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

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.

The sound Kaworu makes is a soft answer to Paul's hummed question as he feels warm fingers down his spine. Even without spice, he can feel every point of warm contact on his skin on skin, exhilarating and comforting all at once.

This feels nice. It feels easy. The warmth that flows from his core to the tips of every part of his body. He's satiated and yet wants more.

He pushes closer to Paul, twisting his fingers in those brown curls, unconcerned by the sweat clinging to the roots.

Midoriya is breaking in the new rice cooker. Prepping the sauce as best he can out of whatever's on hand gives Midoriya some much needed distraction. One thing at a time. For now, he (desperately) takes a simple joy in starting a dish of a size that's better shared.

Midoriya returns upstairs and knocks politely on the door. At Paul's muffled Come in, Midoriya enters. He's got an eggplant in his hand and resolve in his heart and nothing can stop him. He's going to make sure his friends are safe. Just like that one video he watched, he's got this.

"You said I could come in!!"

He holds the eggplant in front of him like a shield. It, of course, blocks nothing of the sweaty twine of his friends' bodies.

Edited 2022-04-26 04:11 (UTC)

Midoriya's dismay cuts through the balmy haze of Paul's thoughtlessness. He glances down at the blanket still covering most of them, all of their clothing more or less where it should be, except for the bared patch of skin on Kaworu's back.

That's easily corrected. Paul slips his hand free of Kaworu's shirt so he can tug the blanket higher, propping himself up on his other elbow as he does.

"Not so loud," Paul murmurs, settling his hand on Kaworu's side, "Unless you want everyone else to see your eggplant."

Paul had thought Midoriya was joking about the fruits and vegetables. Apparently not, but he won't judge. There are much odder and equally harmless proclivities out there in the universe.

"Come in and close the door," he amends, coaxing, pitched gently in the hopes of reassurance.

"Yes?"

Is Kaworu's response, clearly not particularly sympathetic to Midoriya's distress here. Humans have weird hangups about modesty but they're still fully clothed. Nothing scandalous at all.

Then he rolls over at the mention of eggplant, noticing it in Midoriya's hands. Immediately, he perks up, propping himself up on an elbow, unconsciously mirroring Paul, to gaze expectantly at the Pro-Hero turned sex educator before them.

"Oh, you found one. Are you really going to show us?"

Absurdly, hilariously, Midoriya doesn't care about lack of clothing on boys and on himself. If he wasn't already, communal facilities at UA desensitized him. Paul needlessly covering Kaworu just underscores how ridiculous his friends have been to him all morning. (Is it morning?) It's what they seemed to be doing, and not being sure he's allowed to be here while they do it, that he's helplessly confused about.

He hurriedly closes the door so they'll have privacy, realizes too late he's on the wrong (right?) side of it, decides this is what he wanted anyway. (Right?) That's why he brought the eggplant in the first place. (Still not as weird as worms, Paul.) Right--his mission.

"Y-yes." He shyly walks over and sets the eggplant down where he'd put the water pitcher earlier. He tries not to stare at how sweaty and flushed his friends look. It makes him feel warm. "I thought I'd see if you were ready for breakfast, but maybe I should just do this now..." As soon as humanly possible. "Did either of you even get up while I was gone?"

He begins intrepidly frisking the bed, hoping to find another condom.

"I was distracted," Paul admits, which is somewhat stating the obvious. Midoriya wasn't gone that long - or Paul lost more time than he thought he did.

For whatever reason, this demonstration seems very important to him, so Paul helpfully produces one of the condoms before Midoriya accidentally finds the knives tucked along the bed frame. He sets it down next to the eggplant and sinks back down, watching him thoughtfully.

He has a few idle inferences he might make about the cause of Midoriya's shyness, but Paul also guesses this comes down to differing cultural expectations, which means those inferences can't be trusted. He could keep trying to puzzle it out independently, but so far, that hasn't put him at ease.

"I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable," he says, sincerely, "We weren't - nothing was happening." He hesitates, then, running his tongue over still sleep-fuzzed teeth. "Is something wrong?"

Edited 2022-04-26 19:06 (UTC)

"I was the distraction," Kaworu clarifies for no one at all and looking deeply pleased with himself for it too. Though, he too can sense that Midoriya is quite serious about this presentation and he's already learned that one can't easily deny Midoriya when he's serious about something.

So to be helpful, he sits up a little, resting against pillows and Paul's body and takes the glass of water again, sipping it to show that he's getting prepared for... whatever is going to come. Then when he sets it back down, he takes the eggplant and offers it to Midorya.

"...Is something wrong?"

Edited 2022-04-26 19:27 (UTC)

Kaworu is very illuminating, an angel of light. He illuminates exactly nothing Midoriya didn't know already. Even the knives he has not discovered... He'd be surprised if Paul didn't keep a few around where he sleeps. It says something about Midoriya, and Paul, that he thinks it would be more normal to.

He never expects anything, least of all to be admitted to a room where by all rights it looks like he's interrupted something. The two in bed are unflustered by this, not resentful, even helpful. Midoriya concludes, a little desperately in confusion,

"No, actually." He doesn't even punctuate this with one of his false I'm fine smiles, though ironically everything is more fine than he thought. He hands the condom to Kaworu, the one who needs to learn how to put it on. He takes the offered eggplant, falters, unsure of the logistics in case his hands need to be free to help, then hands it to Paul instead.

"I'm just not sure why you let me in when you were busy." He sits on the bed with the familiar closeness of a friend who was just recently in it, but touches neither of them. It's almost laughable, considering the time they spent lounging or sleeping on each other. (On Midoriya, more accurately, like cats jealously guarding a favored seat.)

Paul accepts the eggplant as he twists up to a cross-legged seat, gripping the unwieldy vegetable in both hands. He lets his knee bump against Midoriya's side, then draws it back, uncertain of how much space he wants between them.

"I knew it was you," he offers, apprehension coloring his voice, "I thought..."

What did he think? There had seemed to be an understanding between Midoriya and Kaworu, for one thing, when Kaworu asked if he wanted to be kissed. They had shared the couch, and then this bed. They're comfortable around each other, but perhaps not so much as Paul understood them to be.

Or it's something else. Paul's never done any of this before. He's never navigated these complexities, and certainly never expected to do so without the structures he's used to. He thinks of how it might have felt, to go off to do something generous and coming back to his friends frivolously preoccupied with one another.

"Did you..." Now he's embarrassed, dropping his eyes to the ponderous purple plant he holds. "Did you expect anything else? I'm not sure what the rules are, for things like this. Not here."

"We let you in because it's you."

Kaworu examines the condom in his hand, flipping it over a few times, like he didn't just say something so declarative. In his mind, it's simple: he and Paul like each other and Midoriya is also their friend. He may not know Midoriya as well as he knows Paul or as well as Paul knows Midoriya but that doesn't feel like it particularly matters. They fit easily together in some combination even if their feelings aren't all exactly the same. And it's nice, feeling like things fit together.

He sits up too, pressing his back against Paul's sweaty side (Paul is lucky he's handsome enough that the sweat can be forgiven), and then kicking his legs out over Midoriya's thighs. A hungover rendition of their arrangement last night.

"Why does there have to be rules? Rules are all made up and people the make them up are the ones who think they're important."

Maybe Kaworu wouldn't feel so free to trap him if Midoriya didn't automatically shift his bent knees to be a more comfortable seat. Thus, Midoriya can't give in to the urge to bolt off the bed to save his good friends from the disaster that is himself. Midoriya had chosen not to think about whatever-it-is until later, even in the face of deferring Kaworu's earlier shamelessness. He didn't think later would come so soon.

To have rules, one has to have an inkling of what they're for and when one wants to invoke them. Midoriya can't believe Paul thinks he, a total nerd, knows about such things, much less has rules other than general considerations one might give to any close friend.

Midoriya can feel himself breaking into a nervous sweat, but he's never been one to give in to that when something really needs doing. He only knows how to be a good friend. He needs to tell them soothingly (falteringly),

"I don't even know what rules you're talking about... It's all right, I never expected anything. Don't worry about it."

Paul looks like a mournful parent cradling a sick eggplant baby. Midoriya shifts to reconnect Paul's knee with his side--with slightly more gusto, an acknowledgement of how they spar together.

"You two have been together a while," he explains his (incorrect) assumption garnered from their closeness, "so I was surprised you didn't teach Nagisa-kun this basic safety. I could have just sent a video, but... well... the search results were... I thought this would be easier than sifting through all that," he finishes with a wince.

When partial understanding finally coheres, Paul has the wild and unreasonable impulse of shoving the eggplant into Midoriya's hands and burying himself so deeply into the blankets he's never seen again.

The tips of his ears turn pink instead as he nudges Midoriya back with his knee, a reflexive press of contact that grounds him as much as Kaworu's flung legs across Midoriya's lap grounds him in turn. He absolutely cannot look at either of them as he swallows, the many things that may ensue after kissing passing through his thoughts in rapid succession.

It's not that he's opposed to them, in theory. It's that it's all theory.

"This happened last night," Paul mutters, rotating the eggplant in his hand and painfully aware of - everything, more or less, his flush creeping down the sides of his neck, "And - I mean the rules of what's appropriate. Social parameters. Correct conduct. You know."

There's a plaintive note to his insistence, directed at the both of them.

"As in - you wouldn't show your eggplant to a stranger, would you? Things like that."

Maybe he can pretend to get sick. They wouldn't know any better.

On the other hand, Kaworu has already considered all the things that could happen after kissing. Not that he expects them. But he's a curious creature and of course that means he's considered the things that he wasn't ever expected to be allowed to do. Though, ultimately it leads to a rather innocent perception of such things.

He shifts, leaning his shoulder against Paul and watching him fumble with the eggplant, trying to be a steadying force in his own way as he tries to puzzle everything out with his limited social knowledge.

"Izuku-kun is trying to help us out because we're friends. He said he'd protect us after all and that's more important than rules. It's good he's here."

Red eyes gaze into Midoriya's, trying to convey emotions, trying to build a bridge with just a few sentences and a look.

He wheezes like he's aged several decades in an instant and puts his face in both hands. Eggplant...

When his blush doesn't resemble a tomato, he lowers his hands. He can't look at the pink flush spreading painfully across Paul's skin. He looks at Kaworu, who looks at him, and his eyes are red, of which pink is a tint. He can't look at Kaworu either.

"You really don't have to--do stuff--but just in case... Like these, just in case..." he points to the colorful wrapped thing in Kaworu's hand, "I--I thought it would just be--you know, like class. Not weird. Okay kind of weird, but--" he bites his lip and lets out a breath through his nose. "If there's someone else you'd rather ask, that's all right. I just--well, not a lot of us Sleepers have someone like that. I thought you might be the same. And I'm sorry for assuming you were kissing and stuff for longer."

He looks down contritely. He would like to hide his face in his hands again, but he's no longer the boy who could barely say two words to a girl now. All his friends deserve the Midoriya who can actually communicate like a real person (most of the time).

Kaworu's statement about Midoriya's protection coincides with Paul suddenly choking a little on his own tacky spit, while and stuff nearly wrests a laugh that would be too nervous and high-pitched to be tolerable out of him, hastily transmuted into a clearing of his throat.

Someone has to take control of this situation before they ruin Midoriya's breakfast plans. Paul straightens his back resolutely, pulling back his shoulders, and plucks the foil packet from Kaworu's toying fingers.

"No. Don't apologize. You're right." He takes a bracing breath, firming up his grip on the eggplant. "It's best to be prepared for any eventuality. Pragmatics come first."

He said he knew how to use one of these. He might as well prove it.

"So," he says, briskly, "The first thing is to open the packet."

It's easily torn, a corner anchored between his teeth, and Paul slips the lubricated disk out between finger and thumb. He holds it up for Kaworu's edification, rotating it one way and then the other.

"You want to be sure it's oriented correctly, with the collecting tip protruding in the same direction as your - eggplant -" he's committing to this, apparently "- and you hold the tip between your fingers to prevent an air bubble as you unroll down the body, like so."

He's never been so grateful for having long fingers in his life. They allow him to sheath the bulbous tip of the eggplant in the prophylactic with his three free fingers while still securing the tip between index and thumb, without facing the horrible prospect of bracing it somewhere, or asking one of them to assist. Once started, he releases the end and glides the rest of the slippery thing down the vegetable easily enough.

"This is a fluid barrier," he explains, "It's meant to contain the-" he realizes, helplessly, what he's going to say next "-juices. Of your eggplant. Is that correct, Midoriya-kun?"

He's never making eye contact again. With anyone.

"Oh.

Is that all?"

Thankfully, Kaworu is paying attention, his red eyes usually fixed on Paul but occasionally glancing towards Midoriya, his chin propped up in a hand that rests on his knee. Certain parts like the opening the package with his teeth and watching Paul's long fingers work the eggplant that appeal to him more than the explanation.

He can't really understand why everyone is so put out by this. Do humans really have hang ups over this sort of thing? Even though something like this was invented for them to engage in pleasurable things without fear of consequences? Maybe it's the fear of closeness that still persists despite that.

Kaworu reaches over and picks up the eggplant and tosses it lightly in his hands a few times.

"And here I thought we were talking about sexual intercourse."

Someone needs to have courage here and it might as well be Kaworu because he subsequently has no fear. He was born to be the final messenger and he will continue to live up to that moniker.

Edited 2022-04-27 23:22 (UTC)

He concentrates on what Paul is doing, clinically, instead of looking directly at Paul or Kaworu or his own existential crisis. Paul is barely holding it together as it is, and one wrong look could deal the two of them irreparable psychic damage. (Kaworu is, apparently, immune.) The eggplant has Midoriya's full attention, because looking anywhere else guarantees he will die on the spot. Juices... And in nearly the same breath, Paul says his name like a dread summons.

"Probably shouldn't use your teeth to open it, but yeah... that's... yeah. Good. Great," he mumbles. Good. Great. Wonderful. He wishes Kaworu would stop waving the eggplant around, but, oddly, the ridiculousness of that makes all this a little less excruciating. It's... an eggplant. It looks stupid. He presses his lips tight on something that is not quite a laugh. It makes a strangled sound in his throat instead. He adds more clearly,

"They're single-use only. Put a new one on if you want to keep doing--eggplant stuff. If you two can find them all later, they're really better stored in their original packaging."

What do I... do now...? He didn't have a plan for how he would follow up this lesson and make it less awkward.

"Um..." he starts meekly, "breakfast's about ready. Just have to cook the omelette, but that takes no time. You should wash your hands and come down."

Or the earth could swallow him whole. That works too. He takes the eggplant from Kaworu. This is his mess, he's decided just now, so he'll clean this up.

Midoriya keeps his composure. For a while, it looks like Paul might too, his face fixed in a mask of raised eyebrows and tightly pursed lips as a muscle in his temple twitches. In the ongoing struggle of them just saying things, he can cope with sexual intercourse out of Kaworu, barely. He can even swallow eggplant stuff with a swift bob of his head.

It's hand washing and the attendant unintentional implications that undo him. Paul doubles over, looking very much like he might actually be sick, his back heaving in silent spasms, before he pops back up and drags Kaworu into an embrace, his slicked hands jutting awkwardly from his wrists as he presses a firm kiss to his angel's brow. He grins at Midoriya sidelong, his laughter finally softly audible.

"You're both terrible," he declares, his tension dissolving, "I just woke up. Yes - we'll clean up and come downstairs, if you promise that the omelette doesn't come with an explanation of eggs and where babies come from," he sticks the tip of his tongue in the corner of his mouth, a wicked urge overtaking him, "Izuku-kun."

He flutters his eyelashes, exaggerated to the point of absurdity.

Edited 2022-04-28 00:55 (UTC)

Mostly, Kaworu had just wanted to break through the awkwardness of the entire situation. So when Paul doubles over, he blanches, reaching out to awkwardly rub the other boy's back in a soothing and apologetic manner, and wondering how to fix something that you don't know how you broke.

Then suddenly Paul grabs him and pulls him into an embrace. At first he wiggles around like a cat being picked up against its will before settling in to his grip after a kiss is placed on his forehead.

"You woke up before me!" Is the huffed reply. Then he glances over at Midoriya, a smile on his face. "Ah, is that his role now. Unwilling educator? I suppose a hero needs to do what he can, even if he doesn't want to."

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cw: sex ed, condom demonstration on produce

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