#scabrxus

For almost a whole minute, he can’t say anything.

He lets out a breath. The world is too thin; too far away.

some ancient meme idk | not accepting

“ I will in a minute, ” Eliot replies. An automatic line cast out into the dark, just so that Quentin won’t worry.

Not that Eliot could ever stop Quentin from worrying.

The forest around Castle Whitespire is distorted and ghastly through the hand-blown glass, but Eliot is used to it now. The moon makes milky specters of the trees, the huts, the houses, the little brook winding its way through it all. 

Eliot draws his robe tighter around himself. 

“They’re coming, you know,” he says, despite himself. “A whole army. And we don’t have Alice.”

@scabrxus​ caught a glimpse at The Art (Eliot naked) | accepting

Eliot freezes at the sound of that voice. For a moment, he thinks he’s made himself a ghost, but no, it’s easier than that:

He’d forgotten that Quentin had stayed the night.

Eliot turns, slowly. Seeing Quentin see him like this now brings back so many memories. The first time, he was young and stupid; now, shiny, silver scars serve as his war medals. He is marked with the years - echoes of wounds that, in some worlds, could have been the end of him.

But he is here. Quentin is here. In a storybook, that might’ve meant they found their happy ending. The real world did not care about their happy ending, and sometimes, neither did Eliot. There were so many frayed ends to this story. So many things they should have said sooner and could never say now. 

They were not the heroes. They were two men with history who had maybe enough years between them to move on. There were thousands of stories like that in Manhattan - maybe even some in this very hotel.

see also Q with Q: oh hey we're not drunk enough to deal with our emotions

;; i'm sCREAMING

Is your muse a screamer in bed?

Listen I think we all know that Eliot Waugh does everything at at Maximum, including sex and sex noises.  If he hasn’t been told to shut up (or had something stuffed in his mouth, which he is fine with lbh) and smoked at least two cigarettes immediately after climaxing, then he probably isn’t having much fun and won’t call you again*.

( ﾟヮﾟ)  When is your muse happiest?

There’s two answers to this question, and they both apply to Martin Chatwin as a boy, and The Beast later in life.

The first is when he is in Fillory.  Fillory is the furthest place from anything that’s troubled him.  His absent parents, his friendless boarding schools, the man who hurt him, the grey skies that drown all hope.  Fillory is a place that crowned a melancholy boy their High King.  Fillory believed in him, and gave him a reason to brave the day each morning.  Fillory was full of magic, to the point where the mundane barely exists.  Martin doesn’t think he knows happiness in any other world in the multiverse but that one.