#gideon calling harrow jealous of her and dulcinea.......

[dykeseinfeld]

nooooo gideon don't betray harrow you're so sexy aha.....

#their entire fight...i might go crazy #gideon calling harrow jealous of her and dulcinea....... #i'm gonna cry no one told me enemies to lvoers involved conflict #tlt

[harrowharks-iliac-crest]

Gideon the Ninth Appendices (continued)

Cohort Intelligence Files

Oh, these are written by Judith!

Wow, she and Marta joined the Cohort when they were literal children - eleven and ten, respectively. I guess it's somewhat common to burden little kids with responsibilities early amongst the Nine Houses?

On Naberius Tern:

He also has an extremely good opinion of himself and his swordplay, an opinion that Lt. Dyas notes occasionally aligns with reality.

Oh I love the subtle shade here. I'm also noting that Coronabeth's charisma seems to dazzle even Judith Deuteros as she is writing this, since she doesn't know about her or Ianthe's necromantic prowess - yes they were homeschooled, but knowing that necromancers are usually frail, wouldn't you wonder whether Ianthe is more necromantically apt, quietly, from her sister's shadow?

I guess not.

On Isaac Tettares:

the eldest of eight. [...] Father killed by terrorists out on [REDACTED] nineteen years ago: all of his children have been posthumous and the title held in stewardship.

Interesting! Also the bit about how kids can be born either of XX-carrier or vat-womb. Reproduction sure has advanced a great deal (as has the disconnection of sex from gender, apparently - which I've noticed before, but is obvious enough here to comment on it!)

Anyway, as we learned in Harrow the Ninth, the father does not have to be physically present for a child to get their genetic material. All you need is said genetic material. If you're in an important position in your House, presumably it's custom to save an amount of genetic material so you can continue to have heirs in the event of your death.

It seems customary for the Fourth to go to school at the Fifth, which explains the close relationship between Isaac and Jeannemary, and Abigail and Magnus.

On Protesilaus:

He's married??? He has children???? Oh my goodness, that makes his unfortunate demise at Cytherea's hands so much more tragic.

... Okay, I think that's all I really have to say on that!

A little explanation of naming systems

I did already get the idea, literally from the Dramatis Personae in Gideon the Ninth, that names refer to your House. Interesting to me is that they work differently to current surnames: people have different last names to their parents, and their last names are at least somewhat unique to them. Even siblings rarely share a name, making Coronabeth and Ianthe exceptions to the rule.

Interesting!!

Pelleamena and Priamhark: It shouldn't surprise me that these two are named for people in the Iliad. I kind of figured, with Priamhark, but it's a little less obvious with Pelleamena.

I adore the little pronounciation guides, tbh.

Crux, to rhyme with "sucks": Yeah sounds about right

Marta Dyas: DIE-ass. I'm sorry, I couldn't come up with anything better.

You know, I'm glad I decided to dig into these in a bit more detail, because Tamsyn's notes on these are hilarious.

On Ianthe and Coronabeth:

In the original, Ianthe and Corona were "Cainabeth and Abella", a feat of naming so unsubtle that I might as well have just gone with "Goodtwin" and "Badtwin". And it's not even accurate! It should be Badtwin, and Lessbadtwin.

I'm reminded of Coronabeth going "She could have taken me!!!" after Ianthe became Lyctor. Oh, she sure could have! Why do you sound jealous, Coronabeth?

On Jeannemary and Isaac:

Isaac here foreshadows Gideon's death by doing the "bravest and stupidest" thing, i.e. getting his abdomen made into a huge Connect-4 board. I might as well have called Jeannemary and Isaac "Don'tgetattached" and "Deadsoon".

Okay, rude. I mean, I didn't end up reading into the naming while reading Gideon for the first time, though maybe I should have. Maybe I wouldn't have gotten so attached (and upset) when they were both deadsoon.

On Palamedes:

Pal-AM-a-dees. At first I had a coarse comparison here, but then I removed it.

Palamadeez nuts, lol. So rude, Tamsyn.

Oh wow, more foreshadowing in the names of Dulcinea and Protesilaus. Wow. Okay remind me to dissect any new names that come up in Nona the Ninth (whenever I get to actually reading that).

... Okay, we're done with the appendices of Gideon the Ninth!!

Now soon to follow: Appendices of Harrow the Ninth, including As Yet Unsent, then I will read The Mysterious Study of Doctor Sex, and then, then finally, we will start on our reread of Gideon and Harrow.

I can't wait!

#tlt liveblog #the locked tomb liveblog #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #tlt #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #gideon the ninth appendices

[mayasaura]

Love the chart. Why is Gideon jealous of Palamedes and Camilla? I have forgotten some of the books so i am clearly due for a reread

Thank you!! And it's a lot more subtle than Gideon’s rivalry with Ianthe, but Palamedes and Camilla were both jealous of Gideon over the whole thing with Dulcinea.

Gideon is also a wee bit jealous over Harrow’s friendship with Palamedes:

But the Dulcinea thing, neither of them were dicks about it, but Gideon and Palamedes had a definite mutual awkwardness of the jealous variety:

Gideon isn't jealous of Camilla, and she never even notices that Camilla is jealous of her, so it's harder to grab a quote, but the otherwise reserved, calculating, and self-possessed Camilla Hect has to be physically restrained from kicking Gideon's ass to kingdom come the first time we meet her. We see that level of ferocity from her exactly one other time, when she's avenging Palamedes' death. Later, when she spills the beans about Palamedes and Dulcinea's history, it's described as a floodgate coming down. She'd been holding this in for a while. And in that conversation is something else only visible in hindsight, which is Camilla neglecting to mention her own relationship with Dulcinea.

It's revealed in The Mysterious Study of Doctor Sex that Dulcie wrote them both, and Camilla rereads her letters and either carries them on her person or went back for them at the same time she went back for Palamedes' skull, because she still has them after leaving Canaan House. Dulcie, the real Dulcie, later calls Palamedes and Camilla her first and second strands:

Implying that, from Dulcinea's perspective at least, there was no real difference in significance between her relationship with Palamedes and her relationship with Camilla.

Which is all to say, CamCam was big jelly but being an adult about it.

#the locked tomb #harrow the ninth #htn spoilers #the mysterious study of doctor sex #camilla hect #palamedes sextus #dulcinea septimus #also I noticed something what grabbing Dulcie's quote that hurt my heart #which is Harrow hearing Dulcinea's lament for Cam and Pal feels a deep and directionless yearning she doesn't understand #she doesn't remember that she's mourning too #she doesn't remember that Palamedes and Camilla were her friends and she doesn't remember that she's also lost a partner #lmao I think I got carried away here #oops

[ghostmartyr]

Every time I try to start this post I get lost in all of the many angles there are to look at the scene where Harrow and Gideon have their huge fight. With how much fun I have with the characters, I think sometimes I overlook that the writing for this series is really quite good. Examining a single thread yanks a bunch more around with it, and before you know it, the best way to tell the story is just shoving the book in front of someone.

Gideon and Harrow’s fallout pre-corpse discovery and pool scene zooms from poor love triangle coping skills to dead teenagers to self-loathing to the omnipresent question of what they are to each other to the refusal to acknowledge that it’s a question at all.

It also generally hurts.

This train wreck kicks off with Harrow attempting to protect Gideon by keeping her away from someone who is piloting a dead body around -- aka being sus af. It could almost be called civil.

“That reminds me! I now officially ban you from seeing Lady Septimus.” “Are we having this conversation? Are we really having this conversation?”

Okay, so it could be called the climactic third-act drama of a YA novel.

Where Gideon out and out calls Harrow a jealous creep because she doesn’t like how ‘Dulcinea’ takes up Gideon’s attention.

(If you turn the page at this point, you will find Gideon saying they both hate each other and always will.

Sure Jan.)

They legitimately are so very fucking weird, and insist on this despite being otherwise intelligent human beings. Emotional health and sense was not covered in the Ninth, and by golly it shows.

There is no disconnect between the concepts of Harrow jealously guarding how Gideon spends her time and Harrow despising Gideon. Both occupy the same space of the dynamic. They are the same coin, spinning around like a top until something happens to make it slam down on a side.

Then they pick it up and start over again.

The framework of this whole conversation is Gideon’s simple complaint that Harrow is willing to let a dying woman be murdered. Coupled with Harrow’s simple complaint that Gideon finds this problematic.

It’s also about Gideon having found what it means to be a cavalier, and rejecting being Harrow’s as strongly as she possibly can.

Because of the aforementioned problematic behavior, in part.

“You agreed to act as my cavalier primary. You agreed to devote yourself to the duties of a cavalier. Your misunderstanding of what that entailed does not make you any less beholden to what your duty actually is—” “I promised to fight for you. You promised me my freedom. There’s a hell of a good chance that I’m not going to get it, and I know it. We’re all dying here! Something’s after us! The only thing I can do is try to keep as many of us as I can alive for as long as I can, and hope that we work something out! You’re the ignorant sack of eyeballs who doesn’t understand what a cavalier is, Harrow, you just take whatever I give you—”

Gideon’s watched Palamedes and Camilla. She’s watched Jeannemary and Isaac. She’s seen partnership and loyalty and affection. A cavalier fights for their necromancer, and the necromancer is -- what? We don’t have that part yet, but we have Gideon knowing in every fiber of her being what a cavalier-necromancer pair should be. Knowing that they aren’t it.

“We don’t deserve to still be around—have you realised that yet? Have you realised that this whole thing has been about the union of necromancer and cavalier from start to finish? We should be toast. If they’re measuring this on the strength of that—we’re the walking dead. Magnus the Fifth was a better cavalier than I am. Jeannemary the Fourth was ten times the cavalier I am. They should be alive and we should be bacteria food.”

Harrow keeps her secrets and only works with Gideon with the greatest resentment.

Before Canaan House, Gideon’s ambition is to be part of the Cohort. She wants to be a soldier, do battle, get hot chicks, be magnificent; all that hot girl stuff.

But when she finds herself as Harrow’s cavalier primary, she finds a place for her natural chivalry and martial talent. She finds something that works for her as a person. She starts looking at being a cavalier as what she should become, and starts to view her life through the lens of succeeding or failing at that.

If Harrow refuses to be her necromancer, Gideon can’t be a cavalier.

“If you don’t need me, release me to the Seventh House,” she said, very slow and very calm, like she was reading at a service. “I’d rather serve—Dulcinea dying—than the living Reverend Daughter.”

Yeah there’s the part where one of them is actively a dick, but going back to Gideon’s life as a whole, she is universally sick of being denied the chance to be useful. No one ever wants to let her go out and do what she’s best at. They want her to stay put and wilt away, then complain when she takes issue with that.

‘Dulcinea’ doesn’t have a cavalier, and has always been kind to Gideon, and is in need of protection. Of course that’s Gideon’s preference. She wants to be a fucking cavalier, and Harrow continually rejects her, even when coerced into accepting Gideon’s points of usefulness.

Rejects her, but never frees her.

“When I release you from my service, Nav,” her necromancer said, “you will know about it.”

Gideon’s whole life is tied to someone who won’t let her go, but doesn’t want her. It’s enough to drive anyone a bit nuts. It’s been this way their entire lives, even back on the Ninth.

But they’re not there anymore.

Gideon and Harrow at Canaan House are a constant study of “what’s changed?” answered with “absolutely nothing but also everything all at once.”

There are several moments in the middle of all of this where Harrow actually keeps her focus: she wants Gideon away from the Seventh. She stumbles through all sorts of other bad conversational points on her way, but while Gideon descends fairly quickly into justified hysterics, Harrow is still trying to talk about why corpse puppeteers are not good friends.

Until she stops.

“Stop worshipping the sound of your own voice, Nav, and listen to me—” “Harrow, I hate you,” said Gideon. “I have never stopped hating you. I will always hate you, and you will always hate me. Don’t forget that. It’s not like I ever can.” Harrow’s mouth twisted so much that it should have been a reef knot. Her eyes closed briefly, and she sheathed her hands inside her gloves.

Harrow does a crap job of reaching Gideon throughout the whole mess, but that’s because no one ever taught communication to the master of an entire planet who regularly conducts sermons. She just sucks at it.

But she stops trying when Gideon makes the declaration of hatred. That’s when she chooses to walk away instead.

Gideon is shouting from the terraces that there is nothing but hate here and there is a lot of it just a whole abyss of hate while blotting out every shred of evidence of how easy it is for them to just. not.

We’ve had shots of them getting along, and we know it doesn’t have to be like this. They can work together. They can matter to each other in a way that doesn’t end in mutual strangulation. There is evidence that something positive can grow from the ashes of all their burned bridges. They can work as a team. They come together for the trials, and Harrow follows Gideon’s lead on the dueling debacle without being asked. Gideon swoops her up in a hug. Gideon references the hug during their fight.

Leading to the excruciating gut punch of Gideon denying all of it.

The hate is still there, it’s never changed, it never will change, this is how it is. They’re stuck. Leaving the Ninth didn’t help, it just got more people dead in between their bouts of being at each other’s throats.

...Yay.

#liveblogging #Gideon the Ninth #tl;dr #viva la pluto

[summerhuntresses]

The Obliteration of Gideon Nav

[ao3]

Gideon and Harrow have a disagreement. It escalates, as these things tend to do with them.

Or, roller derby AU that does not involve roller derby.

“So, my umbral delight, my queen of doom and darkness, when are you gonna start the paperwork to change your name?”

“Excuse me?”

~~~

It should have been a simple decision.

At the very least, it should have been a decision that did not require two concussions, three therapy sessions, an emergency barber appointment, and a broken nose to make.

Unfortunately for all involved, neither Gideon Nav nor Harrowhark Nonagesimus were capable of recognizing the simplicity of the decision at hand and instead defaulted to physical combat to win the day.

~~~

“I am going to remove your spine with your own fingerbones and wear it as a scarf, Nav!”

Harrow’s eyes burned with sheer hatred, fingers twitching with the urge to do violence. Gideon would swear for years to come that she could smell the fury rolling off the shorter girl in waves, a mix of ash, iron, and the green juice the girl had had for lunch. One of the horrible twins flinched back, hiding partway behind Gideon to get out of the way of that terrible glare.

It was… honestly, it was adorable. The passion, the righteous fury, the bloodlust – it all combined into one tiny human that Gideon kind of wanted to pick up and squish into a bear hug.

Camila shoved an elbow hard into Gideon’s ribs, ripping her painfully from her daydreaming. Gideon yelped, giving her best friend an aggrieved glare. Camila met it easily, dark eyes betraying no emotion beyond resigned disappointment. “Seek therapy, Nav.”

Gideon snorted. “You’re just jealous that I get to go home with Harrow and you’re stuck with…” She trailed off as Camila raised an eyebrow at her. Both of them turned to look up at the commentator’s booth.

Coronabeth Tridentarius made the simple announcer’s booth look like the gilded throne room of an emperor of old. Golden hair tumbled around broad shoulders and framed a face that would inspire a thousand poems or launch a thousand warships. Tan skin rippled over strong muscle as she pointed at Silas and his awful nephew, yelling encouragement to try and inspire them to move at a pace faster than what could be charitably described as a ‘crawl’. Light glinted off the golden bracelets ringing both wrists and flashed off the amethysts winking at her ears and her eyebrow, drawing the eye to the wicked smile she wore as she shouted. Something about her just exuded sex, and danger, and wildness, like a goddess made flesh. She turned and caught them looking, sending a smirk and a sinful wink their way as ruby-red lips blew a kiss. Movement on the rink caught her attention and she spun, golden hair curling around her as she moved, yelling obscenities at Marta as the soldier neatly tripped Protiselaus.

Camila returned her gaze to Gideon, that single eyebrow still raised. Gideon abruptly deflated. “Yeah, all right, shut up.” She flung her arms wide, missing the other twin’s head by barely a centimeter and ignoring Abigail’s sudden icy stare from across the rink. “We’ve got a game to win, motherfuckers!”

~~~

Honestly, it was entirely Harrow’s fault. Gideon was completely blameless – a victim of circumstance, as one of Palamedes’ stupidly boring books had phrased it. They had been having a perfectly civil conversation and Harrow had gone berserk! Gideon hadn’t seen her fiancé that angry since she and Dulcinea had replaced all of her clothing with pure white sundresses the week before, and this time Gideon hadn’t even done anything.

Sure, it was possible that she’d forgotten that they hadn’t had the ‘who’s taking whose name’ discussion yet, and maybe she’d been daydreaming about calling Harrow ‘Harrowhark Nav’ for a month or two – ‘Or ten,’ a voice in the back of her mind that she promptly ignored chimed in – but really, it wasn’t like she could reasonably be asked to take Harrow’s monster of a last name.

‘Gideon Nonagesimus’ sounded like the villain in a children’s movie, for god’s sake! Harrow hadn’t even liked her parents!

Of course, bringing this up only served to make Harrow angrier. Words were exchanged on both sides, skeletons were raised and smashed back down, and the current challenge was born.

It was genius, really. Gideon wasn’t sure if she’d ever had a better idea, and she’d once used one of Harrow’s skeletons like a snowboard with arms.

~~~

Palamedes pushed his glasses up his nose, sandy hair flopping into his eyes. “All right, does everyone know why we’re here today?”

Gideon glanced around the group. Magnus was fussing over Abigail, adjusting and readjusting the shawl over her shoulders as she rolled her eyes good naturedly. Naberius was preening, shooting glances at Corona and pouting when she didn’t spare him a glance, locked in a bitter thumb war with Camila. Gideon could tell at a glance that Camila was letting her win.

The rest of the group was scattered around the concession area, eating nachos and complaining about their rented skates. The smell of terrible nacho cheese was everywhere and, honestly? It was making Gideon kind of nauseous.

Colum Asht looked up from his third hot dog, squinting slightly at Palamedes. “We’re here to finally prove that my uncle and I are the superior bowlers.” The ‘you idiot’ was left unsaid, but it was heavily implied.

Palamedes frowned, sighed, opened his mouth to say something, closed it abruptly with a snap, and took his glasses off to clean them. Once they were clean enough that Gideon could only imagine that somewhere in the world a roomba was crying with inadequacy, he put them back on and sighed even harder than before. “Colum, we’re not even at a bowling alley.”

Colum looked around, taking in the polished wooden rink and the children roller skating in circles and the arcade machines pinging merrily in the background. He blinked slowly. “We’re not?”

Every single person within hearing distance sighed.

~~~

Once Colum had been convinced that, no, they were not at a bowling alley and, no, they weren’t planning on relocating to a bowling alley, Palamedes gathered the entire sorry group into a loose huddle.

“All right, since it has become apparent that there are at least a few of you who lack even the basics of listening comprehension, allow me to walk everyone involved in this through the basics.” He paused, and glared at Colum. “Again.”

Dulcinea interrupted him smoothly from the cushioned recliner she had somehow managed to acquire. “Allow me, darling, I think you’ve done quite enough today as it is.” True to form, the words managed to be thoroughly scathing without losing the undertones of gentle politeness. Palamedes sputtered but didn’t manage to form a response, a bright blush rising from under the neck of his button-down. A smirk flashed briefly across Dulcinea’s lips before being replaced by a bright smile.

Clapping her hands, Dulcinea radiated honest excitement that Gideon could see drawing in everyone. Even Silas seemed to perk up a bit, even if he didn’t look up from his textbook. “All right everyone! The story so far-” Harrow sighed in exasperation, but Dulcinea barreled on. “Dear Gideon stuck her foot in her mouth, for what I believe is the seventeenth time this week. Lovely Harrow, being the reasonable and not at all excessive woman that we all know and love, put her foot down and chose to fight for her agency. We’re here for an epic duel, a contest that will decide the very future of-” She broke into a fit off harsh coughs, slumping sideways as her eyes teared up.

Camila rolled her eyes and picked up the narrative. “Nav was a moron, Nonagesimus took offence, now we’re all here on a Saturday when we could be doing something productive with our time to play roller derby and decide who’s taking whose name when they get married.” She paused, and made eye contact with Gideon. “Like idiots.”

Gideon shot finger guns at her.

~~~

Looking back, the chaos really was inevitable. Between the horrible twins, Corona’s blatantly incorrect refereeing, the overall lack of knowledge of how to play roller derby, and, Ianthe’s, well… Ianthe, there really was no way this was ever going to go well. But, on the bright side, this was awesome.

The horrible twins whooped behind her, drowning out the sound of a body crashing to the floor and Palamedes yelling at them about ‘proper derby etiquette’ or some other boring nerd shit. Spinning on her skates, Gideon flashed them a thumbs up as they split up to swerve around either side of Naberius as he skidded across the polished wood floor on his knees, windmilling his arms and cursing like a sailor.

Magnus, bent nearly in two over the commentator’s booth, yelled out, “Good job, Isaac! Excellent clothesline, Jeannemary. You could call it… team cokneesion. Get it, Tern? Eh?”

(“Noooooooo, Maaaaaagnus. Magnus don’t mention us. You’re embarrassing us Maaaaaagnus.”)

Blood flew past Gideon’s arm, spiraling forward at a frightening speed before splattering on the wall of the rink. She would deny to her grave and beyond that the noise she made was a shriek, nearly toppling over herself as she twisted back around as fast as possible. Ianthe winked at her, flicking another lance of blood out from her outstretched finger. “Gotta stay focused, baby girl.”

“Hey!” Gideon spluttered briefly, shock and indignation warring for primacy. “What did we say about necromancy in the rink?”

Ianthe tilted her head, somehow managing to dodge a massive elbow from Protiselaus at top speed without even looking. “It’s an excellent way to cream you morons?”

A shout from the commentator’s booth interrupted their weird conversation. “Ooh, yikes, Octakiseron isn’t even pretending to be a competent human being with two working legs and fucking eats dirt. Get good, loser.”

Both Gideon and Ianthe paused to stare at the booth. “Why did we let my sister be the commentator again?”

Shrugging wordlessly, Gideon kicked Ianthe’s left skate out from under her and accelerated away as the girl crashed into Marta in a tangle of flailing limbs and yelling.

~~~

It turned out that skating at high speeds for extended periods of time while attempting to both inflict and avoid grievous bodily injury was actually pretty exhausting. Gideon was fairly sure she was about ten seconds from passing out, actually. Sweat was dripping off her and while she knew she made it sexy, it felt kind of gross.

Abigail caught her eye from her seat off to the side of the rink and waved her over. Groaning, Gideon kicked herself back into gear and skated painfully to the other woman.

She was greeted by a cold, dripping water bottle and she wasn’t ashamed to admit that her lizard brain took over for a minute. She ripped the cap off and chugged half of it in one go, paused to shriek at the brain freeze spiking into her skull, then chugged most of the rest of it in one long pull. The last bit was splashed into her own face, sending a shock of cold through her system and clearing some of the exhausted fog from her brain. Abigail observed all of this with the placid calm that came from fostering teenagers as horrible as Isaac and Jeannemary without snapping and murdering them both with a jellyfish made of their own bones.

Smiling sheepishly, Gideon handed Abigail the empty bottle to recycle. “Thanks. Didn’t realize quite how much effort I was going to have to put into this.”

Abigail patted her hand and gave her a granola bar. “Just remember, dear.” Gideon leaned closer, always happy to be on the receiving end of Abigail’s mothering.

“The back of the knee is one of the most vulnerable points on the human body, and it just so happens to be out of Magnus’ sightline if you make sure you keep the central pillar between you.” She smiled brightly. “Have fun!”

~~~

By some miracle of modern necromancy, Gideon managed to maneuver herself so she was skating next to Harrow without losing a limb. “Hello, my purgatorial empress! Are you enjoying the game?”

Harrow snapped her head to glare into Gideon’s soul. “I am going to destroy you, Gideon Nav. I am going to crush you beneath my heel and when you’re nothing more than a silent corpse I will drag your soul back from hell just to obliterate you from history.”

Gideon stared openmouthed. “That’s… that’s so hot.”

The only response she received was a disgusted snort from her fiancé. Harrow kept glaring at her as they skated, dodging Palamedes as he lectured one of the horrible teens about excessive violence and sportsmanship and other boring nerd shit without even looking at him.

There was a crash from behind them, followed closely by the sound of Palamedes yelling and Corona cackling. Neither woman turned to look, even as Isaac sprinted past them giggling hysterically, followed closely by a similarly giggling Jeannemary.

“What a beautiful elbow strike from Jeannemary! Great solidarity, kids. And what a… valiant recovery effort from Palamedes. I… think your lip is bleeding, you should get Abigail to look at that.”

(“Noooooooo, Magnus, don’t mention us Maaaaaagnus.”)

“Eat. Shit. Nerd. Ten points to the teenagers!”

Harrow sneered at Gideon. “By the time this is over, the world will forget that Gideon Nav ever existed to begin with.”

“So hot.”

“Shut up, Griddle!”

~~~

If the recliner Dulcinea had managed to set up rinkside had been impressive, the unending stream of piña coladas she was making her way through was worthy of worship. They were even in a hollowed out pineapple, for fuck’s sake.

Gideon was in awe.

As she skated past Dulcinea’s sweet set-up, the woman called out to her, “I hate to see you leave, darling, but I love to watch you go.”

A wordless shriek rang out from somewhere behind her. Dulcinea looked supremely unruffled. “Oh don’t be jealous, Harrow dear, you know I’m always delighted to witness you doing violence to some unworthy male person, it’s just that Gideon is so delicious and she’s right here. Can you really blame me?”

The only answer she received was a bone flying at her head at high speed.

Silas, skating at a snail’s pace next to Colum, snorted inelegantly. “Don’t bother with the frigid witch. You know she only cares about her heretic skeletons.”

Gideon rolled her eyes. “Fuck off, Octakiseron, I don’t even know why we invited you.”

He glared at her. “Better I be here to keep watch than let you-”

He was interrupted by a tripwire of crystallized blood springing into existence directly in front of his feet, sending him crashing down to earth with an audible snap as his face made contact with the floor.

“Why do you suck so bad, Octakiseron? Learn to walk, you prissy dicknugget!” Corona’s voice was filled with unadulterated glee, and even Palamedes looked the other way as he skated past.

Gideon looked up at Dulcinea. She shrugged, blood dripping from one pink-painted nail. “Oops.”

~~~

Marta and Judith were neck and neck, jostling each other with the air of people who knew they were fighting for an unjust cause but whose honor rested on the outcome. They had used a particularly vicious game of rock paper scissors to decide who would get to be on Harrow’s team, and though Marta had won, her enthusiasm had waned significantly upon witnessing Harrow’s frothing rage at life itself.

Camila, crouched low and skating at a frankly reckless speed, shot past them on the other side, ramming her shoulder into Judith as she passed and sending the shorter woman spinning helplessly into the side of the rink.

Gideon winced at the crunch the soldier made when she impacted the wall, then again at the wordless shriek of joy that came from the commentator’s booth.

Camila smirked back at her. “Looks like you’re in a bit of a jam, Judy.” Judith didn’t answer, too busy moaning weakly to form words. The loud guffaw from Magnus was audible to the entire rink, though, as were the answering grumbles from the horrible teens.

“That was uncalled for, Camila!” Marta had paused to check on Judith and was shouting at Camila’s back. She was answered solely by the other woman’s middle finger.

Gideon sighed. “I love that woman.”

~~~

“Does, uh… Does anyone actually know how to play roller derby?”

~~~

An arm snaked around her waist suddenly, startling Gideon so badly she nearly tripped over her own skates. “What- Harrow?” A low chuckle in her ear answered that question. “What the fuck, Ianthe, are you trying to kill me?” She ducked away from the other woman’s arm, trying to get her heart rate under control.

Ianthe pouted extravagantly at her, twirling her pin-straight hair in a way that was blatantly making fun of Corona. “Aw, G-babe, you’re not happy to see me?”

Gideon had no idea how she managed to look coquettish while skating in a giant circle and bleeding from multiple places on her face, but it frightened her quite a bit more than she felt it should.

The pout intensified somehow. “You know, it’s honestly a shame that we didn’t decide on hockey to settle this. We could have saved money on stick rentals and used Hark instead.”

Gideon opened her mouth to reply with absolutely no idea what she was going to say. Years of forced socialization and pure animal instinct screamed at her that conversations take two, Nav and why are you so incapable of forming a single sentence, you useless excuse for a ginger demon and that pretty mouth has one talent and it isn’t talking, Griddle and it was all kind of overwhelming. “I-”

A blur of black cut off whatever idiocy was about to leave her lips. Harrow, angular face contorted with pure undiluted hatred, rammed her shoulder directly into Ianthe’s midsection in a beautiful, textbook-perfect football tackle.

Honestly, just watching it made Gideon kind of wet, but that was no one’s business but hers. And maybe Harrow’s, once the blood rage died down.

Ianthe wheezed and folded over as best she could with Harrow in the way. Harrow disengaged very abruptly, pulling back with an athletic precision Gideon had never even dreamed she had and sending Ianthe skidding backwards – directly into the path of a skeleton that had poofed into existence in the very recent path.

Gideon cringed. Ianthe skidded, the skeleton pulled a leg back, and then Ianthe was airborne, the skeleton’s foot embedded between her legs in a gorgeous cunt punt that Gideon admired very abstractly in the three percent of her brain that wasn’t occupied with praying with a newfound religious fervor.

Harrow turned to her, all traces of rage gone from her face and only her usual blankness remaining. “If I see her hand on you one more time, Griddle-” Gideon was wrong, she was so wrong, the rage was back, oh god, “-I will cut it off, and I will use the bones to fashion the strap-on you’ve been so ardent to acquire, and then I will make her eat it.” Her voice lowered ominously as she spoke until it was a nearly incomprehensible hiss.

Ianthe whimpered from where she was crumpled in the stands.

“Get fucked, Ianthe, I’ve wanted to do that since we were four!”

They decided that it was best to stop while they were ahead, after that.

~~~

Gideon approached Harrow tentatively in their living room, several days after the roller derby debacle. “So, my reverent mistress of gloom and also spite, I’ve been thinking.”

Harrow sighed, thin shoulders rounding into her body and making her look even smaller than normal. “I know, Griddle, I-” She paused, looking disgusted. “I took it too far with the third sl-” Gideon raised an eyebrow at her and Harrow sighed again. “With Ianthe. I took it too far, all right?”

Running her hands down Harrow’s arms gently, Gideon intertwined their fingers. “I mean, yeah, you did, but that’s not what I was gonna say. It was kinda hot, actually. Violent Harrow really does it for me.” She trailed off for a moment.

“Griddle.”

“Right, sorry.” She smiled down at Harrow, squeezing her hands. “I was thinking, and like… What if we were being stupid about this whole name thing?”

Harrow stiffened, trying to take her hands back. Gideon didn’t let her, of course, and Harrow’s abysmal upper body strength had absolutely no chance of winning. “Would you shut up and let me talk?” Harrow glared up at her, but stopped fighting her. For the moment.

Gideon kissed the back of one of Harrow’s hands. “Thank you. Like I was saying, I think we’re thinking about this wrong. Actually, I’m not sure why we’re thinking about this at all.” Harrow blinked at her. “Why are we worrying about changing our names? You like your name, I like my name, neither one of us has any interest in having a different last name. I love you, Harrow, and I want to marry you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire life. Not taking your last name won’t change that, and you not taking mine won’t mean that you don’t feel the exact same fucking way about me. We’re not straight, babe, why are we acting like we are?”

Up to this point in her life, Gideon had only seen Harrowhark Nonagesimus speechless three times. Once, when Gideon had decided she wanted them to be best friends in kindergarten and had chucked a brick at the other girl’s skull. Twice, when Harrow turned sixteen and Gideon kissed her for the first time, Harrow clutching at the back of her letterman and staring up at her like she could find God in her eyes. Thrice, when Gideon presented her with her honorable discharge papers and a ring at age twenty-six, vowing to love the other girl for the rest of their lives and making the both of them cry like pussies in front of all their friends.

Harrow was speechless now.

Gideon squinted at her. “Aw, babe, are you crying? That’s so lame.”

“Shut up and kiss me, you moron.”

The moron shut up and kissed her.

#gideon the ninth #gtn #vic writes #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #roller derby au bitches #dedicated to the gtn discord for enabling my bullshit #tlt

[searchforthescars]

Two-Toned, Bittersweet - Chapter 2/?

Why yes, I’m back again, BABEY. Enjoy another installation of Hot Mess Gays feat. a crushing Corona and background relational drama because college is just a disaster and everything kind of sucks when you’re trying to survive preparing for finals.

Read the whole thing on Ao3

Coronabeth Tridentarius can handle awkward. She’s really quite good at it. You don’t grow up with Ianthe and not learn how to handle awkward and petty moments like a champ.

She tells herself that as she lets herself into Gideon and Dulcinea’s apartment, unceremoniously dropping her purse on the floor near the door and kicking off her shoes. “You’ll never guess who I ran into,” she calls in the vague direction of the kitchen, where Dulcinea is leaning against the counter.

“We know. She was here first.” Dulcinea sounds as peeved as Dulcinea can get, which isn’t saying much. “She wanted to talk to Gideon.”

“What about?”

“I matched with her on Tinder and gave her shit." From down the nearly non-existent hallway, Gideon closes her bedroom door. "She came by to yell at me.” Gideon runs and slides into the kitchen in her sock feet. “Hi, Corona.”

“Hi, Gideon.” Corona opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of beer.

“Can we not talk about Harrow anymore?” Dulcinea rubs her temples. “Her attitude gives me a headache.”

“She gives me a headache,” Gideon grumbles, opening the oven and pulling out an only-slightly-singed pan of garlic bread. Corona grabs a slice before they’ve even cooled, toasting her fingers and tongue as her teeth sink in. "Is Cam coming?"

"You saw her this morning," Dulcinea points out. "I haven't seen her since class yesterday."

Corona likes the feeling of butterflies in her stomach a little more than she should at the mention of what Ianthe would have called her 'insipid little crush.' Camilla was everything Corona longed to be - smart, good at giving advice, unflinchingly loyal and really hot - and Corona was having an increasingly difficult time keeping her respectful distance. She doesn't even know if Camilla remembers their one-night stand last semester; it had been, in two words, ridiculously good, and Corona still can't decide if she wants to ask for a date or a repeat performance.

Or both. Both is good.

"She's been acting weird," Gideon muses, swiping a piece of bread and sitting back up on the counter despite Dulcinea's repeated shoves at her thighs and pleas to get down, I want my coffee mug and your head is in the way. When that doesn't work, Corona reaches around and pinches Gideon's ear. "Ow!"

"Are you causing someone bodily harm, Corona?" Cam's dry voice sounds from the doorway. She kicks the door closed and tosses her keys halfway across the room, lifting a fist in triumph when they skid and come to a halt atop the dining room table. "Oh, never mind, it's just Gideon."

Gideon raises a middle finger to Camilla, then runs her hand through her overgrown red hair. Corona watches the movement, captivated by the shifting color of the strands. There's no way you could ever get that hue from a bottle.

Gideon hops down to grab the pizza Cam brought and Dulcinea retrieves her mug from the cabinet with a look of supreme satisfaction on her face. Corona perches on the stool off to the side of the kitchen and watches the three of them move around each other, a perfect three-part harmony.

"How many pieces do you want?" Camilla asks her, ripping open the bag of salad Corona knows Cam is prepared to eat all by herself.

Gideon doesn't even wait for an answer, placing two slices of pepperoni-laden pizza on a plate and sliding it toward Corona. Corona gleefully bites into the greasy slice, fully aware that her sister would be judging her so hard right now.

"So what are you guys doing this weekend?" Corona asks around her bite.

Gideon thumps her forehead against the counter. Camilla pushes out a dining room chair with her foot, a hint that Dulcinea takes and Gideon does not.

"We have an invitational tomorrow," Camilla answers for Gideon, "and Nav doesn't want to go."

"It's not that I don't want to go," she says, voice muffled. "It's that Judith Deuteros drives me nuts and I'll probably end up going against her again."

"You'll win. You always do." Corona pats Gideon's arm reassuringly. The muscles flex under Corona’s hand as Gideon lifts her head. "It'll be fine."

“I can count on one hand the times you’ve lost,” Dulcinea says from over by the sink, swallowing a handful of pills with an impressive amount of nonchalance. Corona can feel her gag reflex kicking in out of sympathy, but it doesn’t seem like Dulcinea is even a little bit fazed. “You’re good, Gideon. Deuteros has no idea what’s coming for her.”

Gideon preens a little under the praise. Corona shoves at Gideon’s head until the younger girl stands up and goes to get food.

“I suppose you’ll be in team captain mode all weekend?” Corona asks Cam, who nods, mouth full of salad. “Dulcinea, want to sit together?”

Dulcinea nods. “I heard there’s going to be a house party after.”

Gideon’s eyes light up. “Really? Where?”

“One of your teammates' houses, I think.”

Cam says, “How did I not hear about this? I’m captain!”

“Right, that’s why.” Gideon sits at the table, slouching despite Dulcinea’s scolding. “You’re in a position of authority - that makes you a buzzkill.”

Dulcinea starts laughing and Camilla swats at Gideon’s shoulder. From her perch at the kitchen counter, Corona watches the tableau, feeling a little jealous even though she’s the fourth piece of this strange puzzle. The three of them had already known each other by the time Corona inserted herself into the mix, partially due to Dulcinea’s influence and partially because she was tired of being sad and alone every Friday night.

These nights were good for her, she supposes. It's nice to be part of a chosen family, and equally nice to spend time with Camilla, even though her heart insists on doing jumping jacks every time the other girl speaks to her, or even looks at her.

Therein lies her current conflict, she muses, watching Dulcinea and Gideon tell Camilla a story that seems to be aging Cam by at least three years. She doesn’t want to bring up the one-night stand in case that’s all it was to Camilla; she’s unwilling to break her own heart over something that may have meant nothing. But she finds herself pining for the woman, and knows that if she doesn’t act on it, she’ll spend a long time hung up on the mystery of what could have happened.

Camilla rolls her eyes at the story’s end, shifting her gaze from Gideon and catching Corona’s eye. Her gaze holds on, narrow and dark, as unreadable as ever.

As Corona watches, she smiles.

Read the rest on Ao3

#ttbs #i'm trying to not make this found-family-and-angsty but i'm failing #sorry but like nah #gideon the ninth