FIC: Imagination Succumbs, by templemarker [The Magicians]

Apr 15, 2019 04:26

Imagination Succumbs (1035 words) by templemarker

Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Magicians (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh, Arielle/Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh, Arielle/Quentin Coldwater, Arielle & Eliot Waugh
Characters: Quentin Coldwater, Eliot Waugh, Arielle (The Magicians), Theodore “Ted” Rupert Coldwater-Waugh
Additional Tags: art for art's sake, let me see your etchings, Humor, theories about the mosaics, Mosaic Timeline, that fillorian opium is really working overtime
Series: Part 3 of Mind Over Time
Summary:

Quentin takes a nap, and when he wakes up, Eliot looked pleased.

This is alarming for several reasons: a) "pleased" on Eliot looks a lot like the smirk his Gramma's cat wore whenever she shat in Quentin's shoes; b) they don't have a mirror so Quentin can't be sure Eliot didn't get bored and draw shit on his face; but most importantly, c) Quentin really has to reach for the last time he saw Eliot look pleased.

He thinks it was back when Eliot was regaling him with his scandals at Ibiza.

Yikes.


And now for something...completely different? I don't even know, I was walking the dog and idly thinking about the Mosaic Timeline and then apparently my inner snickering twelve-year-old thought "wouldn't it be hilarious if--" so here we go.

Set during 3x05, "A Life in the Day". I mean seriously. They must have made a lot of damn mosaics.

§§§§§

This was obliquely inspired by
stele3's Magicians story You In My Head, which is knotty and difficult and most excellent, definitely read it.

Lying on the bed, Q is curled on his side above the covers, his hands tucked between his drawn-up knees. He’s fast asleep but wakes with a start when the doorknob clicks shut behind Eliot. He looks up and his glassy eyes widen.

“It’s me,” Eliot says quickly. When Quentin doesn’t relax he adds, “Mosaic number 473 was clearly the most beautiful.”

That works: irritation cuts through the fear on Q’s face and he huffs. “Bullshit. 604.”

“Too much yellow.”

And I guess, as I was watching my dog alternately sniff and then piss on various foliage in my neighborhood, that translated seamlessly to mosaics of the graffiti that has marked the ages: genitalia!

Honestly, my favorite lines are Arielle's "Bleated be", which just hit me out of nowhere and caused me to cackle so loudly I woke the snoring pup; and Arielle's "And you are a cloud of pollinated bees!", which stemmed from my attempts to think through what a Fillorian's response to the Earth idiom "you are a breath of fresh air" that was appropriately nature-based, positive in expression, and awkwardly phrased.

the magicians, quentin/eliot, +mind over time, will write for pancakes

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