#afterall this is the lord of the gays we are talking about

[shrekgogurt]

Well folks. I’m on my substitute teaching grind again this week! Scheduled each day up in hopes of getting some good writing done. I did on Monday! And then proceeded to finally start reading @ninemagicks Game/Set/Match yesterday and did that every bell so uhhhhhh. Today………..well ummmmm…..yeah today I worked on chapter graphics because I’m in big procrastination mode. I want to keep riding this wave of engagement (that sounds corporate gross) but I’m also very much in my head about delivering. I should probably channel this energy into writing the chapter since such pressure is Baz’s literal arc but uhhhhhhhh why do that when I could Simon avoid. I love being mentally well!

One might say I need to find my own bravado. (more under the cut)

lol the chapter title for 13 is bravado by lorde

ok anyway

“Work In Progress Wednesday” right? That means I can talk about the progress of every part of the process? Huh? Yeah? Are you gonna stop me? TRY! TRY TO STOP ME!

Aggression aside, let’s get into it.

As previously stated on Sunday, we find ourselves at intermission. But that’s just the theatrical way of slicing up the story. The fun thing about 24 chapters (I got rid of my originally planned intermission chapter because I didn’t want to write it anymore) is that math really loves the number 24. It’s scrumptious. Yummily divisible. Ergo, IKABIKAM also has/is/will be deliciously divided. Afterall, I do keep saying I’m cooking on it.

Now, to put @alexalexinii on blast (sorry for perceiving you), they wrote in the tags of a Chapter 12 reblog: #made me realise that this fic had proper arcs? And I grinned. I cackled. I rubbed my grubby little hands together at the top of my tower as I’ve been doing this whole time because oh ARCS???????? YOU WANT ARCS???????????? I’VE GOT ARCS LYING IN WAIT LIKE YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE. (I love overselling myself.)

Allow me to let you in on some of the building blocks thus far.

Chapters 1, 2, 3: a complicated reunion which is shaky but ultimately sets up

Chapters 4, 5, 6: developing the friendship which is a crucial foundation for

Chapters 7, 8, 9: the gay (Baz’s increasingly more external “hi i’m gay”, Simon’s internal “oh wait me too”) which then explodes into

Chapters 10, 11, 12: all that political parent stuff that’s been hinted at in passing which is BIG relevant and incredibly intertwined in this tangled up mess that leads into the work of….

You get it. They’re mini trilogies. Don’t ask me about dividing the chapters into groups of four because I didn’t have that in mind while writing. I like threes better. Always have. Absolute banger of a prime number.

If you for some reason want to read more about the structure, I write a little more about it in this wipsday from when I was procrastinating 9.

Now, @cutestkilla keeps telling me I’m at the downward slope now but honestly delivering on what I’ve set up scares the shit out of me WAY more than the grunt work. I’m uhhhhh yeah. This is why I’m chronically unable to finish projects but by GOD I will finish this one. I swear by it.

So here are three sentences. You get to guess from who and when.

Loving him comes as naturally as breathing. It’s intuitive when I’m not thinking. Or rather, when I’m not panicking.

If you want to follow along with all the songs I’m hyperfixating on as inspiration I’ve been sharing them over on the “shrogurt” instagram. There’s nothing I love more than talking way too much about this damn fic. Thanks for reading!

And thank you for the tags today: @nausikaaa @facewithoutheart @hushed-chorus @artsyunderstudy @prettygoododds @emeryhall

Now tagging: @brilla-brilla-estrellita @captain-aralias @dani-vc @ebbpettier @excalisbury @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @hagnoart @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife @imagineacoolusername @ivelovedhimthroughworse @j-nipper-95 @larkral @letraspal @martsonmars @messofthejess @moodandmist @mooncello @nightimedreamersworld @onepintobean @palimpsessed @raenestee @rimeswithpurple @theearlgreymage @theimpossibledemon @thewholelemon @valeffelees @whogaveyoupermission @youarenevertooold @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

[iliveinmyblanket]

Chapter one: I introduce you to my hoes

"fuck" I screamed, as I faked an orgasm for an Orangists in Holland. 

My name is Valentine Du Lac and I have the attention span of a goldfish. I’m Queen Anne of Austria, the spanish queen of france’s personal but probably not favourite spy (everybody knows that it was Madame D’Artagnan), quite frankly because I am a right pain in her arse. But I’m still often the one she sends out on a missions - no one’s going to care if a prostitute from the Court of Miracles has gone missing. She’s never said that, but it’s implied with the job.

The Job:  I was here to be the orangist’s lover and listen in on his conversations or force myself to listen in. Believe it or not Traditionalists are the most boring people I've ever met, which is funny because I've had to spend hours listening to Lucy Walters who invented the word ditzy. 

I'm gonna just give you a summary of me and Orange dutchman conversation. I forgot his name so I've just been replying to him as "sir" because quite frankly I don't have the attention span to care about man who assassinated some himbo named Johan DeWitt and his brother something deWitt -forgot his name to. I remember Johan because I like the name Johan, oh it's cornelis - see that's why I didn't remember it -what kind of pretentious name is cornelis? 

Anyway my job here was to get information, there was none, mainly because he already assassinated someone so he could stage a coup.

not really anything important. which really pissed me off, Anne really got freaked out by orange dutchman who were assassinating people and also got tipped off that traditionalists were heading to france.

which is bull. 

which is good because I don't ever have to see Orange Dutchman again.

Orange Dutchman gripped my hair, sniffing my neck and whispered, "will I see you again?"

A gave him a soft but fake smile, "of course sir"

No you won't, if you do, I will give you the deWitt treatment.

I smiled, kissed his cheek, and fucked off.

As you can tell I'm not one for too much detail in regards to things I don't care about.

All I am going to say is this is the story of how I and  two other bosses - Dominique Treville and Marie-Cessette Du Vallon; basically saved europe with our strength, swords, witty banter and aided by two himbos named Xandre and Raoul. 

get ready for adventure because we make it look bitchin'.

While I was heading back home, Dominique Treville - the daughter of the captain of the musketeer was also heading over there very quickly after reading a rather scary letter. whilst Marie-Cessette du Vallon already there she too lived at my home but had returned from a meeting with one member of the royal family. she  was now at the tavern with her fellow musketeers - Raoul de la Fare and Alexandre-Olivier D'artagnan. Marie-Cessette was the first female musketeer and one of the best of them.

now technically the home I am talking about is Paris, but you have to look inside further. not at the shiny places, not at the places that appear lively. I mean the place that looks dark, that looks broken. Look into the place that appears to be to be lifeless, but when you turn off the lights at the places that are seen to outshine everything. The place that is broken lights up like the sun.

The Court of Miracles.

The Court of Miracles is said to be the slums, the dirtiest part of Paris. that's according to the richest of Parisians. the court of miracles is the most interesting place in france, full of people of different races, of different accents, different appearances.  the most welcoming place in europe. though the structures were unstable, the society is most happy, most beautiful. see you were never judged for your job, or who you are, or what you did outside - as long as you didn't bring too much of that inside.

My mother moved from england after the english civil war, I was 16 years old, she was a whore just as I am now - puritan england was no place for a prostitute and her  out-of-wedlock daughter. She died a year later of syphilis, leaving a poor daughter penniless. 

So what does a daughter of a prostitute do, when their mother dies.

Becomes a fucking prostitute.

As opposed to non-fucking prostitutes. Years later a dark haired woman, with a blue dress and a black hooded, guided me to the palace and introduced me to the benevolent queen of france. it was suggested that I become her spy as I had caught the eye of many religious and royal officials. a women can never escape the male gaze, so why not use that to your advantage.

Marie-Cessette, whom was was an adventurous, resourceful girl, with a temper, and the first female musketeer. she was opinionated and did speak up when she didn't  agree with the men in her life. it's surprising neither of us became executed for being witches, men do not like being told what to do even if they are being outrageously pathetic. This night, this less than fine night because the sky was fucking pissing itself, Marie-Cessette was leaving a tavern in the court, she wore a white linen shirt, a blue leather doublet with the musketeers symbol (a crown) and black linen breeches with blue boots, and probably something gay like "I am gay" or "if found please return to Anne-Marie D'Orleans" I wasn't there, I'm under the assumption she was wearing that, that night considering that is the musketeers uniform not the “I am gay” part although they should have that as the uniform. Marie-Cessette had brown curly hair (proper curly, not some movie bullshit curly) that was short and tied in a bun.

Her eyes are dark and watchful. she was leaving to go to her uncle Aramis (not by blood but by heart).

Her father is the Musketeer Porthos du Vallon, who grew up in the court. he joined the musketeers when he 16. that was his only good choice out of the thousand terrible options for those born into destitution. That's where he met Aramis and Athos, the three of them becoming inseparable. that's where he met D'Artagnan -Xan's father, actually no he met D'Artagnan when D'Artagnan decided to stir shit up and duel three musketeers in one day. but that's another story, literally another story, literally in another book.

her mother Puce is known as the queen of the court, that means basically giving those in the court food and shelter, kicking people out that are stirring up trouble.

Puce and Porthos never had a son so even though Marie was to inherit the court of miracles crown, she was trained as a musketeer because Porthos wanted to raise one. did Marie get a choice? no? is she happy beating up misogynists? hella.

This girl that fought better than the manliest of men (although I wouldn't actual call them manly) was heading to her uncle Aramis, why? so he could deliver a love letter to Marie-Cessette's lover - Anne-Marie D'Orleans, the king's cousin.

so yeah isn't that like superillegal? yeah, not the homo part, I mean it is a bit. but like not as vibe checking as bedding the king's cousin when she is female.

guys be fucking whoever they want, but girls ArE ToO FrAgIlE aNd HaVE a ROle.

Meanwhile we go back to Dominique.  now Dominique she has had some pretty fucking horrible news.

Dominique Treville was the brunette usually snarky daughter of Treville, the captain of the musketeers. now nothing is snarky, everything for her is humourless. this morning Dominique had received news that  Treville had been murdered by the musketeer Aramis.

which as you can see is definitely not the case, why the fuck would Aramis the himbo who invented the word "straight ally" kill someone who he sees as a father?

he wouldn't.

But a girl who lived in the country with no knowledge of Aramis doesn't know. you probably shouldn't tell her that when she's a holding a fucking knife.

"put down the knife or you lose your neck"

Dominique turned slightly, noticing the blade that sat on her shoulder and centimetres away from her neck, while Dominique was standing over the Aramis who was sleeping

"he killed my father, so I wouldn't be protecting the murderer" Dominique replied agitated, she was in layman's term is done. with. everyone's. shit.

Marie-cessette - who was the owner of the blade had no Idea Dominique had another knife

Dominique batted the rapier away with said knife and pointed it at Marie.

If you want to understand how much of a boss Marie is, well just understand if she were to ever do a DNA test, it would show she's a hundred percent that bitch.  She grabbed Dominique's knife and punched her in the gut, then kicked her in the shins, Marie-Cessette proceeded to pick up her Rapier, as she did so, Dominique ran at her with her knife.

Aramis shot up from his bed and grabbed his rapier, held it against Dominique's neck and then held her in a choke hold.

"cessy, what in the lord's name is going on?" He grumbled sleepily.

Marie-Cessette shrugged and rolled her eyes as if to say that she did not have time for this shit.

"she says ya killed her pa?" she replied, swinging her sword aimlessly around.

"oh he a criminal? let me guess? " Aramis started and turned Dominique around so he could analyse her. "gang?  organised crime. has to be, you are clearly not parisian. too muscly, not pale enough. if I killed your father, then it was for a good reason"

Dominique scowled, bawling her hands into a fist as her nails dug into her palms. her breath increased in a mix of anger and fear.

"what good reason do you have for killing the captain of the musketeers!" Dominique roared.

The outburst caused a wave of deep silence. Marie's eyes dropped, she dropped her rapier. Aramis let go of Dominique and fell onto his bed.

Marie ran to him, to hold him.

"Treville, he...can't" Aramis cried hyperventilating, "no..he..."

Marie grabbed his face, which was flooding with tears, "don't speak"

Dominique was now fighting a war, either this was rather well planned or Dominique had been tricked. But Dominique was smart, there was no fakery in those tears (it wasn’t a youtube apology video afterall). 

Dominique dropped down, kneeling at the bed looking up at the sobbing man.

"you didn't kill him?"

Aramis shook his head, "he was a father to me, a father to paris."

Dominique banged her fists against the floor, and started to scream.

"who the fuck killed him then!" she yelled and ran out of the housing unit.

Marie started to follow her.

"cessy?" Aramis piped up as she started to exit.

"yeah mon oncle?" She replied solemnly.

"keep her safe, it's the least we can do to honour his memory." He asked her, before lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

"I think she can handle safety on her own." she whispered.

"she can fight I'll admit." Aramis touched an etching on the wall, "but her recklessness will be a burden on her life."

Marie nodded and left the unit. She watched the girl with dusty hair. The daughter of treville was wearing a red corset, a dark, blue dress that fell to her knees, and black knee high boots, she wore a red tricorn hat. Dominique cut angrily up an apple with one of her knives.

"I want to help you!" Marie called.

Dominique rolled her eyes and launched a knife into a pole that was rather close to Marie's head. 

"thank you. " Marie sighed, grumpily. "I said I want to help you, not burden you. so stop being a bitch."

Dominique twiddled the other knife in her hand, "excuse me?"

Marie pulled the knife out of the pole, "you are the one throwing the knife at me. besides my mother, my father, your father helped build this citadel, are you sure you want to honour his memory by throwing blades into its foundations, and insult my family legacy." Marie shouted, despite not caring for family legacy.

"so what do you suppose I do then?" Dominique threw the apple off the balcony. "I'm back to square one."

"not if you let me help you" Marie replied, she flipped the knife and handed it to Dominique, "I'll take you to lieutenant D'artagnan, he can help us."

Dominique let out a deep exhale, and took the knife.

"I didn't get your name" Dominique said.

"Marie-Cessette Du Vallon" Marie held out her hand.

"Dominique Treville." Dominique took it and they shook.

"now let's get you to D'artagnan" Marie said, "oh and pick up that apple, rotten food is how sickness spreads, you heathen."

Dominique was rather sure that was not going to be the last time she was called a heathen.

Now it's for Xan and I's story. We a lot funkier.