InsaneJournal

WHO: The Lynch Brothers
WHAT: Having some goofy brother time at Critical Role Land and checking in with each other
WHEN: Sometime after the world hopping
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: Complete

“Okay, so,” Matthew’s fingers were a blur tapping away on his phone screen, and judging by the repeated motion it was with his typical enthusiasm to whatever anyone had sent him, exclamation points and emojis galore. He glanced up, tracking where everything was in relation to where they were in Critical Role Land, basically just past the massive stone entrance gates and slightly off to the side so as to not be Those People who made crowds go around them. The sun was out, the sky was blue, but the temperature was mild enough so that running around in a giant fantasy (although not fantasy at all, sorry Essek and Caleb!!!) themed amusement park wouldn’t come with the risk of heat stroke.

Maybe not heat stroke but a risk of puking given what Matthew was considering.

“Supposedly there’s this unbeatable challenge, like, absolutely no one has done it but I totally think we can! You ride the dueling dragon roller coaster, one person on each dragon, then one person eats a Cone of Cold, while the other person eats a Flaming Sphere, you switch dragons, switch food, then ride Bigby’s Hand, then go to the Whitestone Shooting Gallery and get a perfect score.” Matthew finished in a sharp exhale, his blonde curls bobbing with the force of his nod. “Totally doable. I could go for a Cone of Cold now, even!” Given that Matthew was basically comprised of 50% sugar, 50% hopes and dreams and smiles, 30% enthusiasm, and 35% joy, spending the day with Ronan at an amusement park meant he could tackle anything.

The first thing Ronan had done upon entering the park was buy a giant turkey leg. He was currently gnawing on it as his brother yammered away in that charmingly upbeat way of his. Ronan knew they needed this. Things had been annoying and tense lately. Not much time for Lynch brother bonding when people kept getting punted off to other worlds and turned evil or whatever.

Ronan was maybe still feeling emotionally hungover from that round. Space had been much easier on him, if not easy. Leaving his friends behind, leaving Adam behind, had required Gansey giving him a hard shove and other people being in danger.

There was no danger here though, and Ronan was glad to relax, chew on his ridiculous meatstick, and watch Matthew make a plan that sounded like a surefire way to throw up on each other.

"Is it unbeatable because people end up with their head in a trashcan on the way to the shooting gallery?" he smirked. He didn't bother tossing his food in preparation for more food. Matthew had come by his bottomless pit stomach honestly. "Better question, the fuck do we win for all this running around like dorks?"

Matthew’s attention was temporarily pulled away by a plate carrying a pile of spiral cut chips brimming with bacon and melted cheese. He wasn’t entirely certain those were area appropriate, but just from the smell, he wasn’t mad at it if it wasn’t. His head swiveled the other way to scope out a cart promising roasted nuts seasoned with cinnamon and sugar. Honestly, the fact that he didn’t have a snack in his hands was some sort of betrayal to his stomach. “Bragging rights?” Matthew said, tugging Ronan over to the nut stand. Thankfully, there was a conversion chart of copper to the current currency! “We should make shirts though, I think if we’re the first ones to actually do it we should absolutely get to decide. I would wear the HECK out of it, that’s for sure.” Considering Matthew unironically was wearing a hoodie that had a print of a shark puking a rainbow while a cowboy hat wearing cat rode it, of course he would wear some other ridiculous shirt about an internet created amusement park challenge.

Cone of nuts secured (this wasn’t a part of the challenge officially, but the name was funny enough that he thought maybe it should be) Matthew popped a handful in his mouth and only slightly regretted it because of how hot they really were. He inhaled and exhaled through his open mouth as if that would be enough to cool them off. “Ow, ow, totally worth it, ow ow. We should probably do other things we want to do first, on the totally off chance we end up puking and then are useless for the rest of the day.”

Ronan knew Matthew was absolutely serious about stupid shirts. Worse, he was the one person who could get Ronan to wear a stupid shirt. At least one he hadn't picked out for himself just to be an annoying shithead. He tossed the gnawed turkey bone in a passing trash can and grabbed for a few of the nuts in Matthew's cone to chase it down. He ended up talking around the burning tongue the same way his brother was.

"Ah, fuck, hell, why are they so, ah, shitting hot." It was a rhetorical question. He hurried past Matthew to a water fountain and pressed the button. The water spewed straight up like a rocket and nearly got him in the eye. "Motherfucker. This is sabotage." It was a good thing Ronan was often motivated by spite. It meant he straight back up with purpose. "Okay, we're definitely doing that shit." He eyed the steaming cone of nuts. "Later. In the meantime, I want to win obnoxiously large prizes and get mad about having to carry them the rest of the day."

As if on cue, a small kid walked by carrying a stuffed Kenku that was bigger than she was. "Like that dumbass."

Matthew all but bent over in laughter, because Ronan going along with him and being goofy would never fail to make everything funnier. It also felt good to laugh. He hooked one arm around Ronan’s shoulder and with his free hand tossed a candied nut in the air, attempting to catch it in his mouth. The first one bounced off his cheek and onto the ground, but the second one, that one was a mad success!

It also would take literally no convincing to have Matthew ready to play a game, even a potentially rigged carnival one. Despite his golden retriever spirit, Matthew had a fierce competitive streak. At Aglionby he participated in…basically every sport they had, because he loved being active and he loved the camaraderie that came with sports. All of those things were true. And Matthew didn’t need to win, he appreciated a well played game and usually ended it by slapping hands with everyone and exchanging phone numbers. But if he got to have friends at the end AND win, that was way more preferred.

All that to say, Matthew was more competitive than anyone might think,

“Definitely! I need one of those–” once again Matthew’s head was on a swivel, a heat seeking missile if the target was a giant stuffed thing. “Gelatinous cubes! Maybe two of them, I have pretty big arms, I can carry a lot.” The occasional sound of a bell clanging caught his attention and Matthew turned around to spot a line of people waiting to shoot their shot at slamming a giant hammer down on a plate to shoot a puck up to ring the bell. ‘Are You Strong Enough to Join the Herd of Storms’, apparently. “First one to win buys the cones of cold?”

Ronan gave Matthew a noogie but then let himself be used as a leaning post. He remembered when his brother was too short for this. It felt like forever ago and yesterday at the same time. When he spotted what game Matthew was gunning for, he laughed.

"We might have to strap one cube to your back," he joked. "If you even get there after getting your ass kicked." He beamed a competitive smile and got in line. It moved pretty fast and he helped Matthew eat the much cooler nuts while they waited.

"Hey uh. This is a stupid time to ask this but whatever." Ronan squinted one-eyed at him as the couple in front of them stepped up to swing the hammer. "How are you doing? I mean. You know. About Talcott."

Matthew shot Ronan A Look, fond, but slightly exasperated, as if to echo the obvious–it was a weird time to ask. But of course he understood why–Matthew was the younger brother, Ronan’s inclination was always to watch over him, and he wasn’t surprised either. Maybe that the conversation was happening in the middle of an amusement park where a bard walked by with a sort of one man band setup strapped to their back so they could simultaneously play the tuba and the accordion, but not that it was happening.

And he found that he sort of did want it to happen, now that there had been a little bit of time and distance. Scared as he had been to know that Ronan was pitching himself across galaxies, that week had Matthew working hard to keep the farm and the bookstore going, of course he could have called in other people but there had been something calming about knowing that he was taking care of places that meant so much to him and other people.

“I’m okay,” he promised, nudging Ronan with his shoulder. It was true because Matthew said it in the more leveled way he had when he’d actually stopped to think and reflect instead of the overly chipper way he sometimes adopted to compensate. He still did it, to be fair, and he was sincerely chipper too! But Matthew was also trying to feel his feelings and give a voice to hard things. “I mean I’m still sad about it, but,” he shrugged. “I don’t regret anything. That’s where I’m at now.”

Wistful and almost lost in the roar of the nearby dragon coaster came Matthew’s next words. “I’ll miss that future. I’m sad that it's gone. It makes me sad when I think about losing that. Losing the people.”

Ronan held up his hands defensively at the Look, but he was relieved when Matthew opened up anyway. He'd never been the best at brotherly concern. Timing-wise at least. The concern was always there, roiling beneath the surface like a hungry whale. He scowled as Matthew spoke, but it was just the way his face looked when his emotions made him feel helpless.

He reached out and pulled Matthew into a hug, too tight probably for standing in line at a strength tester in an amusement park. Good thing he gave zero fucks what anyone else thought.

"I'm sorry. You deserve better than having shit just stolen out from under you like that. But I'm glad you don't regret it." He ruffled Matthew's curls as he let go. The guy in front of them in line made a sad showing on the hammer. His girlfriend laughed and took his spot. "I don't want you to shut down and not give shit a chance."

Matthew never refused a hug, especially not from Ronan, and his self-consciousness tended to be…slim to none. He was the first one to offer someone a hug (or a form of affection that they were more comfortable with, personal space was important) so of course he didn’t mind when one came his way. Matthew could always read Ronan’s hugs, because Ronan’s actions tended to speak more than his words, so when he returned the hug, Matthew hoped it conveyed the sentiments right back.

“I’m not,” he said with a shrug. “It’s just–you know. Not really thinking about it right now? Maybe sometime. Hopefully, at least. But I’m not great at recognizing that, I think.” Most everyone tended to be kind to Matthew, and he reflected the kindness he received back tenfold. He knew all of the customers at the Barns by name along with details about them, because Matthew remembered things like Sam’s dog Nemo going in for a test, he remembered that it was Claudia and Lorelei’s grandkid’s birthday last week, Matthew sincerely liked people and they liked him. Anything beyond that had him making a move before he knew what he was really doing. Which worked! Until it no longer did.

“How’d you know? With Adam? We weren’t like that, I’m not saying that,” Matthew quickly amended, throwing another handful of nuts into his mouth, content to people watch while they were in line. “I’m just curious.”

"How'd I know what?" Ronan laughed. "That I was stupid over him from the start or that I desperately wanted him to give me a chance?" It was their turn, but he took a moment to talk before he moved up the last step and handed over some tickets. "Everything was so fucked. I was so messed up in the head. But he always made me feel seen in the way I needed so badly."

It felt a little silly talking about this now, after two engagements, a wedding, and two anniversaries. Matthew got to see his relationship from the front row every day. But it felt good to put it into words anyway.

"He made me want to be seen for who I really was when I'd spent years hiding from myself." Ronan picked up the game mallet and slung it over his shoulder. "But I think the real kicker was that he gave me hope. I hated him for it sometimes," he snorted. "Hope was the scariest shit."

Maybe it was a weird time to ask, but Matthew thought that relationships looked different to the people inside them. And he liked seeing Ronan happy and soft and open–he usually was, with Matthew anyway, but it was also that having these sorts of conversations that made them feel not only like brothers, but also friends. It was the same way with the farm, when the two of them talked about the operations of the farm, or potentially adding on something, they were running something together. He liked that there were facets of their relationship that evolved over the years, that they could be friends and business partners as well as brothers.

He nodded over Ronan’s words, adding after a minute, “I think everyone wants to be seen by someone.” He did, anyway. What Matthew hoped that person would see? Was still a little ambiguous, at least to him. “I’d also take someone who wants to be around the family and the farm. Makes me laugh. Simple things, I guess.”

But he turned his attention away from some hypothetical to focus on the here and now. “Now’s the time to show off those farming muscles,” Matthew quipped, grinning, and fully committing to the bit by rubbing Ronan’s shoulders, voice affected like he was the grizzly, cantankerous old coach facing down the impossible with the young upstart boxer. Or, you know, something like that, Matthew’s voices tended to be impressive to children while reading at the bookstore because that was less about accuracy and more about making kids laugh. “C’mon now, sport, you gotta get in there and swing for the bleachers.”


"Those aren't simple things. Those are important as fuck," Ronan corrected, elbowing at Matthew to get him off his shoulders. "You'll get another shot, Matty. At a relationship that is, not at this. On this I'm going to slaughter you."

The threat might've been more shocking if Ronan wasn't sticking a wet finger into Matthew's ear and shoving his face away with affection.

"Back up, you dingus." He took his swing with all the gusto of an overenthusiastic farmer who chopped wood pretty fucking often. The marker zipped up the meter and slammed into the bell with a loud ding. A number flashed on the side of the game. It seemed high but all he cared about was whether it was higher than his kid brother's would be. He held out the mallet to Matthew as the game attendant gestured to a row of stuffed animals that Ronan could choose from.

"Your turn, sport."

Matthew looked skeptical, which actually worked for both of Ronan’s statements, but he also didn’t mind moving on from his (lack of) relationship status in favor of teasing Ronan. Case in point, how he crowed, “Look at those hay baling muscles!” …which, in reality, made little sense because they weren’t a hay baling farm, but oh well. He took the hammer from Ronan and sized up the plate with one eye before hauling the hammer over his shoulder and bringing it down.

In spite of his objectively terrible diet, Matthew was naturally athletic (see: playing basically every sport Aglionby had, see: running after farm animals, see: sometimes carrying stubborn goats and sheep) and so in theory he should have had it in the bag. In theory. In reality, Matthew couldn’t get a good grip on the thing and although he struck the plate, the resulting number was definitely lower than Ronan’s much to his chagrin.

“My fingers are too oily from the nuts! The snacks failed me!” he wailed, but ultimately accepted the inflatable ‘warhammer’ with a grin—because he promptly bopped Ronan over the head with it. The squeak that followed because of the tap made it even better, in Matthew’s opinion. “Okay, fine, fine, I’m a guy of my word! Cones of cold and then you pick the next game.”

Ronan cackled gleefully. He knew Matthew on a good day could give him a run for his money. But he wasn't above taking the win. Even if he did get bopped on the head for it.

"I'm gonna kick your ass," he warned. It was the emptiest of empty threats. The worst he ever did to Matthew was throw him in the pond or wrestle him into an uncomfortable pretzel position until he yelled uncle. Shoving away the warhammer, he gestured at one of the prizes for the attendant to grab for him and then handed it over to Matthew.

"Here's your gelatinous cube, dweeb." Ronan slung an arm around his brother's shoulders and pulled him away from the strength tester. "Let's go set some records."