#episode 3x05

[eliotqueliot]

Puzzling It Out

For the May 31 prompt: Free Day! for @duckprintspress May Trope Mayhem

Fandom: The Magicians (TV); Relationship: Eliot Waugh/Quentin Coldwater

Warnings for canon-typical language and grief/regret; the "canonical character death" is Eliot's death in the Mosaic Timeline.

Summary: A story in verse. Eliot’s POV, reflecting on their lives at the Mosaic, as well as what happened in the throne room afterward. Yes, their hearts were broken then—but in the course of these reflections, Eliot realizes a few things. And makes plans. So—there's hope!

Also posted on AO3—link at the end.

Puzzling It Out

Each night I dream of that puzzle—

fruits of the orchard, often our child—

but always that puzzle with you on it.

Crawling the playing board or pacing with me;

standing by, or perched on the ladder,

perusing the journal to compare solutions, or design new ones.

But always you, you, standing there,

frowning or excited for some new possibility,

or on your hands and knees working the tiles,

gazing up at me with mischief from under that fall of long hair.

“We work”—our hearts in harmony, more often than we fight,

but I’ll take both: anything to get a glimpse of you while you’re still mine,

sharing peaches and plums, peaches and plums,

that sweet tang, the juice running down your chin,

all over your fingers—licking it off,

tasting your sweet lips, your tart bite, the witty sarcasm, the fond embrace,

throwing you over my shoulder or lifting you high like an airplane on my long legs.

Your snark, your wit, your kindness.

Your muscles rippling on a hot, shirtless day.

I want to continue that life with nothing but you:

no other place I ever felt at home or happy.

But you were my home, you and our son.

Our whole lives stretched out, and we lived each day fiercely

with love, even through the fights.

And then it all ended: not with my death,

though I’m sorry I grieved you—

but with your decision to start over—

without asking what I wanted.

(To be fair, I was dead and couldn’t answer.)

You arranged for a letter to reach High Queen Margo,

arriving in time, with all the information she needed

to stop our quest from ever happening.

She arrived holding the key it took us a lifetime to earn—

a lifetime of love, of happiness—

our lives together, just us. An adventure

there’s no need to go on, now—

we stopped before the clock, before we ever felt magic again

or tasted each other’s lips a second time,

our first time alone following the threesome.

Everything we know says it never happened:

everything we feel says it did.

Was it a dream? Was it real?

Why did you want to stop us?

Did you want to escape a life of toil? Me?

Did you think that we’d just start over, fresh,

even though I don’t know how to do this?

Even though you erased the one time we had enough time

for me to learn how to work past my fears, to believe it was possible,

to trust that someone could actually love me?

I love you so much that I’m fucking terrified,

and I don’t know how to get there,

how to get home from inside this tangled wood,

never having lived those lives I loved so much,

where I loved you so much (so many times)—

where the certainty of your love

was so much greater than all my fears.

I want so badly to touch your face, but this is the world

in which I have no framework, no certainty,

nothing but my love for you that was never returned,

not for years, not for flirting or threesomes,

not as far as I ever knew.

And my heart stutters trying to speak—

Even though all I want to do is go home—

home to you, to our peaceful lives of purpose, our child,

the beauty of all life

(it’s you, you, you)—

But I never can, because home doesn’t exist,

not anymore. Because I said “I love you, but.”

And you said, “Okay.”

And Okay, I’d give anything to take back what else I said,

all those lies and excuses, just me running away—

but I’ll be honest. I was happy. We were happy.

We loved each other. We lived good, beautiful lives.

And I didn’t want to leave you. I didn’t want to die.

But I died loving you. Watching you, awed by your beauty even then,

even though you didn’t know it. I died knowing I was loved.

That we’d made it. I’d beat the odds. Lived a good life. Been a good dad.

Husband to the most wonderful man in the world. In any world.

A task so hard it seemed impossible in our lives before.

I never could have done it without you. Without that quest.

Our lives dedicated to endless combinations of art.

Focusing on something else

so I could pretend not to notice love sneaking up on me.

But I noticed. I noticed. I savored every minute.

I loved you so much. Long before I could say.

Long after I stopped being able to say, in this place we are now.

A quest so hard I’d have said it was impossible:

true love, happiness. A family.

We solved it together.

It was the miracle I never dared to hope for.

I died loving you. Being loved. Old. Home. Happy.

And now…it’s nothing but a memory.

A secret shared between us. But even we don’t dare to speak of it anymore.

If you’d asked me, love, before you sent that letter . . .

I didn’t want to come back. Not ever.

Not to be separated from you like this.

Not to have that hard uphill climb

that I might never achieve again, not with all these odds stacked against me—

two royal marriages to contend with, our fucked-up fairy overlords,

alcoholism, the burdens of the crown—

my inability to speak my heart.

(Your ongoing pull toward Alice Quinn.)

My paralyzing fear. Jealousy.

All the things, reasonable and un-,

that have separated us once again,

stranded on different worlds:

you on Earth, and I in Fillory.

But, love, I’ve been puzzling this out.

I’ve had time to think.

To sort out not what’s possible,

but what’s important—enough to make it happen.

I have a plan.

There are keys left on this quest.

And I’m not a king any longer.

Let’s find the next one together, shall we?

You know you want to.

I have a flying boat…

for that boat quest you always wanted to go on together?

This time, I promise you:

together, we’ll find one more key:

and on the way…

I’ll unlock my heart and say

Yes.

[luthqrs]

"Do you have kids?" "No, not yet. But everyone who needs us, we think of as our own." JENNIFER JAREAU in CRIMINAL MINDS 3x05 | ‘Seven Seconds’

[aaronwhorechner]

hotchniss in 3.05

[thrwne]

Mathias and Erik

[poirott]

Crossover → Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple solving cases together, Part 2 (Part 1)

David Suchet as Hercule Poirot, Julia McKenzie as Jane Marple

Agatha Christie's Poirot (1989 - 2013) | Agatha Christie's Marple (2004 - 2013)

[chiosblog]

Face feeling the gay panic™

Happy Pride Faceman!

[hucklebucket]

Ace + being On Nancy’s Side™

[sammaggs]

3x02 Seeing is Believing | Fuck

Now I imagine you will use your knife.

[helifreds]

I just had a mind blowing realization

Ok no, it didn't happen right now but yesterday evening but this isn't the point

I was watching 'Timber' (thank you whoever randomly decided to trasmit the A-team during week) and when the famous "gay couple at morning" scene camed I realized that what I thought for one whole year was completely wrong

I was convinced that in their bedroom there were two beds, the one where Face is sleeping (or trying so) and another one on the opposite side

Turned out there's just one - pretty little - bed that they shared (the pillows' position prove it) and Murdock's imaginary bed space is occupied by a closet lol :')

[what-in-procrastination]

they’re playing man city next week and the person who wrote the episode also wrote man city (2x08). I don’t know if you guys understand how not normal I’m gonna be about that

[xofemeraldstars]

chim glancing at buck in this scene and buck's sad lil face 🥺

[crownspeaksblog]

Okay, what a whiplash going from the last few minutes of episode 4 where i was having fun to being so uncomfortable watching the sex scene in episode 5..

Okay so going into this season, i already knew that colin and penelope were gonna have a sex scene involving a mirror, so when colin turned penelope towards the mirror and started describing things he likes about her, i thought that this was a foreshadowing to a sex scene that'll happen later on, because in my mind they're so not at the point of full on sex yet, so when i realized that they were gonna have sex i was taken back because this scene feels so unearned to me, it feels like we jumped several steps ahead, even though last episode they were making out and colin was grabbing on her, his hand under her dress, it still doesn't feel like enough build up for a sex scene to happen the next episode, again it feels like we jumped so many steps to get here..

And i don't know why but i started getting a little uncomfortable when he touched her lower lip and i definitely got uncomfortable with her laying naked in bed with him on top of her, and then he started talking her through it and i know some people like this, but i just wanted him stop talking!! (i was genuinely so close to fast forwarding this scene but instead I'm here writing this).

So yeah i didn't like this scene because it has alot of talking, but mostly it because their relationship literally started last night!! I don't think i can say there's no building up whatsoever, to me it's just there's very very little build up and development in their relationship.

[samsheughan]

"Nobody thought you and Frank were Ozzie and Harriet. I've watched you live a half life for 15 years. If you have a second chance at love, you should take it."

[lilcathsmith]

Greg in every episode of CSI (45/328) • Abra Cadaver •

[thrwne]

New 3x05 stills posted by Benjamin 👀

[fanfoolishness]

Hmmm… how about “Crosshair” & “dust”?

dust - 3x05, The Return

The crate sits on his knees, daring him to open it. The weight's familiar -- of course it is, he once wore this as a second skin -- and unfamiliar -- how long has it been? -- both.

Crosshair's hand brushes the top of the crate. It comes away grimy, gray smudging his gloved fingertips. How many worlds has the Marauder landed on since the Order went out? What dust has coated the boots of his brothers, tracked back onto the ship to settle into corners and crevices, to cling to things unused, detritus from worlds he's never been?

He could have. That's the thing that coils in his chest, crushing, heavy, a weight he can't escape.

He opens the crate, and his armor stares back at him, waiting to be worn. Seeing it again, here, alone, makes his gut twist.

They kept it. All this time. That's... that's something.

It's hard to breathe. He's not sure what he's more afraid of. That it won't fit anymore, that he's grown too far apart from who he used to be?

Or that it will fit, and he could have been here all along?

He swallows, reaches out a trembling hand, traces the cutout in the helmet's visor. Wipes the painted crosshair clean with the pad of his thumb. Makes up his mind.

I can do this.

-

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