Day Four | Divorce (Divorce Proceedings Over a Cup of Coffee)
But Etho hadn’t blinked that cloudy Saturday morning, when Bdubs handed him a packet of papers thick enough to rival the books on their coffee table. He’d continued to sip at his coffee as he read over the words “Record of Divorce” like it was the day’s headline and asked for the pen in Bdubs’ other hand.
To Bdubs, that was it.
Summary: Bdubs thinks he's prepared for the moment Etho and his lawyer walk into the attorney's office to discuss their divorce proceedings. As it turns out, it hurts more than he expected it to.
readers of my fics would you like a mini (>1000 words) interlude chapter or a full one that resolves the interlude immediately. yes this is for what a fire heralds and yes the interlude is a pov change. Poll for ease
Where Will We Be In the Morning? (Back Where We Always Are)
"Oh Bdubs," Etho mumbles through his fingers. Bdubs thinks he's never heard words sound so soft yet weighted, trapped in an oxymoron that still sounds like heaven if only because it was Etho who'd said them. "What are we doing?"
There's a strange sense of tranquility that blankets over Bdubs as he too pushes forward to lean into the railing, crossing his arms and resting them on the spruce fence gates. The night persists beyond them, cool with a breeze that would mark it perfect for hot drinks and the stoking of a fire.
Just say the word, Bdubs thinks to himself. I'll spend all night collecting logs and sticks, just tell me what to do.
But Etho never speaks, and Bdubs suppresses a shiver against the next gust of wind."What we always do."
Summary: Everyone expects the arguments—the sharp words and need for space. The inevitable return that begins with soft footsteps and uncertain glances. But no one ever seems to mention that forgiveness doesn't always begin with an apology.
Sometimes it looks like dinner on the stove and a table set for two.
Content Warning(s): N/A
Word Count: 1785
Bdubs doesn't upload for a month and suddenly my writer's block lifts. Come back, king, the writing motivation isn't worth it.
"You ever think you're from another dimension?"
Distantly the familiar sound of Bdubs fussing with his kitchen barrels stops, and in the corner of Etho's eye Bdubs turns to look at him with a lopsided smile.
"What kinda question s'that?"
He sounds fond. So terrifyingly fond that Etho isn't sure what to do with it. A piece of him wants to wrap Bdubs' tone around his mind like a torniquet, twist it tighter and tighter until it numbs that weird part of his brain that feels heavy with doubt.
Instead Etho stares into his mug. Squints just to see his faint reflection do the same.
"A serious one."
Summary: If there's one conspiracy Etho will subscribe to, it's that Bdubs is from another dimension. He's never met anyone that could rival Bdubs' personality nor his compassion- it's practically otherworldly.
…and maybe, just maybe, a part of him thinks that if Bdubs really is some crazy person from another dimension, that warmth Etho feels when he's with Bdubs might actually be love.
Content Warning(s): N/A
Word Count: 1118
Hello! I was rewatching some Team Canada SkyFactory and realized one of their conversations had a lot of potential in the "This-Probably-Would-Become-A-Nagging-Thought" department. Here's a little fic based on that, enjoy <3
trick or treat!! happy approximately halfway to Halloween! are you dressing up this year?
That Kind of Love You Only Get When You're Young [Sneak-Peek]
Summary: Bdubs plans to meet up with Etho five years after their divorce proceedings were finalized. It was a surprisingly amicable divorce, but it seems time hasn't healed all of Bdubs' wounds.
After all, it's easy to miss that kind of love you only find when you're young.
Content Warning(s): Lovesick fools and past mistakes
Word Count: 979
Happy approximately halfway to Halloween that I'm definitely not late for! No dressing up for me this year, but I might throw a moobloom outfit + decorated antlers and ears for a Halloween-themed poetry slam that week. We'll see what my energy levels look like after mid-terms lol
Take a sneak-peek for a trick! This has got a good bit of both Bdubs/Etho and Bdubs/Impulse in it, so do with that what you will <3
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Etho agrees to meet up at the pastry shop on 5th Street at three in the afternoon.
Which is stupid. It's so, unbelievably stupid, that the night before, after Etho's texts had chimed, it'd taken five deep breaths and three separate readings of the message to dampen Bdubs' anger to a simmer.
< Etho > 9's too early
< Etho > but 3 could work
< Etho > see you then?
Bdubs is certain that the only reason he'd remained so outwardly calm was the fact that he'd been wrapped in his favorite silk sheets, the ones that smelled of lavender and dryer sheets and redstone because Impulse too was settled in bed with a book in hand.
In a comfortable setting like that, practically any bad news could've been dropped at Bdubs feet and he'd have braved it with a scoff and roll of his eyes.
…but a pastry shop at three in the afternoon? Who on God's green Earth would wanna eat sweets two hours before dinner?
Etho, apparently. Actually, screw it, Bdubs would bet the deed to their house that Etho was more invested in the shop's espresso machine than their pastries. He wouldn't have thought about how the pastries would be stale by two, nor how the shop would be quiet by three-thirty and closed by four.
Some things never change, Bdubs supposes. He just wishes it still didn't make his chest feel so tight.
He really should've suggested they go out for dinner instead. It's not like Etho would've turned down an offer of food and drinks, especially not while under the impression that this was only an opportunity to catch up after five years of enjoying a Bdubs-less life.
Er, a mostly Bdubs-less life. Etho still occasionally texted a random photo with no text to follow, like it was some Egyptian hieroglyphic that Bdubs held the Rosetta Stone for.
A picture of a rock indented to give it a far too wide smile. One of a meatball that looked freakishly similar to a spider eye. Another of a shirt identical to the color of Bdubs' favorite college hoodie with its tag reading "pink".
It used to be hard for Bdubs not to linger on each one—for his heart not to childishly flutter at the sound of Etho's unique text-tone. He's thinking of you, that tone would sing. You.
…it's easier now. It was bound to be, with the way their divorce gave Bdubs years to form an opinion on how Etho would never follow-up that text with a message. At least, not one that contained more than a simply "xD" or ":)".
It was nothing like the rapid response Bdubs always gets when he texts Impulse. It doesn't matter if it's a picture of a flower, or simple wish for a good day, Impulse always seems to pull paragraphs out of thin air just to shower Bdubs in attention he can soak in like a sponge.
Y'know what, this whole pastry shop fiasco has to be the first actual words Etho has given him in half a decade, and Bdubs can't help but hate the way he feels like an addict on the verge of relapse. Maybe it was better that Bdubs hadn't invited Etho to dinner—he could wrap their conversation up in fifteen minutes or so if Etho lets him.
Quick and easy. Nothing more than a greeting, a cup of coffee with a side of heart break and legal talk, and then a goodbye.
God he wishes he could say that's why he'd chosen the pastry shop in the first place. It makes him feel stupid to recall how he'd originally sent the suggestion text a little past nine in the evening, after the dishes had been washed and a glass of wine had loosened his tongue enough to salivate at the idea of a morning croissant.
Oh yeah, it was definitely the wine that'd made Bdubs forget that he could count on one hand how many times Etho had woken up before twelve in their twenty years of marriage. The wine, and not the body of warmth that had been fast asleep pressed against his back.
It wasn't that same body that always thwarts Bdubs' plans to slip from their bed come morning, Impulse already on his feet with half-lidded eyes and a step behind Bdubs just to keep Bdubs company whilst he made breakfast. Those same eyes would trace every movement Bdubs made around their kitchen as though it were a waltz he'd be expected to replicate, a dance where every time Bdubs licked a spoon of batter it meant that Impulse just had to swoop in and plant a gentle kiss on Bdubs' lips.
Bdubs has still yet to figure out if that little tidbit is another one of Impulse's affectionate tendencies or just an attempt to steal a taste of breakfast before it's done.
Not that it matters. Bdubs couldn't care less about some ulterior motive so long as he's allowed to bask beneath the attention he'd been deprived of for too long.
"He can't do two or four?" Impulse had asked after Bdubs had grabbed a little too meanly at their covers and thus had to voice his woes. Bdubs had shaken his head and said something useless about Etho not being a fan of meeting at even hours—hell, even numbers in general—because it's some dumb joke they made as kids.
"And he can't meet up any earlier?"
No, Bdubs had said. Short and simple and so unlike himself that for a moment he'd thought Impulse would call him out on it. That Impulse would ask and Bdubs would have to admit that Etho had always been a creature of habit who hated a change in his lifestyle more than he loved Bdubs' smile.
But Impulse had only hummed, quiet and patient, and turned the page in his book.
I got so excited when I saw you were doing trick or treating >:) I love your writing very much :D
Come the Bright, Brilliant Morning [Warm-Up]
Summary: Bdubs can say with confidence that he enjoys his life as the Hermit Kingdom's royal architect. He gets to spend his free time in a monolith he constructed, sketching out blueprints surrounded by the beauty he created around himself.
This is a slice of that.
Content Warning(s): N/A
Word Count: 803
Aww, thank you so much! It always makes my day when I realize my self-indulgent writing is enjoyed by others <3. I've been wanting to experiment with some different styles, so please take this attempt at a stylized royalty-adjacent AU!
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The evening sun has nearly set by the time his quill clinks into its inkpot for the final time.
Cloaked in his finest of green fabrics, Bdubs straightens and cares little for the sequence of pops his movement inspires to crackle along the curvaton of his spine; penance, he calls it, for the long hours he had spent leant over his desk. He cares even less for the smudges of ink he knows have collected at his fingertips when he scrubs at his eyes. He is certain that his cheeks are already tinged with the oil-like substance. What harm could come from more of it?
Even without the presence of a mirror he knows well that how he appears now is not much different to how he does after a day of gardening, where hours of work beneath dappled sunlight meant accepting that he would never be able to rid the soil from his pores entirely. His freckles would always color themselves a shade darker than the day before—though he might as well condemn the sun for such a slight than the soil he’d been knelt within.
He could almost think it funny how both activities—in spite of their vast differences—proved to yield similar results once Bdubs announced himself satisfied with his work: the preparing of a bath to scrub away the traces of the day’s activities, a dull ache that would dissipate come morning as though the world would not stand to punish him for completing his chores.
Even still, he finds his opinion firm that he will never prefer a day of gardening to one spent sketching within the grand walls of the monolith. No, there existed no amount of time he could dedicate in favor of pulling weeds and vegetables that would inspire the same twists his stomach would take whenever he etched another line into parchment. He could never compare any factor in his life to the exhilaration that came with the final acknowledgement that his creation would soon be brought before the King himself.
It was a feeling that Bdubs had never grown exhausted from in spite of his five years working beneath His Majesty’s eye. Even should his work be met with the similar echo of praise that proclaimed he had done a masterful job, Bdubs would be content to revel for eternity in the affirmation such words served to him on a silver platter.
This was his true purpose. To design. To create.
And there existed no finer cup of wine he’d rather drown himself within.
He hums a soft tune he has long reserved only for the monolith’s walls to echo—a song he swears the wind to bend toward as though it too could learn to mimic his melody. He agrees the thought to hold merit as he casts his gaze beyond the drawing room’s window and toward the forest below.
The final rays of the sun have only just slipped beneath the rolling hills that surround his land, slivers of golden light peering through the lower branches of firs in a feeble attempt to glimpse the final product of what had inspired his song.
Just one peek, the sun seems to plead.
“Come morning,” is his steady reply.
The last gleam of light fades then, beyond the horizon of his land and with it calms the subtle rustle that’d once plagued the leaves below. Not even the wind finds the ground to object to his words.
The world has no reason to think him a liar. It has always been this way.
Come morning, the world recites, Bdubs will slip from his monolith draped in shades of green and greet the early dewdrops that rest upon each blade of grass. He will not prolong the world its plea when he presents his parchment to the rays of dappled sunlight that seep through the firs, quiet whilst the sun fawns over his creation until it has grown warm with its pride.
Come morning, the world will watch him slip the parchment into the saddlebags of a horse, face smooth without the concern for whether its edges would crease in the journey ahead. This comfort, it knows, is the one that comes only with the peace of familiarity. It is in the same motion of ease that he will guide her from her stall and admire the glimmer of her speckled black coat amidst his movements to tighten her saddle and arrange her bit.
Come morning, the world will bask beneath the knowledge that Bdubs hosts no reason to raise his temper so early. The sky will be unclouded, the wind only a gentle break from the sun’s warm rays. Everything will be in perfect arrangement.
Come the bright, brilliant morning, Bdubs promises. Come the bright, brilliant morning, things will be alright.
Summary: Today is the day, the day that Bdubs finally gets to work on his Season 10 starter base. The sun is shining, he's got all his materials ready, all he needs to do now is actually build the darn thing.
Content Warning(s): N/A
Word Count: 872
As a trick take a sneak-peek of an upcoming angsty but happy-ending Ethubs fic. Current draft's got 3.5K words and it's looking like a 5K+ project.
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Thin slivers of sunlight have only just begun to warm the surrounding rolling hills when Bdubs emerges from his basement with a chest in hand and a goal in mind.
Today is the day, the wistful croon of nearby doves proclaim, the day he finally slips from the jagged maw of survival—from the long, clammy nights wasted idle in a cave—and into the soothing call of comfort that chimes only with the shutting of a wooden door and leaden scent of soil after an evening of rain.
Yes, today is the day, Bdubs recites dutifully between each puff of morning air he squeezes into his lungs, the day he finally gets to work on his starter base. A part of him had felt like a terrible liar when he first decided that it wouldn't be anything fancy. He hadn't wasted a second shoving that annoying itch beneath his brain.
Because it won't be fancy. It won't, it won't.
...not by his standards, at least.
Just a small cottage to add some much-needed variation to the green landscape that surrounds him in all cardinal directions. Something to keep his fine new feathered friends warm and his bed from the tacky humidity of a cave.
He'd even crafted a new bed the night before for the special occasion; spent hours dying each block of wool in shades of grey. And such late-night crafting certainly had nothing to do with the thick scent of mildew that'd begun to collect on his original bed. Anyone who said otherwise was a liar, and Bdubs had no qualms crafting a flint and steel to set their pants ablaze.
But ah, yes. Today is the perfect day for him to begin a monumental task like a starter base. It's bright enough to warm the moss cloak that drapes over his shoulders yet with enough of a breeze to cool the eventual beads of sweat that'll slide down his neck.
He can do this. Easily.
Luck might even have it that he's done by sundown should he play his cards right. And getting an early start is absolutely the beginning of said play.
It's such good news that Bdubs almost doesn't mind the cold press of dewdrops against his pants when he kneels to set the chest on the grass. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his cheek and he doesn't think twice before he scrubs it from his skin.
Sue him, it's a heavy chest. Chests full of building blocks are always heavy; why else would builders end up with chest monsters that never get cleaned up?
No one in their right mind would risk breaking their poor back moving all that junk when they could just use the area as a new storage system. Heck, he'd even consider it a lovely change in scenery! Only crazy people would want to stare at the same boring old basement storage area for the rest of eternity.
At least, crazy people and Etho.
There's a subtle shake to his head as a pleased grin spreads across his face. Putting "crazy people" and "Etho" in the same sentence was like saying the same word twice.
He taps his fingers against the lid of the chest. Or like hearing someone translate the word into their mother tongue.
The lid unlatches with a squeak. And all at once a stack of stone spills out from it.
His face falls in one fellow swoop.
When he blinks, Bdubs finds himself already in motion, one arm outstretched in a lunge for the stone and the other fastened on the chest. He can't even stop the yelp that rakes violently against his vocal chords.
In two rapid thuds of his heart, it's over just as quickly as it'd began.
The stone falls almost too neatly into the palm of his hand, and Bdubs' eyes barely have time to widen when his body jerks against his solid grip on the chest. It saves him from a one-way trip to the ground and Bdubs feels more than hears the hysteric laugh that slips from his mouth.
That was…smooth. That was smooth.
He blames the sudden shot of adrenaline through his veins as for why his hands hold a slight tremble when he slips the stone into his inventory. The cottage would need stone for the walls anyway, this might as well be a happy accident! Or- or a sign from the Universe that all is well!
He doesn't waste a second more, leaning into the overfilled chest of items he'd gathered over the past week. He's got a plethora of materials right here in front of him: various plants, moss, stair and slab variations…everything a builder could dream of for a detailed starter base.
He barely registers the fading haze of adrenaline amidst the time it takes to pluck different blocks and stackable items from his chest. Two stacks of mossy cobblestone. One more of stone. Another of scaffolding. Three of moss. Thirty-two blocks of packed mud—half of which in brick form.
It's more than enough to ensure he won't need another trip down to the mines for more materials.
*shaking you violently* you are my brick wall, hello.
you understand the epiphany I had about bdubs-etho-joel angst
also trick or treat :)
Falling on Deaf Ears [Warm-Up]
"I don't know why Lord Third bothered puttin' us on a team with him." Bdubs can't even bring himself to say Joel's name, face scrunching like he'd just tried Etho's latest attempt at cooking. He doesn't wanna risk it. Not when a part of him wholeheartedly believes Joel would appear at the first mention of his name.
…or maybe that's the devil. Either way Bdubs isn't taking the chance.
"I can't work with a freaking horse killer. That's cruel!"
"It's kinda ironic."
Summary: Joel has got to be the worst genin- no, the worst shinobi in all of history. At least, Bdubs think so. He just needs to convince Etho of that too.
OR
A Naruto AU where Team Short Grass is a new genin team consisting of Etho, Bdubs, and Joel. And of course there's some Team Minato parallels.
Content Warning(s): N/A
Word Count: 1031
Have a Naruto AU tidbit as a treat, you got their dynamic stuck in my head <3
