The Parent Trap AU, where Techno and Wilbur are identical twins who were separated at birth and somehow ended up at the same summer camp eleven years later.
Wilbur felt as if he were on top of the world. He advanced toward his opponent and lunged, saber flashing in the sunlight.
The other boy stumbled back. He was quick to take advantage of the opening and attacked without thought.
In a blink of an eye, his opponent hit the ground and their counselor, Dan, was lifting his arm up in victory. “The winner and undefeated champion, Wilbur Soot!” he announced.
Underneath his wire-mesh mask, he was grinning from ear to ear. Fencing lessons paid off after all— he’d have to thank Mum after the summer was over.
After being let go, Wilbur gravitated toward the fence next to the arena, where his friends hung around and cheered him on.
“That was sick!” Fundy exclaimed immediately.
“Right? You beat him in like, ten seconds flat!” Tubbo was perched atop the fence, legs swaying. “I swear we’ve been here all day. How have you not lost once?”
He laughed, face burning red from exertion and embarrassment. “Don’t jinx me.”
To his left, Dan scoured the clearing for more participants. “Do we have any challengers?” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth.
“I’ll have a go,” an unfamiliar boy answered, masked and already snapping on a vest. He had an air of self assurance about him, lazily flipping the saber in the air and catching it with one hand.
Dan blew the whistle. “En garde!”
The boy saluted, saber in hand.
Wilbur raised his eyebrows. He welcomed the competition, yet hesitated briefly before returning the gesture.
With another blow of the whistle, it begun.
His first thought upon dueling the boy was that he was quick. If Wilbur came near he would simply glide away, the reflex seemingly automatic.
Through a flurry of thrusts and a parries, he attempted to knock the blade out of his opponent’s hand.
His opponent deflected the attack and whirled around, catching him off guard and getting him in the shoulder.
0-1
They danced back and forth for another eternity. Wilbur managed to get a touch in by going low, though now he was sweating and his opponent still seemed to be going strong.
1-1
Their sabers locked together and Wilbur swept them in a circle, hand steady.
His opponent twisted his wrist, breaking away. Then, to his surprise, charged directly at him.
He sidestepped, but his opponent pivoted last minute and forced him to hop back on his heels. Now off balance, Wilbur retreated, forced to parry blow after blow.
Focused on defending, he failed to notice the water trough behind him before it was too late. The back of his knees hit wood and within the millisecond only gave him enough time to let out a surprised shout.
He fell hard. Sun baked water buzzing with water skippers splashed around his ears and soaked through his clothes. Sputtering, he wiped the murky liquid from his mask and stared up at his opponent in disbelief. A chorus of laughter rung out in the clearing, to his mortification.
The boy had one hand over his mouth, as if holding back his own laugh, and the other outstretched as an offering.
Wilbur narrowed his eyes. He’d lost, but it wasn’t fair. There weren’t water troughs in fencing arenas— at least not in the UK— and he was doing well before the incident.
He took his hand roughly and yanked the boy in with him. Petty? Yes. Jerk move? Definitely, but it made him feel slightly better.
He careened into the space next to him face first, sending up a wave of water. When he surfaced he was thoroughly drenched. He couldn’t see his eyes but his body language implied he was glaring daggers toward Wilbur.
They were both silent as they clambered out of the trough, water pooling in the dirt below.
Wilbur unfastened his mask and crossed his arms over his chest. He refused to look at Dan or his former opponent.
“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new champ, Mister Techno Craft! Let’s shake hands, gentlemen.”
Water dripped from his curls and into his eyes, forcing him to swipe it away. He still didn’t acknowledge the counselor.
“Boys,” Dan said warningly.
He rolled his eyes, heaving a dramatic sigh as he turned, hand extended.
His opponent, Techno, must’ve turned at the same time because their eyes met. His hand hovered in the air between them, mask dangling at his side.
Techno had curly brown hair that reached the nape of his neck and freckles dotted along his nose bridge.
His eyes were drawn to a birthmark below his lower lip. That would be all well and good if Wilbur didn’t have one in the exact same spot.
After scanning the rest of Techno’s face, he deducted he even had the same curved jawline and pointed ears as him. A portion of his hair was dyed pink and both his ears were pierced, but minus the cosmetics, they were identical. It was as if he’d just been transported into The Twilight Zone or something.
Dazed, Wilbur shook his hand. Surrounding campers close enough to see both their faces gasped.
“Why’s everyone starin’?” Techno asked, blinking familiar brown eyes. His accent was painfully American.
“Don’t you see it?”
“See what, exactly?” His tone was curt.
Maybe he was going insane. “The resemblance between us.”
“Uh, no. Not really.” He shrugged. “Your hairline is way worse than mine.”
Wilbur’s jaw hung open. “Hey!”
“Just sayin’,” Techno continued. “Plus those glasses make you look like a wannabe Harry Potter.” He mimed the circular frames of his glasses with his hands.
Some blond kid was crying with laughter over the fence railing. It wasn’t even that funny.
Tubbo slid off his perch, frowning. “Want me to punch him for you?” he offered with a crack of his knuckles.
Wilbur waved him away and took a step forward, balling his own fists. “You want to know the real difference between us?” he began.
Techno seemed uninterested. “Let me guess, that I know how to fence and you don’t?”
He was about to punch his identical “twin” in his identical nose when Dan stepped back in.
“Okay, okay, gentlemen. Break it up,” he scolded. “Techno …” Dan did a double take upon seeing them together. “I mean, Wilbur, sorry—“
The lunch bell interrupted him mid-sentence and Wilbur was pulled away from the encounter by Tubbo before he could get into trouble.
“Do we really look that similar or am I going insane?” he asked his friends.
“Probably just a coincidence,” Fundy said, kicking a stone on the trail as he walked. “Freak of nature type of thing, yeah? Or a glitch in the multiverse— he’s like, the discount version of you.”
He huffed out a laugh.
“Please accept my condolences, Wil. I can’t imagine having your sworn enemy look exactly like you,” Tubbo added solemnly.
Wilbur glanced back and saw Techno being pulled away by his friends as well— one of them being the blond kid who thought him being compared to Harry Potter was peak comedy. He caught Techno staring back at him and quickly looked away.
He’d get his revenge soon, and he had the perfect idea for it. Wilbur would show Techno Craft not to mess with him.
—
They were returning from a morning hike and even Techno was feeling weary, boot soles digging into his heels with each painful step.
“I’m crawling into bed and sleeping for the next week,” Tommy groaned, backpack slung over his shoulder bouncing as he moved. Even exhausted, he still somehow oozed energy with exaggerated motion.
Quackity nodded. “I’m crawling into bed and sleeping for the next year.” He was the shorter of the two, and wore a navy blue beanie with various colorful pins stuck in the wool.
Techno wondered how he could wear a beanie in the heat of the summer outdoors without dying.
The trio rounded the corner, pine trees retreating and revealing the Pogtopia Cabin.
He expected to be greeted with cozy pine logs and screened windows, the usual sight, instead he was met with something abnormal. Techno froze. “That doesn’t seem to be a possibility,” he drawled, pointing at their cabin roof.
“What the hell?” Tommy and Quackity exclaimed in unison.
Every one of their cots were nailed onto the roof, crooked yet somehow stable. The British flag flew high in place of the American flag, stars and stripes no where to be seen.
“This has got to be some sort of hate crime,” Tommy muttered under his breath.
Quackity snapped his fingers. “I know who did it.”
So did Techno.
There was no doubt who was responsible. He’d only offended one British person so far during his time at Camp Manberg and that was Wilbur Soot.
Quackity’s face was scheming. A lightbulb must’ve gone off because he suddenly brightened. “Hey, I have a payback plan.”
“Yeah? What is it?” Tommy asked eagerly.
“I’ll tell you guys later. Let me get in touch with an associate of mine.” He rubbed his hands together, then ran off in the opposite direction— giggling all the while.
Techno mentally stalled and had to boot himself back up. “Alright, then,” he said hesitantly, gaze following Quackity’s retreating back. He didn’t know who his “associate” was nor did he want to know. “Now … how do we get our beds down from there?”
“Beats me, man.” Tommy shoved his hands in his pockets. “Dibs not it.”
“Bruh.”
—
The prank war continued, with Techno and his friends retaliating via rigged booby trap in the enemy cabin.
Quackity’s “associate” turned out to be an older boy dubbed Slime, who— and quote, “don’t ask why”— had a huge reservoir of honey, shaving cream, and maple syrup.
“No, you really don’t wanna go in there, trust me—“ Techno tried nervously, leaning all of his weight against the screen door in an attempt to keep it shut. His gaze wandered to the bucket rigged above.
Schlatt rolled his eyes, foot thumping against the wooden deck. “Give it a rest, kid. You don’t think I’ve seen some sick kids before?”
“He’s contagious,” he blurted out.
Wilbur, still in his pajamas, smiled sweetly at them from inside. “I have no clue what he’s on about. Come right in, guys.”
“Listen,“ Schlatt started and brute forced his way past Techno, yanking open the door. “I’ve had the pox before, no big—“
The bucket tipped.
Five gallons of water crowned both counselors, soaking them through and splashing onto the floorboards.
Schlatt let out a string of expletives that would’ve got him fired if any higher ups were around to witness. He stumbled forward, farther into the mess of a cabin. Dan followed suit.
Techno could only stand and watch in horror.
Wilbur backed away with a smug grin.
They both screamed, scrambling feet finding purchase on nothing but oil slicked wooden planks. Twine filled the cabin like a spiders web, so naturally they hit every possible one on the way down and triggered all the other traps. Feathers drifted in the air like snow along with glittery plastic confetti. At one point Dan tried to grab onto something to steady himself, only to trigger the next sequence.
Wilbur’s friends sat upright in their cots, shaving cream still formed into shapes of beards and wild hairstyles. The brunet one looked like he was having the time of his life, while the older was pale and looked like he was seeing death itself.
It summed up Techno’s feelings pretty well. He was horrified. Shouldn’t Quackity have warned them if they were doing cabin checks that day?
Soon enough, the counselors were covered in syrup and feathers and thoroughly filled with rage.
“That’s it!” Dan roared. “You two— start packing.” He jabbed a finger at Techno, then at Wilbur.
Wilbur’s expression dropped. “What?
“I have never, in all my time here,” Schlatt grunted, steadying himself against the doorframe.
“But I didn’t do anything!” Wilbur pleaded, gesturing around the ruined cabin. “It was all him.”
“The blame game, really?” Techno cocked an eyebrow. The last thing he wanted to do was get sent home because of him. Phil would be furious.
“Well? Get going,” Dan prompted, face red.
Wilbur scowled, turning to leave.
It couldn’t get any worse.
—
It got worse.
“Coming from two brothers that should be setting an example—“ Dan lectured. He’d taken a shower since the incident and no longer resembled a plucked chicken.
“We’re not brothers,” Wilbur spat.
He gave him a dead stare. “I’m sure you understand why I don’t believe you.” Dan nodded toward Techno.
The pink-haired thorn in Wilbur’s side held a duffel in one hand and had a backpack slung over his shoulder. “It’s true,” he responded slowly. “Pretty sure that’s the whole problem here.”
“Now, me and Schlatt have come to decision. Since we can’t send either of you home yet— we had to improvise.”
Uh-oh.
—
“You two will be sharing this cabin for the next six weeks. You’ll eat together, you’ll bunk together, and you’ll be doing all your activities together. Either you’ll find a way to get along or you’ll punish yourselves better than I ever could.” It’s said with finality, with Dan gesturing to the interior of the remote cabin.
Wilbur dropped his bag on the floor with a thump. He made sure to shoot Techno hard glare, saying, “you got us into this mess”.
The message seemed to get through just fine. Techno responded with a middle finger behind Dan’s back.
His nostrils flared.
—
They spent the next morning at breakfast in dead silence. A tacky sign with hurried marker read: “Isolation Table - Do Not Disturb”.
Wilbur could only stew in his misery, shoving forkfuls of salad in his mouth while glaring at Techno between book pages.
Meanwhile, Techno clicked away on his Game Boy, unbothered.
He wanted to slap the stupid machine out of his hands. Wilbur could tell it was going to be a long summer.
—
“Of course you do ballet.” Techno sighed inwardly, meeting Wilbur’s gaze in the wall mirror.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He crossed his arms over his chest defensively.
“Nothin’, nothin’. Just suits your amazing, definitely not stuck-up personality.” He made sure to lace each word with heavy sarcasm.
“I am not stuck up.”
“Then start acting like it.”
He could almost hear Wilbur’s jaw crack with the force of how hard he ground his teeth.
“Leave me alone,” he said.
“You leave me alone,” Techno retorted, setting down his boombox. He pressed a button and began blasting music. It had an upbeat tempo, the lyrics incomprehensible.
A challenge.
Wilbur seemed thrown off. “Fine, whatever.”
He went back to the barre, but Techno could tell the music was bothering him.
Served him right.
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Author's Note and Transcript Under the Cut
(AN: Hello! Thank you for stopping by and checking out my fledgling fundie simblr. I’m by no means new to simblr, but because this blog and story is new, I figure an introduction is due.
So: hey, I’m Talia! I had another fundie simblr a few years back (it’s now inactive for a multitude of reasons), but like a certain someone, I have risen again! My fundie sims obsession was reignited over the summer after I joined a wonderful fundie sims-themed Discord server. Somehow they convinced me to make a new blog, and a few months later, here we are! In the intervening years I continued to lurk, so if you’re an active fundie simblr, I’m probably a fan of your story.
I’ve been playing the de la Cruz family for a while now and they have a special place in my heart- I can’t wait to share them with everyone else! Get ready for lots of God-honoring drama, mildly dubious baby names, and leopard-print modesty undershirts. Note that as the de la Cruzes are fundamentalists and this story is satire-heavy, there will be some viewpoints expressed that I very much disagree with. I’ll trigger tag certain sensitive subjects (e.g. physical violence, miscarriages) as ‘tw [thing]’ but fundie-typical bullshit will go untagged for the sake of my sanity.
Some basic housekeeping stuff to wrap up this far-too-long intro note: I have a queue full of posts ready to go, but I’m a busy student with unpleasant things like homework and AP classes, so I’m still not sure how frequently I’ll post. I’ll do my best to ensure that stays consistent, though, and if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out via my askbox or DMs!)
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PRAISING HIM!
Every Sunday, Praising Him! features a family dedicated to spreading the Word. Today we meet the de la Cruzes, a San Sequoian family of 16.
When Alejandro and Alina (née Fletcher) de la Cruz married at nineteen, they could not have imagined what would come next! Over the past twenty-six years, the couple has made faith the centerpiece of their lives, and has continued to “Praise Him!” through the ups and downs of busy family life.
Read more about their family below!
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Alejandro, 45, works as a programmer at United Christian Publishers, and holds a Distinguished Degree in Computer Science from Foxbury Christian University. He began his journey into higher education not at 18, like many students, but at 26, shortly after the birth of his seventhborn, Cecilia! Owing to his unique circumstances, he chose to enroll in a six-year program that enabled him to work full-time as a freelance programmer in addition to his courseload. Though money was tight at times, the Lord provided, and Alejandro welcomed five bundles of joy (including a darling set of twins!) with wife Alina while enrolled at Foxbury. Whew!
Alina, 45, has chosen to fulfill God’s design for women by staying at home with her family. Raised in a devout household, she always knew He was calling her toward marriage and motherhood, and she says the “greatest blessing” in her life was the day she gave birth to her eldest son Gabriel, ten months after her wedding day and just shy of her twentieth birthday. In addition to raising and homeschooling the seven de la Cruz children who have yet to graduate, Alina is active in her church and in Institute for Strong Christian Standards (ISCS) circles, and enjoys spending time with her four (soon to be five!) beautiful grandbabies. A true Proverbs 31 woman if we’ve ever seen one!
You may recognize Gabriel de la Cruz and his lovely wife Esther, 23, from last summer’s print edition of Praising Him! At just 25, Gabriel is a rising star in the Christian legal world, coming to the aid of innocent Simericans simply trying to practice their faith. Ten months ago, they welcomed their first little girl, Abigail, and just last week they announced the upcoming arrival of their second child! Congratulations to them.
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Althea Brown (née de la Cruz), 24, is following in her mother’s footsteps and proud of it! The young woman, who wed husband John-David, 28, three years ago, resides in Newcrest and is a content stay-at-home-mother of two.
Jasmine Booth (née de la Cruz), 23, known to friends and family as “Jazzy,” is enjoying the bliss of new parenthood alongside her husband of two years, Jason!
The first set of de la Cruz twins, Joshua and Sofia, 21, are both unattached and living at home. Sofia is pursuing a calling in missionary work, and Joshua is hard at work saving money and praying for his future family. ��If you’re reading this as a young Christian woman,” Sofia jests, “have your father write into Praising Him! and I’ll set up a date with Josh!”
Caterina de la Cruz, 20, is diligently knitting, crocheting, sewing, embroidering, and cross-stitching her way through her season of singleness! Though she prays every day for her Prince Charming (nonbelievers need not apply!), she assures Praising Him! that she’s quite content to assist her mother in running the busy de la Cruz household in the interim.
Cecilia de la Cruz, 18, the only unmarried de la Cruz not living at home, declined to comment.
The rest of the de la Cruz children, who range in age from 8 to 17, are kept busy with homeschooling, ISCS conferences, music practice, and Bible study.
If you would like to get in touch with the de la Cruz family,
click here to send a message!
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