Thanks to anon for the prompt:
"Prompt: grimdorks - Rose discovers that John reads andcomments on all of her wizard fanfictions under a different alias. She decides to indirectly confront John through the next few chapters of her fanfiction."
Rose's Fanfiction (John/Rose)
The chill of winter was nothing compared to the vindictive harshness of the wizard Grimstein's gaze. It was said that one merely needed to take a fleeting look at his stony visage for the unyielding weight of desolation to settle upon their shoulders, depressed by the murky past reflected in his silver orbs, so decadent, with the curse of foresight.
With footsteps as heavy as the snowfall, Grimstein swept across the threshold of his grand tower to enter the main hall. The piercing howl, painful as the screams of a pained child, ceased once the door was shut and the barrier between hearth and blizzard was erected.
Shrugging off his traveler's cloak, Grimstein ascended the spiral staircase, caring not for the snow he tracked through his quarters nor the carelessness for which he discarded his winter gear along the banister. It had been nearly a fortnight since he'd stepped foot in the hallowed halls and his bones itched with longing, an insatiable aspiration which begged to be itched, whose solace lay upstairs, in a supple bed, just a few more steps.
"Oh." Said Grimstein, after he pushed open to the door to his bed chamber and stood perched on the threshold. "I thought you would have left."
"I… had a change of plans." Responded a figure, shrouded in the gloom beyond the soft glow of a single candle resting upon the nightstand.
Grimstein stepped inside and shut the door behind him, further insulating himself from the bitter outdoors. The shape in the shadows stepped forward, revealing the countenance of none other than Fosseltoph, sorcerer of the Red Basin and protector of the sixth spirit stone. His smooth movements dripped with unadulterated magic aura and his beard, as lengthy and insipid in the muted light as always, skimmed the ground just above the dark floorboards.
"You have been gone long, Grimstein." Continued Fosseltoph. "I had begun to fear that you would not return."
"Where is your faith?" Chuckled Grimstein, unfastening the buttons of his shirt.
"Gone with you, I'm afraid."
"And now that I've returned?"
"So has it." A smile split Fosseltoph's face, a veritable falcate moon which brightened the hollow considerably. "What news do you bring from the south?"
"Towerfall is far more gone than we were led to believe." Answered Grimstein darkly. "The Queen oppresses her people with unfair taxes, near-slave labor, and biased legislation. I fear we may be forced to play our hand before the next full moon, lest she might push her rule northward."
"But to initiate out plan now would be to incite…" Fear swiftly flashed across Fosseltoph's face. "Revolution."
"So it would."
"You do not fear the Queen's wrath?"
"I fear nothing when you are by my side, Fosseltoph." Grimstein abruptly closed the distance between his fellow magician. With slender fingers, he trailed a line up Fosseltoph's arm, eliciting goosebumps from the temperate touch. "If this be our last night unburdened by the shroud of war, let us not think of such heavy things. Instead, let us savor our freedom… and our love."
With a flourish of his hand, Grimstein extinguished the solitary candle and cast the room into an inky obscurity as unfathomable as the future ahead. Yet, much more proverbial and tepid, comforting in the truest of ways with the abssense of color and blah blah blah blah…
John Egbert leaned back in his desk chair and heaved a mighty yawn into the back of his hand. If he was being honest with himself, this was the point where most his girlfriend's fanfiction tended to lose him. He could follow the twisting plot, understand the motivations of the complex characters, get behind the passionate relationship between Grimstein and Fosseltoph, but this erotica conksuck tomfoolery was just one thing that he could not take seriously.
Like seriously, where the hell did she get this stuff?
'earth-shattering euphoria that rattled him to his very core'
'quivering with the anticipation of a impulsive flare of flaming zeal'
John leaned forward and squinted at the pale glow of his monitor.
And 'buzzing intensity in the heart of their loins'
Heart of their loins? John scratched at his head. Do loins have hearts?
Do boys have… loins?
Do fucking humans have loins? John thought back to the tender moments of intimacy shared between him and Rose. There had never been any 'loins', at least where he could remember. The only 'loin' John had ever heard of had been of the 'tender' variety and was at Jade's last backyard barbeque party. You know which one. The last backyard barbeque party where everyone had a little too much to drink and John ended up riding Dave down the street like a pony, whilst wearing a pink feather boa, a leather trench coat, and absolutely zero pants.
Haha. Good times.
Anyways, John returned to the work of fiction and quickly read through the rest of the chapter.
Rose Lalonde, John's girlfriend of course, had been writing fanfiction since before she'd finished the fifth grade, back when her mother dressed her in pinks and violets, before the great goth-renaissance turnaround of the seventh grade. Her favorite fandom: "Dueling Dudes" was a series of fantasy novels written by the esteemed Daniel J. Noodleman and John, unbeknownst to Rose, had been loyally reading her multi-chapter fanworks for years.
After finishing her latest chapter, John was sure to leave a review:
oh my golden rings! this was an awesome chapter! when grimstein confronted the queen in the crystal palace, you know that i got shivers down my spine, almost as bad as that one scene in ghostbusters 2 when winston repels down into the sewer and sees all that slime. zeesh! haha. anyways it's always nice to see some quality "grimstoph" moments. i'm glad that they're finally reunited, for however long it lasts. can't wait for the next update!
keep up the good work.
- cameronPoe413
With a swift click, John submitted the review and smiled widely to himself. That oughta put a small smirk on Rose's little face. She frequently made posts about how she appreciated all her many reviewers and if John could contribute to that, then hey, why the hell not? Also there was something about the anonymity of his secret readership that got him a little excited, like he was pulling a fast one on the typically infallible Lalonde, who lived under the assumption that no one in her personal life knew of her secret pastime.
Checking his watch, John saw that it was now well -past midnight.
"Damn." He cursed, the word cross-fading into another yawn. "I better hit the sack. I've got class tomorrow."
And with that. He dimmed the light of his computer monitor and stumbled the few feet over to his bed, where he promptly collapsed onto the sheets. His eyes were heavy and he was just thinking that he should probably take off his jeans before he fell asleep when he felt a sudden, powerful buzz in his pocket. Grumbling to himself, John wriggled his hand into his pants and fished out his phone, flipping it open without even looking to see who it was.
"What are you doing tomorrow afternoon around two-o-clock?" Rose spoke in clipped tones.
"Wha-?" John proclaimed. "Fuh. Rose, what are you doing still up?"
"Answer the question, John."
"I'm…" John wracked his brain. What was he doing tomorrow? "I- uh, have class in the morning, but I guess I'll be free later. What's going on? Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm merely wondering if you wouldn't mind coming by my dorm tomorrow for an early dinner, possibly a movie, whatever tickles your fancy."
"You… wanted to hang out…"
"We are dating, aren't we?"
"Well, yeah! Of course. But did you have to call me right now? I'm going to see you tomorrow anyways."
There was a pause, then:
"I… yes- you. Er." Rose seemed to have lost control of her verbal facilities. "You're right."
"Are you sure that you're okay, Rose?" John was worried. Rose never called this late. She was too dedicated to her studies to risk losing sleep. Plus, when did she ever stumble over her words like that. Something about this entire situation gave John the willies. "Where are you right now? I'm coming over."
In the dark of his room, John stumbled across carpet in search of his sneakers. The girl's dorms were only on the complete opposite side of the campus. He could be there in five minutes, three if he sprinted at full speed, which he wholly intended on doing. He was struggling to fit his head through the sleeve of a sweater when Rose's words permeated his haze of panic once more.
"John. John!" She hissed, causing him to halt in his tracks. "I am in perfect health. There is no need for you to come kicking down my door in a frenzy of misplaced chivalry. I fear Kanaya would not take kindly to such a display, not to mention the fact that you're bound to get reprimanded for sneaking over here again so late. Pause a moment, take a deep breath, and get your hand off that doorknob."
John looked down, to where his fingers wrapped around the dented handle of his bedroom door.
Damn, she was good. Sometimes he worried that she could see into his very head. He would never tell her that though. She got enough ribbing from her peers during grade school about witchcraft without him throwing his own suspicion log onto the slander fire.
Heh. John made a mental note to write that metaphor down when he got the chance. Dave would probably get a kick out of it.
"Well, then explain to me why you're all flustered right now." John rubbed the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed about almost losing his cool. "You aren't taking…" John swallowed hard. "You aren't taking drugs, are you?"
He could practically hear his girlfriend's eyes rotate in their sockets.
"No, John. I assure you that I am within one hundred percent control of all my mental processes. I was simply up late, working on some knitting, and found myself entertaining the thought of spending quality time with my lovely boyfriend. Forgive me if I hastened to give him a call to confirm my plans. I shan't be doing it again anytime soon if he's going to have this type of reaction, let me assure you."
"Alright, alright. I get it. I'm a big ol' dork and I'm sorry." John dragged a tired hand down his face, stretching the skin. He was waaaay to tuckered-out for this shit. "I just worry about you sometimes. You're always so… well-kept or put together or whatever. I worry that you're, I dunno, secretly depressed or something. I know it's stupid, dumb, stupid, but it's what I think sometimes… Rose?"
There was a long stretch of silence on her end of the line and John's words float heavily on the end of his tongue, burning there like a rash. He shouldn't have said that. He realized that then. It was much too late for this type of heart-to-heart and he wasn't really quite sure if he knew what he was talking about or not. He was about to blurt out something again, anything to brush off his self-conscious words, a joke or something, but Rose beat him to it:
"You don't have to worry about that, John. I promise." Her words don't have the edge they did before. "If something were the matter, you would be the absolute first to know. I trust you… more than I trust a lot of other people here." She laughs then, quietly, and John knows that everything is okay. "However, as we're on the subject, I can't help but feel guilty for subconsciously instilling you with that fear. That was not my intention."
"Oh, I know. Like I said: it's just dumb, stupid, dumb. Haha."
"Hmmmmm." Rose hummed softly. John liked to picture her then, swathed in a soft black bathrobe, lounging on her bed in front of her laptop, her eyes closed in the peaceful drowsiness just before an impending snooze. "I love you, John. You don't know it, but you're a good boyfriend."
"Heh. I love you too, Rose." With a heavy wump, John sank back onto his bed, crisis averted. "Now, go to sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yes, goodnight."
She hung up then and John spent a precious second admiring the way her name flashed on the screen of his cell phone, before he collapsed backwards and lay perpendicular to his bed, still fully clothed. His girlfriend loved him, she was safe and sound, and he was going to have an impromptu date with her tomorrow. All was right with the world and he dreamed of gay wizards and black lipstick, as he drifted off the sleep.
Meanwhile, across the campus, swathed in a soft black bathrobe and lounging in front of her laptop, Rose stared with a powerful intensity at the cell phone gripped tightly in her palm. Calling John this late had been a mistake, she'd almost blown her plan before it had even gotten off the ground! Looking to her laptop, Rose reread the review that had just been submitted to her FanFiction. The every-loyal 'cameronPoe413' had been as praiseful as always and had succeeded once again in bringing a small smirk to her little face.
However, as much as Rose was one to never look a gift horse in the mouth, she couldn't help but peel apart cameronPoe413's words and draw incisive conclusions. After some contemplation, she had come to the quite remarkable realization that it was none other than John Egbert on the other end of the inter-webs, perusing her fictional works supposedly right under her nose. Like any good analyst though, Rose wasn't just about to come out and blatantly ask John if this were true. That would simply be too easy. No. she needed more evidence, a plan of attack.
She needed to be sure. Rose examined the review again.
'oh my golden rings'
'that one scene in ghostbusters 2'
Rose leaned forward and squinted at the screen of her laptop.
And, of course: 'cameronPoe413'
No one, and Rose knew that no one, ever said 'oh my golden rings' without a heaping dose of irony on the side. Also, there were but few choice people who would reference Ghostbusters 2 when there was the far-superior, first film of the duology to pull from. Then there was the username. Cameron Poe was, of course, the name of the hero from the infamous 'Con Air', staring none other than Nic Cage. John Egbert also just so happened to be born on the thirteenth of April.
Coincidence? Rose thought not.
Tomorrow she would test her assumptions for true confirmation, before enacting the real body of her plan. When she was finished, there was a good chance that she would ruin a perfectly good piece fanfiction. Regardless, Rose considered it to be worth the risk. She shut her laptop and made herself more comfortable on the bed sheets. Come tomorrow, she would know for sure and that, paired with the honest excitement of a dinner-date, sent her gently off to sleep as well, with a smug little smirk on her lips.
The next day, Rose hurried from her last class back to her dorm. She had gotten lucky when scheduling her class at the beginning of the semester, and therefore had the rest of the day off to study, catch up on some rest, or perhaps plan an elaborate scheme to out her boyfriend as a closet scrutinizer of fantastical fanworks.
Well, her plan wasn't exactly that elaborate, in fact, it was quite elegant in it's simplicity. Just the way Rose liked it.
Her roommate, Kanaya, would be out for the rest of the day attending a conveniently planned study session with her lab group, leaving the dorm free for Rose and John alone. The time spent up to the planned date was spent sprucing up the place, kicking half-knitted sweaters under the bed, stacking textbooks in their proper place on the shelf, and deciding just exactly what the menu for the date would actually consist of.
Rose had just decided that they'd have to do with delivery pizza when there was prompt knock at the door almost exactly at two-thirty. Centering her headband and brushing a final hand down her skirt, Rose walked calmly to the door and greeted John warmly.
"Afternoon, love." She grinned, kissing him swiftly. "How was your day today?"
"Fine." John blushed slightly, something about this exchange made him feel as if as they were some hackneyed married couple and the image caused his stomach to feel light. "I, uh, brought some flowers."
He extended his hand, dumbly clutching a bouquet of dull violets.
"I would have picked up some food too, but I didn't know what you wanted." He continued. "Where's Kanaya, by the way?"
"Out." Answered Rose simply. "And we'll worry about the food later." She gestured him inside, taking the flowers from John and admiring them to the best of her ability. "These are lovely. Thank you, John. Go make yourself comfortable in my bedroom. I'll be with you shortly."
John did as he was told and crossed the common space to Rose's room. As he sat on the edge of her bed, he could hear the telltale noises of Rose preparing a vase for his shitty flowers in the kitchen. He didn't typically bring shoddy crap like that too their dates, it was just that something about their conversation last night had left him feeling slightly uneasy, despite the positive way it concluded. Rose's strange behavior seemed to persist, as she entered the room a second later, carrying her laptop and a DVD in her arms.
"I thought we'd start off with a film." She said, taking a seat by his side. The pair moved up to lean against the headboard. "This seems like a silly question to ask, but I intend to ask it anyways. Have you ever seen…" She paused to lick her lips before showing him her choice of DVD. "Ghostbusters 2?"
"Have I ever!" Grinned John, his apprehension vanishing instantly. "Are you sure that's what you want to watch? I thought for sure you were going to hit me with some deep, psychological, indie film or something. Haha."
Rose's eyebrow quirked.
"Do you mean to insinuate that you dislike my typical film selections?"
"Well, no. I mean, that 'Wicked Monsters of the South' movie was pretty boring, but…"
"'Beasts of the Southern Wild'." Rose corrected with a sigh. "I suppose I shouldn't blame you, in all honesty. I do tend to have a weakness for pretentious filmmaking. Regardless, we shall deal with later. For the time being, yes, I do intend for us to watch Ghostbusters 2. If you have no opposition, that is."
"No objections here!" John shifted into a more comfortable position on the bed and snaked his arm around Rose's shoulders. She squirmed to rest against his chest and sat her laptop upon his knees. Rose's position insured her a clear view of John's face and she noted his various expressions of joy as the film ran its course.
So enraptured in Reitman's whimsical tale was he, that he remained oblivious to her observations. John watched the witty volley of one-liners betwixt Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis, god rest his soul, with pointed attention, as Rose merely flicked her eyes to the film once every few minutes, waiting for the right moment. Eventually, it came. As Winston descended into the sewers of New York City to confront the river of emotional slime, John's nose wrinkled in disgust, his heart rate quickened under Rose's palm, and a distinct shiver rand down his spine.
"Fucking sick." He muttered.
"Utterly dreadful." Agreed Rose, grinning like the cat with crème on it's lips. With her experiment complete, she reached up with sly fingers and traced a line across John's jaw, turning his eyes down to hers. "Turn off the movie." She ordered, bringing her lips up to meet his.
John turned off the movie.
Later, as they sat across from one another on the floor, a box of pizza between them, Rose garbed in his shirt, and John chilly under the air conditioning, he couldn't help but question her again:
"Not that I don't appreciate all of… this." He gestured around the room and between them. "It's just that I can't help but wonder why, you know? It's really nice and you're really nice and pretty and I love you and everything, but it all just seems a little spontaneous."
"I can't be spontaneous?" Asked Rose, still feeling quite pleased with herself. In her mind, she had won some great battle against John, a secret invasion of personal interests, and her victory was going to be quite sweet once it was enacted. "What am I to do, Mr. Egbert, allow you to run me into the ground with your own overly-romantic, saccharine, gestures of devotion?"
"Love isn't a competition, Rose." He grumbled, finishing his pizza.
"No." Agreed Rose, smiling slightly. "I don't suppose that it is."
John Egbert sat in his bedroom the following evening. Rose had just updated her story again and he was quick to settle in with a mug of coffee to enjoy the latest chapter of his secret pleasure. This selection seemed shorter than her usual work, he noticed, but whatever. As loquacious as Rose could get, she understood the concept of quality over quantity.
He read:
"It's the end of the line, Queen Vesselnia!" Barked Grimstein, his wand raised to strike the killing blow. "Your reign of tyranny ends here and now!"
"That's where you're wrong, wizard." The Queen, voice as venomous as snake toxin, showed no fear despite her precarious position atop the castle's rampart. "IF YOU STRIKE ME DOWN, I SHALL BECOME MORE POWERFUL THAN YOU CAN POSSIBLY IMAGINE!"
John blinked.
Alright. Star Wars reference. That's cool, a little weird, but still pretty cool.
He continued:
Grimstein did not heed her words, fore he had come too far to back out now. With his wand aglow, he advanced, a fatal enchantment on his lips, the fires of wrath in his eyes. However, before the ultimate spell could be cast, an ear-splitting boom rocked the foundations of the tower, forcing him to halt his advance.
The Queen laughed madly as the very world seemed to tremble.
"What is this trickery!?" Demanded Grimstein of the Queen. "Cease your lunacy and answer me, foul creature! Do you expect whatever distractions you conjure up to stop me?!"
With trembling hands, the Queen pointed a gnarled finger at Grimstein's chest. Her lips curled in a feral snarl and her next words caused the icy claws of fear to grip the good wizard's heart.
"Hahaha!" She cackled. "No, Mr. Grimstein. I expect you to die! Haha!"
Okay. That was Goldfinger.
John scratched at his head. In all thirty-two chapters and three hundred and twenty-seven words of Rose's fic, she'd never made a single movie reference, let alone two in a row. Now, he could appreciate the occasional humorous shout-out or slight nod to a quality, but this was just ridiculous.
John began to formulate his next review as he pressed forward:
Having no time for the Queen's sport, Grimstein slashed brutally with his wand and cast a final spell. The Queen let out a sharp gasp, a surprised expulsion of dead air, before tumbling backwards off the tower to her death far on the ground below.
There was no time to commemorate his victory though, as Grimstein quickly noticed that the very tower beneath his feet was beginning to disintegrate. Thinking quickly, the wizard leapt from the ramparts and fell through empty space. As the ground rushed up to meet him, he cast a swift hex and slowed his descent to a more comfortable pace.
Dust filed the heavens as the tower collapsed in on itself and Grimstein found his vision obscured by the grey smog. He waited patiently for it to clear and when the dust finally settled, the first thing he saw were a pair of figures striding towards him from the east. One was tall and slender, and the other stout and young, probably no older than ten years.
"Fosseltoph." Greeted Grimstein. "The battle is won! The Queen is dead and her army vanquished, this truly is a day to celebrate…"
"There's someone that you should meet." Interrupted Fosseltoph. The second wizard gestured to his companion, who stood a few yards behind him. "Casey, come here."
No.
"Casey?" Grimstein gasped as the young girl walked into view. Tears pricked at the powerful wizard's eyes and, for the first time in a long time, he felt his cold heart begin to soften. Reaching into his pocket, Grimstein produced a small object. "I got a present for you, Casey."
No. No. No.
Fearful of the powerful, magical being, Casey hid her face in the legs of Fosseltoph's robes. Worried, Grimstein looked down at the tattered, ruined, stuffed rabbit in his hands and tried to clean it hastily.
"Casey," Fosseltoph tried to gently pry the girl from his legs. "Take your daddy's present."
"No. It's okay, Fosseltoph." Grimstein slowly knelt in front of the girl.
She looked at him with wide eyes.
"I- I got a picture… of you." She mumbled quietly.
"I got a picture of you too, darling."
NO. NO SHIT NO.
"Happy Birthday, Casey." Said Grimstein, handing her the stuffed rabbit once and for all.
Together, Grimstein the wise, Fosseltoph the just, and Casey the innocent turned towards the east. The successful revolutionaries all cheered as the family started towards the sunset and LeAnn Rimes's 'How Do I Live?' faded in as the screen cut to black.
The End.
John finished the story, reading the final words through the cracks in his fingers.
"God dammit."He sighed.
As if by magic, and hell anything is possible at this point, John's cell phone buzzed in his pocket. With a heavy heart, he pulled out his phone and flicked it open quickly. Rose had sent him a text, simple, straight, and to the point:
"Gotcha ;)"
Thanks for reading.
- Mike