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baseballstockings2017-12-25 12:54 am
multilinear) wrote in baseballstockings2017-12-25 12:54 am
Entry tags:
gift to gionkenji
to: ling (gionkenji)
from: hedge hedgerton, iii (multilinear)
fandom: revolutionary girl utena
ship: anthy/utena
rating: pg, tbh
content warnings: sap, fluff, really fluffy and soft, food descriptions, brief mention of canon-typical violence, canon-typical breaks with reality
notes: modern-ish au, sort of a nutcracker fusion, shfkdsfh ♥ merry xmas ling
dreams of a nutcracker soldier with ice blue eyes — a frenzied dance in the snow, flurries of white flakes whirling with the wind, all with minds of their own — how did you get here? what do you see? nutcracker swords and nutcracker guns, little rodent-sized cannons and the magic of war, walnuts for mortar shells and the bloodless corpses of the fallen — strewn in the unforgiving snow like beheaded roses —
A flower blooms in the teapot with jellyfish petals. Its fragrance calls Utena back to earth, her teacup's heat a reassuring warmth in her hands. "Mm." She'll make pancakes this morning, pancakes and a soft, light cream; Utena has visions of —
sugarplum fairies dancing, long limbs flowing seamlessly into each other like one slender, long-legged beast
— dessert for breakfast. Sweets for the sweet and breakfast in bed, she thinks, and finds a mixing bowl.
did you hear? did you see? the prince went out of this world and into another to live the same life. the prince fought the rats, and the shadows, and won.
There are, generally speaking, two types of people at this time of the year. The hunters get what they want and then haul ass; the gatherers take their time to graze, and browse, and hold up lines when people want to cash out and go home to their gift-wrapping paper scraps and tags. With only one more day before Christmas Eve, Utena still hasn't found anything for Anthy, but she's a hunter through and through.
"Damn," Utena sighs, and wonders what it, the mysterious thing, would be. No rings, no jewelry; Anthy was unfussy about baubles. No flowers either, not when Anthy herself was so good with them. Or books, since Anthy's read all the books Utena's read (or rather, Utena reads what Anthy does). Utena rumples her hair thoughtlessly, doesn't care if she looks like a pink hedgehog for a moment; Anthy was more important than that. "God!" Utena explodes, "I just don't know what to get her!"
Crap, she's in public. Utena covers her mouth and tries not to turn red (which only works half the time, and she wishes Anthy were here, but that would defeat the purpose). Utena shuts her eyes and wills the sudden embarrassment away, hopes that nobody's seen or heard her.
"... Tenjou?"'
Utena cracks open her eyes and, through her eyelashes, she can see a dignified, but mildly surprised, and familiar face.
"Arisugawa."
Juri looks like she's been busy today, carrying four bags and her coat slung over one arm. She looks, as usual, like she's been shopping and she knows what to get for everyone, or so Utena assumes. Juri doesn't look like holiday shopping would ruffle her.
"Last-minute gifts, huh?" Utena ventures, and Juri nods. "Just little things, yeah, yep. Me too."
Juri eyes her like she knows Utena isn't telling the truth, and she's judging her for it. Utena waves her comparably (totally, absolutely) empty hands and laughs, hopes that it doesn't sound too awkward. "Looking for something?" Juri offers, and Utena seizes her words like a lifeline.
"Uh, yeah. Actually. I mean, it's not — just, you know, I'm looking for something. For Anthy." Juri nods, like she understands, and maybe, just maybe Juri does. Maybe Juri has someone that makes her feel the way Anthy makes Utena feel, someone or someones who can get that airless, floaty paradise just by looking at them, and being with them.
"And you're looking for the Perfect Gift," Juri finishes. Utena sighs, and nods miserably.
"Yeah."
"Tenjou," Juri chuckles, her laughter a low, rich sound. "Good luck."
Utena blinks. "What?"
"Good luck," Juri repeats, and shakes her head, flame-red curls waving slightly while she turns to go. "You'll find something," she says, and leaves Utena like the breeze, just come and gone. "Merry Christmas."
"What the — yeah! You too! Merry Christmas!" Utena calls out while Juri turns her back and leaves, leaves Utena to it while Juri's hunt is over for the year.
the princess was never meant to be crowned this way, only in child's play — roses made of sugar paste, cakes as tall as trees, with no more mice or soldiers
Cold means snow, and withered trees waiting for spring. Utena shivers in the wind, pulling her coat tightly around herself while she walks from store to store. She can see things in the windows that might be good, but they're only just good, not quite what she wants. They'd be good for other people's Anthys, but not hers.
Hers. Utena savors the thought and that warms her too, Anthy and Utena belonging to each other in a way.
— giggling, tittering shapes and the ticking clockwork of a dancing soldier —
Utena buys the dollhouse without really thinking about it.
It's cute, and small, with astonishing amounts of detail put into things like tiny chairs and windows. There's crown molding in the kitchen, which is more than what Utena can say for hers, and what looks like a warm, crackling fire in the sitting room. The dollhouse is a big one, and folds out so each room can be seen in turn, or all at once, for curious, prying eyes and visitors. "Thanks," Utena says to the salesperson, and hopes she can carry this home without dropping it.
It's a hefty box, with its furniture with no people. It looks a bit empty, but Anthy's always been crafty; she can do something magical with this, Utena just knows it. It's charming, and quaint, and sort of makes Utena wonder if she could do that for real, a little house and home for Anthy and herself together, someday.
Anthy isn't home when she comes back. Utena breathes a sigh of relief when she deposits the box under their tree, studies the foiled paper and the unassuming little tag, "For Anthy," attached to the top. The fake tree had suffered a bit under Utena's attentions until Anthy came to the rescue, detangling the lights inch by inch with patient hands, and Utena likes this too, the homeliness of their cobbled-together Christmas. Unglamorous, but it's still good. Really good. Utena sits at the foot of the tree and looks up at the top, small, pointed star twinkling near the ceiling like they'd found it on the sidewalk, fallen from the sky, and smiles. Rests her chin on an open hand, knees to her chest like a child, and rests her eyes, too.
the flowers danced on tiptoe on a field of silver, the snowflakes gone to rest. a palace of crystal, blazing candlelight and a feast fit for heaven — so many guests, so many friends — for the nutcracker soldier and his bride.
did you hear how they met? did you hear how they won? the evil king paralyzed the prince with his magic — poised to take his crown — when his bride threw her shoe at him, at his head. she was unarmed and afraid, but the prince's bravery helped her stand on her own. he menaced her, venom dripping from his teeth when he swore to take her head and cut off the prince's too, and the bride never backed down. she looked him the eyes and saw hell, and the prince was still trapped in the evil king's spell.
did you know? about miracles, and magics of a different kind? the nutcracker soldier's love won out, and they lived happily ever after. after. the nutcracker broke the world, and his heart, and his shell, and they lived — far from the snow, the frenzied crystal flakes and the bloodied body of the dead king — happy.
"?" Utena wakes up when someone puts a hand in her hair, smoothes it down with gentle, patient fingers.
"You're awake," Anthy smiles. "You were asleep on the floor."
"Didn't mean to," Utena mumbles, and rubs the sleep from her eyes. The tree's soft lights give a soft shine to Anthy's eyes. "You look like an angel."
"Fell from heaven, huh?" Anthy cocks a wry eyebrow and Utena flushes, stands up.
"S'not what I meant," Utena replies, and Anthy laughs, soft and quiet. Utena wraps an arm around Anthy's waist, presses a soft kiss to Anthy's forehead.
"I know."
"I know you know."
"I was out," Utena adds, "S'why I fell asleep."
"Then welcome home." Anthy kisses Utena on the cheek, and when she dips back in for the other side, Utena tilts her head to catch Anthy's lips, and smiles.
"You shouldn't have!" Anthy gasps, when Utena finally lifts up her hard-won prize. After dinner, and Chu Chu's particularly spectacular one-off heist of the cream puffs, Utena is pretty sure that this is the happiest she's ever been. They're both curled up around their Christmas tree, blankets on the floor and pillows at their feet.
Anthy's gift to her is a set of pajamas, and they're the softest, silkiest things Utena's ever worn. With pockets. Utena holds her breath and waits while Anthy carefully taps the box, curious to see if she can guess what's inside.
"Is it… a book?"
"Pretty big book," Utena points out, and shakes her head. "No."
"Is it … is it a cake?"
"I don't know if I could keep a cake safe from Chu Chu with just a box. Maybe a safe," Utena laughs, and Chu Chu briefly wakes up from his food coma to squint at her. Anthy giggles, and peels off the tape, the ribbon, and the wrapping paper with careful hands before clapping.
"It's a house!"
"A really, really, really small one," Utena agrees, and Anthy stands up to sit down next to Utena and hug her tightly. This closely, Utena can smell Anthy's shampoo and rests her chin on Anthy's shoulder.
"Thank you," Anthy says softly, "For this. It's perfect."
Utena doesn't know what to say. Anthy's lived her whole life being polite, and coloring within the lines, and existing in a paper-thin life that feels pre-cut and hollow, or so she'd said. Utena loves her, this girl with her shining smile and her sly wit, and helplessly admits, "I love you."
"I love you too," Anthy replies, sounding serious but happy, and Utena will take this as a victory of her own when Anthy pulls back — not too far away— and looks like she's received some kind of gift from God. When Anthy opens up the box, she looks awed at the detail too, points out the way the tiny rocking chair moves with its delicate balance.
"It's wonderful," Anthy laughs, and opens up the dollhouse's master bedroom when, Utena realizes, there's someone already in it.
"Chu, chu chu…" He's snoring in the miniature bed, head cushioned on what Utena guesses must be a real pillow, and they look at him, and at each other, before cracking up at the sight.
"Amazing," Utena wheezes, "How did he get in there?"
"Chu Chu works in mysterious ways," Anthy gasps, wiping a tear from her eye while Chu Chu snores uproariously in the dollhouse. Giggling, Anthy tucks Chu Chu in for the night when he turns in his sleep, Anthy's hands resting over the tiny coverlet. She gazes down at Chu Chu's sleepy face, lips smacking already in anticipation of what he'll eat in his dreams, looking peaceful and kind of motherly all at once.
This all reminds Utena of something, and if the secret smile on Anthy's lips is the one Utena thinks it is, they're both thinking of the same thing. "Merry Christmas, Utena," Anthy says, and Utena grins.
"Merry Christmas, Anthy."
gionkenji)from: hedge hedgerton, iii (
multilinear)fandom: revolutionary girl utena
ship: anthy/utena
rating: pg, tbh
content warnings: sap, fluff, really fluffy and soft, food descriptions, brief mention of canon-typical violence, canon-typical breaks with reality
notes: modern-ish au, sort of a nutcracker fusion, shfkdsfh ♥ merry xmas ling
dreams of a nutcracker soldier with ice blue eyes — a frenzied dance in the snow, flurries of white flakes whirling with the wind, all with minds of their own — how did you get here? what do you see? nutcracker swords and nutcracker guns, little rodent-sized cannons and the magic of war, walnuts for mortar shells and the bloodless corpses of the fallen — strewn in the unforgiving snow like beheaded roses —
A flower blooms in the teapot with jellyfish petals. Its fragrance calls Utena back to earth, her teacup's heat a reassuring warmth in her hands. "Mm." She'll make pancakes this morning, pancakes and a soft, light cream; Utena has visions of —
sugarplum fairies dancing, long limbs flowing seamlessly into each other like one slender, long-legged beast
— dessert for breakfast. Sweets for the sweet and breakfast in bed, she thinks, and finds a mixing bowl.
did you hear? did you see? the prince went out of this world and into another to live the same life. the prince fought the rats, and the shadows, and won.
There are, generally speaking, two types of people at this time of the year. The hunters get what they want and then haul ass; the gatherers take their time to graze, and browse, and hold up lines when people want to cash out and go home to their gift-wrapping paper scraps and tags. With only one more day before Christmas Eve, Utena still hasn't found anything for Anthy, but she's a hunter through and through.
"Damn," Utena sighs, and wonders what it, the mysterious thing, would be. No rings, no jewelry; Anthy was unfussy about baubles. No flowers either, not when Anthy herself was so good with them. Or books, since Anthy's read all the books Utena's read (or rather, Utena reads what Anthy does). Utena rumples her hair thoughtlessly, doesn't care if she looks like a pink hedgehog for a moment; Anthy was more important than that. "God!" Utena explodes, "I just don't know what to get her!"
Crap, she's in public. Utena covers her mouth and tries not to turn red (which only works half the time, and she wishes Anthy were here, but that would defeat the purpose). Utena shuts her eyes and wills the sudden embarrassment away, hopes that nobody's seen or heard her.
"... Tenjou?"'
Utena cracks open her eyes and, through her eyelashes, she can see a dignified, but mildly surprised, and familiar face.
"Arisugawa."
Juri looks like she's been busy today, carrying four bags and her coat slung over one arm. She looks, as usual, like she's been shopping and she knows what to get for everyone, or so Utena assumes. Juri doesn't look like holiday shopping would ruffle her.
"Last-minute gifts, huh?" Utena ventures, and Juri nods. "Just little things, yeah, yep. Me too."
Juri eyes her like she knows Utena isn't telling the truth, and she's judging her for it. Utena waves her comparably (totally, absolutely) empty hands and laughs, hopes that it doesn't sound too awkward. "Looking for something?" Juri offers, and Utena seizes her words like a lifeline.
"Uh, yeah. Actually. I mean, it's not — just, you know, I'm looking for something. For Anthy." Juri nods, like she understands, and maybe, just maybe Juri does. Maybe Juri has someone that makes her feel the way Anthy makes Utena feel, someone or someones who can get that airless, floaty paradise just by looking at them, and being with them.
"And you're looking for the Perfect Gift," Juri finishes. Utena sighs, and nods miserably.
"Yeah."
"Tenjou," Juri chuckles, her laughter a low, rich sound. "Good luck."
Utena blinks. "What?"
"Good luck," Juri repeats, and shakes her head, flame-red curls waving slightly while she turns to go. "You'll find something," she says, and leaves Utena like the breeze, just come and gone. "Merry Christmas."
"What the — yeah! You too! Merry Christmas!" Utena calls out while Juri turns her back and leaves, leaves Utena to it while Juri's hunt is over for the year.
the princess was never meant to be crowned this way, only in child's play — roses made of sugar paste, cakes as tall as trees, with no more mice or soldiers
Cold means snow, and withered trees waiting for spring. Utena shivers in the wind, pulling her coat tightly around herself while she walks from store to store. She can see things in the windows that might be good, but they're only just good, not quite what she wants. They'd be good for other people's Anthys, but not hers.
Hers. Utena savors the thought and that warms her too, Anthy and Utena belonging to each other in a way.
extra! extra! extra! girl falls in love, breaks the world!
that's a silly thing, nobody's ever done that. it's not the end of the world, it's the end of your heart.
it's a broken heart, or a broken shell of a heart.
— giggling, tittering shapes and the ticking clockwork of a dancing soldier —
Utena buys the dollhouse without really thinking about it.
It's cute, and small, with astonishing amounts of detail put into things like tiny chairs and windows. There's crown molding in the kitchen, which is more than what Utena can say for hers, and what looks like a warm, crackling fire in the sitting room. The dollhouse is a big one, and folds out so each room can be seen in turn, or all at once, for curious, prying eyes and visitors. "Thanks," Utena says to the salesperson, and hopes she can carry this home without dropping it.
It's a hefty box, with its furniture with no people. It looks a bit empty, but Anthy's always been crafty; she can do something magical with this, Utena just knows it. It's charming, and quaint, and sort of makes Utena wonder if she could do that for real, a little house and home for Anthy and herself together, someday.
Anthy isn't home when she comes back. Utena breathes a sigh of relief when she deposits the box under their tree, studies the foiled paper and the unassuming little tag, "For Anthy," attached to the top. The fake tree had suffered a bit under Utena's attentions until Anthy came to the rescue, detangling the lights inch by inch with patient hands, and Utena likes this too, the homeliness of their cobbled-together Christmas. Unglamorous, but it's still good. Really good. Utena sits at the foot of the tree and looks up at the top, small, pointed star twinkling near the ceiling like they'd found it on the sidewalk, fallen from the sky, and smiles. Rests her chin on an open hand, knees to her chest like a child, and rests her eyes, too.
the flowers danced on tiptoe on a field of silver, the snowflakes gone to rest. a palace of crystal, blazing candlelight and a feast fit for heaven — so many guests, so many friends — for the nutcracker soldier and his bride.
did you hear how they met? did you hear how they won? the evil king paralyzed the prince with his magic — poised to take his crown — when his bride threw her shoe at him, at his head. she was unarmed and afraid, but the prince's bravery helped her stand on her own. he menaced her, venom dripping from his teeth when he swore to take her head and cut off the prince's too, and the bride never backed down. she looked him the eyes and saw hell, and the prince was still trapped in the evil king's spell.
did you know? about miracles, and magics of a different kind? the nutcracker soldier's love won out, and they lived happily ever after. after. the nutcracker broke the world, and his heart, and his shell, and they lived — far from the snow, the frenzied crystal flakes and the bloodied body of the dead king — happy.
"?" Utena wakes up when someone puts a hand in her hair, smoothes it down with gentle, patient fingers.
"You're awake," Anthy smiles. "You were asleep on the floor."
"Didn't mean to," Utena mumbles, and rubs the sleep from her eyes. The tree's soft lights give a soft shine to Anthy's eyes. "You look like an angel."
"Fell from heaven, huh?" Anthy cocks a wry eyebrow and Utena flushes, stands up.
"S'not what I meant," Utena replies, and Anthy laughs, soft and quiet. Utena wraps an arm around Anthy's waist, presses a soft kiss to Anthy's forehead.
"I know."
"I know you know."
"I was out," Utena adds, "S'why I fell asleep."
"Then welcome home." Anthy kisses Utena on the cheek, and when she dips back in for the other side, Utena tilts her head to catch Anthy's lips, and smiles.
"You shouldn't have!" Anthy gasps, when Utena finally lifts up her hard-won prize. After dinner, and Chu Chu's particularly spectacular one-off heist of the cream puffs, Utena is pretty sure that this is the happiest she's ever been. They're both curled up around their Christmas tree, blankets on the floor and pillows at their feet.
Anthy's gift to her is a set of pajamas, and they're the softest, silkiest things Utena's ever worn. With pockets. Utena holds her breath and waits while Anthy carefully taps the box, curious to see if she can guess what's inside.
"Is it… a book?"
"Pretty big book," Utena points out, and shakes her head. "No."
"Is it … is it a cake?"
"I don't know if I could keep a cake safe from Chu Chu with just a box. Maybe a safe," Utena laughs, and Chu Chu briefly wakes up from his food coma to squint at her. Anthy giggles, and peels off the tape, the ribbon, and the wrapping paper with careful hands before clapping.
"It's a house!"
"A really, really, really small one," Utena agrees, and Anthy stands up to sit down next to Utena and hug her tightly. This closely, Utena can smell Anthy's shampoo and rests her chin on Anthy's shoulder.
"Thank you," Anthy says softly, "For this. It's perfect."
Utena doesn't know what to say. Anthy's lived her whole life being polite, and coloring within the lines, and existing in a paper-thin life that feels pre-cut and hollow, or so she'd said. Utena loves her, this girl with her shining smile and her sly wit, and helplessly admits, "I love you."
"I love you too," Anthy replies, sounding serious but happy, and Utena will take this as a victory of her own when Anthy pulls back — not too far away— and looks like she's received some kind of gift from God. When Anthy opens up the box, she looks awed at the detail too, points out the way the tiny rocking chair moves with its delicate balance.
"It's wonderful," Anthy laughs, and opens up the dollhouse's master bedroom when, Utena realizes, there's someone already in it.
"Chu, chu chu…" He's snoring in the miniature bed, head cushioned on what Utena guesses must be a real pillow, and they look at him, and at each other, before cracking up at the sight.
"Amazing," Utena wheezes, "How did he get in there?"
"Chu Chu works in mysterious ways," Anthy gasps, wiping a tear from her eye while Chu Chu snores uproariously in the dollhouse. Giggling, Anthy tucks Chu Chu in for the night when he turns in his sleep, Anthy's hands resting over the tiny coverlet. She gazes down at Chu Chu's sleepy face, lips smacking already in anticipation of what he'll eat in his dreams, looking peaceful and kind of motherly all at once.
This all reminds Utena of something, and if the secret smile on Anthy's lips is the one Utena thinks it is, they're both thinking of the same thing. "Merry Christmas, Utena," Anthy says, and Utena grins.
"Merry Christmas, Anthy."
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