Kurt raised a brow. She actually challenged him first to a fight. Hmph. Socius Pactum my Calvin Klein-wearing ass. Show up at Undique tonight then, at 6. I'm only going to hang around for 5 minutes so don't think about being late. Kurt knew he was giving Quinn a big chance here, an opportunity for her to shut it down and not even show. It would be a good revenge, Kurt wouldn't be against the pettiness of this idea. The time came, and so did Kurt, dressed in a simply elegant track pant and color blocked short sleeve hoodie.

Quinn read the text, glanced at the clock, and proceeded to contemplate not showing up at all. It was too late to arrange a portal, despite her family's influence, and the drive would be four hours. And, well, a drive. In a car, on roads that twisted and turned. Her stomach flipped, but she called their personal driver regardless. By the time she stepped out of the car at the student union, she was shaky and half-considering texting Dave Karofsky about nausea potions. Percy offered a polite "have a nice evening, Miss Fabray" as she rushed away, and she barely had time to throw on a plain brown t-shirt and sweats before she found herself in Undique. Thank God the nausea had settled before she had to force herself to push her way inside. This was decidedly not how she thought her day was going to go. "Kurt, hello."

Kurt crossed his arms and mowed down Quinn's look with a cocky glance. "Is this what's in bloodline fashion nowadays? Brown and sweats. No wonder Berry asked for advice." Kurt quipped instead of saying hello and pointed to the door with his thumb. "We have thirty minutes. I didn't book long. I don't expect to sweat this one." Kurt walked inside without checking if Quinn was following. I know she is. He pulled out his capped sai which was less deadly than his steel-tipped ones and did some spinning tricks to loosen up his wrist muscles. "If you want to prepare do it now," he said on stage and getting into an offensive position.

Quinn shook the comment off with a glare. She anticipated getting dusty, her eyes tracing the line of the sai. They seemed to move effortlessly; it was obvious he was familiar. He'd said he wasn't worried about him dying, and she believed it. But then, she could also recall the way fire danced around her, how sometimes it would shift gold. It could be just as effortless. She set her book bag at the edge of the stadium, taking a moment to flip through her grimoire before settling into easy stretches. It only took a moment until she found herself standing across from Kurt, hands flexing at her side. "I'm ready when you are, Hummel."

Kurt studied Quinn's movements. This is a rare moment after all. Naturally Queen Quinn would look awkward here. She was digging through her book and Kurt wondered if that was her nerves manifesting to the surface. Smug thoughts were in his head and that was why Kurt flipped his fingers at Quinn to come at him first. "Bit-I mean, witches first." Kurt grinned.

Quinn clenches her teeth, skipping over Kurt's taunt before finally settling herself with a breath. She'd been working with her magic on deeper levels for months, this was just an opportunity to put it all together. Her Enochian was starting to sound smoother, no longer stumbling over otherworldly consonants, Angels above, I ask thee for protection. Her magic circle spun at her feet, and golden embers flickered and danced around her.

Quinn: 1d7 = (5) = 5

Kurt: 1d8+2 = (6)+2 = 8

Kurt cocked his head at the weird chanting Quinn was speaking. So that's the angel talk. Kurt thought. He saw fire envelope around Quinn like a shield. Not on my watch. Without saying a word, Kurt dashed toward Quinn. Leaping into the air, he came crashing down with his sai pointed downward to pierce the shield. He got a bit through when he felt the impact sink and he jumped back to see what would happen next. "Nice light show, Quinn."

Quinn: 1d7 = (1) = 1

Quinn had seen Kurt fight, but had never been on the receiving end of it. He was quick, there and gone. For a moment all she could see was a blade, and the flames that licked at it before it could strike her. She held her stance despite the onslaught, not even waiting for Kurt to finish his sentence before pushing her hands forward, Now forward. It should've been good, maybe she should've asked instead of commanding. Either way, the flames that should've blasted across the floor in front of her flickered in a chaotic mess instead. Her stomach dropped, and her hands clenched into fists, the flames flashing bright and entirely ineffectual.

Kurt: 1d8+2 = (7)+2 = 9

Kurt saw the flames coming at him and he could laugh about it. He swung his arm to send away the fire and went for another attack. He got to her side and slashed, trying to break through the fire. He was successful and felt his sai cut through this time.

Quinn felt the shield sputter out before she felt the bite of the sai. The sad attempt at a spell sizzled and left the ground at her feet scorched. Her mouth dropped open in a gasp, and she stumbled back a step at the hit, her feet skidding against the stage. It hurt, almost more than the tight coil of shame that bunched in her stomach. She felt the capped blade drag against her as she stepped away from it swiftly, gasping out her shield spell as she put some distance between them. A few steps back, and surrounded by dancing flames again, she readjusted her stance, meeting Kurt's eyes with a determined glare.

Quinn: 1d7 = (7) = 7

Kurt: 1d8+3 include familiar level 1. = (8)+3 = 11

Kurt saw the shield was up again. Such tactics were made to draw things out, however it didn't mean Kurt didn't have a way around it. He had fought against shields before. The new shield looked stronger, however. Alright, come out. Kurt told his familiar and the white stag appeared from thin air. "Are you doing research now?" Kurt asked to goad Quinn on. He looked at the stag and they both rammed into the shield to push Quinn back.

Quinn: 1d7 = (2) = 2

Quinn faltered at the hit this time, feeling herself forcibly pushed back, even as her hands came up instinctively to block herself from the two bodies charging her. The flicker of flames around her sputtered and hissed, more smoke than light. Frustration mixed with the shame; she couldn't quite quell the way her breath huffed out with effort, or the knowledge that shield was her best and it crumpled like a match under water. She was outmatched, and outperformed. But it was Kurt, she'd always felt sh had more to prove to Kurt than any of her other peers, logically or not. "God..." a curse died on her tongue, and she pushed forward against Kurt, wrapping her hands around the wrist of the hand holding the sia. Please, I pray, alight right here. The resulting spell was weak, at best. A flicker around Kurt's wrist.

Kurt: 1d8+2 = (3)+2 = 5

Kurt knew it was over when she was having trouble holding onto a shield. He shook the fire off his wrist, and wound up his sai and threw it right at the center of the shield. It was where the fire smoked out the strongest. The weak spot. Kurt stepped away and gave a roll of his eyes to his familiar to go. Hart said nothing and trotted away. Kurt wanted to do the same. The thrill of winning was gone essentially when he knew how one-sided this fight was. She was no battler. She hadn't even a strategy Kurt could try to out maneuver. In the end, what's the point. This isn't a rivalry. This is bullying. "Are you going to put up another shield?" Kurt asked casually. "I'm bored of fighting." He decided to give Quinn a chance to save face and leave without injuring more of her pride. She could say he was the one who called it quits.

Quinn felt the shield waver, just before Kurt's sai pummeled straight through it. The capped blade hit just beneath her rib cage, and she felt the air leave her in a rush. Her knees hit the ground, one hand instinctively moving to catch herself before she slumped forward. In front of Kurt. Her vision swam and she prayed it was because she was dazed and not because she was crying. She wasn't. Thank God. A muscle jumped in her jaw, and she spent a moment just trying to put herself back together, glancing up just long enough to watch Kurt retreat, his stag trotting away. Maybe she wasn't crying, but she could feel it. The way it was difficult to swallow, how her eyes burned and she didn't quite trust herself to say something, anything. Her hands shook; she thought she was getting over that. "I concede." She finally managed, quietly. Barely there, even while he was walking away, and the out was right there in front of her. "That was...I concede."

Kurt sighed when he checked to see Quinn was immobile from her spot on the floor. He heard her reply and knew how hard it must be to say it. He walked to his bag and pulled out one of his wet wipes. He didn't carry handkerchiefs like Blaine did however who also carried handkerchiefs like Blaine did. He strode back and handed it to her, also offering a hand to get up. "Come on. You shouldn't be on the ground too long, people will think I'm bullying you as the new Supreme."

Quinn accepts the wet wipe, and with a bit more trepidation, the hand up. "If that's a pop culture reference, I don't know it." She says into the silence that follows, working the wipe between her fingers if only to have something to do with her hands. Her brow furrows, and it takes much more than she'd like to admit to put herself together enough to actually talk to Kurt. To not drown in the fact that she challenged him, drove down from Lake George, and failed so spectacularly he literally looked no different than when they started. "Apparently, I won't be playing the offensive role in this...partnership. Evodest has never been my strength, it's...healing, occasionally shields. I'll...work on it. And perhaps we should talk, actually talk, about how we'd work together." The world was ending, they might actually have to.

Kurt gave Quinn a deadpan stare. "Why am I bothering to do these references." He let Quinn work out whatever she needed to work out in her head and went around picking up the sai he threw. He twirled it around his hand and put it away. "It doesn't have to be evo... evodust? That's not the problem. The problem is I don't think you had something bigger to fight for than proving me wrong." Kurt said harshly at first. Then he softened at something she said, though he would never explain what it was to her. "Are you saying you're actually open to receiving advice from me? You know who I am, right." Kurt said and added on, "...Well you know I can't heal others for any worth of my Prada boots." He tossed his sai into his bag without fail. "Maybe we can talk about it over message? I would never be caught dead with you in that outfit. Actually first of all you are getting a new sparring outfit."

Quinn bit down on her tongue, killing the 'I really wouldn't be caught dead with you period' before it could escape. The fact was he was right. She'd driven down because she felt called out, angry, and decidedly useless holed up in Lake George with her books and her family. Not that she'd honestly admit more than she already had to Kurt. She looked at him for a moment, still perfectly put together, but offering more to her than he ever had before. It was an almost-kindness she wasn't sure what to do with. "I'm saying we should discuss it. Over text, obviously." She straightened her shirt, rumpled as it was. "I'll find myself a new outfit, thank you very much."

Kurt laughed at her remark. She sounded petty and like Kurt himself. He let her have the pithiness of his silence and agreed loudly, "Oh God no, over text. I wouldn't want people to know I was hanging out with a nerd reading books." The ample sarcasm was the icing on this cake. Kurt knew he literally slept with a nerd so if Quinn had any clue as to what went on at NYADA currently she would get it. "Augh, you are not. We aren't coordinating another battle where I'm battling with a frumpy paper bag blouse. We will choose an accent color and build around it. Our patron saint would be oh so offended if we didn't." He put on a fake affected tone.

Quinn lifted an eyebrow, "Right, we certainly wouldn't want that." She thought of Blaine, then of Kurt, then promptly shoved those thoughts in the deepest recesses of her mind, along with many other things she couldn't quite rationalize. She blew out a sigh, picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder, eager to be finished with the whole ordeal. But...Blaine saw something in him, and he wasn't being the absolute worst, considering she'd just literally fallen to her knees in front of him. "Send me ideas, then, if this offends you so much. I'll...practice, and try to spend a little less time with my nose in a book. Fair?"

Kurt shrugged and gathered his things. Quinn was Blaine's friend. That much was true. She wasn't Kurt's though, so he had no reason to let her off easy. However, I'm tired. "Can't you brainstorm any? You read those books to fill your head, don't you? There only three good options for both of us to wear." Kurt figured he could throw her a bone. This time. "Research saves lives when people know about it so keep me in the loop." He said, ready to part ways. Today had been quite the day and Kurt wanted to watch some Queer Eye and imagine Antoni Porowski being his secret admirer. However as he was about to leave, he remembered he /had to/ know. "So did you take a portal?"

Quinn absorbed the question, immediately pivoting and making her way across the stadium floor towards the exit. "Have a good day, Kurt." She threw over her shoulder through clenched teeth. "I'll try to keep you in the loop." The doors slammed shut definitively behind her.

#paras #p: pride burns quick #cw death mention #hautekurture

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vampirequeenoffan · 6 years

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yes hello im feeling your trollhunters opinion!! do u also feel like Merlin is super shady? I don't think he did a single thing since he showed up that can be considered 'good', he doesn't seem to care about anyone but himself, and after what he did to get Jim to turn into a troll (cutting him off from his entire support network, playing on his insecurities) I thought he'd turn out to be the Ultimate Villain of the show right up until the end, when he wasn't.

HOOOBOY do I ever have FEELINGS about this (which will once again be under the cut because SCREAMING)

First off, holy fuck, THANK you. Your message means a lot to me (as do the other nice messages and comments I got on my post! It feels great to know I’m not the only one who felt like there was something wrong with this ending).

Second.

Yeah, what in the fuck is up with Merlin? I liked him for a good thirty seconds after he was introduced– I’m a bit of a sucker for the ‘ancient and powerful being of legend is actually Not At All What Anyone Thought trope’ tbh. But the novelty quickly wore off and you’re absolutely right– I totally thought he was going to be the show’s Ultimate Villain. I usually love asshole characters, so the fact that Merlin is so much of an asshole that I hated him is… impressive, in a weird way. And the list of characters I’m crazy about contains several serial killers, so the bar is real low.

Let’s break this down.

Merlin, upon reentering the picture, does the following:

–Gets passive-aggressively mad at the Trollhunters for not getting him his staff

Which, y’know, could’ve been avoided if he’d just asked to have the staff in the same room with him when he’d been buried. He also had no reason to be mad, considering his plan was to release Morgana all along, and had the Trollhunters actually taken back the staff they then would’ve had to fight their way into Trollmarket in order to free Morgana, which… would have been difficult. That, or they’d have had to turn the staff over to Gunmar anyway, so again, no reason for Merlin to be mad.

Personally I totally agree that they should’ve left Morgana in there, or at least had some semi-automatic weapons ready when they did release her (because if the USA is going to have shitty gun control laws we might as well use them to destroy evil witches, amiright?), but this is about Merlin’s reaction, not mine.

Also, if this was his plan all along, he could’ve left instructions about that. So that, y’know, Drall didn’t die trying to stop Gunmar from taking the staff. You know. That little detail.

–Repairs Jim’s amulet

On the surface this is good, except that, again, he wouldn’t have had to do this if he’d written the directions to his tomb on anything else. He could’ve even had the instructions in like, the spirit room that the dead trollhunters live in, if he was really that determined to make sure it was trollhunter-specific.

–Threatens to eat Toby

????????¿¿¿¿¿¿¿???????

What even happened here. What. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, it really added to the ‘what the fuck even is going on with him’ vibe that Merlin has, but why? Did he just… hang out with trolls too much? But only the evil trolls did that. What even was happening here. And why Toby? Was it process of elimination because he though Claire was hot (which, uh, creepy) and he needed Jim, or was this a… fat joke? I honestly have no idea.

–Gives them a laundry list of complicated as fuck items to collect

Merlin is an asshole who should’ve gotten his groceries himself. Nuff said. Oh wait, not enough said, because one of those things was literally lightning in a goddamn bottle, which they needed the help of actual goddamn aliens to get, so Merlin, with no knowledge of modern technology, really should have known he needed to at least get that one by himself.

What a guy.

–Destroys Jim’s vespa

Okay, this probably seems petty. ‘Merlin literally kickstarted the apocalypse, why do you care about the vespa?’ Well, because it wasn’t just any piece of machinery. Jim had been wanting a vespa for a very, very long time– for him, it was a dream, then a symbol of normalcy, and then it became even more than that when he finally got one– by building it with Blinky. It was a project he undertook alongside his father figure, likely took weeks of work, and was a physical reminder of how much Blinky cared about him.

Merlin destroys it and uses it to make armor.

Now, there’s some symbolism here. Merlin is destroying the vespa– symbol of Jim’s old life– and using it to forge armor– transforming his old life into something that protects his friends. It’s not unlike what his amulet has done to him, or what Merlin later tries to do by making Jim into a troll. Which, yeah, I’ve covered being a shitty tactical decision and I’m going to go over even more reasons why it’s terrible in a minute.

Point is, dick move. He could’ve used literally any other kind of metal, so the only upside here is symbolism and, let’s be real, it’s a metaphor is not a good reason to do dumb shit.

–Champions releasing Morgana

I was really happy that everyone yelled at him about this one. I was less happy that that was all that happened. Merlin did, clearly, just want his magic back. If he didn’t, he would have just left Morgana in her goddamn crystal like a sensible person, or at the very least agreed to help take out Gunmar before handling Morgana. It’s just common sense to divide and conquer– yes writing a paper is very hard, but it’s a lot easier to do that when your house isn’t on fire. Dealing with problems separately makes them all a lot less taxing, or in this case, a lot less deadly! There are so many people that would still be alive if Merlin, after being asleep for hundreds of years, had just been able to wait a few more goddamn weeks to have his fingersparkles back.

–Emotionally manipulates Jim into becoming a troll

This fucker. This assclown. You’re absolutely right– he cuts him off from everyone he knows and refuses to let him go rescue his mom, does that shitty parent thing where you guilt someone by saying “It’s your choice whether or not to do the right thing…” and spews some shit about destiny and just generally uses his title of Old Guy Who Knows Stuff to tell Jim that he Has To Do This, but it’s Totally Your Choice.

I thought, when Jim’s mom rescued herself (go Barb go!!!) and came running up to the bathroom door, that he would stop. Because that was the whole reason Jim was going to go through with the transformation– it was the only way Merlin would let him go save his mom. The fact that he just kinda… ignored the fact that they were out there yelling for him? Yeah, that was dumb. Even if he wanted to go through with it, he should have talked to his friends and family first. That was, uh, the whole lesson he learned from going into the Darklands alone. We’ve been down this road, Jim, it’s depressing.

And then Merlin’s just… useless. He can’t beat Morgana, his tactics suck ass, and the only thing he does from that point on is try to get other people to die for him– looking at you, Aargh. I’m so glad you’re still alive.

So, to reiterate, Merlin shows up, fucks shit up, and then doesn’t fix any of the fucked up shit. On top of that, he’s an asshole the entire time– the “real battle of Killahead” line was just the tip of the douchebag iceberg (though ‘all you folks who died during this battle didn’t matter’ was a hell of a way to kick that off, I agree). But… why?

You’re right, we don’t know why he and Morgana started this pissing contest. We don’t even know why he took her on as an apprentice in the first place, or what connection the two of them had to trolls at all– presumably a strong one, considering how much they both tried to fuck with the future of the species. Before we met Merlin, none of these things had to be defined– Morgana and Merlin were vague enough as figures that we could imagine any number of things that had led to the current state of being. I, personally, imagined Merlin as being more invested in humans than trolls, which made sense to me because he was on the side of the trolls that didn’t hurt humans and his amulet placed a huge amount of value on Jim’s humanity. But then it’s revealed that Merlin actually doesn’t give a shit about humans at all, as he apparently eats them, doesn’t mind putting the entire town of Arcadia in danger, and tells Jim that his humanity doesn’t matter and he’s better off being a troll.

Same for Morgana. I thought her whole deal was that she wanted trolls to be the dominant species, but then she says Gunmar is disposable and doesn’t seem to give a shit about his conquest of the surface? If she didn’t actually care about trolls conquering humans, why in the hell did she want to bring about the eternal night?

So, again, what was happening and why were they so invested in the future of trollkind? If it wasn’t, like I thought, about whether humanity or trolls should be dominant, what possible reason could they have for interfering? Presumably at one point they got along, because Morgana was Merlin’s apprentice, but the only reason we get for her hating him is that he took her hand to make the amulet. . . except, wait, he did that after she started trying to bring about the eternal night. Forget why she cared about that, if he didn’t care about humans then why did he?

TLDR, Merlin’s an asshole, his decisions make no sense, and when you poke at things he creates plotholes in the entire series that weren’t there prior to his introduction. Also he’s the worst.

#Trollhunters #Trollhunters spoilers #anonymous #I really love this show okay! I wouldn't be this upset if I didn't #It's like how I fucking love Danny Phantom but Phantom Planet can suck my dick #a bad ending can be worse than no ending at all

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austennerdita2533 · 6 years

Text

A/N: Here’s a Part 2 to my KC/Hades and Persephone drabble, “Fill Me with Your Kissing Death,” I wrote for AU week. It can be read as a standalone, but both parts/chapters are here under the title “Our Lips Are Raw with Petals and Pomegranate”:

(A03) (FFnet)

I’d also like to send a special shout out to the lovely Helen, @klarolinessecondbreakfast, because her stunning KC edit (here) reduced me to a flailing fangirl within seconds *cries: it’s so beautiful* and provided me with the inspiration to f i n a l l y finish this damn thing. And thanks to my beloved Sadie Sadie, @kickassfu, for listening to me bitch, moan, and complain about this story (and all of my writing) without cease.You ladies are the best!

Enjoy lovelies.

xx Ashlee Bree

Drain Me of This Blushing Neglect

Many eons ago, in a land rife with sharp, barbed edges which were thicker than mountain bone yet more slippery than a snake’s shedding skin, and throughout a kingdom forged out of tinted glass the color of dragon’s breath and oppressive temperature swings that clattered teeth or beaded flesh with sweat, a god-king paced the dim crooks and corridors of his home at all hours like a wraith. And like a wraith, he floated through his duties and demands. Lost to all dreams of delight.

It was during a time when loneliness still cracked hard along Klaus’s knuckles as well, charring blood between his bones until it drained into deeper pits of nothing because there was only empty air to hold, because there was only that whistling despondency around each muscle, around each tendon of his fists. It was in a moment, too, when midnight felt like a silk rope around his neck: exquisite in its strength and power to bind, but so tight he wanted to choke while his fingernails pried at the prickly coffin. Crying out for a rose-snowed droplet of life. Gasping for the swell of cerulean waves and dawn’s preening feathers.

As he skulked beneath the dense fog of another unbearable death-day one evening, however, a yellow daisy suddenly appeared like a vision to slip through the full but dark moon above his head. With naught but a single petal, it slithered open the center with a flawless vibrancy that made it impossible for him to blink. Eager, it seemed, to dig itself through the earth’s dirt and worms so it could wilt somewhere against the austere rock below, near his feet. Perhaps even die. For, there, in the Deadlands, the only water which existed came from tears which weren’t plucked—never plucked—but scratched from a cemetery of miserable, tormented, bloodshot eyes.

Klaus monitored the daisy’s progress with rapt attention. Curious, of course, but also flummoxed by the crumbling stones of the plum sky which fell to the ground like droplets of hail as the petal sliced its way inside. Humming vivid streaks of moisture atop blunt peaks and ashy ravines. And also illuminating the air with songbird waves that were slowly taking form. Down the center of the moon the flower cut with smooth purpose and precision, seeping into the Deadlands with a gush so it could unfurl all its spring curves before him like a million rays of honey slipping from a budded sheath.

It expanded toward him in silky green leaflets first, and in peachy feminine limbs second. Revealing to him, not a flower, but a garden of a woman not yet in full bloom. A sagacious, cheerful young woman, who, like him in a complementary way, was an outcast in a cosmos where multifaceted hopes or ambitions were stifled—blackened until they could no longer breathe. And yet…

The young maiden planted herself before him like a partially eclipsed tree: half shaded, half shining rays of gold.

“Sorry if the light stings a bit, but you’ll adjust to it in time. And to me,” she said, beaming. “My name’s Caroline, by the way.”

Like a perfectly off-kilter dichotomy, she then offered Klaus a sprite “hello” with no bow. Unafraid, it seemed, to match him eye-to-eye; nor to face him, toe-to-toe.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I thought it proper to introduce myself.” Caught off guard, all he could do was blink. “You know,” she added with a flippant hand gesture plus an anxious bounce of her toes, “since I’m to become queen and everything?”

“Truth be told, love,” he sighed and scratched the back of his neck, “I don’t recall placing an order to the Sky for a midnight bride, so I’m at a loss here. What are you saying? And how did you manage to squeak through the gates of my home without prior—ah, what’s the word?”

“Death?”

“I was going to say invitation,” he said with a twitch of his mouth, “but frankly…yes.”

“Oh, that.” Caroline rolled her eyes then snorted like the answer was obvious. “I came of my own volition, silly! I found and ate your lovely forbidden fruit.”

“You…you what!?”

“No need to pretend to be shocked or anything. That pomegranate was a devil to procure, sure, but not impossible by any means. (Personally, I think on some subconscious level, you hoped someone would find it and that’s why you didn’t obscure it from view completely.)”

“Besides,” she continued lightheartedly, “I was determined. I needed a new home where I could cultivate my extremes, and you…” she bit her lip, “well, you needed me.”

Klaus blanched for a second time, recovering only long enough to arch a brow at her.

“Don’t look at me like that. You do.” Caroline fixed him with a penetrating glance and crossed her arms. “You need me—I can feel it.”

Chuckling, Klaus mused over this last comment before billowing around her with an acute gaze so he could assess her, head-to-foot. He took in her green-thorned thumbs, her soil-hemmed gown, her hair woven through with dandelion weeds, and couldn’t help but think her an anomaly. A beautifully assertive and provoking anomaly, mind you, but an anomaly all the same.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he said in reply, “but I assure you I require nothing and no one. I never have and I never will. Moreover, the absolute last thing I desire is a spring queen.” “In fact,” he added with an air of protracted arrogance and a voice which boomed with commanding certainty, “were I so inclined to choose a bride for myself at all—which I neither am nor plan to be (I prefer to rule alone, unchallenged, you see)—what makes you think I’d dare to select one as fresh or as perky as you are, hmm?”

“Wow. Are you so greedy and bitter that you refuse to share the falling granules of Time with me? Seriously!?”

“And what if I am?”

Caroline gaped.

“You know,” she narrowed her eyes; placed her hands on her hips, “I rather expected you to be glad of some eternal company down here after all your time alone…but nope!”

“Instead, you’re nothing but a stubborn and pretentious jerk who’d rather sift along in solitary sameness, absolutely miserable, than usher in an opportunity for change and cohesion! You’re…you’re a coward! Terrified of the mere possibility of intimacy, you are,” she scoffed. “You want it more than anything, but you’re too damn afraid to let yourself have it even though I’m basically gifting it to you for free! And let me tell you, pal,” Caroline added with an arm-crossed humph and a pout, “being alone by choice is infinitely more tragic than being alone by command.”

“Pretentious jerk, eh?” Something twinged hard against his ribcage. “Coward?” It was his heart. It was his heart twingeing; it was his heart heavying in his chest.

“That’s not so awful,” Klaus said with forced apathy as he let the stinging truth of her words sink in. “I’ve been called much worse than that.”

“What?” Caroline’s brow furrowed and she softened. “By who?” she asked.

“My father…earthlings…tormented souls…” He offered her a tight, painful smile. “Anyone and everyone, I suppose.”

“Really?”

Klaus shrugged, glancing away to kick at a rock.

“I’m sorry that’s…that’s not okay. I shouldn’t have—you’re not that bad, okay? You’re just a little…rough around the edges is all.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Don’t let it go to your head or anything, and definitely do not make a habit of infuriating me, because I will throttle you,” she said, daring him to try with a look, “but I kind of like that you’re enigmatic. You’re vexing in a good way, you know? You keep a girl on her toes.”

Caroline drifted closer then, and it thrummed something deep inside of him because he could smell her authenticity. He could feel how much she meant what she said.

Soft and delicate, this spring darling was spun from thread that burned gold with candor, consideration and care; so instead of flaming into annihilation when another’s anger or pain snipped at one of her split ends, she curled herself around the wound like a compress and shined hope against it until all felt possible. Until all was healed again. Not healed in the way it once was, mind you, but doctored in a way which stitched all the residual agony together, making one feel better about the jaggedness it left behind in the end. More calm and controlled about it, so to speak.

She was nourishing in presence as well. She cultivated growth in a way that required the shoveling up of his old roots to study tangles and bends because she believed it was the only way to see where the neglect first started, because it was the only way for her to calculate when the rot would win out if there were no intervention.

(Not that Caroline wouldn’t work like hell before disease encroached that far, of course. Because she would. She did.)

Hair trickled over her shoulders like blades of grass bending in the breeze, too. It framed her in shades of mercy so blonde, and so glossy, she reeked of pure sincerity and compassion, infecting everyone she met along the way. And while the trunk of her was deep and grooved with shadows—not to mention full of thick sap Klaus smelled but couldn’t see without sawing further beneath her rings, the leaves of her were airy and graceful and constantly swaying in a fashion which he considered to be most distracting. Yet…

Also (much to his chagrin), grossly enchanting.

This young woman, who had appeared in his kingdom without beckoning, was beguiling in an unsettling way. She unnerved him with tender words and mannerisms until the distrustful paranoia in his mind began to thaw…until the cold armor of his chest started to fall with a settled plonk near his ankles.

Something about Caroline primed his ears to listen and consider before he spoke. Where, with anyone else, his mouth wouldn’t hesitant to strike out or blast.

So, why the discrepancy? What was so halting about her, how was she so melting?

She was everything Klaus shunned, after all. She was everything Klaus pertained to loath here in this jarring domain…amid these burdensome, endlessly lamenting, clutching souls.

A woman who, with a chirping voice much too high and sweet when she spoke her three-syllable name: Caroline, Caroline; plus a smile which held the promise of sharp green, yellow, blue and pink demands, and a chin stained with the red-orange juice of a pomegranate, had asked upon her arrival, if he’d clip open the iron cage around his heart for her. Wondering, sanguinely, if he’d make room for a white-blossomed girl with nothing to offer him but seeds.

But would he?

Could he?

Klaus already knew no one wanted to amble through the dank and troubled air of his thoughts, of his kingdom. Just like he understood no creature in existence thirsted for his smoldering artistry, either.

It seemed people feared the scraping of his charcoal fingertips through their heads because he tended to linger over their memories, dreams, and friendships until they shivered or sweat. The cretins never once appreciating the skill it took to sketch out every folded swoop of longing he found wound around their bones like shoelaces. Which was laughable, frankly. Truly laughable. After all, what was so hard to fathom about a king, sentenced to the dark, who knew how to paint others’ misery?

All beings shrank away from his hunger, though. They always had. They found fault with his voracious creativity and called him the Sculptor of Shadows behind his back while they tittered.

(And they were always tittering.)

Something unsettled earthen kind about the way his glare ripped them apart to draw what once was in the realm above, to paint that which was no longer their’s to hold or hide. With his eyes brushing against all the weight their hearts had to bear in life, he colored all conflict out of them and stroked it into the air for review.

Each piece was unique in its daunting, but exquisite, truth, too. No two stories, no two people, were the same.

Klaus had an innate talent for depicting with whom another’s life was shared, for how long it was felt, why it was relished, resented, or missed; and when it all came to an end—but most people hated it. Hated him for his creations. Every single one of them were unable to understand precisely why their old lives must be preserved on ghost canvasses that could echo, but could never be touched again. They couldn’t reconcile how much agony it cost him to portray things he longed to experience himself, but most likely never would.

Klaus knew, too, that no soul, dead or alive, cared for knowledge or insight into his bruising history. People preferred ignorance. People preferred not to hear.

It mattered not that his step-father, Mikael the Mighty, kicked him from the cloud-castles of his birth and into the pits of hell because he thought him a plague on the Original family—a repulsive half-blooded beast, you are; and no son of mine, he’d said before punting Klaus into the Deadlands to rot; to be forgotten; to roast in the flames like garbage—only that people distrusted the moonstruck yellow of his seer eyes more. They were eyes which stalked through so much of others’ loveliness and adventures, but reflected no such contentedness of his own in their depths.

Unfortunately, suspicion and aversion were the emotions which won out first and foremost among the once-living. It was easier for earthlings to fear him. Loath him. Misunderstand him. It was easier for them to condemn his pledge to preserve everlasting memories in death than to understand that he’d never waltz in the arms of the changing seasons himself unless he did so vicariously: through them.

Perhaps it was too difficult for anyone to believe Klaus might know something of dejection, too? Or grief. Or wonder. Or longing for something alive. Perhaps it was impossible for anyone to fathom that the Kindred of the Damned might know something of suffering, too?

“You can’t fool me, you know,” Caroline cut in like a chirping dove.

“No?”

“No.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I…” Eyelashes flicking to his face, gaze unwavering, she shuffled forward with tulips trailing in her wake to place a tentative but steady hand on his chest. “Because I hear the muffled howl of your heart full of holes—how all of that emptiness blows straight through you. It calls out like the notes of a flute every time the wind rustles in the hopes that someone out there will hear it and rush into your arms. That’s why I came. I heard it, I felt your aching melody in my veins,” she said, her voice as soft as a feather. “I still do.”

Reaching for his hand, she beamed up at him with the rose-gold softness of a million suns as she intertwined their fingers in a tender, comforting way he’d never been shown before. The gesture caused Klaus’s throat to scratch uncomfortably. His lungs tingled with the warmth of a coming sunrise, making it almost difficult to breathe.

“That doesn’t mean you can dethrone me, though, sweetheart,” he replied in a low drawl.

“It doesn’t, you’re right. But if you let me,” Caroline said with a tilt of her head and a spreading smile, “I could occupy one next to you so you always have someone by your side?”

Those words, as legend later would claim, changed everything.

For, although she left behind a small lesion on the moon’s sooty, weathered face where her perfectly-petalled tip punctured it with grace and light, she showed Klaus the finesse of bending instead of breaking. She replenished his rotted insides with laughter, with hopes of forever which tangled them together like two onyx-shamrock stems dancing in the wind. She taught him how, sometimes, a heart given freely beats louder and longer, feels fatter and fuller, and gushes softer and surer than a heart that’s taken forcibly.

Before long, Klaus realized her nectar burned too bright for him to resist the urge to close his eyes and revel in her liquid sunshine taste…so he breathed Caroline in until he was blinded. And here’s a little secret:

He never regretted it once, either.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klaroline fanfiction #half agony half hope #our lips are raw with petals and pomegranate #this is kind of a birthday gift to myself #because no way in h e l l did i think #i'd manage to get another drabble out #before the kc valentine exchange #so happy i-can't-believe-i-wrote-this-fast day!#but also this fandom rocks my socks #so thanks for keeping me inspired; encouraged; and writing #*blows kisses to you all*#ashlee bree's writing endeavors

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