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bard-llama · 3 years ago

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The Taint of the Common Man (Meve/Reynard/Gascon)

Okay, so I finally tried to play Thronebreaker again and it turned out that my comptuer/steam/whatever had actually kept my save!!! So I didn’t have to start over, which was good, because the beginning was kinda boring, which is why it took me so long to continue. But it’s also kinda bad, because now I do not remember anything about Gascon’s introduction beyond “they fought, Meve won and threatened to hang him next time”. Which like... I could probably make it work, but knowing the details seems important for writing Meve’s feelings and reactions to Gascon.

Anyway, this is a continuation of the thoughts that this lovely post inspired, and because I’m me, those thoughts grew a plot. Both the link and the rest of the story involve a VERY dubcon/noncon premise, so please engage only if you can. Also, spoilers for Chapter 1 of Thronebreaker (aka major plot things that happen once you reach Lyria’s capital).

Okay, once again: HUGE WARNING for Dubcon/Noncon stuff. Like, it’s how the story starts and it’s gonna be something dealt with through the whole story. My idea is basically a story that starts with Meve losing EVERYTHING, and then, through her quest to reclaim her throne, she learns how to be a better queen to ALL of her people, not just the noblemen. End game is intended to be Meve/Reynard/Gascon, but tbh, idk how they get there. Like, at first, Meve and Reynard hate Gascon A LOT, so they have to learn to love him and that takes time.

I’m kinda still learning about these characters as I think this through, so apologies if you find them ooc or if I contradict canon (without meaning to. Sometimes i do it gladly lol)

So we start with Meve returning to the Lyrian castle, only to find that her son and the Council of Peers (read: ruling council that advises the monarch and consists entirely of peerage aka nobility) have betrayed her and surrendered to Nilfgaard. She’s thrown in a dungeon and though her son orders that she is not to be harmed, she knows enough about reality to know they’d never let her live.

She’s on guard, waiting for the guards to come and kill her - only when footsteps approach, it’s not the guards at all, but the fucking Duke of Dogs, the leader of the Strays of Spalla, a gang of bandits that plague merchant caravans and noblemen alike. Gascon, the proclaimed Duke of Dogs, opens the cell door and steps in and tells Meve that he’s freeing her, because the Council of Peers used him and his men and he can’t abide betrayal. But there’s one condition - Meve has to ask him, all nice and polite-like.

Meve, of course, refuses, because she’s nothing if not prideful. So Gascon closes the cell door and leans back against it and says something like, “guess we won’t be leaving, then. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to do something else on your knees,” or some sort of implication like that that makes it clear he’s suggesting that she blow him in exchange for release. And Meve is furious and her pride cuts at her, but dammit, she has no hope of freeing Lyria from Nilfgaard’s grasp while stuck in here. So she goes to her knees. And Gascon is surprised - from his view, she could’ve just begged him??? - but like... the QUEEN is on her KNEES for HIM, a (decidedly un)common bandit who she’d threatened to hang not a week prior.

Also, I think there’s also a part of Gascon that blames Meve for the massacre of his family. According to the wiki, the year before King Reginald (Meve’s husband) died, Gascon’s family revolted against the king and were soundly squashed, with Gascon at a mere 8 years old the only one to survive. From there, he fell in with the Strays of Spalla and eventually became their leader. Remember this bit, ‘cause I’m definitely gonna come back to it. But anyway, Gascon doesn’t like Meve. He’s doing this because it’s the right thing to do and a little because having the queen indebted to him feels awfully good. Also, Meve is good with her mouth.

So good, in fact, that she drives him crazy, taking him to the edge and teasing him and teasing him and teasing him until his legs are shaking and the cell door is all that’s holding him up. I don’t think he actually begs, because his men are around the cell watching this, but he has to bite his lip hard to keep from doing so.

For Meve, there are many complicated feelings happening. On the one hand, this is humiliating and degrading and it’s shameful that she’s fallen so far as to be forced to service a fucking bandit and even worse that his men are SEEING this happen.

On the other hand... look, Meve was widowed 8 years ago. Somewhere in there (or before?), she comes to love and trust Reynard - who her husband, upon his deathbed, told her that he alone could be trusted. But she hasn’t made a move, because it wouldn’t be appropriate and she doesn’t want to ruin things between them.

Point is, it’s been 8 years since she’s had sex and she has had cause to desire some sex. Queens can probably get amazing sex toys, but like, an actual cock? it’s been AGES since she’s been able to play with one and she kind of missed it.

Additionally, in an effort to combat her shame and humiliation, she decides to flip the script on them. Gascon wants her to blow him? Fine, she’ll blow him so well that he utterly falls apart. And maybe she’s a little of practice, but Gascon is young anyway, he probably doesn’t even know better lmao. (But later, she’s oddly grateful that she had this chance for ‘practice’ before it actually mattered)

Eventually, she lets Gascon come - or maybe he uses his grip on her hair to pull her onto him? (She may decide to make it a good blowjob, but that doesn’t mean he’s earned deepthroating) - and the Strays, who have gone from hooting and hollering over the queen’s humiliation to flushed and aroused at the skillful way she destroyed their boss, let them out of the cell.

Next, they go to the city jail to release Reynard, who was arrested as soon as the coup happened because everyone knows that Reynard’s loyalty to the crown is absolute. Reynard is sitting against the wall and he smiles brightly at the sight of her, so Meve strides into the cell to unshackle him. So of course Gascon, who now stands in front of the door once more, suggests something like, “such faithful loyalty deserves ample reward, does it not?”

And Meve is conflicted. Because AGAIN, the Strays of Spalla are watching them and Gascon is trying elicit sexual favours from her. But also, it’s Reynard. She’s wondered for so long what Reynard’s cock would be like and how he would treat her. And, she justifies to herself, she was already forced to give a piece of filth like Gascon a blowjob. Reynard most certainly deserved better.

So she orders him to stand and goes to her knees and is almost eager to get him in her mouth. And Reynard is caught entirely off guard here, because he was ready to skewer Gascon for the mere suggestion, and then she’s ACTUALLY DOING IT!!! And it’s not like she’s alone in having thought about it, but he always assumed that he would be the one on his knees. So for her to do so... he’s awed and a little horrified that he is party to degrading his queen in this way. And also aroused. REALLY fucking aroused, because Meve is on her knees for him! And unlike Gascon, he has earned deepthroating. Fortunately, he’s already leaning against the wall, so he doesn’t collapse.

If Gascon hadn’t had the most intense orgasm of his life like 10 minutes previously, he’d definitely try to see if he could join in, even though they really don’t have the time for that sort of thing. But suffice it to say, Gascon remembers each and every moment Meve spent on her knees vividly.

Reynard comes (and Gascon is reluctantly pleased to have a companion in the wait-you-want-me-to-fight-after-how-hard-I-came!? club) and they all leave the dungeons - and get found by a patrol of guards. They have to fight their way out and Meve thinks Gascon managed to slip away - right up until he comes to their aid with his whole crew. With Gascon’s help, their motley crew flees the capital of Lyria (largely by traveling thru the sewers).

That night, they set up camp somewhere and instead of the royal supplies she’s used to, all they have is whatever the Strays of Spalla had, which means stolen and/or threadbare, ‘cause they’re not exactly living the high life. And Meve knows she should get some rest, but she can’t stop thinking about what happened in the prison(s) and she decides that, as long as Reynard was willing, why shouldn’t she pursue the man she loved?

So she goes to the mess tent and it’s predictably full of drunken soldiers - well, drunken warriors. This rabble didn’t deserve to be called soldiers - and clusters of people playing dice and cards. She spots Reynard at one of the card tables - but sitting across from him is none other than the motherfucking Duke of Dogs. Half-formed plans to kiss Reynard drown under the flood of fury she feels and she summons Reynard to her, ignoring Gascon, who definitely tries to flirt with her. At this moment, she has VERY conflicted feelings about Gascon and most of them are negative. But also, they need him. She is very much aware that his men are the only reason she has any chance at all of taking back her home.

Anyway, Meve confronts Reynard, who explains that he doesn’t trust Gascon as far as he can throw him and whatever mischief Gascon is up to, whatever he thinks he can gain from helping them, Reynard is ready for the doublecross. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer is very much his philosophy, compounded by the way he has learned not to reveal - well, much at all. People probably find him very... is softspoken the word? Not like he speaks soft, but like, he doesn’t say a lot. He learned to keep his mouth shut after he managed to survive insulting the king, so he plays things pretty close to his chest and people find it hard to guess what he’s thinking.

Gascon, for his part, is helping Meve because it’s the right thing to do (and a little because again, queen indebted to you? Very handy). He’s probably aware that Reynard doesn’t like him, even if Reynard acts friendly enough? Like, literally Reynard is so loyal to Meve that he was imprisoned and she was sure of his fealty. And Gascon has found ways to rationalize what he did i.e. raping Meve - she could’ve just begged! She had a choice! - but even though Reynard got a blowjob out of it, I’m sure Gascon would assume that Reynard would want him dead for the blowjob that he got.

I don’t precisely know what Reynard and Gascon’s relationship is like during this, tbh. I think it’ll be Meve’s POV, so she may have a limited view, but I think it’s definitely complicated. Made worse, of course, by both Meve and Reynard beginning to see the redeeming qualities in Gascon. But that comes later.

For now, Meve accepts Reynard’s explanation and knowing that he would do anything to protect her soothes some of the ruffled feathers from a very trying day. So she decides to subtly ask him something like, “come to my tent?” that like, isn’t blatant ‘cause they’re surrounded by drunk men, but also is pretty clear. And Reynard’s eyes widen and it hurts so much to do, but he tells her no. She’s had an intense fucking day - betrayed by her son and court, imprisoned, forced to give multiple blowjobs and work with lowly bandits and shit. Like, she’s been through a lot and he knows that she’s not able to be in her right mind. So he says no, part of him hoping that if she actually means it, she’ll try again in the morning.

But what Meve hears is no, not interested. Which makes this the third time today that she gets to be humiliated in front of the fucking Strays of Spalla, because not only is the man she loves rejecting her, but like... is he rejecting her because she’s tainted now? How is she supposed to interpret him enjoying a blowjob from her one hour and rejecting her advances the next?

And the taint... I think that’ll be a theme in this fic (thus the title). Like, at the height of her power before the fall, Meve was “pure” - which in this case means firmly assured that she was right in everything, as she was always destined to be. There’s no questioning of the world order or if she’s qualified to lead. She simply knows that she is.

But now she’s been betrayed, her nobility and her title ripped from her grasp. And not only that, but she’s demeaned herself with a common thug! She even says it in the game - “look how far we’ve fallen, to be surrounded by peasants and deserters and bandits”. For her, this entire situation is almost like “being common” is reaching for her, trying to pull her in, and she wants to resist, because she’s always been taught that the nobles are BETTER than the common people. But as she works with her army of thugs and commoners, she starts to learn that poor people are people too (gee, who’da thunk it?)

That journey takes time, though, and we’re barely at the start of it!

So, Meve gets rejected. She’s hurt and humiliated and at the moment doesn’t have a kind word for ANYBODY. She maybe cries herself to sleep and hates herself for being weak.

Then morning comes and she has her regular strategy meeting with Reynard, as she did every morning. And it’s awkward and Reynard is as silent as usual, always so deliberate about every word that leaves his mouth. And she wants to ask, but yesterday’s humiliation was enough. She can’t repeat it.

So even though they SHOULD’VE gotten together, they fail to, because Meve is stubborn and prideful and Reynard is closelipped and proper. And Meve kind of hates even the sight of Gascon, but since he IS the leader of the army that is currently only at her disposal because of him, she invites him to join the strategy meetings every morning. If Gascon helps provide a buffer between her and Reynard, so much the better.

Okay, I don’t actually know how everyone ACTUALLY gets together, BUT as they travel through the countryside of Lyria towards the Aedirnian border, a couple of important things happen.

1) Meve sees the real conditions of the people living in her realm. Even in areas that the lords had reported prosperous, people were starving and dying. She starts to learn that these are her people too.

2) Meve and Reynard get to know Gascon. Not just over their strategy meetings, but as they observe him and the Strays of Spalla they (Meve especially) begin to realize that their judgements were all wrong. Because yes, the Strays of Spalla are bandits. They steal from wealthy merchants and even wealthier nobles. That had always been enough to know before.

But now they come to know that that stolen food and blankets and supplies and coin went to the starving peasants in these lands. Hell, most of the Strays are from these areas. These are their people, even if Meve hasn’t figured out that they’re hers too.

Anyway, idk how they get together or how the story ends - is it with them getting together? Getting to Vengerberg to ask for help to reclaim their home? Ousting Villem and taking Lyria back? idk, I haven’t even gotten that far in the game yet lol.

So yeah, here’s a very long synopsis of a story that manages to have almost no porn and lots of angst, despite being inspired by a purely porny post lmao.

#meve x reynard #meve x reynard x gascon #thronebreaker #the witcher #fic planning #dubcon

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jungle321jungle · 3 years ago

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Your Words Fill The Space Between Us

The published letters that detail the romance that changed the kingdom.

~~~~

Aka Roman and Janus send each other letters

Taglist: @angels-and-dreams @ollyollyoxinfree @gattonero17 @chumo-cookie @dreaming-always @anxiety-ismy-name @mrbubbajones @janustheliar @why-do-you-care @hogwarts-my-love

Ao3 - Masterlist

Your Words Fill The Space Between Us

September 18th

I received the gift you sent with your previous letter, and I wanted to ensure I thanked you for it- despite how bold it was. But I suppose that has always been something I liked about you- even if my heart very nearly stopped when Mother asked who the flowers and watch had come from. I was forced to give her the flowers (but I kept the watch for myself) after telling her it came from a businessman I work with (I am blessed that she didn’t ask which of them it was). Though I was disappointed to give up the flowers. I don’t even remember mentioning my favorite flowers and yet you knew anyways. Are you using your power for useless things again? I hope not, you have enough on your plate as it is without worrying about what I like and dislike. But if it truly crosses your mind do know that what I like are your letters and the rare moments we spend together.

But enough about that, more importantly I will be aiding my father this year so I too will get the pleasure of attending the New Year’s Ball. I hope when I arrive you can finally show me the spot you’ve described with the view of the whole city.

~~~~

September 23rd

I am glad my present to you was received well. As to your comment regarding whether or not I was using my power correctly, all I must say is that if it is my power I shall use it as I please. If that happens to be to determine your favorite flowers so be it, my servants are paid accordingly. Also, once I get more power laws change and I get you- so I truly see no downside.

I cannot wait until you get here, I will show you all my favorite spots here to view the scenery and my favorite places in town to shop and eat. We’ll need to think of an excuse for why we spend so much time together though, but we have the time to work out a story.

Speaking of, with this letter I am sending you a book. It’s one I just found by chance and I fell in love with instantly, I’m sure you’ll do the same. Be sure to send me your thoughts when you finish.

~~~~

October 17th

You are utterly horrific. Sending me a book that plays with my emotions like that. I wouldn’t have gotten so invested if I just knew she was going to die like that! Not even from her disease but from an assassin that’s horrible. Just horrible.

I stayed up to finish the last few chapters and now it’s late and I’m crying, but I don’t want the maids to hear. You’re horrible. And to prove it I’m sending you a book.

~~~~

November 2nd

I truly am dastardly aren't I? I laughed a lot at your letter, it was the exact response I was expecting. You never disappoint dearest. As for the book you sent me I unfortunately am yet to open it. I wasn’t planning on sending this letter until completing it, but things have gone bleak in terms of negotiations. I’ve been spending all my time locked in my office taking over my father’s daily work in addition to my own while he tries to calm things with the other delegations. At present I should actually be overlooking some documents, but I feel if I do I will truly lose my mind.

I miss you.

I know that if you were just here sitting beside me I would instantly feel energized.

At least the ball is next month.

~~~~

November 4th

I doubt you have even received my last letter as I write this, but I must tell you to withhold sending other letters. I’m not entirely sure why, but Father is suspicious of something and is having mail checked.

I’ll send word when the coast is clear.

~~~~

December 22nd

My father has found whatever it is he is looking for, so we should be fine now. But that did take longer than I thought. So much has happened in the last few weeks.

Mother’s sudden illness, and sister’s broken engagement, not to mention that the countries on either side of us have declared war and both are begging for us to pick a side. It’s beyond tiring. Father still insists upon holding the ball though, so I’ll see you then. I wonder if this letter will even reach you before you depart for the capital.

I hope I’ll have the time to show you around as I promised.

~~~~

December 27th

I was about to respond to your first letter when the second arrived. You must’ve sent one of your fastest messengers. As for your third and most recent letter I received it just before climbing in the carriage. We are staying in the Barony tonight, which is where I write this letter from. But I will wait to have it sent to you until I reach the capital.

I too hope we can meet up during the festivities, at least for a minute and even better if that minute was spent alone so we can speak freely. But please, remember that you mustn't push yourself too hard.

~~~~

December 31st

There is a small balcony west of the ballroom and past the room where the ladies rest. It’s secluded. We can use our usual signal, I’ll meet you there.

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January 1st

I cannot describe how amazing it was to simply hug you again. And as I said before it was wonderful to see how your dancing had improved. I’m sorry that our time together was so short, I will send you word as soon as I know when I can slip out of the palace. Maybe, two nights from now I can try? That’s when the commoners set up an array of stalls with games and prizes. Would you like to go?

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January 2nd

Of course I want to go! We will go and I will beat you at every game! But I don't have any clothes that would help me blend in. Also, how do you intend to disguise yourself?

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January 3rd

With this letter are clothes for you to wear tonight. I’ll meet you outside the gates by the large willow about an hour after dinner. And as to your question, I will be wearing a blonde wig.

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January 4th

You cheated. That’s the only way you could have won so many games. I don't care that you said you didn’t, you most certainly did.

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January 5th

You are free to believe what you like.

For the closing ball tomorrow we can meet at the same spot as the first night. And I have a surprise for you.

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January 6th

I swear I didn’t know.

I am so sorry. I didn’t know, I saw you crying and run off and I’m sorry that I couldn’t run after you. I’m sorry. Can I come by so we can talk?

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January 8th

You’re leaving tomorrow right? Please respond so I can see you before you do.

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January 9th

I understand you’re mad at me, and I won’t even ask you not to be. But I will ask that you at least try understand the position I am in.

And I hope you travel safely home.

~~~~

January 16th

Did you really not know?

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January 19th

I didn’t. My father sprung it on me, the same way he did to every party guest. He didn’t even tell me which nation he was leading towards in terms of support, much less this.

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January 22nd

Will you marry her?

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January 25th

I don’t want her. I want and I love you.

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January 28th

That’s not what I asked. I asked if you will follow through with the engagement.

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January 31st

I don’t have a choice. I thought I could spend more time living as the Crown Prince before I could reject the role and leave the crown to my brother. I thought I could do that if my parents ever brought up marriage- but this is more than a marriage. It’s war.

If I don’t marry the Delphine our trade routes are shut off- and since we already cut ties with the empire by my father announcing the engagement. If I reject this for you, I put the whole kingdom at risk. I… I don’t know if I can do that.

~~~~

February 4th

Surely there’s another way! Why can’t she just marry your brother?

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February 10th

Do you truly think I haven’t looked for one? My hands are tied. The only possible thing I could do to even have you near me is to bring you here as an advisor or the like when the time comes. I can find a way if it’s that.

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February 14th

No. I will not stand to the side just watch as you dance and hold hands with her for the public’s morale. I would rather die than that.

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February 19th

Please don’t be so dramatic. I am trying all I can think of in between my hectic schedule. But if you truly don’t like my efforts tell me, do you have any brilliant ideas?

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February 25th

Don’t mock me, Your Highness. You’re not the one who has had his heart stepped on repeatedly. You’ve been making me promises for years- am I not allowed to be upset when I find out that they’re hollow?

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March 2nd

You’re unbelievable. Feel free to sulk all you wish, meanwhile I need to continue my regular duties, prepare a wedding, and prepare for war.

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March 5th

War? I thought our kingdom was just to supply aid.

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March 8th

I’m getting married to the daughter of a nation who declared war upon the empire. Of course war will come to our borders as well.

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March 23rd

Father got the invitation to the wedding this morning. I wanted to tear it to shreds. Have you truly thought of nothing yet? Something other than me working for you?

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March 29th

I’m sorry to say I haven’t. In the months since the ball and start of the war I haven’t gotten anywhere with my Father- and Mother’s decline isn’t helping.

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April 1st

What? I had heard she was getting better?

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April 6th

That’s just the rumor I spread to redirect attention. She’s getting worse if anything.

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April 10th

I am so sorry.

~~~~

August 12th

It’s been a long time since my last letter, I’m not sure how many months. I guess I should follow custom and congratulate you on the wedding even if I am late. You at least looked very nice on your wedding day. You’ve truly perfected that fake smile.

I’m sorry for how I acted when I heard about your engagement. I know you didn’t want this either. And I know it’s late for this, but I’ll come work for you if that’s what it takes. The more I try to pretend that I don’t love you- the harder it gets- and the more it hurts.

~~~~

August 17th

Lord Roman Regis,

Please do not waste my time and deny that you are the author of the letter I just read. I intend to keep this letter brief. I do not wish to know what kind of relationship you have with my husband, but I must request that it ceases. My husband serves as a figure to both nations, and he cannot have anyone dragging him down. Especially not someone of a lower stature.

If you contact him again, there will be consequences.

Crown Princess Delphine Ekans

~~~~

August 22nd

Crown Princess,

Your Highness I apologize for any misunderstandings I may have caused, but please speak to Janus. I’m sure he will explain everything.

Lord Roman Regis

~~~~

August 26th

Lord Roman Regis,

To think a measly count’s son can not only tell me what to do, but he can be bold enough to refer to my husband without a title. I already asked you not to drag my husband down, and by doing so you have disregarded my warning.

Do remember that you have brought this upon yourself Lord Roman.

Crown Princess Delphine Ekans

~~~~

September 5th,

Ro,

You know all those times I told you to just get out there and just love the prince if you actually love him? Well this is not what I meant. I mean like you should speed up that “perfect” plan you two always talked about, not that you should wait so long that he got married. And definitely not so long that his wife outed your “despicable crush on the married crown prince”- however I can say that the papers are currently god tier with gossip. I have been asked for interviews like four times and I love it. Oh and have some faith in me, I didn’t talk to them- for long.

Anyway, lover boy should be able to help you out of this, right?

The better you,

Remus

~~~~

September 10th,

Remus,

Sometimes I hate you, and then when I remember we shared a womb I hate you even more. But even so, I thank you for being the one “calm” person about this. Mother and Father (mainly Mother) have been up in arms about how big of a disgrace I am, and just about every noble in the kingdom is in agreement. It doesn't matter that just about every unmarried woman pines after the Crown Prince even after he got married, because when a man does it- because that Witch known as the Crown Princess publishes my letter- I’m somehow a deviant.

I haven’t left the manor since word got out. And I am just flooded with letters from friends and other nobles, but truthfully I am too scared to read them. Maybe I’ll have a trusted maid read them and pick out the kind ones, but I am not sure.

I have no clue what is going on with Janus at the moment. I am yet to receive anything from him- most likely due to the Crown Princess’ interference. I wish I could know what was happening behind the palace doors... I truly do.

This is why I just wanted to run off to somewhere else, but Janus was confident he could change the laws for us and then we could go live quietly somewhere... I wish things were that simple.

I rather not discuss this anymore truthfully. I'd like to have a normal conversation again. So tell me, do you have any stories to tell of your travels? Reading them would prove far more interesting than anything here.

The best twin,

Roman

~~~~

September 18th,

Remus,

Given I am yet to receive a response from you, so I assume you are on the move once more, but I thought I should send you an update letter before you hear the filtered version from word of mouth.

I am currently being escorted to the palace. I know some will think I am to get some sort of punishment, but Janus sent one of the guards with a verbal message that he is handling this in his own way. I have no choice but to place my trust in him. Mother was still worried about it, Father interestingly seemed to be rooting for me but we didn’t get to talk more about it. But I know I will see Janus soon and that thought comforts me. Even though I know his wife will be close behind.

I’ll keep you updated on what transpires. But I still expect traveling stories. Like honestly, what was the point of you joining the navy if I don't get to read any seafaring adventures? You aren’t fighting in the war so surely there must be pirates or something? Or some stories about sirens and other such creatures? I want to read them all.

And in return you can have me as your wonderful twin.

The twin that matters,

Roman

~~~~

September 21st

Roman,

It almost seems strange to be able to address you by your name in a letter, but I like it all the same. I am very sorry for my silence and for Delphine’s actions. The former was a result of a few things: the first being my traveling to the battle front. I'm sorry I did not tell you prior to leaving, I did not want you to worry, but... I spent some time in battle. I was on my way back when your letter reached the palace and Delphine had taken it before I knew it even existed. Then upon my return I was busy dealing with Mother’s health and my war reports- I had intended to write other excuses here but truthfully I was scared of your reaction. I was scared that you would have just given up on me- on us. I had written and thrown away over 20 letters that I started without finishing before Delphine handed me a paper with a letter I had never seen published on the front page.

We had a long argument, about her not having the right to do such a thing to a “friend” of mine. It took a lot of time to cool things down and convince everyone to allow you to come here. Your father had sent me a letter saying he was worried for your safety, and that was enough to pull them to my side to bring you out of harm's way.

I am sorry I cannot currently go to see you, right now everyone believes I am just trying to clean up a mess that my wife blew way out of proportion and going to you would only start rumors. The knight who will deliver this letter- Virgil- can be trusted. He may huff and roll his eyes, but he does not pry and will not look at the contents of the letters. As he put it, he will only do the bare minimum of his job, and being curious and nosy takes too much energy. So you can send your letters through him. I swear I will figure something out.

In the meantime I hope your quarters are comfortable, let me know if they are not.

Yours,

Janus

~~~~

September 22nd,

Janus,

You are an absolute idiot. You went to war, without telling me? What if something had happened to you? Are you crazy? No of course you are. You’re absolutely insane- and I am so so glad that you are alright.

It has been strange being here in the palace, I don't often leave my room due to the looks servants give as I pass by, but my room is comfortable and Virgil makes good conversation. He certainly doesn’t have the demeanor of most knights which is enjoyable. Reminds me a bit of my twin in a way- but I think both would disagree.

Regardless, I have a request for you even though I know you will disagree. I wish to speak with the Crown Princess. I do not know how much you have told her, so I can keep things sounding one sided if you wish- but I want to speak to her. If you don't give an answer I like, I will simply write to her myself.

Roman

~~~~

September 22nd

Roman,

And you call me crazy. Why would you want to meet with the woman who ruined your life? You wrote in the same letter that even servants are scorning you- I will have Virgil report to me who they are so they can be fired immediately- and yet you wish to speak with her? I will not allow it.

Janus

~~~~

September 24th

Janus,

As you read this the Crown Princess should be receiving her letter as well. I kept it simple, just asking for tea with the promise of an apology. But before I schedule a time to meet with her, I want to know... do you like your wife?

Roman

~~~~

September 25th

Roman,

Delphine showed me the letter and she gave some unkind phrases to go with. I told her not to accept your invitation- but I think she wants to even more now. As to your question, I don’t know what I think of her. I hate what she has done to you, but I do not hate her (entirely) as a person. I admire the fact that she will go to great lengths to help her people, but I certainly do not like her. Or perhaps it’s better to say that I like her in the way one likes a business partner? Appreciating when they get the job done well, and hating when they don't. I am not sure if that answers your question, but I do not know how else to better phrase my thoughts.

Janus

~~~~

September 27th

Janus,

I met the Second Prince yesterday. He came to my room and chided me for not getting enough sunlight and fresh air, before he ordered me to accompany him to the gardens. He seems far too kind to be of royal blood. Oh, while he denies it I definitely say Virgil stealing glances at the Prince. It was quite adorable actually.

I am laughing to myself as I write this and he looks on, it is most amusing. Do tell you brother to visit again.

Roman

~~~~

September 28th

Roman,

Patton is definitely too pure for this palace, if he wasn’t the spitting image of father I would think he was illegitimate. As for him and Virgil... I rather not speculate, no one and I mean no one is good enough for Patton.

In more important news I will be accompanying Delphine to your tea tomorrow. At least for the beginning of it. Seeing you two together with my own eyes is the only way I can be sure someone won't attack the other.

I’ll see you then love.

Janus

~~~~

September 29th

Janus,

Since I am sure you are worried about what I and Crown Princess Delphine spoke of in your absence here is a few notes about what we discussed:

The fact that I have loved you since our academy days

That my feelings won't change no matter what she does

That I don't want anything negative to befall either country

She did not once ask about your thoughts or feelings, they seemed relevant to her

She doesn’t want me near you. She says it will ruin the reputation she is building

I do not know what this means for us, but at the very least I think I understand what you meant about having a business partner relationship.

Roman

~~~~

October 2nd

Roman,

Good to know your talk with her was for mostly nothing. She has more recently gone to my father about some scheme to boost morale and he seems to be on board. So she’s at least distracted for the time being.

In surprising news Mother wishes to meet you. She’s probably the one person who knows everything simply because she sees through every lie I tell. But thankfully she never questions me on the truth. You’ll receive an official invite from her soon.

Janus

~~~~

October 4th

Janus,

Your mother is one of the kindest people on the planet. She kept fretting over if I was okay, and meanwhile she is the one bedridden. And you were certainly right about her knowing the whole story, because it is clear she is rooting for us! She told me she just wants you to be happy, and marrying for love is something she wished you could do. She did also say she wanted to give the Crown Princess a “stern talking to”, and I think that would be hilarious to watch.

Roman

~~~~

October 14th 4th

Logan,

This year has been an absolute shitshow. Have you even heard what’ss going on? Because I haven’t heard a word fom you. But I suppose what else should I expect from the disaprearing count? I just want to marry for love and be done with the fucking war? Is that so bap? Delphine is making this hard, but I know she just wants things to be not war… it’s all so annoying. What should I do lo?

Your only friend,

Jans

~~~~

October 5th

Mother and Father,

I want you to know that despite all that has occurred I am well. I have gotten a chance to speak to the Crown Prince and Princess, and the Queen. Currently the Crown Prince intends to release rumors regarding the Duke’s family (which may or may not involve treason so please pull any assets out quickly) to stop the month long gossip about me. Once that happens, I am not sure if I will be staying here or returning home but I will let you know once I figure it out. Living in the palace certainly isn’t bad after all. The food is to die for. I may try to lengthen my stay just because of it. So don’t worry about me, worry about Remus who just sent me a letter detailing too many things about pirates that would make you cry in shame.

The lesser of two evils,

Roman

~~~~

October 8th

Crown Prince Janus Ekans,

I was quite surprised to get your letter and even more surprised by it’s contents. I have told you multiple times it is not becoming of a prince to send letters written in a drunken stupor.

Yes, I am well aware of the gossip in the capital that you have involved yourself in. But I saw no need to send you a letter of my own thoughts when I am not involved in your marital issues. If you were simply writing to me to rant and rave, then your letter was received. And I would like to say that I do have other friends.

Regardless, please expedite the report enclosed, it is part of our winter preparations.

Count Logan Ackroyd

~~~~

October 9th

Janus,

I went into town with Prince Patton (who gave me permission to call me by his name) and Virgil today. We went in disguise of course, but we got to go to a great many shops and try some good food. I bought you a present while we were out, but with the current circumstances I don’t believe I should send it with this letter. If you ever find the time to drop by my room please come and get it.

As we went about I couldn’t shake two thoughts from my mind, the first being that fall looks so different here in the capital, and the second was that it’s been nearly a year since we promised to do such things together. I still await the day where you show me your favorite spots.

I hope those times come soon.

Roman

~~~~

October 10th

Roman,

I too hope for the same, and I would love to see what it is you got me, but we have an obstacle at present. A few actually. While the war is finally moving in our favor, I fear that the Duke’s situation is less clear than I thought. In addition to that, Father wants you sent home to the county sooner than later. And if that’s not enough, Delphine wishes to speak with you before you leave- I will do my best to convince her otherwise. I’m not sure when they want your departure to be, I’m currently negotiating and thankfully Patton is on my side.

Janus

~~~~

October 11th

Ro,

So in my quest to find exciting stories for you I may or may have not taken a cutlass to the leg. It nearly got cut clean off! Or well that’s the story I’ll tell at least. Anyway, I’m gonna be home for a while so you should come visit your dearest twin. And as for get well presents there’s nothing better than basically all the sweets in the capital so I’ll take those please and thank you. Oh and buy me some of those racy novels you pretend you don’t read. Mother saw the word “tentacle” then burned mine.

Your horribly wounded and now sickly and pathetic twin,

Remus

~~~~

October 12th

Janus,

I heard from Prince Patton that there will be a party next week. He was asking me if I plan to go with him, and truthfully I’d like to, but I also don't want to undo anything either. What do you think?

Roman

~~~~

October 13th

Roman,

I’m afraid that your attendance will not be a good idea. But, I’ve heard sickness is floating around the palace. It would be truly tragic if I can’t attend. The greatest of tragedies.

Janus

~~~~

October 15th

Dearest Husband,

At least for the sake of appearances, can you pretend like you’re not missing your lover when we’re in public? It’s very nearly sickening.

Your Wife,

Delphine

~~~~

October 15th

Delphine,

I don’t believe I ever said he was my lover. Also if you want a conversation just come here. Thomas is a knight not a messenger.

Janus

~~~~

October 15th

Dearest Husband,

Sir Thomas shall be what I ask him to be. But on topic, if Lord Regis is not your lover then Queen Mother is in perfect health. If you’re going to ignore my and your kingdom’s wishes then at the very least be subtle. Please and thank you.

Oh and I will not be joining you for dinner, your sister asked me to dine with her.

Your Wife,

Delphine

~~~~

October 17th

Janus,

I’m afraid the party must wait (and for shame my meeting with the Crown Princess must wait as well). I have just received word that Remus was injured- not gravely though- so he is currently resting at home. I must return as soon as possible to rescue my parents from his madness. Well after I buy all the things the idiot requested.

Roman

~~~~

October 18th

Janus,

I love the jacket thank you so so so much. I’ll be sure to wear it the next time I see you, which will likely be the New Year’s Ball. I’ll write to you again as soon as I get home.

Roman

~~~~

October 21st

Janus,

I have just arrived and I already wish I had stayed in the palace. Mother is already talking about how lucky I am that despite the “scandal” she found a woman who would be willing to marry me. Maybe I’ll tell her to invite this poor girl over while Remus is here. Hopefully that scares her off.

Roman

~~~~

October 26th

Roman,

What do you think about eloping?

Janus

~~~~

November 1st

Janus,

You are aware of the fact that you’re married right? Also two men marrying isn't exactly legal. Also you know, the war?

Roman

~~~~

November 7th

Roman,

Trust me when I say the war will come to an end soon. And screw the laws and my wife. If I just kidnapped you, what would anyone really do?

Janus

~~~~

November 13th

Janus,

For starters I don’t think announcing kidnapping in a letter is the proper way to kidnap someone. Also I would like to point out that in the past years I always wanted to run away and you said no. Then a few months after I drop it you’re getting engaged.

Roman

~~~~

November 18th

Roman,

Virgil said the same thing. You two spent too much time together while you were here. And I’m a married man now. I’ve grown and I’ve changed. And running away sounds better and better.

Janus

~~~~

November 20th,

Logan,

If I said I wanted to elope with Roman to your domain what would you say?

Janus

~~~~

November 23rd

Janus,

You assigned him to be my guard of course we spent time together. Also I’ve been receiving letters from Prince Patton, he truly is a ray of sunshine. He told me that the Queen is doing better and I am elated to hear that. Please pass my well wishes to her.

Roman

~~~~

November 24th

Crown Prince Janus Ekans,

What would I say if you wanted to elope here? Well, I would remind you that you have responsibilities. While I do wish for your happiness do remember that the country lies on your shoulders as well. However if there was such a way that everything was sorted beforehand, then I would still say no.

Count Logan Ackroyd

~~~~

November 28th

Logan,

That’s unnecessarily rude. I will take your response as a positive one.

Janus

~~~~

December 4th

Dearest Husband,

I am apologizing in advance for what I must do. I did not anticipate such a situation, but the Duke has my hands tied. You know I will always do what I believe I must for the good of our nations, and to stop this war. I beg you to keep these thoughts in mind.

Your Wife,

Delphine

~~~~

December 4th

Lord Roman Regis,

I beg you to keep the crown standing tall despite everything. This is not your opportunity.

Delphine

~~~~

December 10th

Janus,

Is it true what everyone’s saying? That the Crown Princess is going to be charged for treason? Was that why she sent me a strange letter?

Roman

~~~~

December 15th

Roman,

She sent you one too? And yes I’m afraid it’s true… but I don’t think that’s how it started. I was aware of the fact she was working with the duke to supply troops using her knowledge of how both armies could work together, I truthfully think he took advantage of her. But her name is on some of the documents which can be read negatively.

I apologize in advance for my lack of responsiveness and attention to you. For now I need to convince Father not to execute Delphine and others in her position. This is all truly at the worst timing, we were in the midst of discussion to end this whole war.

At the very least I’ll see you come the New Years Ball.

Janus

~~~~

December 29th

Roman,

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long, love but I think I have things sorted. At the ball my Father intends to announce the annulment of my marriage- claiming that Delphine unfairly used me. That’s not true of course, but it’s the best way for us to keep her here as a “hostage” and to withdraw our support in this war and try to reclaim a more neutral stance. At least outwardly, things are always more complicated when you look closer.

But with the war coming to a true end, and the end of my marriage, perhaps it’s time I take ‘crown’ out of my title? Patton would certainly be a better face to be out there right now as we try to maintain the rockiest of peaces. And once he takes over maybe I’ll just have to vanish in plain sight. I know a certain count who would take us in without complaint.

We can speak on it more at the banquet, I’ll meet you in the same spot as last year. We can use the same signals.

Janus

~~~~

January 2nd

Janus,

I have spent the past day thinking over the words you told me. I'll admit when I received your most recent letter, I took your words to be akin to wishful thinking. But now after hearing all the plans you made for us, this sounds like something we can really do. My heart beats faster at the thought.

Running away with the Crown Prince, it sounds like a novel doesn’t it? If we were to leave, when would we go?

Roman

~~~~

January 3rd

Roman,

Ideally I’d like to leave as soon as the snow melts, but diplomacy is known to take it’s time.

Janus

~~~~

January 4th

Janus,

I’m ready when you are. Just give me some notice to pack up my things at home and to write a letter that will make my mother sob when she realizes that she can’t marry me off for a reverse dowry. Yes, I know such a thing doesn’t exist, but I’m not sure she does.

Also I spent today with Prince Patton and Virgil and my stance has not changed.

Roman

~~~~

Roman,

Do me a favor and keep your fucking mouth shut? I don’t need Prince Janus interrogating me anymore.

-V

~~~~

January 8th

Janus,

Virgil left a note on my bed last night saying in not so nice words that I ratted him out to you. I take it I was right! You need to speak with your brother then we can be official cupids.

Also I’m leaving today, so make sure your next letter goes to my home.

Roman

~~~~

January 13th

Roman,

I will do no such thing. No one on this planet is good enough for Patton.

Janus

~~~~

January 28th

Logan,

You have till March to prepare our rooms. No, I won’t be telling you my arrival date.

Janus

~~~~

January 30th

Janus,

I don’t know if I ever told you, but I’ve kept every single letter you’ve sent me. The good, the bad, and the pointless ones. I’ve kept them all in a box in my wardrobe and my maids know not to touch them. I think I’ll take the box with me when we run.

Roman

~~~~

February 2nd

Roman,

The Prince is being weirder than usual and is fretting over little stuff and he keeps mumbling your name. Do me a favor and take him off my hands fast.

Also he got very mad at me when he found out we exchanged letters. It’s not like we’ve been doing this since you left or anything. He’s so jealous it’s stupid. Sometimes I like to imagine what would have happened if you had been the one forced into a political marriage- and then I quickly stop because I realize he would order me to go arrest and or kill someone and I legally can’t say no.

Save me.

-Virgil

~~~~

February 3rd

Roman,

I have a box of your letters as well. Even ones you haven’t written but are about you- so even some of Delphine’s have been included. Our story is certainly different from that of other couples, and our letters reflect that. I’ll bring my letters as well, maybe we can organize them all into a large collection.

That was an incredibly sappy thought, and yet I wish to follow through with it all the same.

Janus

~~~~

February 7th

Roman,

I deeply apologize. I saw the play. I know we promised to watch it together, but Patton begged me to go with those eyes and that expression and I couldn’t say no. I will make it up to you. I’ll sit through an opera in the future maybe? I know you like operas even if I don’t.

In good news I plan to send a carriage for you, it should arrive on the fourth of the coming month. It will bring you here to the capital, we can see a horrid opera and then we can be on our way to our future. So you have a full month to pack.

Janus

~~~~

February 12th

Janus,

I can’t believe you watched it without me. It will take more than an opera to make up for this. You can start thinking now on how to make it up to me.

Roman

~~~~

February 19th

Janus,

As the days grow closer my excitement grows more and more. Even now I’m writing this to you rather than sleeping as it truly sinks in that we’re going to do this. I can’t wait.

Roman

~~~~

February 23rd

Roman,

My feelings are the same as yours. This morning I announced to my family my intentions. I didn’t tell them where we’ll be going of course, just that I will be relinquishing the position of Crown Prince and that I will be traveling. Father was enraged, sister was surprised, but Mother and Patton seemed to understand and once the three of us were alone they assured me that they are happy for me. I have a few more people (boring nobles) to tell, but now that they know there’s no going back. So you’re not allowed to have cold feet.

Janus

~~~~

February 27th

Janus,

Please if anyone was to have cold feet it was you. I’ve been willing to run away with you since the day I first laid eyes on the pretty thing you call a face.

Roman

~~~~

March 4

Janus,

The carriage should be here any minute, and I’m writing this letter that I intend to hand deliver to calm myself. My room is packed into bags, and I’ve already said most of my goodbyes. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’m sure time will fly when I’m with you. It always does.

Roman

~~~~

Jan,

Truthfully I wish you didn’t have to leave, but I understand it. So I wish you luck in chasing your love, while you’re gone I’ll make some changes around here so you can lead the life you want when you get back.

Be happy, and don’t forget to write.

Patt

~~~~

March 19th

Patton,

I have arrived safely, and both Logan and Roman are doing well. The former was griping about needing to share his estate with us, but all it took was me bringing up a few embarrassing childhood stories for him to loosen up. I don’t know when I’ll be home, but if you’re ever in the mood to frighten Father, tell him that we’ll need a royal wedding upon my return. I finally got to do the proper proposal I’ve had in my head since the New Year’s before last, and it was perfect.

I wish you luck in dealing with the state of affairs, if you need any help send me a letter discreetly and I can offer some aid.

Best wishes,

Janus

P.S. Fire Virgil if you feel like it. You can do better.

~~~~

A Forbidden Romance Years in the Making!

It’s been years since the ex Crown Princess and now hostage of the kingdom Delphine outed then Lord Roman Regis for loving a married man. Afterwards he was shunned by society and took shelter in the palace after his father begged for his shelter. Generously, the former Crown Prince agreed given he was tied to the scandal. But now we know that was never the whole story. Rather the two have been in a secret romance since their school days.

Now, as if his sudden disappearance was nothing, First Prince Janus Ekans has returned with his betrothed Lord Roman Regis, by his side. Previously talks of Crown Prince Patton signing the new law has been floating for a long while, but it seems the pen will finally be put to paper so a royal wedding may commence.

The couple will wed immediately following the signing of the new law legalizing gay marriage. And it will surely be a wedding to remember.

#jaz's oneshots #Janus Sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roceit #love letters #letters #a story in letters #princes

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Ducktales Review: The First Adventure! or Baby Donald Says Eat the Rich

Welcome back. I’d been looking forward to this one for some time in the hopes of getting one thing i’ve been waiting for.. sadly that thing didn’t come, we’ll get to that, but this was still a fun episode so let’s hop right in. Spoilers in a second but my tag is spoiler tagged soooo. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We open in the 1960′s. Austin Powers just went into Cryo Freeze to prepare for Dr. Evil’s eventual return, The Marvel Universe was in full swing, a teenager in baltimore was battling racisim via a dance show, and Black Heron had just been caught by Agent 22, aka Beakly when she was young and just as gorgeous then as she is now. Heron once again engaged in her usual cartoonish supervillian, and now SHUSH has her. Meanwhile in a nearbye room a young accountant by the name of Bradford Buzzard is outlining his plan for Director Von Drake: The way he sees it every time a villian costs chaos Shush “Wastes” billions causing MORE chaos to stop it without controlling things. He proposes taking over the world, weeding out the chaos and ruling from the shadows. Naturally, Ludvig isn’t on board with any of this and points out they aren’t super villains. It’s here this episode fully defines something about Bradford’s character. Back in “Let’s Get Dangerous!” when Huey called him a villain, he said he’s not one... at least from his point of view. It’s here, in his youth we get a clear understanding why he dosen’t think so: So far most people we’ve seen in the world of Ducktales take the chaos and insanity of the world in stride: Either just numb to it like most of the citizens, Rolling with it like Daisy and Violet, or diving straight into it like.. pretty much the majority of the cast, either for the love of adventure and treasure like the McDuck/Duck family, or for their own ludcrious ends like Glomgold, Mark Beaks or Magica. To them the world’s fine the way it is and there’s to explore, take or whatever. To Bradford.. this is madness... he feels all these people are just a bunch of overgrown children, and in some cases actual children, are just making the world worse and worse until one day their going to break it. One day skill, intuition, wit, and knowledge just wont’ be enough. Someday Scrooge, SHUSH or whoever’s standing in the way of evil will fail and the world will fall. This simply can’t go on, and SOMEONE has to control this, someone has to take this world, shake the chaos out of it and MAKE it sane. Make it work the way it’s SUPPOSED to. And to Bradford that’s him. Someone has to, no one else will, so he will. To him SHUSH doing this is just the logical thing: They want peace right? Their fighting for good right? Then what’s better than making the world a utopia? Ending these conflicts and remaking it. The thing is.. that’s not what Heroes do. As we’ve seen in various stories where the superheroes, the Good Guys take over they do improve things.. but at the cost of free will. At the cost of free thought. At the cost of their morals. They become what they were fighting all those years and have to bloody their hands and keep them bloody just to make THEIR world right. And that’s not Utopia, that’s a dictatorship. The example I always come to, even though there were ones before and after this including Marvel’s incredible Squadron Supreme maxi-series, is Justice League the animated series’ two parter, like most of their episodes really but that’s not the point, a Better World, about an alternate reality where Superman kills Lex Luthor after Luthor kills the flash and hte League take over the world. The thing is.. the world isn’t BETTER. It’s just crime free. You can sweep the chaos and the crime under the rug.. but your not making a better world, your just making YOUR version of it. No one person is a god even if they have a power of one and no one person can or SHOULD be able to decide what’s best for everyone. It’s up to each of us to MAKE the world better, to fight for a better world. That’s what Ludvig knows full well and what Bradford just can’t see. You can’t control the world, you just have to accept the things you can’t change like it being chaotic and change the things you can like injustice.

Bradford however, who was hired as a favor to his grandmother, can’t though Von Drake lets him off with a warning.. and a laugh about an accountant being able to be a super villian. Bradford however realizes ther’es some truth to that.. he needs someone to teach him out to operate outside the law, and if SHUSH won’t take the world and remake it.. maybe it’s time someone else did. So in the prison cells of SHUSH, which are conveniently empty outsdide of Heron, Bradford outlines his plan to her. To create a massive orgnization to steal the world and give it the order it needs. To combine their skills: Heron’s for grandeur and crime, and Bradfords for strategy and focus, to take the world. The Orginzation for World Larceny, or OWL, fitting bradford’s hatred for theatrics. Heron objects, adding an F for fiendish, and Bradford relucntantly agrees to get her on board, lets her loose and fakes like he just saw her escape. FOWL is born. And the world would never be the same. Cue credits and cue the rest of the review under the cut.

After the opening we cut to 1994-5.. sometime around then as it’s hard to get an exact year, and that’s how the crew likes it. Point is it’s the 90′s, and Scrooge is.. busy running his company. We’ll get into the weeds of that in a bit, but this is a different Scrooge, one who while no less capable, has no thirst for adventure or drive. He’s not nearly as miserable as the Scrooge we saw back in Woo-Ooo but he’s still a much less complete man. Anyways alongside him for his planning is Duckworth, whose very much alive at this time, and who tells his boss his sister Hortense left something in his office for him. To no one suprise, that thing is the twins, at the tender age of i’m guessing 10. Since your probably curious, Della is still voiced by Paget Brewster, just using a slightly different voice like the Triplets and Webby’s voice actors do. It’s just a bit more jarring here since unlike those characters, we’ve seen adult della and thus are used to this voice coming out of a grown woman. It’s not bad and I got used to it eventually but it was jarring at first especially since once again Donald has a completely diffrent voice ACTRESS doing his voice. This time around it’s cristina valenzuela, of Miraculous Ladybug fame, who I know more for her song work and twitter than her actual work ,but am delighted to see her here and she does a terrific job. I genuneily did not realize it was her, and while not exactly like the late great russi taylor, it is just similar enough to work.

So we get to see what the Twins were like when they were the Triplets age: Della is about the same, but with more of Dewey’s impulsiveness, and Donald, much like he’d be a few years and some dead parents later, is a bitter, grungey musician whose constantly on his guitar and railing against the man.. which is Scrooge in this case which is fair. Hortense left a note.. which bothered me as I genuinely expected her to show up and was majorly disappointed she did not. We are in year 4 of this series, season 3 and STILL no appearance of Hortense or mention how she died, as she and Quackmore are still alive by the end of this. Given she’s easily my faviorite part of Life and Times, this bothered me, and the only reason i’m not more upset.. is the clever way they wrote around actually using her. The letter she leaves for Scrooge explaining things is the same one Della herself used in the comic strip, and using a bit of the postcard she left in the cartoons, when leaving Huey, Dewey and Louie with Donald, down to the Twins having left a firecracker in their fathers seat, thus leaving him in the hosptial. As disappointed as I am my favorite Ginger is completely absent once again, this is a brilliant reference, and I have to give them credit for it, so it’s a fair enough trade off. As for his “Angel Nephew and Niece”, Della wants to dive into adventure while Donald struggles to write a song, singing throughout the episode. It varies in tolerablity, though mostly due to the writing, Cristina is doing fine. Della however is disappointed to find her legendary uncle views his past exploits as merley a means to an end to get his fortune and now he has it he can just focus on building it in the boardroom. This is an intresting take.. and one I could easily have seen happening to the Don Rosa version seen in Life and Times. The Scrooge there himself saw building his wealth as the most important thing until his encounter with Teddy Rosevelt, who taught him experince was what mattered and the having isn’t as fun as the getting. It works for me: This is a scrooge who never got that lesson so once he got to be richest duck in the world, having achieved his life’s goal nothing was left. He’s not miserable like the Scrooge we saw at the start of the series, having lost his love for adventure after loosing his niece/daughter, and having lost his fight. This one has retired.. but because he likely just sees no point in going on. He’s the richest duck in the world, has a vast empire.. no amount of treasure is really going to add to that like it used to, and as he points out in a second Shush has tons of agents at this point to clean up what’s left of FOWL. He’s the man who has everything, so why keep going. It’s weird to see a scrooge without the hunger to keep going, but it makes sense when his belly is full. Without someone to get him to see there’s always another rainbow, he just stopped chasing them. Also a fun nod to the comics I almost forgot to mention is when hearing about the “Gift”, i.e. the twins, Scrooge dreads it’s another surprise party, a nod to life and times where Hortense threw Scrooge one that went.. badly and lead to their entire relationship collapsing. Though Donald did get back at Scrooge for screaming at his parents and Auntie Matilda

However his busy day is disrupted with a call from Beakly. They’ve found the last known cordinates of Captain Yellowbeak, but FOWL is on them and Scrooge is the only one Beakly trusts for this since they have a leak. Beakly is also director of SHUSH at this point, with Von Drake having retired or died or both at this point. Scrooge reluctantly accepts, while Della is excited at the prospect of a real adventure and Donald ends up sharing her enthusasim as it’d make a good song. Scrooge, naturally, has no intention of bringing them with him to their disapointment and leads Donald to sing another “Suck it the man song” which totally isn’t about Scrooge.... spoilers: It entirely is, he’s just a little dumbass grunge baby and I love him. We then get a cute sequence of Della popping up in Scrooge’s Luggage and Trunk to try and convince him to let them tag along, before we cut to the Limo, driven by Duckworth at this point, which solves that mystery. Scrooge is firm in having his butler take them back and have them work with him and Duckworth’s fine with that.. but wants overtime, which is fair. Scrooge, being Scrooge, grumbles about not being made of money, proven wrong by gold spilling out of him. Though I do like the update of Scrooge’s classic cheapness when it comes to pay: INstead of barely paying his employees like a monster, he’s simply reluctant to pay extra if he dosen’t have to, and would rather drag two 10 year olds with him on a dangerous adventure than pay overtime, which tracks. It’s also clear if he had to he WOULD actually pay it, either due to legal reasons or his moral standards, he just isn’t happy about it. So he agrees, though he wants Donald to leave the guitar behind which.. given the most Donald’s been able to come up with is “Suck it THE MAN” and “This guy’s a greedy asshole”.. he’s extremely correct and when Donald tries to pull a “YOU CAN’T CENSOR ME MANNNN”, Scrooge just chucks it out of the car. At the airfield while Della is excited like an rabid chipmunk, and genuinely thinks she can fly a plane because she’s played Outrunner 2.. which I have only vaguely heard of before now. And is apparently just a pc game where you run a lot so I genuinely do not get where Della gets piloting from that.. but she IS Dewey’s mother. So with that in mind the family take off and Scrooge explains what their after: The Papyrus of Binding. It’s a dangerously powerful magical artifact from Ancient Egypt that will make whatever’s written on it happen. The dangerous part is that it’s incredibly literal: As Bradford puts later in the episode, ask for unlimited power, it might zap you dead with a million volts, ask for infinite wealth, prepare to be crushed underneath it. It’s a nice twist on a Monkey’s Paw or Jackass Genie situation. Instead of either the source of the wish granting magic just being inherently evil, or some dickhead screwing with the hero.. it’s just an object that has no ability to interpret nuance, just like your phone with the goddamn autocorrect. It can’t judge intent or tone or meaning, it just gives exactly what it’s asked. It’s a thoroughly interesting concept.

Something I really like about this episode is the fact it answers some little questions. While none were Hortense related, and I am still grumpy about that even with this coming out a good 17 hours after I watched it due to getting caught up with other stuff, it does have little touches that explain small parts of the lore: Who drove Scrooge? As just mentioned, Duckworth. Who flew scrooge? Paid pilots. Did he have a plane before the sunchaser? Yup. It fills in some small gaps in the world. Stuff we weren’t dying to know but’s stil lintresting. Said pilots in this case however are Heron and Bradford. This episode also fills in Heron’s character, as while we’ve already seen bits and pieces this season she LOVES being a classic, take over the world james bond type villian, like she stepped out of a duck version of kim possible.. and i’m just now realizing there probably IS a duck kim possible somewhere in this world as while far after disney afternoon, it fits too neatly to not be wedged in there with your tailspins and goof troops. I wouldn’t be suprised if there were brid versions of every human based disney afternoon and one saturday morning show. My.. my head’s swimming from this. I could be, and probably am wrong but the sheer idea of this... it’s amazing. Back to Heron, she just LOVES being evil and destructive, letting the world know she exists and operating on a grand scale. Now we’ve seen more of her while she’s Beakly’s nemisis.. she’s really an evil scrooge.. yes another one. Like Scrooge, at least how he normally is, she simply gets how the world of Ducktales operates and can take advantage of that to the best of her ablility. Just like adventuering, cartoonish supervilliany is about risk and reward.. sometimes you faceplamnt hard, that’s the risk, but the rewards and rush is worth it. She’s as addicted to grandoise villiany as Scrooge is to adventure by this point. And like Scrooge, and unlike her partner Bradford, she sees the world as it is: Chaotic and one big sandbox to play in. She contrasts Scrooge by the fact that while Scrooge is willing to bust down doors, he still has morals, as well as the wisdom to not go overboard Heron often lacks. It also makes her a good contrast ot the equally skilled Beakly: While Beakly is taciturn, controlled in all things especially her emotions, Heron is bombastic, gloating and borderline insane, and while deadly in a fight, dosen’t exercise any control in her plans, preferring it big and loud despite her partner usually being right about reiging it in. So Heron evacuates dramatically, taking a grumpy Bradford with them, and sending the plane into a tailspin.

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I can’t wait for Next Year’s Tailspin episode. I swear to god. I’m hoping for Shere Kahn but this episode has taught me to be okay with disapointment, if a grumpus. Della however shows her natural talent and despite having no real experince with planes, lands it gracefully. While that’s going on, Bradford berates Heron for her plan, pointing out that they COULD have simply landed the plane, then captured the McDuck family and executed them quitely, versus leaving a chance they’ll survive which they do. They AREN’T supervillains.. or at least he thinks he isn’t. Heron does show off her competence though, pointing out that this way they can simply stay low, and FOLLOW the Ducks to the treasure. Bradford is impressed for a second.. till Heron’s evil shows as she plans to use the Papyrus. Bradford loudly objects to this, listing the possible risks shown before. If not used CAREFULLY, it could kill them, and she balks and wants him to just embrace being the Villian already. It’s what I love about their dynamic set up here: While they are equals, Bradford is a better strategist, able to think and plan way in advance, and prefers subterfuge, and if present day is any indicatoin probably used Heron’s flash to distract from the real mission or goal often or to do something on the down low while she kept SHUSH busy. His last two plans, while again requiring some pizzaz, relied on misdrection: having the ducks take care of an immidate threat like their used to.. while he gets exactly what he wants while their busy and whatever they get out of it is either nothing (Impossibin) or something he couldn’t use just yet and thus if he didn’t get it, no loss, but if he did it just moves up the timetable. Not only that but he’s outlasted all three other big bads, lying in the shadows till it was too risky to leave scrooge and play and even THEN, only coming out into the open when forced out. IT’s why he’s Scrooge’s most dangerous opponent: He knows how Scrooge’s other enmities operates as well as Scrooge himself. And since he knows everything he can maneuver Scrooge exactly where he needs him to do exactly what he wants. It’s unknown how the family will beat him, but he’s easily the biggest challenge they’ve had.

But back to the show and the past, Scrooge bonds with his niece and nephew, retelling stories of his past as they get closer, with Donald ending up high at one point and thus seeing the ship stranded on a mountain. As he recounts a fight with El Capitan, the villian from the ducktales 87 pilot, he counts the story as as a loss: He didn’t get anything from it, no treasure no new contracts. But Della shows him the point he’s been missing; He got a story. Sure he lost.. but he got experince, a tale to tell and a legend grown.Just because you don’t get everything dosen’t mean it wasn’t worth the experince and you can’t hold it in your heart. And this episode shows why this scrooge needed his family: Without Teddy to mentor him, he simply never got that adventure wasn’t about gains or what you get.. it’s about the thrill of it, the enjoyment of discovery and the memories you make.. it’s about the Journey not the destination.

As Scrooge starts to warm up to that, he finds a gap, with Della volunteering Donald to jump but Scrooge just having the kids hop on his back and pogo caneing across. The family find the Papyrus, and find out why the ship is all the way up here: Captain Yellowbeak, who’s a character from one of barks stories and the one who had the scroll last, wished to escape.. but that just stranded them. He asked for water.. and it drowned his crew.. and finally with the document hteir reading he asked for release... and thus is now a skelington. The kid are happy to have reached the goal.. while Scrooge is back on his Zack Morris phone trying to reschedule things and schedule a SHUSH evac, to the kids annoyance. However Scrooge raining on their parade gets interupted by Heron and Bradford, as Heron can’t resist popping out dramatically and Bradford is UTTERLY furious since she blew his cover, and Scrooge recognizes him from his christmas party, a nice callback. Scroog being scrooge figures out he’s the mole and Bradford runs , furious at Heron. Their conflict is an intresting one: Both have a point but both will not back down. Bradford is right this showboating nonsense has only hindered Heron’s plans.. and Heron is right that Bradford needs to accept he’s the bad guy. Even if he has well meaning motives, he’s the villian, he works with them, he leads them.. he is one. He just can’t accept he’s wrong or dosen’t have the answers... huh.. I wonder who that reminds you of. And that’s 100% intentional as Frank has outright compared Huey and Bradford and like last season it’s neat to have the main vilian contrast our chosen Duck for the season.

Heron outfoxes the kids and gets the papyrus and being just an enitrely black hearted bitch, plans to kill them just to spite scrooge.. writing that “his sidekicks will perish on this mission.”.... but Scrooge’s character development, and her choice of words, means nothing happens. As Scrooge outlines, “Their not my sidekicks their my FAMILY, and this isn’t a mission, it’s an ADVENTURE”. Scrooge has finally accepted his life for what it really is.. and the thrill of the chase over what lies at the end. There’s always anothe rainbow.. and he’s finally become the man who will chase every last one.

OF course this is interupted, and Heron escapes with the papyrus, when a skeletal pirate attacks.. why is Yellow Beak alive, why’d the scroll do this?

But we get a neat fight as Scrooge fights the skeleton while he sends the kids after Heron. Scrooge gets a cool looking swordfight, while Bradford gets the papyrus, and Yellowbeak even terrifies me what with his bestial roll and fucking centepede crawling out of him.. jesus those things freak me out. Meanwhile the kids battle Heron, who throws della overboard... and thus for the first time, Donald taps into his beserker rage, snikty snoink, and easily incapaciates the more experinced and fully grown adul, though Della since we’eve been following her kids for the past three seasons, is fine, if suprised by her brother being the goddamn wolverine.

While heron is out for a second, Scrooge heads after Bradford, and vows to tell Beakly and chase him all across the world. However Bradford gets an utterly awesome moment.. he admits scrooge may be right and probably would.. but since he has the papayrus and is careful in everything he writes his request carefully and perfectly “As far as the ducks are concerned, I was never here.” Grante dit COULD have left scrooge out.. but since he didn’t sday duck family or specificy, and likely knew it’d do that, it instead just means the three bilogical ducks. Bradford dissappears, turning invisble and leaving the papyrus for scrooge, who foils heron by simply writing that this scroll will be lost until one day found by his heirs.

So Heron takes a fall and looses an arm, again.. or for the first time.. the family is triumphant and despite loosing his goal, Scrooge is convinced he and the kids will find it again. See above. Scrooge then pulls out his phone and tells Duckworth to rework his schedule.. but it’s so he can find someone to run his comapny so he can spend more time with the kids. As for why Hortense would allow this before her still mysterious passing.. i’m guessing A) she notices her brother is happier and more alive than he’s been for a while and B) they just blew up their dad’s ass with a firecracker, and she won’t be able to use it for a while, so she’s double mad, so if it means she gets a moment’s peace and is with someone she trusts.. why not?

So we end on Scrooge packing up, preparing for further adventures.. i’d love a spinoff of this one day. I mean Disney plus needs it, and since Frank is probably going over to Darkwing.. maybe matt could take a crack at this. Just saying. You have the cast ready, a giant world to explore, and 15 years worth adventures. Run that baby damn you! But yeah the inevitble happens and Bradford further proves his magificent bastardry.. by appling for the position of running the company as head of Scrooge’s board, and setting up said board. So now FOWL has unlimited resources, he has a direct eye on what he now realizes is his greatest threat, and the complete trust and faith of both Scrooge and Beakly. It also puts Beakly’s breakdown in context: We now see WHY she went as far as she did: While the revelation was bad for Scrooge, finding out one of his most trusted allies was a traitor the whole time and knew everything about him, for Beakly.. it had to be worse. Finding out one of your best employees, one of the FEW people you ever trusted, and someone you DIRECTLY RECOMMENDED TO SCROOGE, was not only the man who set up your greatest enemies, but had compromised your organization for most of your career. IT’s no wonder she broke down so hard.. while I already gave several reason adding “This level of betrayal and self doubt to the list” only makes it that much harder on her. But for now a partnership is started.. one that very well may end scrooge.

Final Thoughts: A pretty good episode overall. It’s well paced, to the point I probably forgot a LOT, has some good jokes, and fills in a lot of the gaps in the lore, while giving us a nice insight into bradford and heron. Even without hortense this was a pretty good episode.

Upcoming Reviews: LIfe and Times; Master of the Mississippi Ride of the Three Cabbleros: The Three Cablleros (House of Mouse) Tomtrospective: Lava Lake Beach

#ducktales #ducktales spoilers #scrooge mcduck #bradford buzzard #della duck #donald duck #black heron #bentina beakley #the first adventure!#the first adventure #cristina vee

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lynndoublelegacy · 4 years ago

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just a cool dnd meme i saw

Yook so it’s less a meme and more like. a big ol questionare but hey, might as well do it. originally saw it on @/probablyottrpgideas, go check them out

1. Game Master, Player, or both? Why?

Ok so technically I’ve DMed twice but I really don’t find it fun? and don’t ever want to do it again. so. Player. I like building characters and their connections with fellow PCs more than building worlds

2. When did you start roleplaying? How old were you?

oh god, if we’re talking about roleplaying in general? I’ve been doing it basically as long as I can remember. As a kid I would play House, and then once I got older in like 5th grade I actually started making characters and playing out their stories with friends. Google+ is what made me realize this was actually like, a THING, though, and I got into some roleplaying groups there, then on DevaintArt. Dungeons and Dragons is a newer development? I got into it in late 2018 when my sister’s friend invited us to a one-shot, and... well, yea, I got hooked lol

3. What was the first roleplaying book you ever owned?

dude, bold of you to assume I really own any. I don’t have that kind of money and literally only own the Guide to Wildemount, and that was a gift

4. Describe the first game you ever ran or played in.

I mean... it’s not a game but ima describe the one shot, bc my first campaign was a hot mess without a true storyline and I used the same character for it anyway. I played a tiefling bard called Aisling Kai (I didn’t know this was a cliche combo at this point, and I honestly played her like a rogue with a music motif but Whatever) and we were a little group tasked to figure out why the hell anyone who goes into this cave never comes out. So we go in, make our way through the dungeon, fight some frog people (I made one of their ears bleed just by getting a nat 20 on a performance check to play a high f# on flute, that was fun, FWEET), and turns out yep, theres a hill giant down here. We kicked his ass and collapsed the cave on top of us (dw I think we were fine but my memory is a little screwy)

5. What system did you grow up with? / 6. Which system do you play now?

i learned on and currently play dnd 5e. I don’t really know anything else, but I’m debating checking out Vampire of the Masquerade.

7. Longest campaign you’ve run or played in?

That would be my Tal’Dorei campaign group, aka The Fatefallen! Started in the Fall of 2019 and still going to this day, just played our 45th session last week. I play Ilia Liadon, the drow grave cleric, and the only member of our party who has been there for every single session since the beginning.

8. Where did you meet your current gaming group?

...well first I feel the need to mention that I have 3 different groups (2 of them are on hiatus now for pandemic related reasons but! we’re still groups). My first group (with Aisling) was formed slowly over time as friends adopted friends into the group, I think it started as a school club? but that didn’t last long. The other two started from a different school club as well, though one has since branched out into other people as well.

9. Strategic combat or dramatic plotlines?

I am a roleplayer first and a gamer second. Give me all of the backstories and dramatic plotlines. Don’t get me wrong, I still like combat, but story takes precedent for me.

10. Favorite RPG genre?

I don’t tend to define myself by genre? But I tend to fall into more of a fantasy, at most arcanapunk style. Give me all of the magic, and magic powered tech.

11. Your first character.

I got into her a little bit earlier, but my first character was Aisling, aka Calypso Kai. She was a homebrew subclass bard with a criminal background, who honestly? should’ve been a rogue. I’ve since rebuilt her into an Assassin Rogue/College of Eloguence Bard multiclasser, but this iteration was like. Baby her, baby me new to dnd, I did not know what I was doing. She tried to be edgy, but my mom energy came through HARD and she just. Never really had a set characterization. She deserves better and I plan on playing her better sometime in the future.

12. Your favorite character.

You are making me choose between my children. BUT, if I had to pick, either Ilia Liadon, or! Ashe Wednesday, a protector aasimar drunken master monk and my profile picture. Ashe also deserved a lot better from their campaign, so I have a massive soft spot for them, they were made during a really tough time in my life (as was Ilia) and was going through an equally rough time in-game, since I made them for a Curse of Strahd campaign without understanding what I was getting into. They’re my little rebellious asshole and I love them dearly, someone get this kid therapy. Ilia, on the other hand, is just... she’s a comfort character for me at this point. mostly soft edges, such a mom- while Ashe was me yelling “come at me” at the world while crying, Ilia was just... embracing it. Making it better. basically, if they actually existed, I would die for both of them.

13. Your most ridiculous character.

I don’t usually play super ridiculous characters, but! I would say Keothi “Bookfinder” Vaimeil counts. She was basically me looking all of the goliath barbarian stereotypes in the eye, and going “nah. she’s a nerd.” She’s literally a massive puppy dog, just the sweetest big old thing, sitting in her house and reading all the books she can get her hands on in order to make up for her amnesia. Oh, and did I mention that she’s a zombie? ...yea. She’s wacky, but I love her.

14. The best in-character line you’ve ever had.

“I need sleep. I don’t even sleep and I need sleep.”

~Ilia, after a particularly tough fight and an emotionally draining day

15. Your most epic death.

Ok so... none of my characters in game have ever actually died during the storyline? Keothi obviously has in her backstory, and Ilia might have in hers as well, it was never explicitly stated, but during the game? Nope. Ashe got stupid close, but nope. Since Keothi is my only death period, and her death was pretty epic, I’m just gonna describe that. Her parents and siblings in her Goliath tribe had all fallen ill, so she decided to go searching for a possible cure, and ended up getting conned into helping this cult, since they said they would cure her family. Turns out, yea, they were lying, they just needed a goliath willing to sacrifice themselves with a cursed sword. They made the mistake of revealing this before Keothi was actually dead, so as she was dying, she brought the entire goddamn cultist temple down to the bottom of the sea and took the cultists with her. The sword was why she was undead, in the Shadowfell, and couldn’t remember anything.

16. Your most disappointing death.

As mentioned, I’ve never died in campaign, but I feel like I have to mention this one that happened to our party in Curse of Strahd. We were in the death house, all 5 of us, still level 1, and our barbarian falls into a pit trap with spikes. None of us realize she’s actually dead, so we send out paladin down to get her... with the monk, the bard, and the warlock holding the rope. ....yea both of them died.

17. Something that shouldn’t have worked, but it did.

I’m stuck between two options for this one. First one was the time our water genasi paladin/rogue bloodbended our gnome cleric into a bridge to keep her from falling all the way down a ravine. The second time was when our party managed to defend a small seaside town from a pirate raid with just an NPC with Control Water, a ballista, ourselves, and some explosives. Neither should’ve worked, but both did. Having a triton in your party can really come in clutch in a seaside campaign.

18. Something that went hilariously awry.

I have one that’s hilarious and one that’s horrifying. Hilarious one: in my first ever campaign, someone from Aisling’s backstory popped up and our sorcerer went “that’s shady” (to be fair, he was) and then went to investigate BY HIMSELF. He obviously got kidnapped by the mafia, and then we went all stealth mission to break him out. Stealth was immediately abandoned after our other bard used a SCREAMING SWORD to break open the locks, then we proceeded to go out the way we came, setting everything on fire on the way out, and with our bard lying their way out the front door (with the rest of us in tow as “prisoners”) by pretending to be a fellow mafia member. It was great. Horrifying one: Ilia tries to Send to a member of the party who left in order to let him know that a fellow party member had died. Forgot that he left bc his mind was invaded by a previously dead, very evil old god, and ends up trapped there with him for a while. Ended up with all of our main spellcasters trapped in their own heads while the barbarian paced around worriedly and the rogue decided he was going to get smashed instead of worrying himself silly.

19. Your most memorable in-character moment.

There are a LOT in Ilia’s campaign, but! If I had to pick one, it would actually be a pretty recent one involving Ilia and our party’s wizard, Liara. They’re basically the embodiment of head vs heart? Anyway, Liara is currently suffering from something called magic corruption, though idk if suffering is the right word. Anyway! It basically resulted in her getting... possessed? by her own magic during the night during Ilia’s watch, and they had a really, really interesting conversation regarding guilt, death, and grief, and yea basically I love them. Honorable mention to our druid’s death (he’s back and better now, but that was my first long-time death in a game, we didn’t know he was coming back) and also the moment that Ilia realized that her childhood bff/crush had been revived in a new body and that this NPC was her best friend. That was a trip.

20. The coolest item you ever got and how you came to possess it.

I got this item in the revamp of my first ever campaign and nothing has topped it since which is Sad but hey. Anyway! I got this really cool, possibly cursed dagger after I threw a knife at an absolutely eldritch being and it got stuck in him as he transformed. It looked really badass, and allowed me to cast Inflict Wounds on occasion when I stabbed someone with it. So yea, we love that. Honorable mention to my paladin/bloodhunter’s Helm of the Aberrant Gladiator which allows you to basically do a bunch of fear based affects and psychic stuff.

Numbers 21 through 30 don’t apply to me but. yea. enjoy this summary of my dnd history I guess

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #d&d 5e #dnd meme #i would like to apologize to Vail and Zohros #they deserved better than to be briefly mentioned but their campaigns are also on hiatus #so they're not overly relevant rn #vail is the paladin/bloodhunter #zohros is the triton #he's a rogue

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prkrnichols · 4 years ago

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“What do you mean he’s not coming?”

“He said something about an upcoming exam…”

“Music theory? When has Parker ever had to study for a music theory exam before?”

“I’m not getting into it David… you’ll have to go and— Brenden! Brenden! I saw that…”

Whatever his middle-son had just done or was still doing had little affect on stopping David’s movement, as he walked into his ex-wife’s new house and made his way upstairs to where he assumed the bedrooms would most likely be. It annoyed him that he was in a position to look stupid as he tapped on various doors and questioned if his son was currently behind one of them. So, by the time a door did open up, David didn’t actually mind that the occupant wasn’t Parker. He knew the girl anyway. Tahnee… used to babysit his boys, and even if David hadn’t exactly interacted with her outside of slipping his wife an extra fifty to tip her for her good work… he smiled. “Hi Tahnee… it looks like you’re on the mend…” He’d heard about the accident through Sarah. A conversation that had made him send a text (something he loathed) to the son he was still currently in search of, where he expressed in quite a lengthy paragraph that the news had rattled him. And it had. It was just, after the last weekend the two had spent together, maybe he could forgive Parker for not responding to it. Just a misunderstanding though, because even if he had lost his temper a few weeks earlier with the brunette, it wasn’t the same thing and of course he’d have cared if Parker had been the one to get hurt. “I’m after Parker—” He watched as the blonde pointed down the hall— just a room down from her own, “ah, thank you.” With a smile, he turned, finishing off the short walk between her bedroom and his son’s before raising his fist to the door and lightly knocking, “Parker…” No reply. He twisted the handle, surprised to find it unlocked, as he pushed forward and walked inside.

The room was messy and it irked him. He’d told his son before that no one respected a sloth and yet… he shifted around the piles of clothes as he walked over to Parker sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet clipping in and out of his snowboard bindings. So, it was the silent-treatment today, was it? He sighed, moving around till he could sit down on the bed beside him, “new board?” He watched as Parker shrugged and slid his boots out of the bindings again- click. “Your mom said you don’t want to go—” Another shrug, but at least time words followed, as Parker told him that he had some test— and bullshit. But he’d play along, “she mentioned that too…” he really didn’t care though. “I took the time off work, because I thought a week away— just us… and your brothers was what you wanted. No school, no homework, no piano…” he watched as Parker’s had twisted, disbelief on his face— “really?” David nodded. Where were they going to find the time to play the piano when they’d be snowboarding as much as they were planning to? “Well, you can try and pack your baby-grand, but it might look a little weird to the Swiss if you try and check that in into your hotel room—” he smiled, hand coming up to grab Parker’s neck affectionately, as his son joined in and let out a soft laugh, “come on Parker. You’re not going to leave me alone with Brenden all week long right…”

“well now that you mention it...” Parker let out another laugh, as his father’s grip tightened and he playfully pushed him back down on the bed, before standing up and telling him to get his stuff together or they’d end up missing their flight. Fortunately, for Parker he was actually already packed... the decision to not go only being a fairly recent one, “yeah... I’ll be down soon.” He watched as his father left. His hands dropping down to his board and picking it up, slipping it back into its protective bag as he made quick work gathering the rest of his things. It took him two trips to get everything and by the time he was walking back the second time around, his hands were only carrying his headphones and phone anyway. He made a brief stop outside of Tahnee’s room, contemplating saying ‘goodbye’ before deciding against it. It would be a weird thing to do and the last thing he wanted was for her to take his simple-enough goodbye and shift it into something inane like, he was saying it because maybe he’d like miss her or something. Which no... it was just goodbye-- catch you in a week and a bit, if you haven’t decided to take on anymore suicidal waves or anything by then. So, yeah, no... it was better to just leave without saying it and let his mom express something to her later, after he and his brothers were already on a plane to Switzerland.

Hugging his mom goodbye, Parker pushed Max back towards the back of the car, because he didn’t actually think he’d be riding shotgun, right? Pfft. That would be the day. After sliding into his dad’s rental Mercedes and slipping his headphones down over his ears, blocking out any chance his father might try to get him to play that infamous Nichols’ car ride game of theirs, Parker let out a sigh and closed his eyes. His loss of sleep the other night, must’ve finally caught up with him, because he ended up falling asleep the entire ride over to the airport and for a large portion of the flight to Switzerland, too. The rest being filled with watching re-runs of Archer with Brenden and stifling their laughs as their dad snored in the seat beside them both. By the time they were touching down, Parker was so amped to just have his feet back on the ground, jetlag didn’t seem to have had an effect on him. So, after checking into the hotel, Parker was quick to grab his shit up and force everyone but Max (weak) straight into the powder.

━━ ✦

“I’m king of the w--” He tackled Max into the ground with a laugh, as the younger brunette groaned out and grabbed the snow up from under him to force into Parker’s hair-- “hey...” It was snowball next that collided with both their faces, Brenden letting out a roaring laugh as he balanced on his board and wiggled his eyebrows at them both, “come on pussies! Come get me.” Parker looked at him, then back down at Max, before they both smirked and jumped up. Oh he was so dead. Running over to their boards, Parker didn’t wait for Max to click his boots back into his bindings, pushing off and trying to catch up to Brenden. Shit, though. His brother was fast. It took a few aerodynamic moves of sheer brilliance (aka leaning over as far as he could without forcing his body into a nose dive), before he was just behind him... Max too. Sweeping in front of him, Parker laughed as Brenden had to make a quick counter... oh they had the bastard now. Leaning down, Parker gathered up as much snow as he could and started to clap it into a ball, before he set his eyes on Brenden’s head and threw--. DAMN... he missed. Not his fault. It was just hard to aim and board at the same time. Max was next to take a swing at it, but unsurprisingly he missed too. Swooping down to pick up a bit more snow, Parker repeated his earlier actions only this time... the sweet sound of snow connecting with the back of Brenden’s head and the visual of his younger brother toppling head over feet into the snow was the result. Letting out a roar of laughter, as both Max and himself slid in front of him-- only Brenden wasn’t swearing and picking up snow to throw back at them-- he wasn’t moving at all. Scared shitless, Parker dropped down to his knees, grabbing his hands and twisting Brenden over-- and the little fucker. His brother laughed as he threw his hand up in his face, “Got ya!” Oh, he was definitely dead now. Climbing on top of him with his board still attached to his feet, Parker couldn’t help but start to laugh too... Max joining in, as the three of them started wrestling one another into the snow. It had been awhile since all three of them had not been at each other’s heads it was just-- it was nice not to be.

Rolling onto their backs, the three brothers let their laughs continue, before two girls stepped in front of them, shading them from the sun’s glare-- “You two are over eighteen, right?” Parker stole a glance at Max, deciding to cut him some slack for once, “yeah...” he watched Max eyes widen briefly, before nodding and sitting up a little more. “Okay, cool-- we’re having a party tonight--” The brunette watched as one of the girl’s picked up Max’s hand, removed his ski glove, and started to write-- what he could only guess from his current position was the party’s address. Cool. Hot. “Yeah, we’ll see what we can do...” He watched as the blondes smiled, said something in what? German?, before winking, turning back around and walking over to the ski lift opposite them. “OH SHIT! You’ve got to take me too!” The boy could dream. “No, we need you to cover and if you do, Max will-- Max will give you full access to his laptop-- no parental locks.” HEy--Ugh! Parker elbowed him... hard, because Max would thank him later. “Won’t you, Max?” He nodded and with a new mischievous glint in his own eyes, Brenden clapped his hands together and told them both they had nothing to worry about, he was on it. Which in the end meant that he’d manipulated Connor into asking their dad to take him to some Swiss film festival, so he could haul up in Connor and his hotel bedroom and take full advantage of Max’s collection of illegally downloaded movies and uh, other things. “Will you relax...” Seriously, he was sweating and it was snowing-- it was going to look weird. “Connor said it was going to run late and you know how dad gets about arty stuff... We’ll be fine and if he does catch us, I’ll take the fall... okay?” What was the worst that could happen? He’d take away the piano for a week? Great. He lifted his hand up to the back of Max’s neck, telling him to breathe and it would be fine, just as the door pulled back and the girls they’d seen earlier greeted them with a smile. Oh, yes tonight was going to be great.

━━ ✦

He looked over at the blonde he’d just slept with... Not something he would’ve done if Lana and himself had been on better terms, but since they weren’t he’d figured why not. Plus, it wasn’t like it had meant anything as he slipped back out of the room and wrapped his jacket back around his body, it was just one of those things you did because both of you wanted to. Wondering where Max was, Parker began to look around before he caught sight of his brother standing outside and fuck it must be freezing-- and it was. “Max?” He looked... “Are you okay?” He watched as his brother wiped at his face and turned away from him. “Uh yeah, yeah I’m good.” He wasn’t and even if they had never had the best relationship, Parker wasn’t about to let him be alone right now. “No, you’re not... what happened?” He walked up and got him to turn back around to face him... watching as he let out a laugh, a sob, and a smile at the same time... “I-- I uh had sex.” It took a moment, before Parker’s face shifted, because Max wasn’t just saying he’d had sex... he was saying he’d just had sex for the first time... and okay... “Oh, but that’s a good thing, right?” He watched as Max tried to smile, but it was clear now that he was upset about the whole thing, and okay... Parker could fix this. “You know, no one ever lasts very long their first--” he shook his head. Mumbling something out that Parker couldn’t quite get until he’d asked him to repeat himself and Max said it again, “I thought it would be more special.... that’s all.” Oh. Oh. He got it. “You know... same.” Max’s eyes widened as he tried to make sense of what Parker was saying, “but, but you slept with Lana didn’t you?” With a sigh, Parker turned to look out at the snow falling into the trees below the deck, “no. I told Lana she was my first, but. I freaked out. Lana kept telling me how special it was all going to be and how happy she was that it was going to be with me... and I just... I don’t know... I panicked. I didn’t think I was going to live up to her expectations of me, so I went out a week before Prom and hooked up with some girl at this college party and the whole thing lasted thirty seconds and I just-- I felt like crap. And it wasn’t like it helped... ‘cause instead of being nervous I would suck, I just felt guilty the entire time I was with Lana, and I couldn’t stay-- well you know... and of course, she pinned it down to first time nerves, but...” he sighed again. It felt weird telling Max this. It felt weird telling Max anything about himself. “So, hey you’re not the only one...” turning back around, his hand found his brother’s shoulder and he gripped it... “I’ll let you in on a secret though. First times... got nothing on the first time you’re with someone you’re actually in love with... now, they’re... they’re special.” He smiled, watching as his brother did the same, and maybe this was it? The thing that finally brought them together, as he wrapped an arm around his neck and reminded him if he ever wanted to see daylight again they really needed to get back to their hotel before their dad woke up in the middle of the night and decided to do a spontaneous room check or something.

━━ ✦

He woke up to an alarm clock that said, 12:06 PM... a groan slipping out of his mouth when he realised, Connor had mentioned their dad wanting to have lunch with everyone. Twisting around in his bed, he looked over to Max’s where the brunette was currently drooling on the top of his pillow-- the urge to swing a pillow at his head not as prominent as it used to be. Apparently their talk last night had shifted things. He was still going to have to get up though, so after removing himself from the tangle of his own sheets, Parker went over and nudged his brother’s shoulder with his hand, “wake up...” Max groaned out in protest, “dad wants us all to have lunch together, remember?” That did it. That always did it. There wasn’t a lot Max wouldn’t do for their father and Parker got it, because there wasn’t a lot he wouldn’t do for his dad, either. His fingers ached at the thought, as he pulled himself over to his suitcase and found clothes his dad would deem suitable enough for their lunch. After they’d both slipped into their clothes and had caught up with Brenden, who said Dad was already with Connor in the dinning hall, the three brothers made their way to the nearest lift and pressed L for lobby.

The nineteen-year-old could already tell it was one of those hotel restaurants that catered for the public as much as its own guests. The room itself grand and filled with people and signs that indicated it had earned itself a Michelin star last year. They walked over to where their dad was currently talking to Connor, smiling, laughing... and it was so weird to see his dad like this, happy... and maybe this trip was actually going to change more than just his relationship with his brother, but his relationship with his dad too. Maybe his dad really was sorry for everything-- and, “didn’t I tell you I had some of the best-looking sons in all of America...” he let out a nervous laugh, as the woman sitting in the chair beside his dad’s table, nodded and told him... if any of them were single, she had a granddaughter she wouldn’t mind-- and fortunately for Parker, the waiter had come to distract everyone... “so, what do you boys want... take your pick... anything off the menu...” He scanned the menu and of course it was all in French, so he didn’t really know what to make of it, besides... oh.... Le Cheeseburger... “cheeseburger.” He looked over at his dad, like he was expecting him to tell him to order something else... something more prestigious, but nope he wanted one too-- they were all getting cheeseburgers... the finest cheeseburgers in all of Switzerland. So, instead of holding onto it-- whatever it was that he’d been holding onto since his fingers had snapped last year, he let it go... and relaxed. "Le Cheeseburgers!”

Turns out, the Swiss can make a really, really good cheeseburger, as Parker finished off his and laughed at Brenden who’d ended up with more on his chin than his mouth. The waiter was back for drink orders now and apparently his dad trusted him enough to order one of his own... “uh, yeah house wine will be great...” he figured it would be. His dad seemed pretty happy about it earlier, so.... “bring us the bottle... and can you find out if we can use that...” He watched as the waiter looked between his dad’s eyes and the piano out on the floor in front and said something like, only the hotel Pianist has access, “I don’t think you understand who my son is and how he could--” “dad it’s okay...” “uh, sorry Sir, but it really is just for--” He watched as his dad stood up and tapped his wine glass with his butter knife. “Excuse me everyone...” the room grew quiet, “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind if my son played y’all a song on that grand piano of yours...” The room seemed confused but then after one person (an American, of course) started to clap... it didn’t take long for everyone else to fall into line and for the waiter to look around nervously, because what could he do now? Probably just as much as Parker felt he could about the whole situation. “Go on, Parker... get up there and show them what you got...” he looked up... his voice quiet... “I don’t want to.” His dad catching it though, “don’t be stupid... go on... show us all what the great LMU has taught you...” He’d been wrong to think this trip was going to go any differently... God... he’d been so naive... of course his dad would find somewhere for him to play... when had anything been about just them... just them without a set of black and white keys between them. “No...” “Dad, he doesn’t want to maybe just--” “I’m not talking to you Max...” he could see it in his eyes now... that if he said it again he’d regret it but he did it anyway. Standing up and walking out of the restaurant, making his way up to his room because he didn’t want his dad or his brothers to see him right now.

Alone in his room, he found himself reaching out for his phone-- but who was he going to call? His mom? Will? Lana? Would any of them get it? No... The door clicked open and he’d been ready to tell Max, that he needed a minute... because even despite the fact that he seemingly had his side back down there, he still knew that his brother wouldn’t quite understand it still. That he’d always been a little jealous that Parker had a gift that he didn’t and not just that-- a gift he apparently never seemed to appreciate... “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH YOU JUST EMBARRASSED ME JUST NOW!” he turned around. Ready to face the music. “You promised no piano---” “OH, so me being proud of my son... and his gift... that’s a bad thing is it?” “No it’s just--” “It’s just what! ‘Cause all I see is an ungrateful asshole who doesn’t appreciate the talent I’ve handed down to him and the talent I’ve taught him and forgets...” His father closed in, taking Parker’s hand in between his own... “I can take it away just as easily too..” his fingers wrapped around Parker’s index finger, and before he could do anything-- searing pain shot through it as his father snapped it back. Falling to the ground, his hand wrapping around his hand and now his broken finger, Parker found himself in a position his father had seen him in before, and a position he knew how to take full advantage of... “I’m sick...” his foot kicked into Parker’s ribs hard... and pain that had only been in his finger up till now, spread elsewhere. “And tired...” another kick... more pain... “of you wasting my talent, because...” kick, kick... “you’d rather surf all day...” kick... “than work hard... and...” kick... Parker cried out, as the pain spread throughout his entire body... making it hard for him to think... let alone breathe... “appreciate what I’ve given you...” Leaning down, Parker felt his dad’s hand wrap around his shirt, lifting his face up to his own.... “one day... one day... you’ll wake up and realise... what you’re throwing away... I just hope for you son... it isn’t too late by then.” After another shake of his head, another look at the disappointment his son was to him, David dropped his grip and let Parker fall back down against the edge of the bed... “you know... just like I used to tell your mom... I wouldn’t have to do this... if you’d just show a little more appreciation for what I’ve given you... fuck...” he stood up and after taking one more look at Parker, inching away from him... shook his head and walked back out the door.

━━ ✦

It was another hour or so, before Parker was back up... limping over to bathroom... and closing the door behind him. His finger the first thing he took a second to check out-- and fuck... how was he going to snap it back into place. He looked around and after another few seconds of searching and coming up dry, limped back into the hotel room to find a few mini bottles of vodka instead. With the taste now on his lips he took a few quick and fast breaths before he grabbed ahold of it and snap... “Fuckkkkkkk....” he wanted to pass out... he wanted to... he couldn’t. If Max found him like this he’d know. He wasn’t that dumb and if he knew he might confront his dad and no... this needed to stay between them, because he’d apologise tomorrow... he would. He’d realise that he’d gone too far this time and he’d say he was sorry and besides, he was right... Parker had been ungrateful... he could and should play more... and-- he lifted his shirt... the bruises already beginning to form and coat his entire chest rouge... they’d be purple by tomorrow. Was his rib-- yes.... yes his rib was broken... he was-- he was going to be sick. He ran over and tried not buckle, but he did and the vomit came quick and painfully out of him and into the toilet bowl. Throwing up with a broken set of ribs was a nauseating experience and one that kept him down there on the floor repeating the painful motion, until his stomach was empty and he’d heard Max come back into the room.

He could hear him now, pacing outside the door, his eyes slipping shut, begging... just begging him to forget it.. and go away... but he didn’t. “Uh, just wanted to make sure you were okay--” He couldn’t let Max think for a moment he wasn’t, so he went for the easier option out of the two.. the one he knew would work and keep working for the rest of the trip, “what? You think because of last night... we’re like the brothers who actually ‘care’ about each other now or something? Leave me alone.” “Parker...” “I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE!” he waited... and then... the door clicked and he was able to slide back down... press his face into the cool tiles of the bathroom floor. Where he remained till his father came back in a few hours later and picked him up... “come on...”

He remembered hearing Tay’s mother Evie once tell a kid who’d been hesitant to paddle out in The Cove that ‘your life shrinks in accordance with your fear...” and that he was only as small as he felt... well... Parker felt pretty damn small as the doctor asked him what had happened and his dad laughed beside him, saying, “kid thought he’d take on a double black diamond...” a lie that was bought, as the doctor laughed too and all Parker could do was let him put the splint on his finger and hand him a few pills for the pain. Pills he felt dig into his hand a little harder, when his father wrapped his arm around his neck and walked him back through the Swiss hospital, “see... not so bad... you’ll be able to play again soon.” He nodded. Too tired to fight it anymore... as he slid back into the rental car and turned his face towards the window. He might not have got it when Tay had first said it a few weeks ago, but he got it now... got what she meant when she said, it wouldn’t have been such a bad way to go... ‘Cause at least in the water he knew what was making it so hard for him to breathe... made sense... inside the car with his dad, made less... and how was going to find relief again, when there was no apparent surface in sight?

He closed his eyes... and pictured waves... it was easier that way.

#━━ ✦ PARKER (STORY)#━━ ✦ 003 fool you’ve landed

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missjanjie · 5 years ago

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My Love, My Darling | Branjie Oneshot

Title: My Love, My Darling Summary: Brooke Lynn needs a last minute date for his sister's wedding, and he's left with reaching out to his ex as the best option. Vanessa doesn't mind playing the role - it was an excuse to have a weekend vacation. Besides, they were both totally over each other, right? (aka the fake dating prompt) Word Count: ~3.4k Relationship: Branjie (Vanessa ‘Vanjie’ Mateo/Brooke Lynn Hytes) Rating: E

Read on AO3

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One week.

Brooke Lynn had one week to pull himself out of the mess he'd gotten himself into. He paced around his room frantically, knowing time was running out. His sister’s wedding was important to the whole family and she implored her big brother to bring his boyfriend.

His boyfriend whose existence he had lied about. It wasn't that he'd set out to tell such a lie, of course not. It was just that if she had tried to set him up with the guy that she'd met on that one yoga retreat – the one where she really ‘found’ herself – one more time, he might have thrown himself off a cliff.

Brooke had already called a couple of friends, but they were either busy or sick. Not that it’d stopped any of them from laughing at his misfortune, of course. Then it occurred to him – instead of telling an outright lie, he could take a previous truth and bring it forward to the present. That would work, right?

“That’s still a lie, Brooke,” Vanessa said into the phone when Brooke called him with the proposition. Still, he mulled it over. They were both loosely aware of the feelings he still harbored – if nothing else, he could play the part well. “There’s an open bar, right?” he finally asked.

“Obviously.”

Vanessa chewed on his lip, nodding to himself before answering. “Okay, yeah, fine. I’m in,” he told him. “But you owe me big time,” he added before hanging up.

Brooke Lynn exhaled in relief and went on to step two: texting his sister and making it sound like he was making a ‘big confession’ – that he didn’t have a new boyfriend, he had just gotten back together with his ex, and how he was so sorry for lying, how he had just gotten nervous. Without having to look her in the eye, the lie flowed pretty easily, much to his relief.

Okay, yes, he should have felt a stronger sense of guilt about lying to his sister in any capacity, but it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, and he was already in way over his head. Besides, this could be fun. Anything with Vanessa was fun as far as he was concerned – he was the life of the party and a general delight to be around. And…maybe thinking about him like that was why it was so easy for him to convince everyone he needed to that they were back together.

------

“What do you think, too ‘over the top’?” Vanessa asked as he looked at himself in the three-panel mirror in the suit shop. He had looped A’keria into this because, well, dealing with this alone would put him on a dangerous path to getting too into his feelings. He needed a friend to keep him grounded, and one that actually knew his history with Brooke Lynn was exactly what he needed.

A’keria cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips. “Do you know what the dress code is for this thing is? Did Brooke send you a copy of the invitation or anything?”

Vanessa nodded and grabbed his phone, pulling up the picture Brooke had sent him. “It says ‘black tie optional’. But I need a whole outfit, I don’t care what type of tie I gotta wear,” he explained.

“A black-tie optional dress code means you wear a dark suit, maybe a tux. Like, fancy, but not, you know, ballroom on the Titanic fancy,” A’keria explained, looking him over. “The shirt and pants are fine, but the jacket’s all wrong. You look like you’re waiting to have a growth spurt into it,” he observed and helped him take it off.

“They should just say that on the invite,” Vanessa murmured and opted for a different suit jacket. “This one’s nice. Needs a little taking in at the waist, but I can do that much,” he mused.

“Then you’re all set,” A’keria nodded.

After Vanessa changed back into his regular clothes and paid for his outfit, he and A’keria went out to lunch at a nearby diner. “You’d tell me if this was a bad idea, right?” he asked, looking down at the mug of coffee he was absently stirring his spoon in.

A’keria nodded and bummed a fry off his plate. “Yeah, probably. But would that stop you, is the question,” he told him. “I’m just trying to look out for you, girl. I know what you’re like whenever you’re around Brooke, and you know you’re playing with fire,” he warned.

“It’s different this time,” Vanessa defended. “I know where I stand with him – we’re going as pretend dates to a wedding. I’m just helping him get out of a lie, not trying to win him over or whatever. I got my big girl panties on, I know better.”

This didn’t quite assuage A’keria’s concern. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” after a couple tries, he managed to get eye contact with him. “Listen, I’m just worried about you. You tend to…go all in when it comes to Brooke Lynn. And it hasn’t worked out that well so far.”

Vanessa huffed, disgruntled. It felt like he was getting a ‘talking to’ from his mother more than anything else. Maybe he didn’t have the best track record when it came to how he handled his relationship with Brooke. But he did like to believe he had learned from his experiences, he had grown. And the distance they’d had over the past few months had done him good – he’d allowed himself to set those feelings aside and move on. Whether or not he had fully moved on hadn’t been relevant, and he’d be damned if it didn’t stay that way. “I’m fine. Seriously. I know how to take care of myself.”

------

“Be there in five,” Vanessa read off his phone. He sent a reply in confirmation before going through his travel bag one last time. Everything was packed and he had the itinerary memorized – check in at the hotel, have a quick drink or two with his siblings, that way they could call it a night then and be ready for the wedding the following day and brunch on Sunday. He swore he would have fun if it was the last thing he did – if nothing else, just to prove that he still could.

When Brooke arrived in an uber, Vanessa quickly made his way downstairs and put his bag in the trunk before joining him in the backseat. “Hey,” he greeted pleasantly. “What time is the flight, again?”

“Quarter to noon,” Brooke answered as the car peeled back out into the road, taking them on their way to LAX. Initially, he had worried that having to take an international flight would have been a deal-breaker for Vanessa, but his response had been along the lines of ‘well, I needed a vacation anyway’. That was something he had always admired about him – he found it so effortless to go with the flow. Brooke always needed a plan, to map out everything. Vanessa brought an excitement and spontaneity into his life – it was one of the first things he missed when they broke up.

There were a lot of little things Brooke Lynn had missed about Vanessa, and just in the time it took for them to get from Los Angeles to Toronto, he was faced with several of them. There was the way he could navigate through somewhere as hectic as an airport with ease, how cute he looked when he immediately passed out on the plane, the look he would give him when the cab driver made a terribly lame joke and they’d laugh for all the wrong reasons. It felt familiar, it felt warm.

By the time they had actually checked into the hotel room, Brooke was feeling dizzy, like his mind would fog up every time he tried to think clearly. He was sure it was jet lag; he was just tired from the flight. “Fuck, it’s like…after eight, isn’t it?” he went into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. Snap out of it. You’re an adult. Once he was done silently chastising himself, he reentered the room. “You still up for drinks?” he asked, ready to cancel if Vanessa so much as hinted at not feeling up to it.

But Vanessa was well rested from the flight and seemingly far less affected by jet lag. “Yeah, I’m good,” he changed from his barely-there tank top to a button-down shirt. “Ready to act like you’re still in love with me?” his tone was lighthearted; it shouldn’t have stung Brooke the way it did.

Brooke swallowed thickly and offered a pageant smile. “Absolutely,” he extended his arm for him to link onto and they made their way down to the hotel bar. Having had the longest commute, they ended up being the last to arrive, but everyone was happy to see them, nonetheless.

“Oh, you made it!” Brooke’s sister hugged him tightly. “Was the flight alright?”

“Yeah, made great time,” Brooke nodded. “You guys remember José, right?” he cocked his head towards Vanessa, who was already greeting and hugging everyone as if they were old friends.

The bride-to-be seemed the most excited to see Vanessa, wrapping him in a bear hug. “Of course! Oh, I’m so happy you decided to bring him,” she beamed, turning and gesturing to the bartender to make another two drinks.

Brooke beamed warmly, draping his arm around Vanessa and kissing the side of his head. “As if there was anyone else that I’d even consider bringing,” he chuckled, ignoring the fact that he had attempted to enlist various other friends prior. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, right, my love?” and it was nice to see the way Vanessa fit in so easily with his family, his magnetic charm reeling them in just like he’d been.

“Uh huh,” Vanessa smiled, and, after a few drinks, the small gathering eventually started to dwindle down. “I’mma head back up to the room,” Vanessa announced. “Should I wait up?”

“Go ahead, darling. I’ll be right there,” they shared a quick kiss before Brooke was left alone with his sister. “Isn’t he great?”

“Yes, and entirely out of your league,” she joked. “You better get a ring on that one fast, he’s a total catch,” she mused before adding, “I’m turning in, see you tomorrow.”

And in another life, she would’ve been onto something, Brooke mused. She wasn’t wrong – Vanessa is a total catch and yes, quite possibly way out of his league. But he only had him for the weekend and hoped that’d be enough to satisfy his cravings.

------

Brooke Lynn sat on the bed as he watched Vanessa get ready. “You look good in a suit,” he remarked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in one.”

“More of a cocktail dress type gal,” Vanessa chuckled, looking in the mirror and sighed in frustration. “Can you tie this for me?” he asked, gesturing to the crooked loop of a tie that loosely hung around his neck.

Brooke pushed himself up to his feet and went over to him. “Yeah, I got it,” he did the tie with relative ease, his hand ghosting down Vanessa’s arm as he pulled back, stopping when their hands met, and fingers intertwined. The touch lingered; a soft gaze tenderly fixated on the smaller male.

“What?” Vanessa giggled softly and tilted his head. “Do I have something in my teeth?”

Blushing, Brooke averted his gaze, breaking the stare. “You just look…really beautiful right now,” he quietly confessed. His hand retracted to his side, swallowing thickly as he took a half-step back.

Normally, Vanessa could take a compliment in stride and respond in a distant confidence. But he was as muted as Brooke was, a hint of rosiness in his cheeks. “Thanks. You clean up real well too,” he managed to say as if anything was in the vicinity of normal. He glanced over at the digital clock on the dresser. “We better get going…”

Brooke blinked himself back into focus. “You’re right, let’s go,” he agreed, shoving his phone into his pocket as they headed out the door. Once they reached the hotel lobby, they were back in ‘couple mode’ again, walking hand-in-hand to the ceremony.

Luckily, they didn’t have to do much but sit and be quiet during the ceremony, not that it stopped Vanessa from resting his head on Brooke’s shoulder and wrapping both of his arms around one of Brooke’s.

“You alright?” Brooke nudged him gently.

Vanessa nodded. “I just get emotional at weddings,” he explained, and that was all the explanation he was willing to offer, so, they sat through the rest of the ceremony in relative silence. It was right to the reception after that – something they were both surprisingly relieved about getting to.

The hotel’s ballroom was beautiful, everything was set up to be elegant without being unapproachable. All the guests were mixing and mingling and finding their assigned seats. Brooke and Vanessa were sat with the rest of Brooke’s siblings and their spouses – the pressure to keep their pseudo-love story going was on more than ever. They partook in all the small talk they needed to, to the point where they forgot that they were even trying to do anything other than have a good time.

Then it was time for the newlyweds’ first dance. Everyone was in their seats as the bride and groom slow danced to ‘Unchained Melody’ until other couples slowly trickled onto the dance floor as well.

Brooke Lynn got up and extended his hand to Vanessa. “May I?” he led him to the dance floor and wrapped his arms around his waist.

Vanessa properly looped his arms around him as their feet quickly found the gentle rhythm of the song and stepped in tune. He exhaled deeply and melted into Brooke’s embrace as they swayed, resting his chin on his shoulder before just leaning his head on it.

Their surroundings faded out, it was just the two of them, dancing in time with the music and each other’s heartbeat. And in that moment, they couldn’t help but wonder – would it be so hard to pick up where they left off? Would it be that big of a mistake? How could sharing your life with someone you could connect to in perfect synchronicity be anything but the rightest thing in the world?

When the song came to an end, they stepped only slightly apart, holding eye contact that went right to their hearts, sending them into overdrive. “I never should have let you go,” Brooke breathed out softly.

“No one’s looking at us, you don’t have to keep up the act,” part of Vanessa knew this wasn’t just for show, but he desperately wanted to hear it right from the source.

And he got that confirmation, “I’m not acting,” Brooke confessed, then suddenly held Vanessa by the back of his head and pulled him into a heated kiss. He needed it more than he needed air, absolutely every fiber of his being was aching to hold him as close as he once did regularly.

But as quickly as he initiated it, he backed off. “I’m sorry, I should’ve…I didn’t mean to…” he was still searching for words when Vanessa cut him off with another kiss.

“Don’t apologize,” Vanessa murmured against his lips. “Just…don’t speak,” he said before kissing him again, pulling him closer by gripping onto his jacket. “You wanna bail early or do you need to stick around for cake?” he asked with a soft laugh.

Brooke rolled his eyes and laughed, already leading Vanessa out of the ballroom and through the lobby. He’d apologize to his sister during brunch, say one of them got sick or something. And maybe prioritizing sex over finishing out the celebration wasn’t the best way to do it, but Vanessa gave him bedroom eyes and there wasn’t a force in the universe that could’ve stopped him from following through.

They returned to the room in record time – especially considering they spent half of that time trying to make out and walk. It was easier behind closed doors – throwing off their clothes every which way as they stumbled backwards onto the bed. It was a tangled mess of limbs as they tried to touch and grab at each other every which way they could.

Things calmed for a moment, just long enough for Vanessa to get up and grab lube and a condom from his bag (because hey, if you stay ready, you don’t have to get ready) and pass them off to Brooke Lynn.

Brooke flipped the cap open with one hand and pinned Vanessa to the bed with the other. Normally he would savor their reunion – take his time, draw out his movements, leave him desperate and begging before finally giving in – but he just couldn’t. There were too many emotions, even beyond lust, swirling through him and just driving him for more, now. So, he kept one hand on Vanessa’s waist and prepped him with the other and kissing him as much as he could.

In the midst of it, Vanessa picked the condom back up, blindly opening it so, as soon as Brooke had pulled his fingers out, he was able to roll the rubber onto his length. He propped pillows up under his head and back, giving him the perfect angle.

And Brooke took full advantage of it. He gripped on to Vanessa’s thighs as he pushed into him, his knees nearly to his ears by the time Brooke bottomed out. It was barely a couple seconds of waiting before he built up a steady thrusting pace.

Vanessa tried to keep his eyes open, wanting to commit the moment to memory. But Brooke had remembered every single way to touch him that sent his eyes rolling into the back of his head and his lips parting to let out a stream of moans and expletives. Eventually, he was squeezing his eyes shut and writhing in tandem with Brooke’s thrusts.

“Fuck, baby…” Brooke knew he’d missed their sex but fuck, he really missed their sex. “Shit, still feels as good as I remember,” he grunted.

“You still as big as I remember,” Vanessa retorted with a breathless laugh. He’d have been lying if he claimed that specific trait hadn’t tempted a late night call a few times, stopped only by a miraculous stroke of self-control.

But self-control was out the window now. It didn’t take long for Brooke to lose his sense of rhythm, devolving into erratic, desperate thrusts that lasted until they both hit their orgasms. And when it was over, the air around them felt different, lighter, in a way neither could ever attempt to describe. It allowed them to comfortably bask in a post-coital haze while they caught their breath.

“This wasn’t your plan all along, was it?” Vanessa asked. He supposed he wouldn’t have been mad if it was, though.

Brooke chuckled and shook his head. “Not in the slightest,” he promised. “At first I didn’t even want to ask you to come, I thought it’d be such a dick move,” he confessed as he pulled Vanessa close to cuddle. “But I’m glad I didn’t trust my better judgement,” he added, gently kissing his cheek a few times over.

“Me too,” Vanessa chuckled. “Almost talked myself out of it a few times,” and he’d almost let A’keria talk him out of it too. Part of him was looking forward to rubbing their rekindled romance in his face, while the rest of him knew he should wait it out, just in case.

There were a few quiet moments before Vanessa spoke again. “What happens next? For us, I mean,” he could feel his heart start to speed up as he asked, despite how utterly spent his body was.

Brooke pressed his lip into a fine line as he thought. “We go to sleep. Then tomorrow we go to brunch, then we fly back to LA…then if we’re not too tired, I’m gonna take you out on a real date. From there, we’re just gonna take it one step at a time,” he let his fingers aimlessly thread through Vanessa’s hair as he spoke. “How does that sound to you?”

Vanessa smiled and kissed him chastely. “Perfect.”

#branjie #branjie fic #fluff #smut

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beca-mitchell · 6 years ago

Text

Aubrey Posen's Guide to Using Social Media Effectively

summary: Aubrey learns that knowledge isn’t always power. In fact, she’d like to forget that she ever believed that.

aka this is an Aubrey-centric fic in which Aubrey learns that Beca and Chloe are seeing each other through various social media and how she deals with this.

word count: 6.5k

author’s note: Happy birthday @velmster!!!

Thank you for keeping me somewhat calm when we met bsnow. Thank you for helping me write my Pitch Perfect lectures. And thank you for being an incredible friend. I know how much you were looking forward to this story, so I really wanted to make sure it was finished for your bday!

For everybody else, this story is based on a true story about how I found out my roommate and best friend were dating each other. Some embellishments here and there, but otherwise, yes I am crazy.

Also on AO3.

“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.”

- Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Aubrey Posen dislikes social media.

It’s not that she’s old, it’s more that she just doesn’t get it. Every day, it seems like a new social media network is created and Aubrey has pretty much only just figured out how to make a Bitmoji for her Snapchat account.

It’s mildly irritating that Chloe spends most of her time on one social media platform or another, flitting between her laptop and phone and persistently attempting to show Aubrey cute photos of corgis.

Well, she doesn’t dislike the content, it’s just that social media seems like a really difficult thing to keep up with and she has to worry about not flunking out of her MBA program.

Her buzzing phone jolts her out of her musings.

Instagram: chloebeale has sent you a video.

Knowing Chloe, it’s probably a meme, a topical video, or just a cute fluffy video of a corgi or a pug. Somehow, Chloe still manages to suss out when she’s feeling down because the videos tend to be on point with everything she’s going through at the moment.

She supposes just one more Instagram video of a corgi lying on its back won’t hurt.

Living with Chloe after Barden only makes sense. By the time Chloe finally graduates from university, Aubrey is done with managing the lodge and wanting to pursue something a bit more prestigious again.

They somehow both end up in New York, though Chloe has started working for an advertising agency and Aubrey has started school at NYU. Aubrey recalls that living with Chloe for their first year of Bellas co-captaincy had only been natural - as much as it had been a necessity. They weren’t allowed to have the Bellas house all to themselves because their entire team would be primarily first years. Without the allure of having a full team, student government had elected to allocate their treasured house to yet another sorority on campus.

Back then, Aubrey immediately shot down Chloe’s idea to join the sorority. Instead, she got to work and found a cute two-bedroom townhouse, small enough for the two of them and yet large enough that she doesn’t necessarily have to see Chloe’s things encroaching on her personal space.

If Aubrey’s being honest, Chloe’s ‘things’ might be a misnomer.

The absolute parade of people she’s seen (and heard, on many occasions) leaving Chloe’s room in previous years? That might be more accurate. It had admittedly stopped when Chloe set her eyes on one Beca Mitchell in the fall of 2011 and Aubrey saw significantly less people leaving their comfortable little townhouse. Instead, she saw more of Beca Mitchell than she would have liked back then, absolutely pestering Chloe with her latest music innovations or whatever the hell she called them.

And the next year, Chloe stayed back at Barden for another year with Bellas (read: Beca), she helped Chloe wrangle their treasured Bellas house back from the sorority and the rest is history.

Now, in New York City, freshly graduated, Aubrey has a little trouble finding something as cozy considering rent prices in New York City and the budget they’re both working with. She finds a nice two-bedroom (read: two-closet) apartment in East Village, with a functioning bathroom, kitchen,and , thank God, a working dishwasher. It’s a steal, even if Aubrey had flirted a little with the landlord and his wife to get a good price.

It’s a steal and she doesn’t have to share a bedroom with Chloe. She won’t have to hear Titanium for the millionth time.

Ultimately, Chloe is a good roommate. She picks up after herself. She cooks. She cleans.

(Aubrey has heard nightmarish stories from Chloe about what it had been like when Beca and Fat Amy shared a room in the Bellas’ house.)

The thing about Chloe is that she really has no sense of personal space. She enjoys shoving her phone into Aubrey’s face to show her a funny text or a cute image. She’ll ask Aubrey loudly and inappropriately whether she needs more tampons halfway down the aisle in the supermarket. She tries to braid Aubrey’s hair sometimes when they’re both lazily waiting for their laundry in the dingy laundromat - emphasis on tries . She sets Aubrey up on about five blind dates only their third month into living together in Manhattan.

In fact, Chloe’s fairly infuriating because she does all these things without asking and never wants anything in return. She never talks about her own feelings - the ones that Aubrey has to draw out of her with painstaking precision. In fact, Aubrey sometimes worries that her obsession with Beca Mitchell might be getting out of hand. Aubrey tries to remind Chloe that Beca isn’t so bad without her ear monstrosities and that maybe Beca just needs time to see the light (read: Chloe), like she did with her ear piercings.

Chloe just smiles and asks her whether she wants to get McDonalds for dinner.

Aubrey would never ask for another best friend.

“You know what you should do? Download Tinder, Bree. I’m sure the selection here is much better than Georgia.”

“No.”

(She downloads Tinder.

It is admittedly not horrible.

She ignores the smug look Chloe shoots her.)

Aubrey should have seen it coming, in retrospect. There’s something about Beca Mitchell that makes Chloe completely lose her mind whenever they come within touching distance of each other. Aubrey can’t recall Chloe ever being so touchy with anybody else, especially not when she vehemently reassures Aubrey that they’re “just friends, besides Beca is seeing Jesse.”

It’s weak and they both know it, but Aubrey supposes that the fixation on Beca means that Aubrey will get some peace and quiet in their apartment for the time being.

Until one day, Beca is very much single. It’s not even news that comes directly from the woman herself since Beca pretty much moved immediately to Los Angeles after graduating to pursue the first label that offered her a job. No, the news comes from Fat Amy who actively updates their group’s Facebook chat with whatever gossip she can find...usually about the Bellas themselves.

It’s actually kind of deja-vu, seeing the hurricane that has seemingly gone through her home. Aubrey comes home to a mess of crumpled-up pieces of paper and about five empty cans of cider.

“Oh, Chloe,” she murmurs, reaching for the blanket draped over the back of the couch.

Sitting with Chloe on the couch while she sleeps restlessly? That’s kind of deja-vu as well.

Instagram: chloebeale has sent you a photo.

It’s a photo of Jesse with his arm around a woman’s shoulder.

chloebeale: i can’t believe he moved on already!!!!!

Aubrey scowls, typing back. She doesn’t understand how she has five separate conversations going on with Chloe. Can’t she stick to just one account?

aubreyposen: You’re literally in the living room. You couldn’t have shown this to me in person?

aubreyposen: why don’t you message Beca if this is bothering you so much?

An hour later, Aubrey notices the Seen receipt and suspicious lack of reply from Chloe.

Aubrey finds out that Beca is actually living in New York before Chloe does. It’s only because she bumps into her at their local Trader Joe’s and is about to berate Beca for not knowing how to use her eyes when she realizes-

“Beca?”

“Aubrey?”

Aubrey is pleased to note that Beca looks mildly terrified of her in that moment, but she can’t quite dispel the warmth that rises up when she sees her friend. She had missed Beca, despite all her original reservations about her.

“I’m going to hug you now,” Beca states, somewhat awkwardly before proceeding to do so. When she pulls back, she looks equally astounded. “Wow, what the hell? This is crazy. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“In this Trader Joe’s?”

Beca laughs at that, shaking her head. “No, I just meant...here, I guess. Manhattan.”

“How would you? You never message us.”

The mild terror is back in Beca’s eyes, alongside a glimmer of genuine regret and sadness.

“I thought I knew what…” Beca trails off, looking absently at her full cart. “How is Chloe?” she asks, lowering her voice. “I never…”

In a sympathetic streak, Aubrey shakes her head, stopping that difficult line of thought. “Why don’t we set up a kind of reunion dinner or something? Get more Bellas down here.”

Beca brightens and relaxes at that. Aubrey takes the opportunity to critique Beca’s choice in fresh produce.

There’s nothing quite like a Bellas party, even if the entire evening had been hijacked by Fat Amy. Somehow, she manages to wrangle them all into a party near Columbia.

“Do you go here?” Aubrey asks. She realizes that she’s not exactly sure what Amy is doing in New York. They had kept in contact sparsely over the years, but Aubrey knows stuff about Amy mostly through Chloe’s updates over the years.

“No, not really,” Amy answers vaguely. Aubrey doesn’t bother pursuing that. “Hey, do you think Beca and Chloe will finally figure it out?”

“Figure what out?” Aubrey asks absently.

There’s a long silence while Amy drinks from her cup, watching her carefully. Aubrey waits, raising an eyebrow in response to Amy’s silence. Amy finishes her entire drink first before saying “never mind.”

Aubrey shrugs and squints through the darkness. She still feels a protective streak flare up in her at the thought of her teammates, even though she’s long been off the Bellas’ team. She takes in how far they’ve come - how distant and precious their years at Barden seem now, compared to everything. She is so grateful for the experience. Even though these are mostly Chloe’s friends, if anything, Aubrey feels like there’s definitely a connection and bond with this set of Bellas - one that’s stronger than ever before. She begrudgingly attributes it to Beca’s hand in reshaping the Bellas, and though she’d love to maintain that she finds Beca irritating about 90% of the time, she knows how untrue it is and how much she considers Beca a friend.

Looking back up, Aubrey scans the crowd again, relaxing against the cushions of the couch, which she has deemed the perfect vantage point.

She pauses.

She thinks she sees Chloe grabbing Beca’s hand and pulling her out onto the makeshift dance floor and Beca’s expression indicates mild protest and discomfort, but she follows obligingly. Aubrey thinks she sees this because they disappear as quickly as it happens.

She actually doesn’t think too much of it until much later. She sees what appears to be Beca and Chloe in a heated argument on the couch she had once been sitting on, now haphazardly pushed to the side. They are angled towards each other with a familiar comfort emanating from both of them.

“-didn’t mean it! God, Beca,” Chloe is exclaiming - loud enough for Aubrey to hear as she passes on the way to the kitchen.

She wonders if it was a mistake, introducing Beca back into Chloe’s life so soon after her break-up with Jesse. She stops walking and hovers near the doorway, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

Aubrey watches the tension rise and fall in Chloe’s shoulders, the way she turns her body towards Beca. She can no longer hear their conversation, but she watches anyway because a part of her kind of wishes they’d figure it out and - oh , that’s what Amy meant.

Aubrey wonders if Chloe will finally leap at this very perfect opportunity to reveal her ever-growing feelings for Beca. It’s a constant back and forth between them. Aubrey had been mildly interested in this fixation back when they had first met Beca, but now she’s kind of tired and wishes they’d just get their crap together.

Aubrey doesn’t see them for the rest of the night, but she might have been fairly distracted by the competitive karaoke game going down between Flo and a few other students.

“I think you’re right,” Aubrey tells Amy the next day. She hands Amy a bottle of Advil and a water bottle. “About Beca and Chloe.”

“Of course I’m right,” Amy mumbles. “Hey, can you go grab me a burger from Shake Shack?”

Chloe (4:41 p.m.) I’m gonna be visiting my parents this weekend in Portland! Don’t wait up ;)

Aubrey (4:50 p.m.) Say hi for me! Also, we’re rescheduling movie night.

Chloe (4:51 p.m.) Totes!

It’s not uncommon for Chloe to visit her parents. She did fairly frequently while they were in school together. The quiet weekend means Aubrey can tackle that case study that had been evading her focus for the past few days and she can work on a few other assignments she wants to get out of the way.

She’s about a quarter through an assignment when she gets a text.

(Fat) Amy (5:29 p.m.) the big bm is away for the weekend. Want to hang?

Aubrey considers that heavily. She waits an hour before replying.

Aubrey (6:34 p.m.) Sure.

Aubrey (6:34 p.m.) Also, stop calling her that

Hanging out with Amy is kind of fun, Aubrey supposes, so long as she takes everything with a grain of salt. She lets Amy tell her about her part-time job as a mail courier and makes it a point to ignore her stories about her more peculiar clients and their oddities. She tuned out after the story about a man with long toenails and tries to ensure her dinner stays down.

Aubrey finally focuses when Amy says, seemingly out of the blue, “So, how are we getting Beca and Chloe to admit their feelings for each other?”

She considers denying it or feigning confusion.

It’s tempting because Aubrey has always enjoyed a good scheme, but she doesn’t want to interfere too much, knowing that Chloe will likely want her privacy on this front. “Aren’t they figuring stuff out themselves?” she asks.

Fat Amy scoffs. “Please. Your hair is going to be grey before they actually sort everything out. We need to give them that little push.”

It’s already sounding better than working on tedious assignments, but Aubrey’s still cautious. “We shouldn’t meddle,” she says half-heartedly. “We really shouldn’t.”

She receives a glare in response. “We definitely should,” Amy retorts.

Well, Aubrey doesn’t know how to disagree with that. “What’s the plan? We need a plan.”

Instagram: @becamitchell has posted for the first time in a while. Check out their post!

Aubrey frowns at this very specific notification. Why has Instagram deemed this as important material? That seems invasive - both to her and Beca. She opens it regardless and tilts her head, trying to suss out what exactly it is that Beca posted. It’s a photo of Coney Island with the sunset in the background.

She notices that Chloe has already liked the post. She shakes her head. Chloe’s addiction to social media will always evade her understanding.

(Fat) Amy (2:57 p.m.) SHE LIKED HER POST!!!!

Aubrey (2:57 p.m.) Calm down, she likes everybody’s posts.

That is true, as far as Aubrey is aware. Chloe likes everybody’s Instagram posts. It’s not really that which is most interesting to Aubrey. There is something more interesting about the fact that Beca had apparently been at Coney Island all day, especially since Aubrey distinctly recalls that Chloe mentioned she had been planning to go over the weekend.

Aubrey (3:01 p.m.) Do you know if Beca went with anybody to Coney Island?

(Fat) Amy (3:03 p.m.) No, she never tells me anything.

Aubrey (3:03 p.m.) understandable.

If Aubrey knew that scheming with Amy meant reactivating her Facebook account, she would have declined immediately.

“Do I just create a Facebook group or something?” Aubrey asks, frowning at her phone. “Why can’t we just text them and tell them we’re having a movie night at our place?”

“What era are you from?” Amy demands. “Just make a Facebook event. I know Beca needs her entire life scheduled or she’ll never show up to anything.”

Aubrey grumbles and sets up a Facebook event. “It’s literally just going to be the four of us,” she mutters. “This is so unnecessary.”

“Fine,” Amy exclaims. “Let’s invite the rest of the Bellas.”

“Amy, no!”

Her cry is to no avail as Amy immediately invites the Bellas and a few other people whose names Aubrey can’t quite recognize at first glance. Aubrey’s first thought is how their landlord is going to receive a few complaints over the weekend because of course Amy would somehow turn a small gathering into an impromptu party.

She sighs, mentally doing calculations in her head as to how much food she should buy as well as how many drinks she’ll need to get.

“This is going to be amazing, Aubrey. I’m so happy you agreed to this.”

She tacks on a couple extra drinks to her mental list because she’s sure she’ll need it.

Leading up to the movie night in question - an event that once only belonged to Aubrey and Chloe - Aubrey tries to figure out if Chloe and Beca are still talking to each other.

Chloe has been quieter and more reserved recently, though she cites stress from her job as the primary reason.

There’s a part of her that knows instinctively that Chloe likely had some kind of falling out with Beca, or maybe she’s mulling over her own feelings, but Aubrey just wishes Chloe would open up to her.

“Chloe?” she tries tentatively one evening while they’re scarfing down take-out from their favourite Chinese restaurant.

Chloe glances up at her from where she’s reading text messages on her phone. It’s a bit too far that Aubrey can’t quite see who she’s texting. “Yeah, what’s up, Bree?” Chloe asks, clicking her phone off casually.

“You’d...tell me if you were seeing somebody, right?”

There is a very brief pause, but a pause nonetheless.

Then, Chloe, as quiet as Aubrey has ever heard her, murmurs “yes,” softly. “I would.”

“That’s good to know.”

Aubrey lets it go for the moment. She has assignments to worry about and this damned Bellas party.

Chloe is ridiculously excited about the movie night extravaganza Aubrey and Amy planned. They somehow manage to wrangle 12 women into their tiny apartment, with enough seating (most of it improvised) for everybody.

They opt to watch horror movies, starting with It . Aubrey is not sure whose brilliant idea this is, but she feels like it could be either Lilly’s or Amy’s.

Aubrey grumbles as she retrieves another roll of paper towels from underneath the sink. Amy has somehow spilled her third drink of the night - none of which have been her own drinks.

Aubrey notes that Chloe isn’t being particularly helpful either because she’s immersed in a conversation with Beca on the loveseat - the most comfortable seat in their apartment currently. Chloe has her arm casually draped around the back of the couch to play with strands of Beca’s hair and Beca seems to either not notice or not care , but it’s then that Aubrey realizes that it’s neither . Beca is enjoying it if the smile on her face is any indication.

God, they’re dating, Aubrey thinks, resisting the urge to point at them and yell out her triumph.

Instead, she tilts her head, observing in silence.

They’re sharing a blanket too, which Chloe brought out from her room. Neither of them notices anything about the movie that’s playing and it’s dark enough that Aubrey only catches glimpses from time to time of their expressions.

It’s enough to see that Chloe has never quite looked so happy and Beca has never quite looked so relaxed.

The next time Aubrey glances at them, Beca has seemingly fallen asleep, completely pressed into Chloe’s side with her head tilted onto her shoulder. Chloe isn’t bothering to watch the movie at all even though her conversation partner has knocked out. Instead, she watches Beca, eyes trained on her the whole time.

Aubrey can’t help but smile even if it briefly hurts her that Chloe evidently didn’t bother telling her about this little development at all.

Mostly because it’s such a significant development in her best friend’s life.

(Aubrey is ridiculously happy for her. And Beca too.)

While sitting next to Chloe on their couch, Aubrey tries to focus on reading her textbook, but she finds her eyes drawn to Chloe’s phone because it continues to vibrate with a new message every two seconds.

Chancing a glance at her best friend, she sees the slow smile spread across Chloe’s face - a smile that is so smitten and grossly cute that it makes Aubrey shudder because she knows who Chloe is talking to without having to see the messages.

When Chloe gets up to retrieve their mail from downstairs, Aubrey bites her lip before pressing the button on Chloe’s phone. She sees a slew of messages from Beca. Except, it’s not just ‘Beca’. Chloe has changed her name on messenger to read as “grumpy becs” followed by three emojis: a blue heart, a raincloud, and a star.

The messages themselves are all the more incriminating, if the display name change weren’t enough.

Beca I miss you

Beca Just thought you should know or whatever

Beca When can I see you again?

That alone is enough to make Aubrey sit back firmly and contemplate. She vaguely wonders how long this has been going on - how long Chloe has been hiding this from her.

She wonders when Chloe will just tell her.

Her plan evolves.

Aubrey attempts to set Chloe up on a few dates, just to test the waters. She does so right in front of Beca. She’s really just testing the limits of Beca and Chloe’s strength because she still can’t quite believe that they’ve been hiding this from her for so long.

It was kind of cute at the beginning, now Aubrey is wondering how long it’ll take for either of them to crack. It’s like a fun game, sometimes.

Today, they’re enjoying brunch in Brooklyn. It had originally been Aubrey and Chloe’s pre-arranged brunch, but Chloe had tentatively asked Aubrey if Beca could come along because she was “feeling down from her job” and “we should totally show her this brunch place, Bree!”

Aubrey had agreed because she kind of just wanted to put Beca on the spot again. It’s a little fun to watch them both squirm.

“Chloe,” Aubrey states, primly folding her napkin. She waits until both Chloe and Beca have taken sips of their mimosas. “I would like to set you up on a date with one of my classmates.”

Chloe looks mildly curious, which is fine.

It’s Beca’s reaction that almost cracks Aubrey’s facade. She chokes on her drink and turns to Aubrey with wide eyes, like she can’t quite believe what she’s just heard.

“You would?” Chloe asks at the same time Beca asks, rather loudly, “Why?”

“I would,” Aubrey agrees, ignoring Beca. “I just think you’ve been single for so long. Not that you need somebody to make you happy. Just. Something to take your mind off things because I know how stressed you’ve been at work.”

“You’ve been stressed?” Beca asks, so softly that Aubrey momentarily forgets that she’s sitting across from Beca Mitchell. The amount of tenderness in Beca’s eyes directed straight at Chloe is kind of alarming if Aubrey didn’t already know they were in some kind of relationship.

“No, just,” Chloe sighs. She directs her attention fully to Beca. “A little. It’s just some personal things going on right now.”

Aubrey decides to let up on her line of questioning and drinks some water, watching them carefully. She decides not to bring it up again, feeling only more certain that they are dating , like officially.

When she gets up to go to the washroom, she can hear Chloe and Beca begin to whisper to each other, catching the tail end of their conversation: “-tell her?”

Aubrey smiles triumphantly.

“What made you bring that up today?” Chloe asks quietly, when they’re doing some weekend cleaning.

Aubrey frowns, focusing on a coffee stain plastered on their counter. She is sure she didn’t see this just a week ago and Chloe doesn’t drink coffee.

(Aubrey also knows that she always uses coasters and cleans up after herself.)

“What did I say?” Aubrey murmurs.

“About setting me up with somebody.”

Aubrey straightens, eyebrow rising slowly. “Chloe,” she starts.

“I’m happy right now,” Chloe says, not allowing her to finish. She fiddles nervously. “I can tell you that much. I appreciate the offer, but no.”

It warms Aubrey’s heart somewhat, when she notes the sincerity in Chloe’s tone. She can’t help the smile that rises on her lips and she nods encouragingly at Chloe to continue.

She wants to hear all about it - she wants to hear how happy Chloe is and how far they’ve come.

“Okay,” Aubrey says slowly. “You’re happy.”

Chloe bites her lip, looking like she’s about two seconds away from spilling everything. Aubrey restrains herself from excitedly wringing the cloth in her hands.

“I’m happy,” Chloe says after a moment, shrugging a little.

When she catches Aubrey staring at her, she smiles, a little apologetically and hurriedly returns to vacuuming.

Aubrey sighs.

She’ll accept that for now.

(She is so happy for Chloe.)

Amy sighs, stretching out completely on the couch and leaving a little place for Aubrey to perch herself at the end. “If only there were a way to see where they were at all times.”

Aubrey agrees absentmindedly, feeling like there’s something that she’s missing - maybe something that she has completely overlooked.

“Oh, hey, look. Beca’s in DUMBO.”

“That’s nice,” Aubrey replies. Something buzzes through her body. It feels like excitement. Maybe anxiety. Maybe indigestion from Amy’s food.

Vaguely she recalls that Chloe said she’d be away all weekend for an office retreat in -

She pauses.

In Brooklyn.

She latches onto it because she had given Chloe a little shit for it when she heard about it. She hadn’t understood why Chloe opted for separate lodging in Brooklyn when she had a perfectly good home in Manhattan, but now ...

Aubrey scrambles for her phone, nearly leaping clear over the couch and dislodging Amy in the process.

“Where are you going?” Amy calls, peeking over the couch. “Washroom?”

“No,” Aubrey says briskly. “Even better.” She swipes open her phone, navigating to Snapchat like Chloe once instructed her. Opening it, she sees missed notifications from a number of people, including Chloe.

It takes her about an entire minute to click through all of the missed photos and videos from Chloe when she finally gets to one from just half an hour ago. A vague photo from somewhere that looks like it could be Brooklyn, but it’s not quite discernable to Aubrey.

She furrows her brow before pinching her fingers on the screen, enabling the map function.

She’ll never get over how creepy this is, but she’s is suddenly immensely grateful for it.

She notices that Chloe’s Bitmoji is back in what Aubrey assumes to be her Airbnb.

“This is the most useful thing that Snapchat has ever done,” Amy mutters as they stare at the little circle enclosing both Beca and Chloe’s tiny figures in the same space.

“They’re together!” Aubrey yells. “They’re in the same place! That’s what that means, right?”

Amy is nodding vigorously. “Yeah! Should we go over there now?’ She’s already grabbing her shoes from the front door.

Aubrey’s arm flies out. “No, no. We should…” She can’t stop the grin that stretches across her face. “We should send them a Snapchat.”

“Uh, what? Why?”

“So we can be sure. Amy, you don’t understand. She was so close to telling me. Maybe this will be the exact guilt trip she needs to finally tell me!”

It had not been the guilt trip Chloe needed.

She sent back a few selfies. Beca ignored Aubrey’s Snaps mostly, but at least it updated their locations frequently enough that Aubrey could tell exactly where they were all weekend.

Aubrey diligently keeps track of all their movements with this newfound power.

On Saturday, they spent most of the morning inside, before Chloe seemingly met up with other friends or coworkers for a few hours while Beca wandered around DUMBO again.

Then, they went for dinner at a place Aubrey had been dying to try.

Then, a movie.

Aubrey is shocked at how much information she suddenly has at her disposal. She feels simultaneously torn between continuing to keep this information from Chloe or just revealing all her cards at once.

She discusses this properly with Amy while they’re at Pinkberry on Sunday evening. Aubrey is expecting Chloe to return home soon, but her action plan has yet to be completed.

“Do we tell them we know?” Fat Amy asks as she continues piling toppings in her cup. "Oh, this is like that episode of FRIENDS. Excellent.”

“We?” Aubrey questions.

“Yeah, we’re partners in crime. Practically sisters.”

Aubrey shrugs at that. “Well, I’m thinking of just asking Chloe if she’s hiding something for me.”

“How well did that work out for you last time?”

Aubrey scowls at her friend. “She’ll tell me. I have all the evidence I need.”

“Ah, so you’re going to ambush her. You're an amazing best friend.”

“I’m going to gently nudge her,” Aubrey says delicately. She turns on her phone, navigating to her notes. “I have proof that she and Beca have been going on secret dates for at least the past three months. Maybe more.”

“Well, how are you going to bring it up?”

“I’m going to casually bring up all the places she was today.”

“Casual,” Amy agrees.

Aubrey opens Snapchat, wondering where Chloe is at the moment. Her eyes widen and she splutters, dropping her spoon.

“What is it?” Amy demands excitedly.

“Chloe’s home,” Aubrey says stiltedly. “And Beca’s with her.”

She has barely thought about talking to Beca about all of this. She obviously has to go through her whole spiel as Chloe’s best friend.

Amy is already standing and holding out Aubrey’s purse for her. “Let’s go.”

Aubrey stands, chair scraping back loudly. “Let’s get them.”

By the time they end up reaching Aubrey’s apartment, she is primarily trying to slow her breathing and put on an air of unaffected nonchalance. She makes extended eye contact with Amy before sliding her key into the lock.

Beca and Chloe are sitting on the loveseat again, though they’re not sitting close together. They’re chatting casually, facing each other. Both turn towards the door when it opens all the way.

“Hi roomie,” Chloe greets.

“Hi Aubrey. Amy,” Beca says, waving a little.

“Chloe. Beca.”

They all stare at each other for a moment before Amy breaks the awkward silence by moving to sit on the other couch, stretching out.

A million things run through Aubrey’s mind as she stares at Chloe and Beca. There are so many ways to go about this - so many opportunities for embarrassment and amusement.

Also, so many ways that they could continue to lie to her.

Chloe coughs, standing up quickly. “I’m just going to run to the bathroom. One sec, guys.”

Three pairs of eyes swivel to watch her leave.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” Aubrey asks Beca once Chloe has disappeared to the washroom.

Beca stares back at her, a little insolently, a little nervously. “I don’t know. Is there something you’d like to tell me?” she fires back.

Aubrey is surprised at how easily Beca placed the ball back in her court. She practically handed it to her. Aubrey gracefully accepts.

Staring at Beca, Aubrey watches the way she seems to wither under her gaze. Aubrey’s not sure why it comes out exactly like this, but it does: “Not really,” she says slowly. “Except, maybe - Beca, please leave smaller hickeys on Chloe’s neck.”

Her voices rises a little at the end and her arms cross as she stares her down. Beca flushes deep red. Aubrey grins triumphantly when Beca squeaks "what?"

Beca seems to shrink into herself and she gapes, sinking into the couch a little. Amy unhelpfully laughs - or shrieks - and contributes nothing more to the conversation.

“You know, it was one thing when I thought you two were just trying out a friends with benefits thing, because God knows that you’ve both needed to get this fixation with each other out your system, but -” she holds up a finger when Beca opens her mouth. “-My roommate , Beca Mitchell? My best friend? How could you?”

Beca’s brow furrows. “I’m not exactly sure what you’re upset about, but I’m...I’m sorry-?”

“You two,” Aubrey says, sighing. She pulls out her phone, consulting the list of places they went all weekend. “All weekend, while Chloe was supposed to be away for work, and instead, you went to the movies, went to DUMBO, went for a nice stroll in the park,” she continues listing off places and Beca looks increasingly freaked out with each item.

Aubrey can hear Chloe rushing back down the hall. She heaves a breath when Chloe skids into view, eyes wide as she takes in how traumatized Beca looks, how delighted Fat Amy looks, and how pleased Aubrey looks.

“What’s going on?” she asks, her voice rising nervously in pitch.

Amy grins. “How long do you have, Chloe?”

Aubrey is about to settle down for bed after finishing off a bottle of wine with her friends. After all the drama, they had laughed it off - Beca more hesitantly than everybody else - and drank some wine, reminiscing on Barden and everything in between.

Chloe and Beca had cuddled immediately on the couch, limbs tangling, pleased smiles on their lips.

Now, Aubrey hears a quiet murmur of voices from the hallway.

“I tried to tell you,” Chloe whispers, hushed. “I knew she had an idea.”

“I really thought she didn’t,” Beca mutters back. “You didn’t tell me she’s fucking crazy. I felt like I was on episode of Maury or something. I've never been screamed at like that before.”

Aubrey scoffs. Beca is a baby. She had only raised her voice once. Hardly screaming.

Chloe laughs. “Hey, that’s my best friend you’re talking about, babe. I know her better than almost anybody else.”

“And I’m your girlfriend,” Beca says, in a voice that is so foreign to Aubrey. It is tender and affectionate.

Chloe giggles in response. “Well, I did try to warn you.”

“Chlo!”

Aubrey smiles.

Now that Beca and Chloe feel like they don’t need to hide anymore, Aubrey sees more of Beca than she ever did before, especially with how often she stays overnight. Especially on weekends.

Aubrey hears more of Beca’s music everyday. She also hears Chloe happily humming to herself whenever she’s making dinner.

Aubrey huffs, bumping into Beca on the way to the bathroom.

“Sorry,” Beca says, a little too cheerfully for Aubrey’s taste.

“I didn’t realize you were here,” Aubrey mumbles, blinking to make sure she’s not imagining Beca Mitchell in one of Chloe’s old oversized shirts in the middle of her hallway.

“Here I am,” Beca parries back.

“Bec!” Chloe’s voice calls from down the hall.

“Coming!”

Aubrey makes sure to take her time in the bathroom, hoping against hope that Beca and Chloe are going to sleep in.

She is very wrong.

Aubrey stares wide-eyed up at the ceiling, regretting her decision to forego the earplugs while she was in line at the check-out today.

This is her third traumatizing weekend in a row.

It is only 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning.

That’s early, even for Aubrey.

She doesn’t even want to think about whose idea this is.

Aubrey has had enough.

She barely resists the urge to just smack her hand against Chloe’s door to tell them to keep it down.

Aubrey (7:29 p.m.) Chloe Beale. Get out here. I have to tell you something.

She sends it off and doesn’t bother waiting for a reply considering she had just been freshly traumatized.

Aubrey privately wonders how Beca finds energy considering how much time she used to spend trying to make Bellas’ rehearsals difficult for everybody. Aubrey assumes Beca spends more time figuring out ways to annoy her than humanly possibly.

“Hey,” Chloe says, startling Aubrey out of her hypnotic trance by the stove. She turns to lower the heat on the stove before facing her friend. “Whatcha making?” Chloe asks, grabbing two - Aubrey’s eyes zero in on the action - water bottles from the fridge.

“Chloe, I have something to tell you,” Aubrey says briskly. She wants to get it over with. Chloe nods, uncapping one water bottle and taking a swig. Aubrey tries not to think about it too hard. “Chloe, you...I -” Aubrey tries to think about what Fat Amy would say, or even do. Chloe continues to stare at her, growing more concerned by the second. “I...no longer wish to have surround sound to your…” Aubrey puts her hand on her chin, tapping contemplatively. “Your...activities,” she finishes delicately. She mentally congratulates herself on her word choice.

It’s interesting, actually. Aubrey kind of wishes she had a secret camera set up somewhere because the next progression of events is simultaneously mortifying and hilarious. Chloe tilts her head in confusion, taking in Aubrey’s words. Aubrey only narrows her eyes further, willing her roommate to just...get the point, so neither of them have to be subjected to this awkward silence any longer.

“Oh,” Chloe says, finally. Quietly. Her cheeks grow red. It’s only temporary while Aubrey thinks that she can maintain the upper hand. Unfortunately, Chloe’s lack of boundaries means that she often bounces back from embarrassing moments with lightning quick reflexes. “I mean,” Chloe says, maintaining a hesitant tone. “It wasn’t me, right? I tried to tell Beca you’d be able to-”

Aubrey drops her spatula in the sink in horror. “No!” She wants to die. “I don’t want to - Jesus Christ, Chloe. Just, I’m letting you know that I can hear you, okay?!” Then, quieter, after a brief pause, “it was definitely you this morning,” she mutters.

Chloe blushes again, though she seems less embarrassed. “Oh, right.”

About an hour later, Aubrey finally settles back in bed with her laptop, determined to watch a movie and just relax for the rest of the night. She quickly stuffs her headphones into her ears, wary of the fact that both Chloe and Beca are still in the apartment.

Her phone buzzes just as she’s about to recline further into her pillows.

Chloe (8:47 p.m.) Oh, haha, I just saw your message.

Chloe (8:47 p.m.) gotchaaaa

Aubrey (8:48 p.m.) I hate you. And I hate Beca, too.

#bechloe #aubrey posen #beca mitchell #chloe beale #mine #my fanfic #social media #text #fanfiction #pitch perfect

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grayisholi · 6 years ago

Note

@ the DND ask game: ALL OF THOSE QUESTIONS, I CAN'T CHOOSE!! XD (or if not that, the ones you rlly wanna do!!

BOY OH BOY OH BOYIve been answering these throughout the day and I’m too lazy to reread the full document so sorry if I’ve left gaps or whatever but here it is! All 35 questions about dnd! Matt you unstoppable Madman.

1. A favorite character you have played.

You can’t just make me pick between my children!!! I think I might have to say Atticus Sallow, my faeborn bloodhunter, partially because he’s like 100% homebrew content which I LIVE for, but also because he’s probably the most kinda self-insert character I’ve ever played? Almost became the kinda angsty, brooding asshole character before he was like “get your shit together” and learned that loving people isn’t so bad.

2. Your favorite character that someone else has played.

I almost, ALMOST had the pleasure of DMing for @no-more-good-omens and their character was gonna be SO RAD and I’m a little heartbroken he never came to be. A half-drow paladin of Vecna, pretending to be your typical good and wholesome paladin? Dude, I love that kinda two faced backstabbing in a player. It’s such a shame it never came to anything (although if yall still wanna play hmu ;))

3. Your favorite side quest.

Ooh, there’s been so many good ones. Probably when i was playing as Adrian Smirks and went off on a tangent to rescue his brother ? That was the first time I ever got to see Adrian’s more raw and emotional side beneath the suave mask he wears and it was fun to explore his character in that way ^.^

4. Your current campaign.

That I’m DMing? It started inspired by Guy Fawkes and was gonna be “your party blows up parliament” but I got bored of following historical accuracy so it ended up being “blow up the palace in a magical city that just happens to be called London”. I accidentally wrote myself into a hole with this campaign tho, so once they’ve finished this arc I’m handing over the DM hat to my sister @philosophical-wanton because she seems to love it and I kinda miss being a player lmao. I can’t wait for it.

5. Favorite NPC.That I’ve written? Probably Hai Shen, the youngest son of a group of circus performers who were killed and the party got blamed for their murder. He had such a great attitude and his dynamics with the party kicked ass. And the twist that he was actually dead the whole time and it was his soul that had stayed behind to help solve his family’s murder? ICONIC.

6. Favorite death (monster, player character, NPC, etc).

NPC death would probably be Hai Shen, actually. After the party had brought the real killers (A cult to the demon Prince Orcus) to justice, Hai’s time on earth had come to an end. He had really beautiful moment with the party before being reunited with his family. Alternatively, the time I broke my entire party’s hearts? “Artagan’s staff comes cracking into Ellios’ chest, forcing him onto the ground. Artagan raises his sceptre in hand, pointing it menacingly at the young prince. And for the first time, you see him. Like, REALLY see him. He’s not the strong and powerful leader you’ve all come to know him as, he’s not Prince Ellios of the Four Realms. He’s just a boy. A boy who is much too young to be involved in such a grand scheme. And the fear in his eyes. You see the fear he’s managed to keep buried for so long, finally coming to the surface. And then? You don’t see anything, aside from his cold body hitting the ground.” I got punched three times for that moment, but GOD was it worth it.

7. Your favorite downtime activity.

Like in game? A healthy lil bit of vandalising the local law enforcement buildings is always a good time.

8. Your favorite fight/encounter.

Aw man, how can I pick ? I gotta say, that one time we, a level 6 party, managed to take down two earth elementals was pretty rad. The DM kind of expected it to be one of those encounters that we saw and immediately tried to run from, but what she didn’t take into account was that ALL of us had chaotic alignments so we just went crazy. The DM was rolling really badly (thank God) and we were getting really creative (“I use the produce flame centripetal to light my bottle of ale on fire and create a molotov cocktail” “you do WHAT”) and after like an HOUR we won and it was amazing. The rush I got from that victory was better than any drug my dood.

9. Your favorite thing about D&D.

I know I say it a lot, but I legit can’t choose. There’s so many great things about ttrpgs that a lot of people don’t really think of. The creative fulfilment I get from a session is incomparable, the friendships you can build that you couldn’t form in any other way. And like, not to get too real for a sec here, but I grew up with undiagnosed autism and didn’t understand how a lot of social situations worked, and DnD was such a good mechanic for me to try communicating with people without many real world consequences, and I appreciate that experience so much. It’s just such a great thing my dood.

10. Your favorite enemy and the enemy you hate the most.

Can they be the same thing lmao? I mean, I’m obviously partial to Count Cassius, the vampire lord that Adrian slept with lmao. I also always appreciate a good beholder, until I get hit with three disintegration rays IN A ROW.

11. How often do you play and how often would you ideally like to play?

We’ve got kind of a monthly schedule with my main campaign, and I manage to get a couple online games in-between them, but honestly I’d kill to be the kind of group that got together every weekend.

12. Your in game inside jokes/memes/catchphrases and where they came from.

Oh MAN. “I say we do this.” “Yeah, but that’s coming from the guy who decided to tie 3 50ft ropes together to escape the palace.” “iT wOrKeD dIdN’t iT ???” i.e that time I forgot I gave the gnome rogue flying boots so when I planned for them to get arrested at the palace, they managed to escape by tying their ropes together, sending the gnome with it to the top and climbing the wall. I had to improvise the rest of the session. Also “FLINTON BELINDA SKINTON” bc as a role-play exercise I got my party to come up with rumours about their characters and the gnome rogue called Flint AKA Flinton B Skinton decided that one of their rumours was that the B stood for Belinda, and it was GLORIOUS.

13. Introduce your current party.

My current group consists of Flinton B Skinton, gnome rogue. He’s a quick-fingered, silver-tongued gay disaster who can sell anything to anyone. He’s a charming flirt, and a veritable genius in his own right. Kava Daardendrian, dragonborn ranger who loves nothing in life more than her animal companion - her pig Snortin Norton. She’s fun and sassy and shameless, she’s great. There’s Sparks, the fire Genasi Monk, and full embodiment of a disaster lesbian. She drinks, fights, and gets laid, and doesn’t deal with her problems in healthy ways. An icon. And finally Milo, the halfling Bard who falls in love at the drop of a hat and just wants everyone to get along. I call them “The Shenanigang” and I love them.

14. Introduce any other parties you have played in or DM-ed.

A party I joined late? We had Sylvia Moondrop, the half elf sorcerer who was just trying to get along with everyone despite what the world seemed to want. Orland the half orc bard who was just trying to shake off the Barbarian stereotype his family left him with. Rose Morleen, air Genasi fighter who was literally born to kick ass and take names. I joined as Mason Terrai, the Earth Genasi Alchemist with a perchance for explosives. The very definition of chaotic neutral.

15. Do you have snacks during game times?

Of COURSE. What manic wouldn’t ?

16. Do you play online or in person? Which do you prefer?

I used to play online a LOT back before I had friends who were into dnd, but I VASTLY prefer playing in person. The chemistry that’s built not only amongst the players, but also the actual characters themselves is unparalleled. It’s just such a great experience.

17. What are some house rules that your group has?

Anyone can attempt anything, the only restriction is the dice. Don’t question the DM unless it’s out of session, then bully the dm on the groupchat until he’s so pissed off he gives you inspiration just to get you to shut up. And also canon lore and canon rules are bullshit when it’s convenient. That’s about it

18. Does your party keep any pets?

Our ranger, God bless her, has her pack pig Snortin Norton, sold to her by one Flinton B Skinton. And Flint really wants a monkey, he’s been trying to find one for ages.

19. Do you or your party have any dice superstitions?

Not really ? I’m the kind guy that if my dice rolls a 1 I will bench it for a bit, but tbh all my dice are cursed af and I’ve kinda just learned to roll with it by making my characters canonically terrible at everything lmao.

20. How did you get into D&D? How long have you been playing?

Aw man I can’t remember when or how, it’s been so long. I had a couple friends who were kinda into it, but all the games they tried to run were complete disasters. I only really started playing I’m the past year or so? Maybe a little more ? Adrian was my first character, and he was a very RP heavy character in a party of tanks and they all hated him but MAN was it fun.

21. Have you ever regretted something your character has done?

Oh all the time. One time my character was careless and didn’t check for traps on a legendary artefact and it lead to the death of a party member. One time my character got angry at his party and walked out. My characters don’t make good decisions, but that’s part of the fun.

22. What color was your first dragon?

White! I thought it was silver at first and went to go say hi, and it clawed me within half my HP straight away lmao.

23. Do you use premade modules or original campaigns?

Oh dude, original all the way. I live for that shit.

24. How much planning/preparation do you do for a game?

Depends on the session, but usually a good few hours, couple of days if I’m DMing.

25. What have your players done that you never could have planned for?

“You wake up in a mysterious forest. The strained autumn sun shines through the trees. The only thing you can see it each other, the trees, and an old sign post leading to a path that says "Myrrill” on it. What do you do?“ "We walk in the opposite direction of the sign deeper into the forest.” “…of course you do.”

26. What was your favorite scene to write and show your characters.

I wrote a full carnival show one time for them to watch, and then it got derailed when a horrific monster attacked. But writing all the characters and their acts, and watching my players get entranced as I described it ? Magical, my dood.

27. Do you allow homebrew content?

I live and breathe homebrew content. I don’t know what my games would be without it. I LOVE homebrew.

28. How often do you use NPCs in a party?

I make some pretty sick characters if I do say so myself, so I throw them in a LOT.

29. Do you prefer RP heavy sessions or combat sessions?

Oh dude, role play all the way. Fighting and killing stuff is great, but role-play is just so good. We can go from laughing with a bartender to crying over a backstory reveal and it’s just beautiful.

30. Are your players diplomatic or murder hobos?

Depends on the party, but i find the best players are a little bit of both XD

31. What is your favorite class? Favorite race?

Official ? I’m a fan of the hexblade warlock? Bards are always a good call, and to be real playing monks make me feel like an absolute badass. Race wise, there are just so many. If we’re only talking players handbook stuff, half elf is always rad. Outside of that? I’ve been researching the Shadar-Kai lately and I’m LIVING. They’re so rad.

32. What role do you like to play the most? (Tank/healer/etc?)

What would you call the disaster gay? I don’t really gear my characters towards usefulness in combat, so it’s just whatever the class happens to lend itself to.

33. How do you write your backstory, or do you even write a backstory?

I usually write my character, personality, backstory, alignment etc, before I even pick a class or even a race. I basically just make OCs and apply them to dnd rules, and it’s SO much fun. 10/10, would recommend.34. Do you tend pick weapons/spells for being useful or for flavor?

FLAVOUR. My party usually hates me, but what I lack in combat utility I more than make up for in creative out of combat skill checks XD.

35. How much roleplay do you like to do?

Boi, I even RP my combat, and the great thing is it rubs off on my party too. I’ll have a really low initiative and everyone else will be like “I attack and do 10 points of damage” but then on my round I’m like “I use my staff to leap across the battlefield towards the opponent and launch out with a spinning kick to their jaw” and everyone else is like “oh, okay, that’s what we’re doing.” and the battle becomes so much more dynamic and cinematic, it’s amazing !

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grimimic-blog · 6 years ago

Text

The story I made for the game collaboration between me and https://urg-urg-urg.tumblr.com/

Halloween 12 all-stars at the Olympic games team racing, featuring Dante from the Devil May Cry series and Knuckles

AKA A huge Hallows eve!

It was no secret to feyfolk that humans were boring. Nearly void of magic, Nowhere near as attractive as elves, all they ever wanted to talk about was taxes and back pain, and even a starving hill ogre wouldn't eat one because they tasted so awful! Truly the worst species on the planet, but something Gong had overheard earlier in the week while visiting a human tavern had caught the little goblins ears. Human holidays were strange and foreign to many feyfolk. It didn't make much sense to pick an arbitrary day to be wear green and binge drink to Gong. She already did that just about everyday, but this "Halloween" had her full attention. "Fizzy hurry up I don't want to miss all the free shit!" Gong yelled in the direction of her closet. A light thump and some obscured insults preceding the purple fairy fluttering from behind the corner. "Hey you're the one that said we had to "Dress up to get free candy"! I'm just trying to make sure I look good. What happens if I meet a hot guy while we're out!?" "Don't kid yourself Fizz, we both know if you set yourself up for failure you're just going to get drunk and crawl in bed with me again after I fall asleep." "S-shut up! That was one time and I was because I was cold! Just get in here and help pick out something for us to wear!"

the girl's shared closet was surprisingly spacious, but that had a lot to do with all small the girls were themselves. Outfits lined the walls, Hanging from hooks and sitting neatly folded on shelves, but where soon to be scattered on the floor as their owners tried to find the perfect style for the nights festivities. A pair of cocktail dress's that happened to be the nicest thing either of them had ever pull from a dumpster, Some comfy pajamas, A pair of thigh high boots that were actually just regular boots on a normal sized person, and an invisibility cloak that made itself invisible when worn rather than the subject wearing it all lay in a pile on the ground before the girls had picked their outfits for the night. A simple cloth vest skirt combo for Gong, and a long silken dress for Fizzy.

The streets were dimly lit by orange glow of nearby lamp posts. The sounds of screaming children dressed in caricatures costumes of feyfolk that Fizzy and Gong would have found rather insulting if either of them had focused on anything other than their fantasies of what an entire night of free candy would be like. A fantasy that was about to be rudely interrupted by what appeared to be two disheveled, and slightly bloated werecats with plastic ears and tails. "Aayyyy whha-WHAT are you kiz gona do wihou a canny bags!!" Asked the first woman at a volume louder than needed. "Ignore her please. She's had a little too much partying tonight" Said the second stranger, as her friend finished the liquor bottle she was holding. Popping the strained button on her small shorts in the process. "Naht the only one am I!" her overly intoxicated friend replied before giving her soberish friend a hardy slap to the gut that sent the small mound into a sloshing fit. "Alright you're going to home to bed! Stop bothering these Girls." She said before both werecates walked off into the night. "Gong. That woman said something about a candy bag. All of these kids have candy bags! You didn't say anything about needing bags to get free candy!" "Relax Fizz. The bags can't be that important right? Even if they are we could totally kick the crap out of one of these kids, they're only like five years old, and I brought my brass knuckles." "Fine whatever. I still think there's got to be some kind of catch. No one give things away without making you pay for it". The first house of the night was an unremarkable little thing painted white with green shutters. On the porch sat an older looking man dressed as some sort of vampire farmer who called out to the mas they approached. "Ohh aren't you a cute one! What are you supposed to be one of those pocketmans?" "I'm a goblin, and my friend is a fairy" Gong replied. "Oh you kids and your youth! Here you go. A candy corn on the cob for you, and one for you're little birdy there too".

"Now I know why we needed bags" Sneered Fizz as she crammed another head-sized piece of candy corn into her mouth. The purple sprite's middle pushing more, and more outward with each swallow. "We'll be fine." Replied Gong. "We can just eat whatever candy we get as we're walking. It's not like every human is going to give out weird stuff like this right?" "Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you spit everything with me fifty fifty alright?" You're like a fifth of my size Fizz! it already looks like you swallowed a tennis ball, and I don't plan on rolling your fat butt all the way home!" "you're one to talk. I'm pretty sure I heard you pop a seam a few minuets ago." The purple pixie punctuated her point with a firm slap to her companions rounded belly. The girl's conversation was cut abruptly short when Gong nearly tripped over the steps leading to the second house of the night. A modest purple building decorated in little ghosts and uncarved pumpkins. The two girls were about to knock when the door burst open and a particularity unspooky spirit stepped out. "Hey there kiddos! You two sure are in for a treat!" Piped the cheery little ghost. "Dude we're like 26" Replied the deadpan Fizzy. "That's alright! You girls can still have a taste of what's under my sheet!" "I'm calling the cops." "My apple pies are famous around here, but not very good for Halloween; Until this year anyway! I've combined apple pie and caramel apples into the ultimate confection!" Cheered the man in the ghost costume as he pulled two caramel covered disks on sticks from under his sheet, and handed them over.

"These are pretty good you know?" Gong said with her mouth still half full. "Kind of hard to eat, but still good". If Fizzy had been listening she didn't or more likely couldn't answer, but being submerged in a pie near the size of your whole body will do that. The difficulty of trying to carry and eat an entire pie on nothing but a cheap craft stick had forced the short sweeties to rest at a picnic table not far down the street. Each bite forced Gong's belly out farther and farther. Straining her clothes, and forcing her legs apart to make room for it's gravid shape. By the time the last bite of thick caramel and flaky apple pie passed her lips the green girl could have easily been mistaken for some near the end of pregnancy; But goblins may as well have been giants compared to fairies, and the effects of the confection were far more pronounced on Fizzy. The candy corn had already left her more than a little bloated, but as the purple pixie slowly ate her way past the hard caramel shell and into the center of the apple pie her belly had ballooned to dramatic levels. Her clothing stood no chance of containing the beast known as the faerie's gut. She laid prone in the pie tin on her basketball of a belly, naked from the waist down, trying with all her might to force any crumb withing reach into her mouth. "Uhh Fizzy any particular reason you aren't wearing underpants?" "Were you not paying attention earlier? What If I meet a stud while we're out? Panties would only get in the way." "Oh right. I forgot that purple balloons were every man's dream girl." Snided Gong. "Anyway, let's get going. the night isn't over yet, and we've got houses to hit."

Gong rang the doorbell of the third house. clutching her heavy, heaving tummy. If she let go her balance was at risk, and the mental image of an watermelon explosion was one she had to shake away more than a few times. The trudge to the third house was made that much longer by her slow, exaggerated, waddling. Each step a miniature battle with her own full tummy. A purple blimp of a pixie bobbing and swayed as she floated behind her. Her own belly nearly scraping on the ground until a flurry of flapping wins sent her back into the air. The door creaked open. A green sheet that looked distinctively like the ghosts from the earlyer houses poked it's head out the door, googly eyes bouncing wildly. "Who daressss enter the lair of the sneeeeeek?" Hissed the man in very ghost looking "snake" costume. "Nice costume... Dig the color." Gong weezed between breaths. Carrying the extra weight of her turgid gut had left more tired than she realized. "Thankssss friend! I made it myssssself!" Fizzy who's wings were already tired of holding her massive body in air chose to interrupt the two green revelers conversation. "Trick or treat! Now just give us whatever weird candy you've got back there and let us go". If plastic googly eyes could look confused the snake would have looked shockingly bewildered. "There's no weird candy here friends. Just some gummies I'm afraid." Fizz and Gong let out a collective sigh of relief, but apparently it had been too soon as seconds later both of them were nearly knocked over by the enormous gelatinous treats tossed to them by the man in the snake costume. An impressive feat seeing as the costume possessed no arms. "There you go girls, gummy pythons! Hope they're good, I made them myself!"

Bit by chewy bit the gelatinous reptiles were forced into the already packed stomachs of the minuscule monsters as they approached the fourth, and last house on the street. "Ugghh... I swear he must have used a real snake to make molds for these" Fizzy groaned. "I can see the scale prints". "How are we supposed to eat these anyway! One of these is as long as my whole body!" Gong added. "You just gotta slurp it down girl! You've had boyfriends before haven't you?" Fizzy punctuated her insult by taking a large gulp from the tail end of her gummy snake. "Hey Fizz maybe you should be more careful? You might choke....Or explode." Gong said between bites of her own sugary treat. "you're already looking kinda fat honestly. I was only kidding about the whole rolling you home thing earlier... Are you listening Fizz?" Fizzy unfortunately was not listening as she was far too preoccupied with choking on the massive sugar serpent that currently clogging her windpipe. "Oh my Gods Fizz! Don't worry I-I'll help you! Don't die!" Gong tried every idea she could think of but Fizzy's tiny body made the Heimlich impossible, and the gummy was wedged far too deep in the fairie's bulbous tummy to be dislodged by pulling on it. "Ok. Ok. Think Gong. You can do this." The Goblin muttered to her self, voice seeped in panic. "Ohh I really sorry about this Fizzy. Just hold on I've got another idea." Fizzy wasn't even given a chance to reply before Gong seized the end of the gummy snake and pushed it deeper into her gullet. Slowly the candy serpent was forced into the faerie's stomach. The already strained clothing stretched thinner as seams and stitches popped one by one. Both girls silently hoping they wouldn't be joining them in a similar fashion. As the last of the gummy was crammed down her throat Fizzy fell to the ground. Wings no longer able to lift her boulder of a belly. The impact being the final straw for her poor clothing before the tortured garment released its death knell as it torn to shreds. Fizzy was now nude, and grounded by a belly several times larger than her own body, but she was alive, and the sugary serpent was finally slain. "Oh-oh hell Gong! I though I was gonna die!" Fizzy wheezed out between gasping breaths. "do you still want to go to the next house, or should just head home, so you can rest?" Asked Gong. "No no I still want to keep going. There's only one house left on this street, but I...." "But what? "Do you feel sick? Did you hurt yourself?" Gong's voice was beginning to take on it's previous worried tone. "I can't move... My belly is too heavy..." "I told you this was going to happen! Splitting everything fifty fifty was a stupid idea from the start." "Well we wouldn't have had to eat everything while walking if SOMEONE had remember to bring treat bags!" "Fine I'll carry your fat butt around until we get home! Just let me finish my own gummy first." "I'm not fat. I'm full. there's a difference." The fairy mumbled to herself, as her friend resumed eating the candy snake hanging from around her neck. Choosing to take bites proved to be a much better strategy on Gong's part than swallowing the entire sucrose reptile whole, but it was also much slower. Bite after bite the gummy shrank, and Gong's belly grew. The fabric of her clothing pulled tighter and tighter, threatening to tear any second and leave her as exposed as her purple companion. As the last bit of gummy passed her green lips, Gong took notice of the effects it had on her stomach. The gigantic green orb had ballooned to the size of roughly half her body. Cramming it full with a gummy almost the same length as the goblin was tall may have been a bad idea. No it DEFIANTLY was a bad idea, but there was no way Gong would ever waste free candy!

"Ohh hell... This. This is heavy." "see not so easy is it!" Chided the bloated fairy. Her smirk would have left much more of an impact if not for her own leviathan middle. Gong struggled to lift her huge friend into her arms. A slip of her hand eliciting a sharp gasp from the massive Fizzy. "Watch where you grabbing Gong!" "Ha ha. Whoops." Gong responded. Her face red with embarrassment, as she finally succeeded in hoisting Fizzy over her head, and started the long trudge down the street.

Thud, creak, thud, creak. Heavy footsteps pounded against aged wood. The combined weight of the two girls was less than that of a large human, but that didn't stop Gong from having a miniature panic attack as each step groaned in their wake. She laid Fizzy down near the doorstep, making sure the overstuffed fairy wouldn't tip over, and rang the bell. Inside the house hurried footsteps responded to the noise. "Like just a sec! I Need *hic* to get my costume on!" For a moment they considered walking away. Cutting their losses and going home unexploded was by no means a bad idea, but as the door swung open, and and the smell of sugary treats floated out, that thought, and really any common sense warning the two girls about the repercussions of expanding their already massive waistlines was immediately dashed. "Like *hic* sorry about that. Can't hand out candy with out my costume now can I?" Just like the last three houses the owner was dressed in her own variation of a ghost costume, but unlike the others she seemed sort of lumpy around the middle, and Gong swore she could hear the woman emitting a noise that sounded remarkably like faint static.

"Please lady! Just please don't give us anything weird! I can't take anymore. I'm so big already." Groaned The massive Fizz. "Ohh man kid, *urp* like what the hell is wrong with your weird purple dog?" "She's fine don't worry about it. Just tell me you don't have anything on a cob, or a stick, or that you made out of snakes?" "Sorry I don't have any of those. All Ive got is some bags of these fizzy rocks, but they're like old and stuff, so they kind of melted into fizzy boulders." Answered the ghost lady, who pulled two large bags of the candy off the table next to her. They tore into the bags immediately. The woman in the ghost costume hadn't lied when she said the candies had melted together. Large crystalline chunks of candy as large as Gong's head had formed in each bag. Fizzy was devouring mouthfuls of of the hard treat, Seeming to have forgotten the incident with the gummy snake already. Gong ate at a slightly slower, but still noticeably ravenous speed. Half because she wanted this all to be over so she could lay her tired belly to bed, and half because she was too greedy to resist the the gift of free candy. "Ugghh what is this stuff?! My mouth feels all weird, and tingly!" Fizzy whined. "You got anything to drink back there lady?" "Nothing except some orange soda, and I like *hic* totally don't recommend it. "Come on lady we haven't had anything to drink all night. We're dying over here." "Wait here. Said the ghost. After a brief moment she returned from the kitchen with a six pack of orange soda that she handed over to Gong. The first can quenched their thirsts. The second was for fun. The last was because they were both too gluttonous to stop. "I feel- *urp* I feel funny. Fizzy griped. "Aww is *hic* Fizzy felling fizzy?" Gong joked. Oblivious to the fact that both of them were slowly growing rounder. "This *hic* isn't funny Gong! Look at us! We're blowing up!" "I like did try to warn you" Said the woman as she removed her costume. Putting her own bloated stomach on full display. "I've been bloated all night. Those fizzy rocks take forever to dissolve when they get old. "Fizz we need to go now! My belly is *urp* too big! It's getting hard to move!" Gong panicked as the seams of her clothing fought against the inflating green orb inside them. She grabbed Fizzy and waddled away from the house as quickly as her heavy body would allow. Within moments the sound of ripping fabric announced that her clothing had just lost the war against her still inflating gut.

Gong heaved her back into the purple boulder. It rolled slowly, but steadily in the direction of their home. Halloween had not been kind to the goblin nor the fairy. As the last light on the last porch went off signaling the end of the night's celebration both of them were left stark naked, with heavy intensely full bellies, each nearly the same size as Gong was tall. "I was kidding when I said I didn't want to roll you home earlier." I didn't think it was going to be an issue. Gong grunted, as she rolled her friend home. "Maybe your psychic?" Fizzy said. her voice thick with sarcasm. "Can you tell what number I'm thinking of right now?" "No, but I bet it's smaller than your current weight." Gong shot back. "Alright funny girl. Just watch where you going ok? You pushed me into some trash and now I've there's a restaurant flyer stuck to my boobs. What the hell even is a "thanksgiving" about?" "Sorry Fizz. I'll peel it off when we get home. I'm sure it's nothing interesting anyway. You know humans are boring.

THE END

#my stuff #colab #my buddies #my words

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ladyofpurple · 6 years ago

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GIRL ITS BEEN MONTHS SINCE YOU UPDATED TPOY!! please tell me you haven’t given up on it )-:

I KNOW IM REALLY SORRY OMG

This took a bit longer to answer than it should have because I was trying to figure out how to reply, I guess?? The short answer is basically that writing bits of fic during my exams when I didn’t actually have the time to was super productive, mainly because I Didn’t Want To Do The Thing but my entire future hinged on Doing The Thing and anxiety-driven avoidance is excellent creative fuel, apparently. The problem is, of course, that once I finished and started getting my results back and actually had time to breathe again my brain kinda fizzled out and I never wanted to look at a Word document ever again in my life. Writing is really hard right now, for some reason. And not just TPoy — everything I try to write either gives me a headache, makes every idea I’ve ever had go flying out the window like magic, or looks like absolute garbage to me. (I’ve been trying, though, I promise!!!) There is more TPoY, though!! I swear to God!! It’s just coming along a little slower than anticipated.

The long answer is... a little more complicated and probably more than you’re interested in, and the main reason is the short one anyway. But I’ll put a long answer under a cut just in case (aka the entire history of TPoY lol), since I’ve lowkey wanted to post about it for a while now but didn’t quite know how to? May get a little very personal, I suppose.

Basically, TPoY is and always has been a garbage fic. I don’t say that to disparage my own writing or attempt to elicit praise from anyone: I have always considered it a glorious dumpster fire of experimentation, a ridiculous Frankenstein’s monster of all my favorite ML tropes as a practice run, since it had been so long since attempting to write anything at all. I’m thrilled that people like it, of course! Whenever people send me asks about it my answers always involve a lot of exclamation points and variations on “I AM CURRENTLY SOBBING ON THE FLOOR IN GRATITUDE” because I honestly have no idea how to express how genuinely teary-eyed I get when someone tells me how much they like it, or post a comment. That being said, it was always intended for my own amusement and/or therapy, and that it’s gotten so many bookmarks and kudos and comments is incredibly surreal, even after a whole year.

When I started writing it, I was working through a lot of stuff. My first boyfriend had broken up with me, and as we lived together in his hometown I was stuck there on my own for another year before I could move back home. 2016 was filled with a lot of horrifying shit that kept happening one after the other and I eventually almost had to drop out of school because I couldn’t handle it all. The relationship was pretty toxic but all I knew at the time was that I was scared and alone and heartbroken.

When I started writing, it was after 8 months of the worst bout of depression I’ve ever experienced, and I still wasn’t well, but I functioned passably enough to start hyperfocusing on things. I had an idea about a fic I suddenly wanted to write, and it would have a happy ending and all, but I could work through my feelings in a way I hadn’t tried to since before my ex and I got together. I pulled a lot of the start of the fic (the rejection, the miscommunication, the avoidance) from my recent breakup, yes, but also from my first rejection, aka the only other boy I’d liked enough to confess my feelings to. We were 17, and he admitted that he knew, and then suddenly we weren’t friends anymore. A year and a half later, I got together with my ex, and suddenly after three years of dedicating my life to “us” on his whims he was ghosting me without explanation.

I see a lot of myself in Marinette at that age. The awkwardness, the enthusiasm, the incredibly obvious lovesick obsession with a cute boy who’s nice to you. I wondered if maybe she would react the same, if put into similar circumstances as I had been. Focus on the self-doubt that would follow, based on insecurities she’s already shown in the show — coupled with your standard teenage hormone-fest —and you’d have a fabulous starter for angstfic and a free therapy session all in one.

The problem with that is nobody knows this backstory but me. People focusing on Marinette’s insecurities is nothing new. Other people are annoyed it’s such a popular trope. And the fact that I’ve chosen to focus on certain aspects of the main characters’ identities for the purposes of a story I started on a whim has been making me insecure for a long time because people in the fandom are tired of those characterizations. I’ve never gotten hate comments —I don’t even remember ever getting constructive criticism on TPoY. But I’m well aware that the plot is far from original and definitely lacking in certain places, and as the comments roll in and the hits go up my anxiety mounts because oh my God I’m that guy in the fandom.

I always intended on focusing on different aspects of their characterizations in different fics to suit the plot, y’know? Not ignoring parts of their personalities, but just... emphasizing other parts. But TPoY is the one most people have read. I have a couple one-shots where I tried to do something like that, with different aspects of their characters, but short one-shots can’t really compare to a 100,000+ word WIP, even if they even slightly compared in popularity (they don’t). So my only notable contribution to the fandom is TPoY. And that makes me anxious.

Then there’s the Frankenstein-like obsession with adding every trope I’ve ever wanted to write in a fic like this. I’ve mentioned before that the original plan for this was, like, 10-15 chapters at most. But every chapter I write I’m like, “But what if I did this???” Like I said, I never intended it to be even remotely popular. The only other fandoms I’ve written for are microscopic in comparison. I had no frame of reference for a pairing this big — all my previous experience was from Fanfiction.net, for Christ’s sake. I assumed I wouldn’t finish it, and even getting to chapter 6 was a surprise. But that hyperfocus somehow held on for dear life and I was banging out chapters like nobody’s business. And people were responding to it. And I think that kind of went to my head a little? Not like in an “I deserve all this attention” kind of way, but more like a “People like?? This thing I’m doing??? I cannot squander this opportunity, I must give them m o r e” kind of way. It was the best I’d felt since the breakup and I didn’t really think I deserved it, so I kind of wanted to... prove I did, I guess, by writing everything I’d ever wanted in a lovesquare fic in hopes that people would keep liking it and me and I’d keep feeling nice. (I mean, I’d planned to add in a ridiculous amount of tropes anyway, I just ended up adding a lot more than I’d planned.)

On the one hand, people go nuts for that shit. On the other, it’s getting harder and harder to justify cramming all this shit into the same fic. This compulsion keeps fucking me over by giving me spur-of-the-moment ideas for sub-plots I never wanted and certainly didn’t properly think through before posting the foreshadowing or setup for — yet at the same time they’re usually thought of and integrated several chapters in advance so I can’t just... leave them out? And part of me kind of doesn’t want to?? And I’m trying with every fiber in my being not to rewrite just the first 3 chapters, let alone the entire fic. A side-effect of my FF.net history at 13 was Never Edit Anything. Yeah, I’ll do some spell-check. Maybe some rewording here and there. Sometimes I’ll post a chapter and come back sporadically over the next few days to change out some punctuation or whatever. But if I don’t like a section after writing for a while? Throw the Whole Ass Chapter out. After it’s posted? This Is Your Life Now.

let’s not talk about how everything after chapter 27 was supposed to go very differently

Never mind that, after writing a hundred thousand goddamn words in a year, one’s writing skill tends to evolve and increase over time. Not just in regards to vocabulary, but with consistency and pacing and structure. This means, of course, that I can’t ever reread my own writing without the Evil Writing Goblin in my brain telling me to start the whole thing over from scratch. It’s fine.

I suppose I could get a beta, but I’m very bad at taking critique and as I’m even worse at talking to people than I am at posting on time I don’t think that would work out very well.

The point of this goddamn novel is that TPoY means a lot to me, probably a lot more than people realize. It’s kinda dumb and very cheesy and absurdly long, but it was the first real thing I did for myself after my whole life fell apart. I will finish it!!

But it’s hard to write it right now. I’m trying— I’m writing four chapters at the same time right now (a bit less than 10,000 words combined at current count). I don’t want to try to rewrite the whole fic or keep “mischaracterizing” the characters or lose the suspense I’ve tried to build (or, God forbid, try to keep interest so hard it hurts the rest of the fic) and risk alienating readers. I can’t stress enough how much these supportive comments mean to me, even on something as silly as a fanfic. But I also don’t want to force myself to write it or write something just because other people might or might not like it and risk alienating me. So I’m stuck at a kind of anxiety-induced impasse with myself that’s just made worse by the fact that I’m having trouble writing anything at all at the moment.

Jesus Christ this was longer than I meant it to be. Please don’t take this as a pity-party or anything. I don’t want sympathy or, I don’t know, reassurance or anything, I just wanted everything to be Out There because it really is the most in-depth response I could give and y’all deserve an honest answer. Some of you guys have been reading since the beginning and I can’t express how much that means to me. I feel really bad when I haven’t updated in a long time, because I know my fic makes some people really happy!

And PLEASE don’t take this as a “STOP ASKING ME ABOUT TPOY GODDAMMIT” because this is the opposite of that. I FUCKING LOVE IT WHEN PEOPLE ASK ME ABOUT TPOY. I L I V E FOR IT. But it sucks when the only answer I have is “I don’t know when it’ll be up, sorry :( ”

I mean, that’ll probably still be the answer I give, unless I by some miraculous (heh) stroke of luck) start hyperfocusing on writing again.

But at least y’all kinda know why now.

#did someone call for Too Much Information??#BUT THANK YOU FOR YOUR MESSAGE I LOVE AND APPRECIATE YOU #I HOPE THAT ANSWERS YOUR QUESTION #[SEVERAL HEART EMOJIS]#tpoy fic #anon good nurse #Lady answers stuff

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itsnotresilience · 4 years ago

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How to I Turned my Self Hate Inward and Outward AKA how to abuse everything you take for granted AKA how not to live while getting cancer treatment aka how to ruin your life

A reflection on 2009-2012

I want to be clear about a few things. I have no written record of this time period. This is all from my memory of this time frame which is frankly, not great. I was in the midst of cancer treatment and I would say in a psychosis level of depression and mania. I likely don’t remember events in the right year or right order so feel free to correct me.

My second husband had escaped to a life without me. He was going out with people I believed to be our friends with someone not new but not me. I had elected to stay because frankly I had nowhere else to go. I think that’s the lie i told myself then, that I had no other choices. There were other choices but I didn’t make them. My cycle was: treatment, sick, better so party, then fatigue and depression and repeat. Some stages of that cycle were longer term than others.

I started internet dating out of loneliness and rejection. What the fuck was I doing? I still don’t know. I think honestly I was erasing the rejection with these dates so I could feel wanted by someone. Most of them were nothing. The majority were nothing. A few I thought were something but they were jerks or saw my damage or were abusers. I did meet one good person and we’ll come back to him soon.

Anyway, I had also stopped eating for the most part, everything tasted like metal all the time. I would very stupidly drink which fueled days of very painful sickness. There were days I laid in my bedroom and listened to my husband romance someone else. It’s hard to acknowledge that I chose this road. There’s part of me that has blamed squarely my ex-husband but I could have made so many other and better choices.

Around this time my work was going through what I might say was the longest lasting reorg ever. It started in 2010? 2011? And finished in January of this year. I’m going to be careful here. Every however much time it was between, a group of folks would get laid off or redistributed. There were only two notaries at my work and I was one of them. All the impacted people had these documents that had to be notarized (FYI business owners with employees- this is unnecessarily humiliating) so they all came to my desk. Many of them were people I cared about. Watching them be treated this way added fuel to my fire.

I have to be really careful. I’m touching on things related to people I admire, love and care about. People I would walk through fire for. I still treated them badly because I treated everyone badly, including myself. I lied by hiding all my dirty laundry but I just wrote that and realize it’s a lie. People did know some of what was going on. Others were victims of my inability to get a grip on myself. There are parts of my heart and mind that are so sad about how I treated my friends. This is one of the hardest essays I’ve written because this all feels like it could have been yesterday.

I was traveling a lot for work, balancing my treatments and my lifestyle of secret internet men that I flirted with. Most weren’t anything but someone to make me feel less bad but there was always a time, everyday, that all the escape routes faded and I was left with me and what my life had become. I would get so panicked and upset it was like being swallowed by a fiery pit. All I could see was how terrible I was. I don’t remember most of my work trips but not because I was partying. Most of them I was not feeling well and was just trying to push through. This travel was an amazing opportunity career wise, to prove myself and what I could do. I can say now that I failed at proving anything other than I was a mess. Work was my one stability but even that couldn’t hold me together.

In 2010, I met a man who when I first met him struck me as someone also going through something. He had a great smile, a sparkle in his eye and was genuinely just a nice guy but I didn’t really want someone who was going to be nice to me because I didn’t deserve that and I was still married despite whatever was going on there. We went on two dates before I felt that I was too sick, mentally and physically, to pursue it. He felt too nice for someone like me. I moved on to other internet flings that were meaningless with most of them just adding more fuel to the self hate fire. In October, I got back in touch with nice guy. Inside I felt bad that we talked about each other’s dates and that I was lying to him about my marital status (but not the state of my marriage). I don’t know why I did that. Yes I do. That was a lie. I did that because I didn’t want to be rejected. I wanted to be able to move on like my ex-husband had. All that mattered to me was not feeling his rejection.

On that third date, I don’t know what was different. I can’t describe it. I looked up and fell for the guy. He seemed so normal. He seemed to have had some life experiences that created a normal set of ethical behavior. I was not that person but I valued that in him. We decided to see each other exclusively but I was still living with my ex who since 2009, while I was gone and sometimes when I was home, had his new friend in our home. I write this and think this is ridiculous. I don’t even understand what you’re doing Meghan!

In November 2010 a bunch of really bad crazy shit happened. I increasingly slept at my boyfriend’s, my other friends’ house who were stable, or my car. I once paid for a hotel room a few miles from my condo to not be in my house. I hosted some wine thing at work that I came home early from to find my ex and his friend having sex in our living room on our couch. I couldn’t do this whatever this charade was. I packed all my stuff or what I could and went to stay with my boyfriend. This was not my best decision of so many bad decisions. We weren’t ready for that. I wasn’t ready for any of that.

My family had planned a trip to Hawaii to celebrate my dads retirement. It was already a catastrophe. My sister wasn’t going. My brothers marriage was near failure. I was not feeling well and would have to do a treatment before going. I spent most of that trip with my mom or my dad. My ex was there because he had a ticket because we were hiding our entire garbage from my family. My boyfriend and I fought the entire time. He knew I was there with my ex and so thought a reconciliation was happening. That was not what was happening. I spent every night in bed, in a separate bed, from my ex. He partied with my brother who I felt super angry at, that he was betraying me, although now I’m not sure how much he knew but definitely more than my parents. I missed my sister. I was sad that she was going through her own pain and her and I weren’t connecting. The highlight of that trip was a luau that I sat next to my father and a sunrise bike ride down Haleakala. I was not looking forward to going wherever home was.

In December, my boyfriend and I just started fighting more. My boyfriend knew I was hiding things from him and I’m not sure why I didn’t just say I’m still married. Yes, I do. I think there was a part of me that felt if I kept myself hidden, he couldn’t reject me. I was still also texting my old internet dating people who had turned into friends. None of them were anything except someone who could make me feel good (give me a compliment, flirt with me) if someone else made me feel bad. It was wrong. God I was so so wrong. My boyfriend would get jealous and distrustful and lash out by being controlling and then I would react to the controlling behavior by being even more elusive. I just kept spinning in this web of lies, reacting to him and sinking further into a mess of constant drama I was creating because I just didn’t care. I did care, but not enough. I would care too much about the wrong things. The wrong things would spin out of control blowing up the good things and then it would just keep going. As I started to feel better and enter remission, things only got worse in my personal life. I finally went back and got my cat and the rest of my things from the condo. I had to leave my cat Etta behind, who I adored. I almost grabbed her when I picked up Coltrane. It was heart wrenching.

Most of 2011 was travel, fight, repeat. I was lying to everyone and not feeling like anyone was going to be there when shit fell apart. I wouldn’t let anyone see the full picture. I saw all my lies as necessary to protect me from rejection and abandonment. I was a walking chaos. I don’t remember much of 2011 except a constant state of anxiety and my inability to control the chaos.

In May 2012 (I’m going to be careful here), my boss, who I admired and adored was let go. That broke something in me. It was the lighter fluid I needed to create a bonfire of anger. It was watching someone I saw as a good man be treated poorly. I walked into the office of his boss and asked why? Why him? This made no sense! I wanted to talk to whoever made this decision! Set them straight! To his credit, this man knew me so well he advised very strongly that I think it out and maybe not confront the other big boss decision maker. This is hard because I’m trying not to name names but many of those reading know who these people are.

So all those people reading that worked with me know what happened next. I totally did not take that very sage advice. I asked to speak to the big boss decision maker and I cheekily asked him to explain his decision to me, to help me understand why this other person was better than my boss. I told him it seemed like a dumb idea. I’m not sure what else I said but I likely cemented my future that day. I’m surprised I didn’t get fired then. I was later told that big boss decision maker told others that he was sure I hated him ( I did, but only because he embodied every person who had been an asshole to me) and it wasn’t even me this was happening to. It felt empowering to advocate for someone else. To his eternal credit my boss and mentor advised me not to go to bat for him anymore before he left, not to ruin my reputation and career over this. I really wish I had listened. I had no interest in working for the man who replaced him. I don’t care about being careful here. He reminded me of a used car salesman who sold lemons everyday. The other option was my old boss who, let’s just say, was not someone I admired.

I had to go Orlando, I think this was June 2012. It would have been a good opportunity for me to showcase my role and knowledge. I obliterated the opportunity. Let’s see. I talked to the other new boss and asked his advice for the future and shared my disdain for the decisions made and the treatment of employees, you know, the decision of choosing the man I was talking to over my boss? Are you uncomfortable yet? Then I went to drink with friends while my boyfriend madly texted me accusing me of lying and cheating. The drama sent me to my room where I flirted and complained to old internet friends basically cementing that while I wasn’t cheating, I wasn’t fully committed to doing the necessary hard work with myself or my boyfriend because I wouldn’t allow for rejection from anyone ever again. Our argument fueled an ugly break up call in the morning and I showed up hung over, crying, to a very important meeting. I proceeded to be extremely difficult in that meeting. I made a lot of bad comments about the company and its decisions. I questioned the facilitators objectives. What the actual fuck Meghan? I didn’t belong there, or anywhere or with anyone. I belonged in a psychiatric hospital or at the very least intensive therapy and under medication.

Anyway, I came home to the home I didn’t have and had to move out to a new place. My friends brought me some things I didn’t have anymore (I just had to replace the iron!). One friend took special care to help me decorate my new place and make it a home (I still have the vase!). I was terrified of being alone. I was terrified of what had happened in 2003 when I lived alone. I began partying extremely hard.

I was binge drinking. My boyfriend and I, broken up, just kept hurting each other and everytime he hurt me, I hurt him and myself. I would binge drink, find a man on the internet, and either met up or just participate in flirtatious activities. Everytime after, I would sit, empty, hating myself more and contemplate killing myself. I wanted to die and if I couldn’t die I would destroy myself. This kept escalating until July 4th when I tried to push the reset button and see some old friends. I wanted some normalcy. My ex-boyfriend and I got into a screaming match over the phone at my friends home. My friend kicked me out, saying she’d grown up in an abusive home and had had enough of my behavior. I never saw that friend again. I spent the rest of that day reconciling with my boyfriend, trying to come to terms with what I had created and him trying to get me to fess up to who I really was. It was very emotionally taxing and painful. It was all so unnecessary, all this chaos I created out of my own selfishness and pain.

At work, I was acting increasingly erratic. Boyfriend and I had a screaming match while I was inside the office. Did I not realize there was an outside? Or my car? I was called into HR and asked about the Orlando trip and told I acted poorly. I was asked to provide a list of what I was doing and pretty much told how replaceable and useless I was. About a week after that (which I’m assuming they spent finding people to do my work) I had a meeting set the day after Labor Day with HR and dude I was working for. It was torture (hey don’t do that to people-that’s dumb!) waiting to know what was going to happen. The day finally came and I was told I was losing my job but out of the kindness of their non-existent hearts they’d extend my healthcare through the six weeks of pay I was getting. They made sure to tell me it was not their idea but boss guy in Orlando who wanted to make sure I was taken care of (or I didn’t sue them so you choose). My friend who I worked next two everyday for ( 2 years? 4 years?) helped me pack. We were both crying and sad. I sent some emails to some of the best people I’ve ever met and adore today to say goodbye. They had all been so good to me. So many of them supported my career and taught me so much. I now realize how much I took them for granted.

I went home and my boyfriend took me out for dinner and drinks and I sunk into a very deep depression that I lived in for the next 4 years. I kept thinking about my destroyed life, all of my destroyed lives, all of my destroyed opportunities. It didn’t take me long to find another job. It was totally different-a chance to move into another industry and line of work. I ended up hating it but more so because I was still so fucked up. It also took forever for my relationships to heal. I did this. This was me. I live with this all the time. It has taken me a decade to come back from this period of my life and I still feel it. People don’t understand how you get stuck. People don’t know how the tapes of bad choices can play over and over. People don’t know this wasn’t my first chaos or my first failure. All I can see some days is an endless trail of heartbreak, deceit, bad behavior, and failure. All I can see is some version of damaged Meghan being awful. I don’t feel I deserve my success. I feel I’ve just been lucky. I squandered a lot of things others deserve and would be happy to have. I manipulated others in order to save myself from pain. I need to stop. This essay has to stop for now. I can’t take it. I need a break. Give me a break, brain.

Nearly a week later, I pick this essay back up and wonder what I can say, what I learned from all this. People do shitty things. I watch true crime on ID all the time and I’m never shocked on the capacity of humans to do crazy things. But why? But why? I was drowning. I was drowning in all the Meghans of past and present. I was suffocating in all the failures of my life. In these moments, it all felt like a joke.

Why do we destroy ourselves? Why do we hurt those we love? I can only say that my actions moved chaos forward while inside I waited for the implosion that would end me. I was hoping I’d be destroyed but also burying my pain. Self destructive behavior is selfish but it’s also a manifestation of internal mental health issues. It’s like hoarding, a physical, visual manifestation of some internal pain that needs to be buried.

Maybe you’re someone who reads this and thinks I’m terrible, manipulative, a liar. Maybe I am all three things. I’m at least a liar. I’m a liar who lies to protect myself and a liar who craves acceptance and love. My sheer will and drive has kept me afloat. The love of those who should hate me has kept me afloat. My rage and need to prove myself has kept me afloat. And all this past seeks to make sink.

Here is a secret I’ve stopped keeping. I’m plagued by envy, all the time. I’m envious of people with children. I’m envious of people who have romantic love-laden relationships. I’m envious of careers that happen earlier in life while I now am past my prime. I’m envious of prettier and skinnier women. I’m envious of people in good health. All of this envy spins in my head as my punishment. My inability to cope effectively with my life, my illness, my rejection. No one gives you instructions.

No one gives you instructions but everyone is there with an opinion when you fail. I cannot sit with this part of my life. It’s unbearable to me. I thought my life would be different. I thought I was a good, decent person. Nearly all the things I thought myself incapable of I realize am perfectly able to do. There’s no way to live with that everyday, that gross failure of your own standards.

Maybe now, you read this and you still don’t understand. Maybe you think I got away with it. Maybe you say karma is a bitch and I deserve my punishment. How much punishment? What type of punishment, for how long? Who decides these things? I can say that living with this version of me is so uncomfortable that I had a plan, previously described to you, to end it all before I turned 40. I think about escaping my past daily. My tapes: undeserving, ugly, lying, angry, awful, hateful play over and over. Even writing this is suffocating.

Maybe you’ve done something awful. Something you regret. Or maybe you’ve been mad at someone like me, someone who made mistakes and hurt people. All you can do is what I do. I have to see there’s some good in me. I have to live in a way that makes me redeemable. I won’t beg for pity, understanding, acceptance or forgiveness. I can only say that there is more to me, that I’m writing this despite my deep shame. I’m writing this for me and you and anyone who’s lived a very imperfect life that may be out there, torturing themselves with their failures.

0 notes

jintheawkward · 7 years ago

Text

written on your skin

pairing: JinKook (Seokjin | Jungkook) words: 7903 summary: it was supposed to be a normal day. their anniversary, but still, pretty much a normal day. unfortunately, that’s not how things went.

aka seokjin got his first tattoo, but to his boyfriend's displeasure, not in jungkook’s studio.

ao3

A hand covered his, stopping him from breaking the dishes by his vigorous and thorough wiping.

„Co-owner or not, I will take it out of your pay, if you break another glass.”

Seokjin looked up from the cup in his hands to see Hoseok frowning at him, but he could tell he wasn’t really mad.

“Sorry,” Seokjin said with a sheepish smile as he put it away, reaching out for a different mug in the dishwasher. “I was just trying to get this coffee stain and it wouldn’t go off.”

“A stain, or its actual paint?”

Not being in the mood for snarky comments, he left the question without an answer and proceeded to dry the rest of the dishes.

“Hyung, is everything alright?”

The quiet conversation with occasional slurping pauses, which had been taking place at the other side of the kitchen for the last hour, completely halted and Seokjin felt Jimin and Taehyung watching him with an eagle eye.

“I’m okay, Hobi.”

Raising their eyebrows at each other, his younger employees exchanged meaningful looks which only meant that they were having one of their weird telepathic moments again.

“I’m not blind nor stupid, you know,” said Hoseok in his parent voice that never failed to make their friends nervous. “Something is clearly eating you up.”

“Oh, he’s just frustrated with Jungkook,” Jimin butted in before finishing his strawberry juice in few gulps.

“Hey, shouldn’t you be the ones doing the cleaning? What are we exactly paying you for?”

“Our big smiles and young spirit!” Taehyung beamed with positivity. “But Jimin is right, this is because of Jungkook.”

“Yeah, Seokjin-hyung has been checking his phone the whole day, and everytime he did, he sighed and got this ugly scowl on his face. Like this one now, look!”

Seokjin didn’t hesitate to swat away Jimin’s finger that kept pointing at him.

“Shut up.”

“What did that brat do again?” Hoseok asked tiredly, and he couldn’t care less about them killing each other.

“Nothing,” Seokjin uttered, pushing his annoyance to a side, at the same time that Jimin scoffed, “Being himself.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Taehyung asked rhetorically as he continued demolishing the cake leftovers from that day. “That ass forgot about their anniversary.”

Seokjin gave Taehyung a warning stare because the boy was about to skate on thin ice. No one in their right mind would try to grate at the nerves of a person who was already on edge, especially if that person was Seokjin.

“What, am I wrong?”

Putting down a plate, Hoseok blinked in surprise and leaned against the sink with his hand on the hip.

“Hold on, what anniversary?”

Taehyung licked his fingers clean and folded his arms on the counter, his eyes narrowing in thought.

“Well, it was during your birthday party that Seokjin and Jungkook basically got together, right?”

As Seokjin was taking a breath to finally say something, Taehyung wasted no time in sharing his conclusions once he received Hoseok’s nod of confirmation.

“We have August now, so according to my calculations, today should mark their six-month anniversary,” he said, a proud grin of victory playing on his lips when he and Jimin high-fived. “See, Namjoon-hyung isn’t the only Einstein in our squad.”

“Also, we’ve been kind of counting,” Jimin admitted with no shame. “I mean, it took us ages to make you two stop dancing around each other, and actually do something about the sexual tension. So, of course, we’re keeping an eye on you. We’ve created you.”

“Oh,” Hoseok murmured, and it sounded like the saddest sound ever uttered when sympathy entered his voice and he glanced at Seokjin with a pity. “Is that what the morning reminder on your phone was for? Is it your and Jungkook’s anniversary today? And he forgot?”

To be fair and honest, Seokjin wasn’t usually keeping up with anniversaries either, so he internally cursed at himself for listening to Hoseok and setting up the special countdown app on his phone few months ago, just because his friend had found it cute and had been using it as well.

Now, half a year later, it only brought Seokjin frustration and disappointment – Jungkook was miles away since he had been sent to one-week courses by his boss to learn some advanced tattoo techniques, and he wasn’t answering his phone today because they were supposed to have some intense session.

And that would be perfectly fine if Seokjin wouldn’t know today was their six-month milestone.

Damn you, modern technology. Farewell, sweet oblivion.

“It’s not a big deal. He’s probably busy at the workshop.”

“You don’t have to act nonchalant, hyung.” Jimin wrapped his arms around Seokjin from behind like a baby koala, nudging him with his head. “It’s okay to be upset, you know.”

“Let us take you out tonight! Actually, we all should go!”

“Great idea, Tae,” Hoseok exclaimed, his entire face brightening up with excitement as he scrabbled for his phone. “I’m calling Namjoon.”

Scoffing, Seokjin rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, because being with couples on my anniversary is going to make my lonely loser self feel better.”

“We’re not dating!” Both Jimin and Taehyung loudly protested, to which Seokjin only shrugged since he had no intention to get himself into another discussion on the topic of ‘exclusive best friends with benefits’, or whatever they were calling it.

“Of course,” Hoseok brushed them off quickly as he was tired of hearing the same old song as well. “But hyung, we should totally hit the town tonight, have something yummy to eat, get some drinks, maybe dance a little bit...”

“I don’t know…”

“Well, I’m not letting you go home so you could indulge in self-pity and beer, because you would only end up eating yourself out of house and home during a Studio Ghibli marathon.”

“You make it sound like it’s a bad plan,” Seokjin grumbled in disagreement.

“Come with us,” Taehyung pleaded as he latched onto him, joining Jimin in the group hug. “It’s gonna be fun!”

With a sigh, Seokjin glanced between his friends. His eyes met Hoseok, who immediately broke into a smile as he was sure they had won the battle.

“Night out it is,” Hoseok laughed, already pressing his boyfriend’s number on speed dial. “I’ll ask Namjoon to bring Yoongi-hyung along. You know, in case you wanted to roast him for sending Jungkook away.”

“Min Yoongi, where the fuck are you?” yelled Seokjin into the phone, which he held close to his mouth even though the music played on the jukebox wasn’t that loud and the bar seemed quite empty as the Friday night rush crowd had yet to arrive.

“Home. Just like I told Namjoon I would be, before he left work to meet you, guys,” answered Yoongi calmly. There was a sound of running water in the background, so Seokjin was pretty sure that the traitor was about to get himself a nice bath with one of his favourite bath bombs. “I feel dead tired, so I’m ready to go catch some Z’s.”

“That’s bullshit. We lived together for four years and I have never seen you go to bed before 3AM.”

“Today was really crazy. And as you know, we’re kind of short of staff right now.”

Seokjin didn’t even try to keep the scoff out of his voice.

“And I wonder whose fault it is.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Yoongi heaved an annoyed sigh, and it sort of sounded like a growl. “But I had no other choice, hyung, so can we have this damn conversation some other time?”

Before Seokjin could come up with a witty comeback, the line clicked and went silent. He stared at the phone in his hand in disbelief.

“Not only did he stood me up, he’s just hang up on me.”

“Yoongi-hyung is probably afraid that if he shown up, Seokjin-hyung would skin him alive since it’s his fault that Jungkook is missing their anniversary,” Jimin laughed and brought the half-empty bottle of beer to his lips.

“We did have lots of clients today, though,” added Namjoon, ever the conciliator and diplomat. “I can’t even feel my arm since I had an appointment after an appointment.”

After listening to their chat in a focused silence, Taehyung briefly glanced up from the beermat house he had been building for the last twenty minutes.

“But unlike someone, you still came, hyung.”

“Well, that’s because I’m here, duh,” Hoseok said with an eyeroll, linking arms with Namjoon and smiling at him afterwards.

“Purely and simply, Yoongi is a coward who, for his own good, chose not to meet me today.”

“Or a genius, actually,” Namjoon pointed out with an amused chuckle, but he immediately attempted to mask it with a fake cough when he caught Seokjin’s unimpressed scowl. “You know, if you consider all the circumstances.”

“Alright, alright,” Taehyung called out to catch their attention, knocking down the little construction on the table with his hand. “The mood is getting dull here, so we need to move somewhere more fun.”

The thing about Seokjin and alcohol was that he knew his levels and the way with them - what to do to get his buzz going and become tipsy, and how many drinks he needed to add to that to get actually drunk or, if the critical situation called for it, royally wasted.

“Hyung, you shouldn’t drink that much,” mumbled Hoseok sleepily as if he heard what was going on in his mind, his words coming out a bit muffled since his head was buried in the crook of Namjoon’s neck. “There’s a difference between having fun and getting pissed.”

“Oh, is there?” Seokjin smirked and continued to circle the rim of the glass with his finger. He was approximately three shots away from a morning headache. A bearable one, but still, a headache. “I feel like you’re the one who had enough, Hobi.”

With one hand wrapped around Hoseok’s waist and the other stuck in a bowl of nuts, Namjoon stopped munching on the peanuts and took a brief look at his boyfriend who snuggled to him closer. Only Hoseok would take a nap in the middle of a nightclub. And possibly Yoongi.

“Yeah, I think I should take him home.”

“Actually, both of you had enough,” Seokjin emphasized when he took in Namjoon’s hooded eyes and dopey grin, “I will call you a cab.”

Namjoon let the lazy smile take over his face, and Seokjin was immediately greeted by his dimple.

“Thanks, hyung.”

“Don’t mention it.” Seokjin waved a dismissive hand at him while staring at the glass of amber coloured liquid in front of him. Eventually, he made his decision and knocked back his drink.

Two more, and he could claim himself officially drunk.

“You’d better call it a night,” said Namjoon as he shrugged on his jacket and zipped Hoseok up as well.

“Maybe later.”

Namjoon’s emotions were usually all over the place after he took few sips of beer, and knowing that it was more often leaning towards the sad side, Seokjin forced the corners of his mouth up.

“I’m fine, Joon, so don’t worry about me too much, okay?”

“Be careful.”

“You too.”

After throwing Hoseok’s arm over his shoulders and hoisting him up, Namjoon gave Seokjin a quick, but gentle, squeeze on the shoulder and then he headed for the exit, stumbling his way with Hoseok through the crowd to wait for the taxi outside.

“We bumped into Namjoon-hyung and Hoseok-hyung on their way out,” Jimin blurted out when he and Taehyung appeared, slamming the tray full of drinks on the table. “Since the old married couple has left, who’s going to finish these now?”

Taehyung hold his hands up in an immediate refusal. “Don’t look at me, I have my coke.”

“You have taste buds of a child,” Jimin commented, all giggles and hiccups, but he filled Taehyung’s glass with the remaining soft drink anyway, and the other took a sip from a straw.

“Alcohol doesn’t make you more adult than me.”

“Whatever you say,” said Jimin with zero interest, already pushing a shot of crystal clear liquor towards Seokjin. “I guess, it’s just you and me, hyung.”

As they clinked their glasses and continued drinking the health of everyone they could remember, the smallest part of Seokjin’s consciousness reminded him of all the booze of various colours he had consumed that night.

It gave him a slight idea of the nasty brain explosion that would await him the next day.

Oh, well. Let his tomorrow self deal with that.

“Bottoms up!”

Suddenly, Seokjin’s phone on the table lighted up, the vibrations travelling across his palm.

“Oh, now you are calling me,” Seokjin smirked at the screen as he rejected the incoming call from Jungkook and proceeded to delete the nine unread messages that he assumed were most likely from him as well. “But guess what, I am the one who’s busy now.”

“Is that Jungkook? Shouldn’t you…”

“Nope.”

“Fine, whatever suits you,” murmured Taehyung with a raised eyebrow, not pressing further when Seokjin turned off his phone and shoved it in the pocket of his jeans.

Smiling like a Cheshire cat, Jimin propped his head on his hands. “Let’s have some fun.”

“We could play a game,” Taehyung suggested.

“Great,” Seokjin said, grimacing a little once he finished his drink that was too sweet and too disgusting for his spoilt tongue. “I love games.”

Not only did Seokjin woke up with the deadliest hangover since his college days, but he also welcomed the morning with a terrible case of stiff neck, coming most likely from the thing under his head that was uncomfortably poking him in the nape. It was hard and squishy at the same time, but it definitely didn’t feel like the extra soft pillow he had spent a ridiculous amount of money on.

And hair. There was so much hair everywhere.

Grumbling, he tried to turn around and make himself comfortable in the bed that suddenly seemed very small and crowded. He cracked his eyes open, only to see more of the blond mop. He moved to get away from it, spitting out the strands that got into his mouth and stuck to his lips, however, there was still that thing stabbing him in the neck.

It turned out to be Taehyung’s skinny arm, holding him in sort of a hug. And then there was Jimin, sandwiched between them, which explained the dishevelled nest of hair.

“Uh,” Seokjin groaned out, his head spinning as he shifted again to free himself from the tangle of legs.

Jimin grunted from his sleep, while Taehyung gasped for air as he pulled away and turned over.

“Water and pills are on the nightstand,” Taehyung mumbled drowsily before he drifted back to sleep.

“Thanks.”

He sat up slowly, trying to avoid any sharp movements that would lead to the fruit of his yesterday’s bender making a sudden and unwanted entrance.

Even though he was convinced that death would be a better and more effective solution, Seokjin reached for the water bottle and the packet of tablets that Taehyung must have prudently prepared yesterday, and swallowed two pills at once.

Oh, goodness, what was he thinking? He was way too old to be trying to pull this kind of stunt.

Apart from the throbbing headache that was splitting his head open, and his stomach doing major flip-flops, his body was hurting all over. And it wasn’t the regular pain he would usually wake up to after a night out – this one felt like a bus ran over him, followed by a convoy of trucks, which made him wonder how wild things got last night.

As he managed to keep the churning contents of his stomach from coming up, making his way to the bathroom, he realized it was his left hip that was really calling for his attention.

Honestly, his waist was almost used to all kinds of treatment by now since Jungkook had the eagerness of a teenager and quite strong hands, which he tended to forget about whenever they would fool around.

This time, however, Seokjin’s skin was burning and it felt sore, tight, and all in all very uncomfortable.

Annoyed, he pulled off his pants a little to check whether he had possibly hit himself because the events of last ten hours just mashed into one big foggy blur.

“What, what, what?” Jimin shrieked in confusion when Seokjin started screaming a murder, and he immediately woke up with a flinch so hard that it sent Taehyung rolling off the bed.

Soon after the hard landing, Taehyung’s head with messy hair sticking up everywhere appeared.

He was scowling sleepily, only one of his eyes opened.

“Seokjin-hyung is probably facing the consequence of our stupid game.”

“It wasn’t our anniversary yet!” Jungkook shouted as soon as he burst through the door with such force that he almost knocked off the tinkling bell above it.

Startled by the sudden noise of Jungkook’s dramatic arrival, Hoseok dropped both the milk pitcher and the mug he was holding, so what used to be a cute latte art spilled everywhere on the counter.

“God fucking Jesus, Jungkook,” he cursed, still clutching at his chest, and breathing through his shock.

“It wasn’t our anniversary yet,” Jungkook repeated, this time in a calmer voice, and he dropped his duffel bag by the high stools. “I mean, mine and Seokjin-hyung’s.”

“How about you tell that to someone who actually cares?” Hoseok asked through his gritted teeth while smiling at the guests nervously. Jungkook looked around, only to be judged by dozens of strangers, so he was quick to join Hoseok in a round of apologetic bows.

When the people stopped paying them attention, Hoseok glanced at the mess of coffee and milk, and started cleaning it.

“Just so you know, Seokjin-hyung was really upset,” Hoseok said, his hand making a gesture that could only imply drinking. “He wouldn’t admit it, but I could tell that he was.”

Jungkook rubbed his hand over his face as he suppressed the urge to scream in frustration.

“This is all just a huge misunderstanding,” he groaned loudly. “Where is he?”

Before Hoseok could give him an answer, an arm looped around Jungkook’s neck, pulling him into a headlock.

“Well, well, well,” a voice hummed in his ear mockingly. “Who do we have here?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes as he easily freed himself from Taehyung’s grip.

“I don’t have time for this, hyung. Have you seen Seokjin-hyung?”

“Oh, Jungkook, you’re back,” said Jimin who suddenly appeared at his other side, which should come as no surprise since Jimin and Taehyung were basically a package deal. Jungkook couldn’t even remember the last time he saw one of them alone, without the other lurking nearby.

“Yeah, I’ve just got here from the station,” Jungkook nodded absent-mindedly, eyes searching for the familiar pair of shoulders. “I’m looking for Seokjin-hyung.”

There was a quick glance between Jimin and Taehyung, which for some reason disturbed Jungkook a bit.

“Look, no matter what happens, don’t fight, you two. It’s not worth it,” Jimin started, squeezing Jungkook’s shoulder, and then giving the floor to Taehyung.

“Moreover, you were the one who forgot about the anniversary thing, …”

Jungkook was about to argue that, for God’s sake, he didn’t miss anything, but Taehyung didn’t even let him open his mouth.

“… so you can’t get mad at Seokjin-hyung. Or anyone else.”

“Why would I-“

“Just don’t get mad, okay?”

“Fine,” Jungkook agreed with an annoyed sigh, which seemed to calm the two idiots down. “Now, is he here or not?”

Jimin motioned with his head to the kitchen.

“He’s taking a break at the back. Low blood sugar or something.”

“Which is only his excuse to wolf down five scones with a jug of tea, while bossing us around,” grumbled Taehyung, folding his arms over his chest in a quiet protest.

“And he has a right to do so since he, actually, is your boss,” Hoseok sneered at him in return, while handing him a tray loaded with cups, glasses and plates of pastries. “And so am I, which means that if you don’t bring this to table 9, I’m going to find another cute waiter to work for me.”

Although his cheeks puffed out in a pout, Taehyung wordlessly turned on his heel and did as he was told. And before Hoseok could also nag at Jimin, the latter was already moving away with a pen in one hand, and a pad in the other.

“Yeah, take table 5’s order, I know.”

Scrunching up the dirty cloth that was dripping with coffee, Hoseok raised his hand as if he wanted to throw it at Jimin but he ended up laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

Like a sunflower following the sun, Jungkook immediately turned around at the melodious voice to face his own source of light and warmth.

Seokjin slipped behind the counter and carefully set down the piles of clean saucers and plates he had brought from the kitchen.

“Hyung!” Jungkook greeted him with a wide grin that seemed to bloom of its own accord whenever his boyfriend was around.

“Oh, Kookie, hi,” said Seokjin in reply, blinking at him in surprise, and for a second, Jungkook thought he heard the dishes clanked against the counter. “I thought you weren’t coming back till tonight. You’re early.”

Jungkook furrowed a little as Seokjin’s lukewarm welcome set off alarm bells in his head.

“I managed to catch an earlier train. What, aren’t you glad to see me?”

“God, of course I am,” said Seokjin, rolling his eyes and shaking off whatever was going through his mind as he planted his hands on the counter and leaned forward with an easy smile. “Come here.”

After the poor attempt to keep his excitement in check, Jungkook mimicked Seokjin’s pose, and let him close the distance with a gentle kiss, followed by two more pecks since Jungkook wasn’t satisfied yet. It didn’t differ from their usual greeting, but somehow the simple touch made Jungkook’s lips tingle as he was reminded of what he had been deprived of for a whole week.

“Really?” grumbled Hoseok in a mock indignation while focusing on arranging the new batch of muffins. “Does appropriate PDA in a workplace tell you something? And by appropriate, I mean none at all.”

Upon hearing Hoseok’s objection, Seokjin snorted and proceeded to jab Jungkook on the chest with his finger since he was trying to steal another kiss from him.

“Right, because you and Namjoon are very subtle when he drops by during his lunch break.”

It was now Hoseok’s turn to scoff, his face then twisting into an offended scowl as he was passing by Seokjin.

“Ts, one could hardly believe that you were calling him various names two days ago,” he mumbled in disbelief before he pushed the kitchen door open and went through.

His words hung heavily in the air, and Seokjin and Jungkook could no longer avoid the topic that neither of them wanted to bring up.

“Um, yeah, about that,” Jungkook started, scratching at the back of his neck, but stopped abruptly when a gentleman cleared his throat next to him before asking Seokjin for a coffee to go.

“We’re okay,” said Seokjin once the customer left with his cup of double espresso.

“No, I’m really sorry about not answering my phone that day, but I was in the middle of this workshop, so…”

“Jungkook, I get it. There’s no need for you to explain yourself or something.”

“I feel like I should since you were mad at me. Still are.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it anymore,” said Seokjin as he tried to laugh it off. “Neither of us is actually into that anniversary stuff anyway.”

“Then why weren’t you picking up my calls later that night? Or yesterday?” Oh, great. Now he sounded just like a crazy clingy boyfriend. Or his Mom.

“Well, the thing is,” Seokjin hesitated and it was his turn to fidget on the spot. “I went out with Jimin and Taehyung because they didn’t want to leave my sorry ass alone, then we got carried away and I might have drowned my phone in beer.”

“What?” deadpanned Jungkook as he couldn’t help himself but stare at Seokjin with a blank expression, however, he thought better and quickly held up one hand. “Nevermind, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Nope, you definitely don’t,” Seokjin said, and Jungkook was probably imagining things but there seemed to be some kind of ambiguity in his words.

“Anyway, I do have something you might wanna hear."

Seokjin’s eyes twinkled with interest as he leaned closer.

“Oh, really?”

“It’s kind of a funny story.” To emphasize his words, Jungkook laughed a little, although it sounded more nervous than joyful. “Our anniversary is today, actually. That is, if we cared about stuff like that.”

“No, it’s not,” Seokjin disagreed, motionless and dead serious.

“Yes, it is.”

This time, Seokjin even shook his head.

“No, it’s not. I’m pretty sure that two days ago, it was six months since Hoseok’s party.”

“And you’re right. But we weren’t dating then.”

“For fuck sake, stop shitting with me, Jungkook.”

“Look, we did kiss there for the first time. And had a pretty much good time making out.” Unfortunately, that one particular memory got lost in a drunken haze and remained foggy in Jungkook’s head. “But I can barely remember that. Moreover, I almost threw up all over your shoes too.”

“Oh, Jungkook,” murmured Seokjin with a consoling smile before cracking up. “You did throw up all over my shoes.”

Jungkook took a deep breath as he closed his eyes.

“Anyhow, I refuse to acknowledge that as the start of our relationship,” said Jungkook and glossed over that mortifying experience since he had never felt so embarrassed in his life, especially about something he couldn’t even recall properly. “So, our anniversary is today, because it was today that we went on our first date and I asked you to be my boyfriend.”

“Excuse you,” Seokjin objected, “it was me who did all the asking because you got so damn shy suddenly, considering you had bickered with me for an eternity before.”

“Do you have to correct or comment on everything I say? You know, not everything is a competition.”

“Funny to hear that from someone who always has to have the last word,” Seokjin smirked and patted him patronizingly on the cheek, which Jungkook repaid with a shove and a glare. “But fine, let’s say today is our anniversary. Any plans?”

“Maybe,” Jungkook replied, grinning. “Just give me the keys to your apartment.”

Seokjin tilted his head, wondering.

“Why? Are you going to move in to surprise me?”

The question, combined with Seokjin’s serious expression, caught Jungkook off guard and his guts clenched in panic.

“Jesus, no, I want to make you a dinner,” he mumbled while a hot blush crept up his neck and into his cheeks, making Seokjin burst out laughing.

“Chill, I’m just kidding,” said Seokjin, out of breath as he failed to control his laughter. “But dinner sounds good.”

“When are you getting out of work?”

“Two more hours, and then I’m done. Should I stop by the store?”

“No, just bring yourself.” Shaking his head, Jungkook pulled himself up and kissed Seokjin over the counter. “I’m going, see you later.”

He threw the duffel over his shoulder and Seokjin placed a quick peck on the corner of his mouth.

“See you. And don’t make a mess.”

As soon as Jungkook opened the door, he didn’t even wait for Seokjin to get inside and rushed back to the kitchen in fear that their dinner would burn to the bottom of Seokjin’s new pan – it was hard to say which would be worse.

“You know, when you said you were going to cook for me, I expected something fancier than fried rice for the special occasion,” Seokjin admitted amusedly once he breezed in, joining Jungkook by the stove. Snaking his arms around Jungkook’s waist, he pulled the back of his shirt down a little and kissed the tattoo on his nape like he always did.

The Virgo constellation had been Jungkook’s first tattoo, and when he had decided to expand it and get the Sagittarius part after two months of dating Seokjin, Yoongi had said it would look like a fucked up chemical structure together and called him a cheesy sap, but he did it for him anyway.

“Hey, I make the best kimchi fried rice,” protested Jungkook, mixing the rice while Seokjin hooked his chin over his shoulder, his hair soft and ticklish against Jungkook’s cheek. “Besides, it would be either this, a dish I’ve mastered to perfection and even more, or a half-assed attempt at French cuisine turning into a muck.”

“Alright, alright, you’re the chef,” said Seokjin in surrender, and both their bodies shook with his laughter since he was still hugging Jungkook.

“But if it’s not enough for you, I ordered chicken too, and beer is in the fridge.”

“Okay, now that’s the kind of fancy I’m talking about,” said Seokjin, happy and excited like a little child as he took Jungkook by his chin to turn his head and kiss him. “You’re the best.”

Jungkook smiled against his lips before shooing Seokjin away.

“I know. Now go take a shower and let the best boyfriend finish cooking.”

When Seokjin later walked out of the bathroom, fresh and clean, he returned to a feast consisting of Jungkook’s famous kimchi fried rice, two boxes of seasoned and fried chicken, and two bottles of beer, everything carefully spread on Seokjin’s small coffee table.

In the middle, there was a candle burning, and the smell of food was mixing with its sugary scent. It was one of those giant 3-wick jars from Bath & Body Works, and Jungkook had to bring it from the bedroom because he couldn’t find anything better.

Seokjin chuckled when he noticed it.

“And people think I’m the romantic one out of the two us.”

“Shut up and sit down.”

As they were lounging on the couch and eating the fried rice straight from the pan hazardly placed between them, Jungkook sipping on his beer and Seokjin humming in delight with a crispy drumstick in one hand and a spoon of rice in the other, while re-watching their favorite anime, Jungkook knew this was how happiness must look like.

“What?” Seokjin asked, slightly furrowing his eyebrows, when he caught Jungkook staring. His hair was messy and still wet from the shower, his lips red and greasy, and Jungkook couldn’t help himself but kiss Seokjin right then and there.

“Happy anniversary, hyung.”

“Happy anniversary, Kookie,” said Seokjin gently and he wiped Jungkook’s lips with his thumb before turning back to the TV. “Now let me eat and finish this episode before you get all mushy.”

“Oh, just fuck you.”

“Yeah, maybe tomorrow, I’m totally pooped out and probably getting into food coma.”

The pan almost tipped over when Jungkook gave Seokjin a shove, and the latter didn’t hesitate to push him back.

Needless to say, it didn’t take them long to devour everything on the table as they managed to do so before the second episode of the anime could even start.

“God, that was perfect,” moaned Seokjin blissfully, not so different from the way he would after a particularly good sex, and he lied down, licking his fingers clean and throwing his arm over his eyes. Jungkook followed suit, tossing away the chicken bone blindly somewhere near the box with a pile of trash.

This time Seokjin let out a groan when Jungkook nestled beside him and dropped his head on Seokjin’s chest.

“Are you trying to kill me?” complained Seokjin, coughing a little. “I’ve done nothing to deserve this kind of treatment.”

Grinning, Jungkook turned over to look at him.

“And what do you deserve then?”

“Only the best, of course,” replied Seokjin nonchalantly as he lifted his arm from his eyes, but his smile was challenging.

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice – he leaned above Seokjin and kissed him, pressing himself close to the body he had been missing so much. As always, they started slow, just to enjoy and appreciate each other’s presence, their mouths moving together gently and gracefully.

Seokjin opened his mouth enough to let the tip of his tongue pass, teasing and tracing the edge of Jungkook’s bottom lip. With a little groan, Jungkook returned the favour with little nips before deepening the kiss by sliding his tongue inside his mouth. It elicited a satisfied purr from Seokjin, who knotted his hands in Jungkook’s hair, roughly running his fingers through it and occasionally giving it little tugs that sent a jolt straight to Jungkook’s groin.

Licking into his mouth, Jungkook could still taste all the spices from their dinner on Seokjin’s tongue. He trailed his mouth down his neck, kissing and sucking at the smooth skin that smelled like fresh and clean laundry, his second weakness right after Seokjin.

When Jungkook moved a bit lower and started to nibble at his collarbones, Seokjin squirmed and lightly pushed at his shoulder.

“I need to do the dishes…” Seokjin breathed out, trying his best to control his voice, and he nudged Jungkook again since the younger didn’t budge at all.

Jungkook ignored him as he continued to lap over the mark he had just made, caressing it with his tongue. “I’ll take care of it later.”

“You’ve already made the dinner, so the least thing I could do is wash the dishes.”

“What, like right now?” Jungkook whined but he stopped what he was doing and sat back on his heels since Seokjin for some reason kept wriggling underneath him.

Sighing, Seokjin looked up at the ceiling as if to calm himself down and regain his composure.

“Yeah, when else?”

“Nope, you’re not going anywhere.”

“Jungkook, let me at least put them in the sink,” said Seokjin as he propped himself up on his elbows.

“Nobody is going to do the dishes now. We have more pressing matters at hand,” said Jungkook firmly, leaving no room for discussion, and to emphasize this, he took off his shirt in one swift move.

That immediately shut Seokjin up as his eyes started to trace every line, every dip and every ripple of Jungkook’s body. Seizing his chance, Jungkook took advantage of Seokjin being distracted for a moment, and dove down for another kiss. But this time, there was no prelude or slow build since Jungkook was growing impatient with every passing second.

Without an ounce of hesitation, Seokjin responded with the same amount of hot eager lust, his hands wandering everywhere they could reach. The kisses were getting more wet, sloppy, and desperate, their moaning growing in its intensity. Jungkook enjoyed the feeling of Seokjin’s touches burning against his naked skin, even more the light scratches of his nails. And once Seokjin instinctively spread his legs wider, the excitement in his pants obvious, Jungkook knew that they were both on the same page about their plans for the rest of the night.

“You know, I wasn’t joking about being dead tired,” said Seokjin against his mouth once they finally broke apart, gasping for air.

“That’s fine – just lie there, enjoy yourself and let me do all the work,” Jungkook replied with a grin before he bit down on his neck again, turning his attention to the unblemished parts of skin that only waited to be marked. Meanwhile, his hand sneaked under Seokjin’s loose shirt, running his fingers over his ribs before exploring the smooth defined stomach and-

“Ah, Jungkook, s-stop,” Seokjin hissed in pain, which almost made Jungkook jump up.

“What’s wrong? You okay?” he asked in an alarmed voice, immediately pulling back to check on him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Seokjin said, although he looked anything but fine. Closing his eyes with a defeated groan, he threw his head back against the cushions. “There’s just something I need to tell you.”

“Alright, what’s up?”

“Look, I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen. I was drunk and had no idea what I was doing.”

“Now you’re just making me nervous.” Jungkook couldn’t help the little frown that settled between his brows. “What’s going on?”

Oh my, God, did he hook up with someone? After all, he was handsome, drunk, and pissed off, which was a lethal combination when going out, alluring all the potential one-night stands in the radius.

Did Seokjin cheat on him while he was away?

“What? Jesus Christ, no!”

Jungkook must have said that aloud because Seokjin quickly sat up, reaching out for his hands.

“No, I would never… how could you even think that?”

“So, what is it then? Can’t you just tell me already?”

Seokjin took another deep breath as he lay back down, gingerly lifting the hem of his T-shirt to reveal a red swelling near his waistline which Jungkook had probably touched by accident earlier. The small drawing on his hipbone looked awfully like one of Taehyung’s stupid doodles.

“What happened to-“ Jungkook started worriedly before his eyes widened in realization, threatening to pop out of their sockets. “Fuck, did you get a tattoo?”

Letting his shirt slip back down, Seokjin only managed to nod, whereas Jungkook sprang to his feet and couldn’t seem to stop talking as soon as he put two and two together.

“Moreover, in someone else’s parlour?” he exclaimed, even though he didn’t mean to raise his voice like that. However, he would have been lying if he said he wasn’t irritated – it did kind of hurt his artist’s pride, so there was no point in pretending that he was okay.

“You got your first tattoo, and didn’t ask me to do it? I’ve been begging you to let me draw something for you since day one.”

“I know, and I’m really sorry.” A genuine look of apology crossed Seokjin’s face as he caught Jungkook’s hand in his, tugging at it gently to make him sit down. “But if it’s any comfort to you, it obviously wasn’t planned, and it hurt like hell the next morning. My hangover was nothing compared to it.”

“And where did you even get it?”

“In Holly Gesha, the one down your street. The sketch was Taehyung’s though.”

“What?”

As if sensing another wave of his temper, Seokjin shifted and settled behind him to wrap his arms around him.

“Please, don’t be angry,” he said, then pressed a soft kiss under his ear to placate him.

And honestly, Jungkook was only human.

“I’m not angry,” Jungkook sighed as he found himself sinking against Seokjin’s chest. “At least, not that much. More like disappointed. I kind of hoped that I would be the one to give you your first tattoo. You know, once I would persuade you to get one.”

Jungkook would have never admitted it aloud before but it was a fantasy, a little silly fantasy he had been harbouring since he first met Seokjin.

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” Seokjin mumbled into his hair, his one hand playing with Jungkook’s fingers, while the other petted his head with affection just as he liked it.

“Oh, well, nevermind,” Jungkook said with an air of forced indifference.

Since he could see right through all his acts by now, Seokjin brought his hand to his lips and kissed each and every knuckle tenderly.

“I have no intention to keep this monstrosity on my body, if you have wondered. But in the future, I might be more willing to let you have the honour to pick out something little tiny for me.”

Jungkook felt like there was only one way to react to that – so he turned around and pressed his lips against Seokjin’s.

“I will hold you to that,” Jungkook teased as he pulled away, and this time, the smile came out more easily. “Okay, now let me see the work of our competition.”

Seokjin wordlessly lay on his back and Jungkook pushed his shirt up.

“Oh, God,” uttered Jungkook soundlessly.

He hadn’t paid much attention to it the first time, so he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry on Seokjin’s behalf once his eyes landed on the piece of art permanently inked on his skin.

With no doubt, the design definitely belonged to Taehyung, because it was goofy, adorkable and disgustingly sweet. Who else would think that a “Bread Genie” with a dancing genie lamp and a toast would make a good tattoo?

“Please, tell me it’s not infected and that I’m not going to die in the next 24 hours,” Seokjin demanded since Jungkook’s silence was disconcerting him.

“No, it’s fine. It will feel sore for a while, but otherwise you should be alright. Let it breath, put ointment on it regularly, and avoid wearing tight clothes.”

“Oh, the perks of dating a tattoo artist,” Seokjin smirked but there was no real bite to it.

“Honestly, I still can’t believe you got your first tattoo in the Holly Gesha. That’s like the world’s dirtiest shithole that even NASA wouldn’t be able to find elsewhere in space.”

“Yet, you know the tattoo shop.”

“That’s because it’s the world’s dirtiest shithole,” deadpanned Jungkook. “And what the fuck is gesha, anyway?”

“A type of coffee beans,” replied Seokjin casually, rolling his eyes when he saw Jungkook staring at him with his eyebrows raised questioningly. “I’m a barista, I know my stuff okay?”

Jungkook scoffed and slapped him on the stomach.

“Did you get your tattoo in a freaking coffee house or what? I’m actually surprised it didn’t came out worse than this.”

“Look, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t left for a week to go on that summer camp thing,” said Seokjin, his voice sleepy and eyes closing.

“It wasn’t a summer camp but an art tattoo workshop,” retorted Jungkook as he reached over to pinch Seokjin’s clothed nipple, which made the older yelp and shove his leg in Jungkook’s crotch. “And don’t blame me, Yoongi-hyung was the one who told me to go – it’s not like I could say no.”

“That devil is getting back on me for making fun of his spoilt dog by sending my boyfriend to some artsy club.”

“Art tattoo workshop.”

“Potayto, potahto,” said Seokjin with no interest, rolling his eyes. “The thing is that you weren’t here, I got drunk, played a stupid game with Taehyung and Jimin, and somehow ended up with a freaking tattoo.”

“So, it’s my fault now?”

“Technically speaking-“

“Maybe we should stop before we fight,” Jungkook decided to cut him off since the discussion was leading nowhere, at least nowhere he wanted to go.

Resting his back against Seokjin’s thigh and the sofa, Jungkook pulled his other leg into his lap and started to lightly massage it. “Anyway, how did you want to hide it from me? Your hips are like my favorite spot."

"I know, that's why I eventually spilled the beans.”

As if he saw the gates to heaven, Seokjin let out a little moan the moment Jungkook hit the right spot. Encouraged by the response, Jungkook continued to expertly knead the tight muscle to hear more of those beautiful sounds only Seokjin could make.

Once he managed to loosen the stiffness in Seokjin’s calf a bit, Jungkook slipped between his legs again, hovering over Seokjin, because even his will had its limits.

“It’s kinda cute, though,” he admitted with an expression bordering between coyness and mischief as he lowered his head, peppering Seokjin’s face and jaw with languid kisses until his lips slid to the silky skin of his neck, gradually travelling to his clavicle and further down his chest.

“No, it’s horrible,” Seokjin spluttered and his voice hitched as he glanced at Jungkook who just swirled his tongue around his navel. “Jungkook, what are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Rubbing his lips together, Jungkook cocked an eyebrow in amusement as he started to pull down the sweatpants that were already sitting dangerously low on Seokjin’s hips. “Like I said, relax and let me take care of you.”

Seokjin didn’t get a chance to reply, his eyes rolling back in his head when Jungkook finally plunged down to keep his promise.

“… and now I kind of want him to keep it, but he’s determined to get rid of it.”

Slurping up his coke and staring at him with his poker face, Yoongi remained silent, so Jungkook took it as a sign to go on.

“I mean, I was hating it at first, but then we had sex and I don’t think I’ve ever come so quick and hard. Okay, maybe that one time he fucked me into the chair in the studio-“

“Gross, too much information!” Yoongi interrupted, making fake gagging noises as he threw him a disgusted look. “Why are you even telling me this? You know, there are things I don’t want to know about Seokjin-hyung, and this particular door should stay closed forever.”

“But, you’re my mentor-“

“That only applied to your apprenticeship which you completed two years ago.”

“-and my friend. And as my friend, you need to listen to my worries, hyung.”

“I think your tattoo kink doesn’t count,” Yoongi smirked and peered into a paper bag with their takeaway lunch in it. “Unless you pop a boner in the middle of a session with a client.”

As Jungkook opened his mouth, ready to bite back like the cheeky brat he was, the curtain was drawn aside and Namjoon emerged from his tattoo room where he had been working on some sketches to expand the galaxy on his arm.

“Did you clean up after yourself?” Yoongi asked after Namjoon plopped down at the table next to him.

Yawning, Namjoon rubbed at his eyes.

“I will, but let me eat first, hyung. I’m starving.”

“You have an appointment at one.”

“I know, so chill, everything will be spanking clean,” Namjoon reassured him calmly as he reached into the bag for his burrito and unwrapped it, destroying the tin foil unceremoniously. “Anyway, what are you talking about?”

“Apparently, Seokjin has a tattoo now,” said Yoongi with a meaningful look, handing him bunch of napkins because God knew Namjoon would need them.

Namjoon chuckled around a mouthful of his food.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”

“And our boy here is realizing his fetish for inked skin.”

“Oh, it’s probably not really the tattoo that’s making him all excited, but Seokjin himself.” Namjoon laughed again, only this time pieces of meat, beans and rice flew out of his mouth. “You worship the ground he walks on, so don’t worry, I don’t think it’s the teacup and cookie that are turning you on, Kook.”

“Genie lamp and bread, hyung.”

“Whatever,” said Namjoon, shrugging, before he took another bite. “I mean, Seokjin could have rainbow sprinkles on his dick and you would still get a massive hard on and go down on him without a question.”

Jungkook didn’t feel a bit sorry when the nacho chip he threw at Namjoon hit him right on the forehead.

“Hey, shut it, that’s my boyfriend’s dick you’re talking about.”

But it wasn’t like Namjoon was wrong – Jungkook had enough guts to admit that – because rainbow sprinkles or cute bread tattoos, Jungkook loved Seokjin from head to toe.

And nothing could change that.

#bts #jinkook #jin #seokjin #jungkook #jinkook fics #writings #my fics

23 notes · View notes

tink-bell · 7 years ago

Photo

Write a crack!ship au for one of your characters. Definition of a crackship: seriously this shit can’t happen but in an alternate universe

let me just say this disturbs me on SO MANY LEVELS i feel dirty and this isn’t even that dirty of a thing !!

AKA

Four times Tinker most definitely did not hook up and one time that they did.

The party was loud and there was so many sweaty bodies. Tink was in the midst of them, loud bass thrumming through her body and only enhancing the high she currently felt. Nights like these were her favorite. Everything blurred together blending into one colorful evening accentuated with loud music and the feel of skin pressed together.

How many people had she enticed? How many had enticed her? There was no real way to tell. All she knew was that at some point a sensory overload had occurred and she had to get away. The newly dyed green haired pixie knew that if she didn’t she’d end up near fucking someone on what they called the dance floor. Really it was nothing more than a large living room with all the furniture pushed out of the way to create ample space for everyone to congregate and gyrate.

It was on this short breather that Tink first caught sight of the tall gangly boy. He was surrounded by a group of four, maybe five; the way Tink’s vision kept swimming certainly wasn’t helping her keep count but that didn’t matter. They were faces that she recognized from Pixie’s and from her classes at Uni. One boy she’d hooked up with multiple times, a girl she’d seen giving furtive glances. But it wasn’t any of those that mattered. It was the tall one, a barely there smirk on his lips as he smoked, that had drawn her attention. She moved quickly, with purpose, to stand in front of him. “Mind if I bum one?” She motioned to the cigarette that dangled between his lips with a raised eyebrow before grinning as he offered her one.

She lit it easily with the offered lighter and then moved to lean against the low wall they were perched near. Discreetly she eyed him, taking him in further now that she was closer and he wasn’t wishy washy the way he had been. Spotting his shirt, she smirked fuller, even going so far as to huff a laugh. At the raised eyebrow she shook her head before speaking. “Bigmouth Strikes Again,” she said simply, nodding to the boy and his shirt.

II.

The second time they meet they’re both scavenging the racks of Scat Cat’s music shoppe. It was Tink’s day off from Pixie and she’d decided that it was high time to update her music collection. Not that it wasn’t banging anyways. Her taste in music was magnificent, even if she did say so herself. If it was recorded during the seventies or eighties, Tink had it. That was her niche.

There had been a rumor that Scat Cat had gotten something in that was precious and something she’d been looking for. It was the ‘67 London LP of Their Satanic Majesties Request and God was it beautiful. It would round out her collection and she was certainly ready to dish out the money for it. Even if it meant being a mite late on her rent that month. It’d be alright because the sweet, sweet voice of Mick Jagger could lull her into a false sense of security any day.

Course fate or whatever other bullshit you believed in would have it’s say as she neared the designated section for such a beauty. Lo’ and behold tall and gangly from a few weeks before was there, long spindly fingers traipsing over covers like they were piano keys. Tink immediately wondered what else those fingers were good at before inwardly chiding herself. Wouldn’t do to get all worked up inside of a record store with no one to help take care of her sudden need. There wasn’t even a dingy bathroom to retreat to with a stranger for a quickie.

Never the one to shy away from a cute boy or girl, Tink soldiered on. She wanted the vinyl, after all. And if she came away with a phone number there was nothing wrong with that.

“I’ll have to fight you if you take the Stones album. I’ve been waiting for Scat to get that in for ages,” she whispered, leaning close to him before taking a quick step back. Her face was alight with mirth and she waited for him to respond, grinning when he muttered about music elitists and hipsters, to which Tink took mock offense. “I may be a music elitist but I am no hipster, I assure you... I never did catch you’r name, you know.” She moved to stand next to him, her own fingers moving through the vinyls until she found what she was looking. For a moment she lingered, thinking he wasn’t going to answer her, before turning to head towards the register. “Berlioz. It’s, uh, it’s Berlioz.” He finally gave away, causing Tink to flash him a wide grin over her shoulder. “Tink. Catch you around, Berlioz.”

III.

It’s some months before Tink and Berlioz cross paths again. So much so that Tink begins to think he was just an illusion. A beautiful illusion that her mind made up to combat the fact she’s felt rather lonely the past couple of months. Not that there hadn’t been many that had graced her bed but other than that she felt she was missing something. A something she didn’t like to ever really examine because she was determined to be the free spirit she’d always been. There was no time for any sort of commitment. The biggest commitment in her life was Pixie’s and she had intended for it to stay that way.

Now when things became too much, when Tink felt that her thoughts would swallow her whole, she repeated the same pattern. Wallow for a bit the get high then grab a bottle of her favorite tequila then make her way to the park. Nothing stopped her in her quest. Not rain or snow or really windy days. The day it all eclipsed inside of her it was a wonderfully sunny day, odd for fall but Tink would take it, with billowy clouds that took shape. Blissed out of her mind, Tink had decided it’d be the perfect day to lay outside on the grass, head propped up by her tattered jean jacket.

Unlike the other times their paths had crossed, Berlioz approached Tink. There was no mistaking the bright hair of the faerie nor the absolutely tattered clothes she wore. The small faerie was so out of her mind that didn’t even really notice another had joined her until that deep voice broke through the haze of her thoughts. “Finding any cool shapes?” He’d asked. At the question Tink had laughed, instinctively curling towards the presence. “Found a crab with a top hat earlier. He looked right posh,” she hummed, resting her head against his shoulder as he laid out beside her.

They laid like that for what felt like only minutes, each one pointing out ridiculous cloud shapes and giggling, before the sun began to set. It made Tink sigh out softly as she stirred, blinking heavy eyes in the process. Really, she had felt comfortable with Berlioz, content to just lay there as her high worked it’s way through her. As it faded, though, she felt a sense of dread at having to walk away from this rather nice afternoon with him. “Feel like comin’ back to mine? Got some MJ and really good music. Unless you’re too cool to hang out with a music elitist,” she smirked. That smirk turned to a grin as Berlioz stood and nodded, motioning for her to lead the way.

IV.

Tink and Ber were nearly inseparable. Where one went the other could soon be found. Their now mutual friends called them disgusting, swore that sooner or later they’d get together. What they didn’t know though. Spoilers, darlings. Regardless, the pair spent more time together than they did apart. Tink wouldn’t have had it any other way. That place inside of her that had felt empty for so long, no longer felt that way. Slowly it had been filling, making instead a home for a certain tall and gangly boy.

It didn’t matter that there was an almost considerable age difference. Tink being twenty-four and Berlioz being just barely eighteen. What mattered was that they were comfortable around each other. Didn’t feel the need to pretend. They spent hours curled together, high as fuck, listening to music; new and old. It was all pretty G rated but TInk didn’t mind. This one relationship was fine without sex. It didn’t need to be defined by that because it just felt-- right.

But around the fifth month of their ‘hanging’ out dating Tink got her first inkling that things might actually progress to that level.

They’d gone to the Next Town Over for a proper night out. One that they didn’t have to be interrupted by any of their friends. God knew they’d crashed many a date in the past and really, Tink just wanted Berlioz to herself; just as much as Berlioz wanted Tink to himself. There wasn’t much of the movie that they could remember, most of it had been spent with eyes closed and lips pressed together, but from what they had seen it looked pretty boring. Something they could report to their friends when they eventually made their way back to Swynlake.

Phones shut off and retired to Tink’s flat for the evening, everything was going rather well. Tink had turned on the heater because it was cold as hell but they had still forgone most of their clothes as they laid buried under a fort of covers on her bed. Again, eyes had been closed and lips pressed together as hands roamed and explored, each set mapping out their partner with immense concentration.

Course that was when their friends most definitely used the key under the mat and came barging in, interrupting said explorations with very little dignity. Pouting while trying to cover her more exposed bits, she looked towards Berlioz with exasperation on her features as the gang all crowded around. “We need new friends.”

While Tink had proven that most things come about from spontaneity, sometimes she liked to plan things. Those things included birthday celebrations, graduation celebrations, and other such things. Her favorite, of course, being birthdays. Luck had it that hers and Berlioz’s were mere days apart. Which meant that there were three days in which they could celebrate. An entire glorious weekend to be spent celebrating between their friends, themselves, and their family.

Two of those groups were quite tiring. So tiring. Especially family. Berlioz’s family definitely didn’t like her and Tink’s family was very partial to him. Best to say they’d be avoiding familial engagements altogether.

It was their friends that proved to be the most tiring. The gang had all come together for a massive night out. There was booze, there was drugs, there were so many body pressed together until they all became one. It was an epic celebration. Something fit for the two of them. Only they would have preferred to be have celebrated by themselves. Something small rather than large and raucous. It was nice, though, and they thoroughly enjoyed the time spent with friends and each other; the two of them pressed tight together in an attempt to shut out the world.

The last of the celebrations were their favorite. It was just them, hidden from the world in Berlioz’s studio. He’d wanted to show Tink something and she readily agreed. In her opinion Berlioz would be the next Bowie or Prince. He had an ear she wished she’d had. An ear and an ability to put different components together into something... incredible. Plus she loved being able to say that she was dating a musician. Something only made better by the way Ber looked whenever he had an instrument in hand. Just pure bliss, nirvana right there in front of her.

But just as she could get side tracked in his music, she could also get side tracked in him. In the way his lips felt against hers or the steady and sure way his hands moved along her body. Tink was not a firm believer in delayed gratification, she preferred her gratification instant thank you very much, but this... Putting this off with Berlioz, all those interruptions and delays, it had been worth it. Every single nerve ending was on fire, bringing her nothing but complete pleasure as they went along slowly.

Clothes were discarded slowly, not carefully, thrown over chairs and equipment. There was laughter and teasing quips as they both chased something that was always just out of their reach. It was built up passion, desire, want. Everything Tink had been chasing all those months ago built into this one boy who had somehow made a place for himself inside of her, moving constantly within her. It was a push and pull, give and take, both reaching and reaching for release. And when it finally came they collapsed into a heap together, curling around one another until they couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended.

#bdrpwrimo #i had to be so vague about all of this #tink rioted the entire time #idk how i feel about this yet

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milominderbindered · 7 years ago

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thirty days of skam fic: day thirty aka, isak turns 21, at 21:21, on the 21st of june.

beginning. accusation. restless. leaves. rainbow. flame. formal. under. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. cans. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. tent. mad. thousand. paper. winter. luxury. letters. promise. simple. future.

[ READ ON AO3 ]

If there's one thing Isak thinks is strange, it's the concept of what makes a day special .

There are certain days -- Christmas, New Year, birthdays, Valentine's, whatever -- that you're expected to make a fuss over. And that’s fine as a concept, but when it comes down to it, Isak has always been confused by what actually makes those days special. Often, they just end up being more stressful, more annoying, more boring than a random weekend where you're just chilling out. So what makes them more important than a normal day? To Isak, the most special days are the ones he gets to spend in bed with Even, having idle conversations, nothing on their minds and nothing in the world they have to do except chill with each other, because those are the days he’s happiest.

And today is one of those days.

They're lying in their bed, Isak's cheek cushioned in the crook of Even's shoulder and his arm thrown around Even's waist, taking long deep breaths in time with each other, when Even asks, "do you ever think about the future?"

His voice comes out in a low, soft rumble; contemplative, the way he always sounds when they talk like this. Which is pretty often. Isak adores these times together, these mid-morning, curtains-drawn, world-shut-out, soft little talks, where they ask each other’s thoughts on life and the world. It makes him feel like he knows Even better than anyone else in the world, and like Even knows him just as well, which is a nice feeling to have. They often don’t view life in the same way, but one of the things Isak loves most about their relationship is that they’re both just fascinated with each other’s brains, outlooks and points of view that challenge their own understanding of the universe.

The only problem is, this time, the question seems kind of dumb.

"Of course I do," he says, picking at a loose thread on Even's t-shirt and then gently smoothing the fabric back down over his stomach. Even huffs and shifts against Isak's hand; he's ticklish on his sides.

"Yeah? Even though we're taking things minute by minute?"

Isak can't help but roll his eyes a tiny bit as he curls closer into Even's body. Minute by minute is a great mantra, a great philosophy, that has eased both their anxiety about their relationship countless times; the thing is, it applies better to when things are bad . Because when they're happy -- which is a whole lot of the time -- is there really any reason to assume it's not gonna last?

"If we lived every second of our lives not looking forward, we'd never get anything done," Isak points out, rather practically. "I can't be doing a science degree without making any plans for the future at all. The careers advisor would kill me."

Even let's out a wry little laugh and pinches Isak's shoulder, where his arm is wrapped around it. He knows Isak knows that's not what he meant, but there's always time for jokes between them. Still, when Even’s laughter fades out and he turns quiet, looking down at Isak with contemplation in his eyes, Isak speaks again.

"There just comes a point where it's impractical not to assume we're still gonna be together this time next year. Or in five years' time. Or ten. I mean, we've beat some really hard odds so far, doesn't that just mean we're even less likely to mess up as we get older and wiser?"

"You think we'll be together in ten years’ time?" Even says.

Isak rolls his eyes, despite the fact Even can't see it.

"Don't you?" It's a question he already knows the answer to, if the engagement rings he'd accidentally found in Even's browser history are anything to go by. Of course, that was months ago and Even hasn't mentioned it yet, but Isak feels very chill about it. He has no expectations of Even to propose, but it's nice to know Even has been thinking about marriage at all. It’s encouraging.

"I think we'll still be together in a hundred years," Even tells him, reaching down to press a few kisses to Isak's forehead, which Isak happily tilts his head up to receive with a happy little hum.

"Sure, baby. In a century we'll be together, in our joint cemetery plot."

"Aww," Even says, laughing. "You want to spend eternity in the same grave as me? That's kind of romantic."

"Mmmm." Isak shrugs. "So long as you promise not to hog the covers like you do now."

Even laughs softly again, and for a few minutes, they fall into silence. Even is idly stroking Isak's hair, and seems to be thinking about something. He often gets like this, absorbed in his own head, and after several years together Isak is more than fine with lying there quietly and waiting for Even to untangle whatever's concerning him. It's hardly a chore to cuddle with his boyfriend. Actually, Isak thinks as he shifts so his thigh is slung across Even's knees, he could almost fall back asleep.

Maybe this isn't quite the exciting way most people want to spend their 21st birthday, but to Isak, it feels just about perfect.

When Even had first asked, a few weeks ago, what Isak wanted to do for his birthday, he'd had dozens of grand exciting adventures ready to suggest. But Isak had shot them all down right away; those things were fun, sure, and he liked doing exciting stuff with Even. But on HIS day, when he got to choose how he wanted to celebrate another year of his life, Isak had known exactly what he wanted; pizza and beer with the guys at the weekend, no grand party or anything, and on the day itself, simply spending the whole time with Even -- in their pyjamas, cuddling, making out, watching Netflix, and having conversations exactly like this.

Isak has always thought that, much like New Year's superstitions, it's nice to celebrate your birthday exactly how you intend to spend the next year. And this is what he intends to build the whole rest of his life around, really.

Which brings him to his next question.

“So, why the sudden curiosity about our future?”

“No reason,” says Even, and then, in the same breath, “It’s your birthday.”

“It is,” Isak agrees.

“Your 21st birthday.” Even pauses, his fingers catching in Isak’s curls. “On the 21st of June.”

Okay. Isak is maybe starting to see where this is going. “And I was born at 21:21, remember,” he prompts, almost teasing. “So, that minute will be like four times more special than normal.”

It will be, Isak thinks, the most potentially romantic minute of their lives. And everyone knows how much Even loves grand romantic gestures.

In this minute, Even just stays quiet, and rolls them both over into a position where they can properly kiss.

-----

At 21:20, they're still in bed, in their pyjamas, cuddled up against each other. They're watching a crappy Netflix horror movie, but Isak tells Even to pause it.

“I just gotta pee,” he says, as he rolls out of bed. “Want anything from the kitchen?”

Even shakes his head, looks at the clock, and says, “don't be long.”

Isak isn't long. He goes to the bathroom, fixes his hair, takes a few deep breaths, and goes back out to stand at the edge of their bed and watch the minute change on the clock.

Even watches it change, too. And the moment it flashes to 21:21 on the blinking face of their alarm clock --

Isak drops to one knee.

“Oh my god,” Even says, hands flying to his mouth. He sits up and stares at Isak with almost disbelieving eyes. “Oh my god, Isak--”

“Even, you’re the best thing in my entire life,” Isak says. His voice is shaking and he can't help it but he needs to get this out all in one go or he'll lose his romantic nerve. “Do you wanna get married? To me? Please say yes, I -- I bought a ring and everything.”

He pulls the ring out of the pocket of his sweatpants just then, where he'd carefully stashed it a minute ago from his hiding place inside his contact lense pot in the bathroom. Even just keeps staring at him, and his eyes begin to well up with tears.

“Isak! It's your birthday,” he says wetly, and laughs a little. “Aren't I supposed to be the one doing insanely romantic things for you ?”

Isak laughs too, getting up off his bended knees and climbing into Even’s lap on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, but you were never gonna propose!”

“I was never gonna propose,” Even agrees, tightening his arms around Isak’s back and pulling him into a hug.

“Because you're a silly nervous self-sacrificing idiot with unachievably high expectations of romance?” Even laughs and nods into Isak’s collarbone. “That's what I thought. You will marry me though, right?”

“Fuck, Isak, of course I’ll marry you. What the fuck.”

Even pulls his head back to roll his eyes at Isak; he'd almost look convinced annoyed if he weren't starting to cry.

“Well,” says Isak. He leans in and kisses each of Even’s cheeks, and then grabs his face between two hands and plants a huge sloppy kiss on his lips as well. “Good. That's what I thought.” He wriggles through the tangle of their limbs until he can find Even’s left hand. “Now put this ring on already, I wanna fuck.”

Even let out a soggy little laugh and lets Isak slide the thin silver ring onto his finger, staring down in wonder the whole time.

“Anything you want,” Even mumbles, as he leans in to press a trail of kisses along Isak’s collarbone. “Fuck, baby, I love you.”

“I love you,” Isak agrees, and shit, he's crying a little bit as well.

And it doesn't matter at all that it's his birthday, Isak thinks, as they topple backwards onto their bed. No matter what the arbitrary date on the calendar reads -- this is the most special day of his life.

#skamFWN #skam fic #evak #evak fic #isak valtersen #even bech naesheim #SORRY THIS TOOK A MILLION YEARS I HAD SUCH BAD WRITER'S BLOCK u can read the notes on ao3 for a rambling explanation lolol #maia writes fic #30 days of skam #it's done yall!!!!!

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soclosewiz · 6 years ago

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Proper Nowhere

El Salto was the place where everything changed for me on my first trip south of the American border. One year ago I traveled here expecting the unexpected, but I never could have guessed how much it would change my life. Before that trip, I had been living my life in a very predictable way: work during the week, climb during the weekends, and plan semi-annual trips with a few close friends. After a particularly successful vacation to the Red River Gorge in November of 2016, I came back to Seattle knowing I needed to get away again as soon as possible. Somehow that led to me planning a trip to Mexico with two people I barely knew that December.

That trip changed me forever. Even a year later it’s no exaggeration to say I fell in love. Every day, in every moment, I was consciously aware that I had somehow unlocked a level of happiness I had never felt before. It lit a fire inside me for not just climbing itself, but travelling, meeting new people, experiencing new things, and all that the dirtbag lifestyle encompasses. I could feel that my life was about to change, as long as I was willing to let it; something that doesn’t come easy to me, yet I felt like I’d subconsciously been waiting for it for a long time. I eased into it over some long and influential spring travels until I was ready to fully move into my car and let the road lead wherever it did at the end of summer.

Deciding where to go on my travels came easy for a while, until suddenly it wasn’t. Cold weather and the winter holidays loomed on the horizon, and I was faced with a decision: to return to Mexico, or to attempt to find psyche in places where I either had no partners, or no desire to climb in the States. All along I knew there was only one answer, but I felt a strange reluctance to return to the place where it all started. I was afraid of what I would find upon returning to a place that had changed my life in such a big way—what if it wasn’t the same? What if it was? Christmas came and went and I still couldn’t commit to going farther south than Arizona, until finally one day I learned all my partners had cleaned out the gear we had stashed at the crag and were leaving within 48 hours to a place I knew I didn’t belong. It was time to face the music.

On December 26th as I walked out the door of the Chipotle in Sedona to knock a few hours off the drive, I got a message from a friend overseas asking if I would be in El Paso the next day and if I could help out his stranded friend. I had my doubts about picking up a hitchhiker, especially when I learned it was actually two of them plus a dog. Nonetheless I discarded my inhibitions and allowed the pair to curl up on my bed as I ferried them across the entire state of Texas. I got them through two border patrol checkpoints and a whole lot of what we called “Proper Nowhere” until we parted ways in Laredo. I thought it fitting, that my return to Mexico would start with an experience so far outside my usual status quo. I took it as a good omen of things to come, because Mexico was always about learning how much better life can be outside my comfort zone.

Waiting for me in Mexico was a diverse blend of the usual suspects from last year, plus many of the people with whom I’d been climbing over the last few months. Both groups were people who had gone from complete strangers to like family in just the few weeks I’d known them. I guess that’s what happens when you spend almost all of your time with people, camping, eating, climbing, relaxing, even working—friendships get fast tracked. I had come to El Salto for two main reasons: to party with these friends, and to try and send a specific route: El Infierno de Dante.

I had tried the route before and walked away uninspired: long runouts at the cruxes make it hard to work the moves when you are just beginning the process and the route is at your (my) limit, plus something about it just didn’t light that fire in me to make me want to really sink my teeth in. At the same time it’s hard for me to ever really let a route go, and it had been sitting in the back of my mind for the last twelve months as reminder of a time that I had given up. Unlike other climbs of the upper 5.13/lower 5.14 range I’d done, this one I knew was within my ability if I embraced the projecting process and approached it with commitment and patience.

I find in my climbing that I go back and forth between two different phases—mainly what I consider to be project mode and vacation mode. In vacation mode I am out climbing purely for the love of the sport and all it entails. Failure or success, at the end of the day I’m still having a big dinner with my friends, drinking beer, and focusing on enjoying every moment of this beautiful life. In project mode I am an athlete, disciplined and focused, willingly sacrificing all indulgences in pursuit of whatever climb has become my latest obsession. The tricky thing about these two modes is that they both make me feel really good in very different ways, and I often wonder if I’m focusing on the right thing. When I’m relaxing, I miss feeling strong and in shape, having big successes in my climbing and feeling confident about myself. When I’m dedicated and honed in on an objective, I wonder if my sacrifices are worth missing the fun nights of drinking, staying up late, and eating excessive amounts of chocolate.

Perhaps the fiddliest part of the split-climbing-personality conundrum is that I can’t just choose to flip the switch between the two modes on a whim. Vacation mode is easy, but entering project mode requires a goal, and it has to be one that really inspires me. There’s a certain feeling I’ve found about my proudest sends during the process that made me really truly care, and it doesn’t come around all that often. I may decide to work a certain route, but at the end of the day if I don’t want it bad enough that I fall asleep thinking about it, doodle its name in the margins of a notebook, and feel my face light up whenever someone asks how it’s going, the relationship is doomed to fail.

The last spark I’d chased before Mexico was Rude Boys (which was perhaps a bit forced), and before that City Park. I’d done a few low 5.13s here and there, but nothing had really struck me on that level in many months. I did want to go out there and see just what I was made of, test my limits and try and be my best self as a climber, but I had to wait for the calling. Finally it came, and I was ready and eager to answer when it did. Day two in Mexico I quested up Dante’s Inferno and felt the stirrings of that feeling I had been so long without. I was inspired.

Dante’s Inferno is perhaps the most well-known hard climb in El Salto, which adds a certain aura of history that always draws me to a climb. It consists of 40 meters of resistance climbing, passing through two very sustained cruxes to the mid-way anchor, and then one last sting in the tail a few bolts from the top. The moves are hard, not getting too pumped is even harder, but simply keeping your mind engaged for that much climbing is perhaps the hardest part.

After a week or so of effort I slowly built up enough endurance to know I had a shot, yet I battled with bad skin that didn’t seem to recover on my rest days. After a long mid-day nap one day, I tied in with fingertips so raw it hurt to take my jacket off for one last fitness burn (aka an attempt with low hopes of success but done anyway for the training benefit). My friend Tanager had just told me that all of her best sends had been after a nap, and another friend who had just sent the route said he had done it with terrible skin as well, so I decided to go ‘a muerte’ even though it was my fifth attempt in two days and I was exhausted.

Screaming on every move, I managed to battle to the first anchors for the first time and partway to the second. By the time that I fell, I was so exhausted that I couldn’t even get through the final crux to work out beta for any redpoint attempts on the extension. It was success nevertheless, resulting in much celebration after a local adventure movie led to a wild dance party lasting late into the night.

One extremely hungover rest day and a mini break climbing on other routes later, I knew it was time to go back for the extension. The weather had gotten hot, and many people were losing psyche for Las Animas, the wall on which Dante’s is located. I had a few partners still interested, but as the morning stretched on they remained at camp, going about their day in leisurely style while I paced around in agitation. I watched minutes tick by as calculations ran through my mind—if we leave right now, there will still be time to warm up and have an attempt before the wall goes into the sun.

When it became clear that things were not happening, I left for the crag by myself, hoping to beg a belay off someone already there. Up until then it had been so crowded that you could barely weasel your way in line for a warmup, but suddenly there was no one at the wall when I arrived. I sat around for a while before deciding I was wasting my time, letting toxic thoughts flood my brain as I began hiking out in defeat.

Just then, two friends rounded the corner and called out a greeting and that they were there to belay and support. Having stopped by our camp that morning and heard of my tragic plight, they were happy to help. The sun was already creeping across the wall towards Dante’s, so I decided to forego a warmup and just go for it. I needed to work out that upper crux, so it wasn’t a send go anyway. It wasn’t a send go, except the higher I got the more it felt like maybe it could be. The rock was cool but not cold, I was fresh but not shaky, and moves that had felt desperate felt completely controlled. Before I knew it, I was staring down the upper crux with no choice but to wing it—no real beta, but I wasn’t that pumped and the sun still hadn’t made the route too hot to climb.

I pulled into the final hard moves of the boulder problem, toeing down on glassy pebbles so carefully that I knew I’d never let a fall happen because of slipping. Suddenly it was all over and I called out to my friends in excitement that “It’s going down right now!” even though I still had a few bolts of easy climbing to the top. I knew wouldn’t fall there.

Afterwards as I traded my climbing shoes for a belay device to support another no-warmup send by a friend, I couldn’t help but stare at Dante’s and feel a strange sense of melancholy. I felt like I had only just started to get to know the climb and it was already over. I was beyond proud of how quickly I’d done it; five or six days of work to clip the chains on my second 5.14 is pretty exciting, but I wasn’t ready to let go of that powerful inspiration I had finally managed to track down. I had been mentally prepared for a brutal battle, in which I fell at the upper crux dozens of times, went home in tears day after day, and questioned the meaning of life as I fought highs and lows of self-doubt. You know, the usual projecting M.O.

Ever since last year, a part of me knew that Dante’s was one of those routes that I just had to come back for. Who can say why, but there are certain climbs that sit at the back of my mind, waiting for the day when I’m ready to lay it all on the line and go to war. Luckily I still have a few weeks here to see if the next inspiration lies somewhere between these limestone tufas and calcified stalactites, and if not, to simply bask in the warm Mexican sun eating Elotes and being grateful to not be freezing in the Seattle winter rain. I had my doubts about returning to Mexico, but in the end and as always, the Wash provides.

#soclosewiz #focusonyourability

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