deercountry | Birthday Party

Birthday Party

Who: Paul Atreides and all his CR
What: Throwing everyone’s favorite Duke a surprise birthday party
When: Forwarded dated to April 1st
Where: Bone House in Gaze

Content Warnings: Drinking, underage drinking, drugs (both fictional and not), drawings of space worms, skeletons, will add further warnings if necessary

When you arrive at the house in Gaze, (affectionately known as Bone House), a skeleton will open the door and offer to take your coat if you have one. No need to take your shoes off or anything!

The large house has been decorated with black streamers and confetti. In the entryway and hung on the railing to the second floor that overlooks the entrance to the great room are large banners that say “HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAUL” (though one looks like it used to say “Jaune” but was just painted over? Whatever).

In the Living Room, there is a large board and various colored markers for people to write messages to the birthday boy. There is also a table full of bottled water and various couches, chairs, and beanbags to collapse into if the party gets to be too much and one needs a quiet place to rest or a place to chill if you’ve imbibed too much… well, whatever you had.

It is also where all the food and drinks are.

There’s an extremely large charcuterie board with the usual meats, cheeses, and olives as well as an extremely eccentric collection of snacks ranging from individual sized Cheez-it bags, to humungous bags of Doritos and salty chips, as well as nearly every kind of Oreo one can imagine.

There are also various cakes, all angel food. Some are misshapen, some have an attempt at being frosted with whipped cream and fruit, one even says “Happy Birthday Ka-” before that was hastily covered with a bunch of strawberries jammed really close together.

At the island, a skeleton is playing bartender. Surprisingly, it can seem to take and understand individual orders, but there’s always a constant flow of tequila shots being made and sent out to the great hall to be served by another skeleton.

And, no, of course it’s not going to check your age to see if you’re legal. It’s a skeleton. Why would it care?

The Great Hall is the center of activity and where everyone is encouraged to mingle and have fun. There is a skeleton on the grand piano in the corner gleefully playing piano covers of the hits from the Shrek Soundtrack with the occasional cover of “DaRude’s Sandstorm” when it has another one to help out.

In another corner, on huge piece of paper that spans nearly 6ft wide and 8ft tall is drawing of an Arrakis sandworm and it’s giant maw. The game is Pin the Tooth on the Sandworm and it’s… very easy… because the worm maw is most of the board. Even if the skeleton spins you as you’re blindfolded, it’s pretty hard to lose. If you manage to do it, which is likely, the skeleton running the game will award you a tequila shot! If you lose, the skeletons will award you a tequila shot (but it’s rail).

(It’s a drinking game, isn’t the point to drink?)

There’s also a table that has many candelabras on it, numbering up to seventeen. They’re still lit and burning even though there is a sign that says “make a wish!” even though it almost looks like a shrine for the dead.

…It’s maybe clear that the concept of “birthday candles” was greatly misunderstood.

There is also a skeleton dealing out small doses of “Spice”, a psychoactive drug straight outta the Duneverse. However, you must check in with this Skeleton to get a dose. There will be no “permanently melting your brain with ancestral memories” at this party!

Teacher’s/God’s/Jod’s/The Emperor Undying’s study, adjacent to the main hall, is closed and locked. Though, the lock is fairly easy to break if someone really wanted to get in. There’s not even skeletons guarding.

That said, many things are warded with eerie runes of blood and bone.

So, fuck around and find out.

The upstairs is generally off limits. Party goers can climb up the stairs, and it’s encouraged if they want to look over the Great Room from above, but all of the bedrooms are carefully guarded by more skeletons who will SCREAM VERY LOUDLY if you try to enter and will become hostile if done by force.

Of course, this won’t happen if you are with someone who lives in the house.

Enjoy the party! Mingle away!

((ooc: if you have any questions or anything, please hit me up at

worldtype)) or via PM.))

Birthday Board | At the Party | The Morning After | IC Party Games | Spice Dealer

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ever observant, Midoriya can likely pick up from the easy, reflexive looping of Paul's arm over Kaworu's bundled, nestling self that this isn't a new configuration for them. Paul doesn't regret it, but he does think of it only after it's already done.

Then Midoriya calls attention to the bright plastic packet in his hand, Kaworu makes his offer, and it's all a little bit much for the condition he's in. Paul's already creased eyes narrow further, and he briefly releases Kaworu in reaching for his weapon.

"I know how to use your primitive Earthling protectives," he says, archly, and hurls a pillow at Midoriya with all the speed and accuracy he can muster. It's an excellent throw, under the circumstances.

He's not flustered by any of it. There's nothing about things like that which Paul doesn't understand the mechanics of, or sees anything to get worked up over about. He's simply insulted by the implication of his ignorance.

Blood rushes to his face as he looks completely away. He thinks Kaworu might have put that less baldly, for the sake of all their horribly throbbing heads and Midoriya's vivid imagination--all while he's holding a condom, in front of Paul, whose only objection is his knowledge being called into question. It's so much to unpack--not the condom part, not even its intended purpose, but the part that involves him, here, in this room. It's a little like being blindsided when the other two handed him their drawing, but fueled by the panic of what-does-he-say-now.

Salvation comes in the form of a pillow. He hears Paul move, and he sort of expects and accepts the whump on the back of his head.

"I was just checking! It's important!" he blusters over his shoulder without venom while a new wave of dizziness and ache riots over his skull. Unlike Paul, Midoriya doesn't think of the closeness of the two on the bed at all. Waking up to the face touching was enough. Really, the true shock is that Paul knows how to use a condom, and Kaworu doesn't. It underscores the general sense that no one in this room knows what they are doing.

If there's one thing Midnight-sensei (and the internet) taught him, it's that people can live their best lives in an extremely sex-positive way. Midoriya, at the moment, feels extremely unsexy. There's nothing sexy about feeling like a blob that got hit by a train. Midoriya makes the executive decision that this, all of this, is something for future Midoriya to think about--even if future Midoriya is just the more hydrated one cooking eggs.

"...Thank you for offering, Nagisa-kun, but my mouth tastes like something died in it. If you have a spare toothbrush, I will take that. I'm going to--I'm putting this here--" The condom goes next to the water jug. "I'm going to make breakfast, and I'm going to show you how to use this."

"Oh, there's one in the bathroom."

Kaworu doesn't really understand the priority of cleaning your teeth instead of getting your first kiss, but he supposes that is why Midoriya makes a good hero and is the one getting out of bed to cook them eggs. He has priorities and they are the correct ones.

Instead, he reaches over and grabs the little condom packet to examine it before flopping back down on the bed. It's not that he doesn't know what sex is or how it works but his education has largely been clinical and detached. Certainly, his creators never imagined he'd ever be in a situation where he needed to understand these things for his own benefit.

Tongue between his teeth, he examines the package. An earth protective? This tiny thing? He rips the package open to find something circular, thick at the edges and thin in the center, and a bit slimy. Weird. When the center domes outwards, he realizes the edges can be rolled down. So he unrolls and oh! Oh. He sees it now.

Then Midoriya's words echo in his very sore brain and he glances into the bathroom. "You were going to show me how to use this? That's very forward, Izuku-kun."

While Kaworu toys with the colourful packet, Paul takes advantage of his reach to secure the glass of water. He drains it twice in quick, determined succession, quelling the rebellion of his stomach by will alone. When done, he fills it again for Kaworu, then resettles into the soothing, supportive warmth of the bed.

Midoriya truly is a hero, so thoughtful towards their well-being and willing to pry himself upright to attend to their needs. It's a shame, Paul thinks, given what he's about to do. He really deserves better.

"Are you going to ask me to watch the demonstration as well?" He tucks his face into Kaworu's tangled hair, breathing deeply of reassuring salt breeze. "I apologize for my presumption. I'm sure we both have a lot to learn at your feet, Midoriya-sensei."

Edited 2022-04-15 03:40 (UTC)

On the way to the bathroom, he nudges the pillow on the floor towards Shinji-kun the lizard, who deserves it more than Paul, and who does not deserve to witness any of this.

Midoriya's life is already vastly improved with the application of fluoride and abrasion. Funny how the simplest things can make feeling like hell so much better. He's already thinking ahead to breakfast--He chokes on his toothbrush. Hurriedly spitting in the sink and blocking his gross toothpaste mouth from sight with a hand, he turns and sputters,

"On a banana! I was going to find a banana!"

Friendship ended with Kaworu and Paul. Toothbrush is his new friend now. Shinji-kun can come too.

Shinji-kun does deserve it more than Paul and to be free from this horrible conversation. Sadly, he does not have the wherewithal to do anything but simply sit there and experience.

At Midoriya's sputtering, Kaworu laughs, soft but clear like a ringing bell. And for a moment, he's overcome enough that he forgets that his head hurts or that he feels nauseous because he's just happy to be here in this place with two people he cares for very much. Then the moment passes and he's forced to clamp his mouth shut for a good thirty seconds before meekly reaching over to sip at the water.

"Well. You still could."

He reaches under his pillow and pulls out... another condom. Thanks Johnny the insecure condom fairy for providing.

The plethora of strainers and condoms (both of which Paul is gradually shifting aside for comfort's sake, as he discovers them) leaves Paul wondering what eventuality they were collectively anticipating when they went to bed. Surely, Sensei Lawrence didn't just fling a handful of luridly packaged contraceptives into the bed itself.

(Though when he thinks about it, that does sound...plausible. But the strainers?)

"You haven't even had your first kiss, and you want to get fruit involved in the proceedings? You know, there's no need to rush into things like that." Paul's voice emerges silkily from behind the protective barrier of Kaworu, whose relative innocence in this teasing hopefully renders him enough of an bystander to serve as an angelic shield from retaliation.

Under the swathe of blankets, meanwhile, Paul strokes lightly under Kaworu's sternum along a calming meridian line as the other boy sips at their communal water glass. He knows the tremors of Kaworu's nausea well, although in a wholly less celebratory context.

He concentrates on splashing cold water on his face. It's another simple thing that improves his physical wellbeing more than he thought it would. The other is Kaworu's joy. Catching sight of himself in the mirror, he attempts to calm his bedhead--fails--exits the bathroom, drawn by the abrupt stop of Kaworu's laughter.

Faint concern turns into a dubious look when Kaworu produces another stray condom. He now has to wonder if Johnny Lawrence planted the condoms like a scavenger hunt, or if they more innocently fell out of their package and were strewn around the room. Surely just hurling them into someone's bed is too irresponsible. He hopes Shinji-kun doesn't discover any of them.

He knows Paul's slyness. It's adjacent enough to be sultry, given the subject matter, but Midoriya's on guard now. Paul won't get him a second time if he can help it. (He still can't help another tinge on his freckles, but he refuses to avoid those green eyes with his own.) He has another thought, knowledge that must be imparted, now that he has a closer look at the slimy transparent wobbling thing in Kaworu's hand. He strides (gamely, he thinks) over and prods it.

"Maybe not a banana. This needs something huge, like an eggplant. Since you know so much, Paul-kun, I don't need to tell you this won't actually be useful, since Lawrence-sensei got the wrong size."

Between the sound of running water, the warm blankets, Paul's heartbeat against his back, and the gentle fingers running up and down his rib, Kaworu's eyes start to feel heavy. Omurice fades from his mind as the idea of going back to sleep starts to seep in and take over.

He yawns when Midoriya exits the bathroom, debating to ask him just to come back to bed. He blinks up at the hero with sleepy curiosity as Midoriya comes over to examine the condom, the big XXL letters on the packaging reflecting in the bathroom light. The wrong size. Kaworu takes another sip of water, considering the package and the other condom he just opened.

Oh.

He chokes on the thankfully small sip of water, making a sound between hiccup and a sneeze, as he tries to swallow it all back down so he can laugh at Paul's expense.

"Oh! He's right." They've been roommate for awhile. Kaworu knows. Then he extends his hand further towards the green-haired hero. "You should take then. It seems more your size, you're... muscled."

Paul lifts his head from behind Kaworu's, eyes narrowed in glittering challenge amid the smeared remnants of last night's eyeliner.

"I don't think Midoriya-kun has any eggplants at hand," Paul says, archly, "And Sensei Lawrence comes from a martial culture which prizes physical vigor as an aspect of manhood. I'm sure the gift is intended symbolically."

Paul has watched enough of the films suggested by Sensei Lawrence (and requested by Gideon on a semi-regular basis) to have reasonable confidence in his ability to sell the improvised sociological explanation if pressed. He's not going to sit idly by while people impugn his sensei, even if they're mostly right.

The comments on sizing of fruit, so to speak, don't bother him. They're practically nostalgic, like the crudely affectionate ribbing of soldiers.

"Besides, even an eggplant might not be sufficient to fill these," he says, mildly speculative, "Now, if we had a relatively small sand worm to protect from the rain...nothing inside gets wet, yes?"

For a second, he thought Kaworu was going to say "thick." It's the kind of unbridled cursed energy he exudes. It's in Kaworu's eyes, if not his words. Midoriya flushes deeper and does not take the condom. He thinks going downstairs with bits of lubricant on him would be difficult to explain to other members of the household.

"Womanhood too," he adds automatically to Paul. In Midoriya's world, the US is not without its problems, but their #1 Hero is undeniably built like a tank and hits like one too.

Midoriya returns to making pointed eye contact with Paul's darkly smudged ones. He couldn't directly mock the size of "bananas." That's rude; people can't help the way they're born. He can be dubious about Paul and Johnny's judgment regarding protection. He says nothing about the worm or anything it resembles; everyone's got their weird hobbies.

"If there's no eggplants in the kitchen, there's probably something growing on the house."

If there's a way to ensure safety, Midoriya will be obstinate about it. He's going to sex educate his friends if it kills him. It probably will, given how much blood keeps rushing to his face. At least it's not rushing to other places.

"It's always worms with you."

Kaworu flops back down onto the bed with a long suffering sigh. There's was a lot of worm last night. Surely, Paul must be satisfied for at least a bit of time!

"Let us know if you find an eggplant, Izuku-kun." He calls to the poor teen hero's retreating back and taking note of the twitch. Then it's oddly silent except the sound of he and Paul breathing and the creaking of an old house.

Idly, he reaches for Paul's hand, his arm still draped over Kaworu like a duvet, and runs his fingers along the top of Paul's. In some ways, it feels like there's been a fundamental shift, like very axis of the world has changed, and yet it also feels like nothing's changed at all.

"I thought it would be funny," Paul murmurs, once Midoriya is out of the room, taking his silence on the topic of burrowing worms with him. He would think more about that twitch and its accompanying flush, but Kaworu's hand traces over the back of his, and he can only do so much at a time under these conditions.

Conditions which have changed overnight, a shift in environmental homeostasis. He threads their fingers together and curls closer around the smaller boy, his face returning to the soft refuge of his hair.

"Last night," Paul says, quietly, "What happened with our bet. Was that all right?"

He would tell himself it must be, since Kaworu has let him stay this close, but that's not a real guarantee of anything. Or, as Midoriya pointed out, it might be a matter of memory.

"Yes. Why wouldn't it be?"

Is Kaworu's initial reply. Blunt, honest, without any attempt at delicacy. It's not usual for him at least. But it doesn't feel right this time. It feels harsh on his tongue. And like it leaves chalky residue in the air. He shifts, squeezing Paul's hand, stretching his legs out so he can hook a foot under Paul's knee.

"I'm always alright with you." He means it. Paul doesn't always have to be steady or smart or brave for Kaworu to be alright with him. He just has to be. The warm puffs of air on his neck after each inhale are ticklish yet soothing. He remembers the spice and losing track of his body, like they were one being. It was nice.

He tilts his head back as though he could look up at Paul if he twisted far enough. A playful look on his unseen face. "Still... I can't believe you won so quickly."

Paul huffs in mock offense that doesn't mask the underlying profound relief of it. He's pliant for Kaworu's rearranging of his legs, content to be entangled.

The water has helped him feel better. So too have the metabolic processes he's been coaxing into heightened efficiency, filtration and regeneration turned up to an upper tolerable limit. The downside is how warm it makes him, and the sticky sheen of sweat breaking out over his skin as his body shifts toxic byproducts out through every channel available.

His heart has to beat quickly to keep up with it all, but that's not the only reason it jumps and shivers.

"You let me win," he accuses, very gently, and in a fit of daring blows a cool stream of air across the delicate fuzz at the nape of Kaworu's neck, just to see what happens. "I don't mind, though."

"I didn't!" Kaworu insists with a soft laugh at the ticklish sensation at the back of his neck, tickling hairs that he often forgets are even there. "You did surprise me with your words, though I'd like to see you plan a party."

Paul's heartbeat is rapid against his back, it almost feels like the whirring of an S^2 organ, but he can still hear the distinctive beats of a human heart that is far more soothing. Giving Paul's leg a playful little tap, he 'hms' thoughtfully.

"In Japan, the sound of a human heart beat is doki doki. It often appears when one character has a crush on another." The thoughtfulness quickly flips into something playful.

"...And you are awfully sweaty."

This is both a tease and a statement of fact because they are very close right now.

"Doki doki," Paul echoes, in equal thoughtfulness, tapping out each syllable on Kaworu's ribs. He has, at least, figured out what crush means, having sought out the definition after his conversation with Anna (who he vaguely thinks might be pleased with how this turned out).

He knows what it means, but not what it's supposed to feel like. He's lying in a bed with someone he kissed, entwined like vines, and as he told Midoriya - he knows things. He isn't unaware of the implications.

But the definitions he read all made it seem like it should hurt, and this doesn't. Everywhere they're touching feels like a balm, the faint vibration of Kaworu's chest as soothing as it ever is. He could drift like this for hours, or at least until Midoriya came back, if he let himself.

"I should get up, then. Take a shower," Paul says, then, with a flutter of hesitant suggestion, "Brush my teeth, in case I surprise you again."

"Doki doki."

Kaworu agrees, softly. It doesn't really matter that Paul is a gross, sweaty mess right now and all of that is seeping into his pajamas. His affection outweighs any potential disgust.

He could doze for hours like this, just content to be. He wonders how it must feel to be without, like Sayo, and considers how lucky he is that he gained reward from his risk instead of nursing heartbreak. If only it weren't so complicated.

Then Paul shifts slightly, like he's making moves to get up, and Kaworu rolls over to half-face him.

"Do you think you get a kiss every time you surprise me?"

Edited (wtf am i doin) 2022-04-21 00:03 (UTC)

One of the things Paul finds fascinating about Kaworu is the ruthlessness he sometimes has in cutting through all the chaff of social rituals. He plunges to the heart of things, fearlessly direct. He's done it to Paul on several occasions before this one.

But that was then, and this is Kaworu looking up at him with bold crimson eyes as he twists against Paul's overheated body and sets his pulsing head spinning. Despite the two glasses of water, his mouth is dry, and he swallows as he glances down, which doesn't help at all when he ends up focused on his mouth instead.

"No," he protests, too quick and too quiet, "I don't- I don't expect anything."

He drops his gaze lower, to the collar of Kaworu's pajamas, where he finds a loose thread to fixate on.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Kaworu laughs, softly and then a little louder by the end. It's a laugh of someone who is charmed that someone would say such a silly thing. It's so human to have these doubts. And doubts are something Kaworu has learned he too has but, not here, not now. He would kiss Paul for every surprise, he's alright with that.

"I know. I've spent my life doing things I don't want to do."

He reaches up to card a hand through Paul's sweaty curls, tucking some locks behind his ear, just as he did last night. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to Paul's forehead before dropping back down on the bed, pressing his own forehead against Paul's.

"I'm here because it is my will to be here."

Paul's eyelashes flutter as he leans into Kaworu's touch, a tiny hum between surprise and pleasure drawn out of him by the kiss to his forehead. He tightens his arm around Kaworu, all thoughts of getting up temporarily dispelled.

"I'm glad," he says, softly, finally lifting his gaze back to Kaworu's. He can see him so much better in the glow of their bedroom's lunar orbs than he could in the closet. There are subtle variation in the red of his irises, this close. He wants to memorize them, shade by shade.

"So it's all right if I kiss you again?" Paul asks, and there's a faint edge of teasing in the quiet question, overshadowed by the low husk of his half-closed throat.

Kaworu curls up beneath Paul's arm, accepting that he'll be covered in sweat and it's worth it. In the moment, that little hum is the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. He lets Paul appreciate him, look into his eyes, he doesn't flinch away, he just stays there, being admired like a portrait and feeling like a beautiful creature instead of an abomination.

"Hmmm, I guess you can," Kaworu's voice comes out teasing, melodic, but eager.

Paul says nothing to that. He only smiles, slight and tilted, a gentle curve of anticipation under a heat-darkened gaze. He shifts against Kaworu just for the pleasant brush of friction between them, his thin t-shirt sliding reluctantly across his skin.

One secret of the boy who strives towards the impossible perfect is that, sometimes, he likes it better when things aren't.

The first kiss goes to the sharp pointed corner of Kaworu's teasing mouth, the second softly placed on its center. There's a split on his own lips he doesn't remember getting, a fine line of raw skin that stings when stretched, and there's none of the radiant bloom of spice to usher him on. They do need to brush their teeth. He's making a mess of both of them, and his head hurts, and he's happy.

Kaworu likes Paul's imperfections. He likes the rougher edges that Paul doesn't let a lot of people see. There's moments when he's clumsy, flummoxed, or even just dragged down by the dregs of sleepiness early in the morning. These traits are so endearingly human.

The first kiss makes him start to giggle, ribcage reverberating with a soft sound that is interrupted as the second kiss is pressed to his lips. He doesn't really mind their sour breath, though he's suddenly aware of how chapped his lips are and how dry his mouth is and how movement sometimes creates a stabbing sensation in his head.

Kaworu continues anyway. He slides a leg out from under Paul's and then kicks it over the taller boy's thighs, claiming his territory in the process.

Paul slides his hand to Kaworu's back, remembering the notched pearls of his spine, and he traces them from his neck to the small of his back. The draping of Kaworu's leg coaxes another hum from him, almost a question.

He'd thought there was a chance it was the spice that kindled the low heat in his belly, that made him so fervently anticipatory of the idea of drawing them flush together, but in the aching sober morning he's barely more temperate.

There are good reasons not to dip his fingers under the hem of Kaworu's shirt again, to glide upward along the path he just slipped down, but they're hard to recall through rising sensory static.

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better late than never cw: stupid teens playing with condoms

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