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attllhak · 3 years

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Adoption AU - Wild and Warriors: The Epic Quest For Taco Bell at 3 am

@tortilla-of-courage so you mentioned you’d be interested in my Adoption AU one-shots, and now that things have calmed down in my house a bit I figured I’d post the first one-shot I wrote; the one about Wild and Warriors going for a Taco Bell run. Theoretically, I was going to do a one-shot for each grouping of boys, as an introduction, but I don’t think that’s happening anymore. Either way, here’s the first thing I wrote!

(And, anyone else who would like to be tagged if/when I post more for this AU, let me know here and I’ll make a list or something)

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“anyone know any good substitutes for love and personal fulfilment?”

Warriors sent the tweet without much thought. He didn’t actually care about an answer, he just felt like venting about his most recent break up in a vague way, and thought he was being funny. He could already see Legend rolling his eyes.

His phone dinged a few times, one reply from Twilight, asking why he was up so late (which he’d responded to with the same inquiry, which had Twilight going silent), one from Legend mocking him, one from Hyrule trying to actually help. He was surprised how many of his brothers were up at this hour.

He dropped the phone on his bed, rubbing his eyes. He wasn’t actually all that tired, probably a consequence of having all afternoon classes and a habit of leaving his work to the last minute. Eh, the first year was supposed to be mostly parties anyways. (Not that Time would ever find out he said that.)

His phone dinged again and he groaned, eying the clock and the small bottle of melatonin next to it. 2:43 am. He should sleep. He didn’t have anything tomorrow, he finished his last final earlier that afternoon, though, so a few more minutes couldn’t hurt.

He picked up the phone and woke it up again. He blinked a few times at the new reply.

“crunchwrap supreme from taco bell”

He ignored Twilight yelling at Wild for being up, as apparently Wild did have a final tomorrow still. Not that Wild was paying any more attention.

He snorted, hitting the like button on Wild’s tweet and clicking off his phone. He reached up to stretch, yawning as he did. He eyed the melatonin bottle again. Technically, he didn’t need the supplements to sleep, but with how messed up his sleep schedule was, they did help him knock out when he planned on sleeping at a reasonable hour. This wasn’t a reasonable hour, but sleepiness hadn’t set in yet either.

Before he could decide, his phone lit up with a text notification. He tilted his head back and pointed his phone down to look at instead of dropping his arms.

Gordon Ramsey 2:44 am

lets go

Warriors blinked once. Then again. He unlocked his phone to type back.

what?????? go where?????

A second passed when he got a reply.

taco bell

for your substitute for love

since you got dumped and need something

oops was that too soon

sorry

Warriors blinked at the screen again. Wild lived twenty minutes away from the university Warriors was attending, and the nearest Taco Bell was no closer. Plus, Time had revoked Wild’s driving privileges after he crashed his bike into the barn and broke both and his arm. There was no way Wild was getting to the university, much less a fast food joint. Especially at this hour.

and how do you plan to do that? You aren’t allowed to drive yet Mr. Broken Arm

you have a care

*car

That was a very good point.

you are suggesting that I drive 20mins outside of town to pick you up, drive another 20mins back into town, then drive around downtown until we find an open taco bell, at 3am on a school night before you have a final?

There was a few seconds pause, just long enough for Warriors to consider that he’d given up on it.

we wont be driving all over town

i googled it and found one

its like 10mins form your collage

*from

*college

Warriors considered that.

twilight won’t be happy

only if he finds out

Wild made a very good point.

how do you plan to get out of the house without him noticing?

i have a window war

The response was so immediate, and he was probably sleep deprived enough, that he burst out laughing when it sent.

20mins

He clicked his phone shut and shoved it in his pocket, grabbing a jacket and his scarf on the way out of his room. He was struggling to shrug them both on at once when he realized his roommate was still up too. There was a tense staredown as their eyes met and they both froze.

Volga broke the standoff by closing his book. “And where are you going at this hour?”

Warriors considered that. “My brother bribed me with food to break him out of the house,”

“At,” he glanced at his watch, “two forty-nine am?”

“Yes,”

The silence was tense.

Volga sighed and opened his book again. “Don’t crash and die, I’d hate to have to get a new roommate when I’ve finally gotten used to you,”

“Don’t burn the dorm down while I’m gone,” Warriors joked back, finally getting the fabric to work with him.

“It happened once, and it’s not like you’re any better at cooking!”

“I don’t set what I make on fire, and then freak out and throw it when blowing out that fire doesn’t work,” he grabbed his keys from the dish by the door and waved behind him.

“It happened once, Link!”

“And it’s why we order out now,” he grinned, ducking out the door. “See you later, Volg, be back in an hour or so,”

He could hear Volga’s angry shout through the door, so hurried down the stairs to the ground level as quickly as he could, before Volga woke their neighbor again.

He was still giggling when he got to the parking lot. Volga was just too easy to rile up.

The cool night air woke him up a little more so, and he took a deep breath as he located his car. A hand-me-down vehicle, he inherited it from Time when he was old enough to drive. Mostly this was so he could stop asking everyone else for their cars when he wanted to go somewhere. A little elbow grease however, and no one could tell it was at least 20 years old and not fresh off the lot. He made sure none of his brothers were allowed to drive it, especially after Wild got his bike stuck in a tree, or Legend crashed into a lake, or Twilight picked up drag racing, or Wild got his bike stuck on the roof, or Hyrule lost his car, or Four rolled his truck, or Wild and the barn literally last week. A lot of the crashes in the family came from Wild going ‘oh yeah? Watch this!’ now that he thought about it. It was a miracle he still had the same bike.

The twenty minute drive to the farm was pretty boring, nothing of note really happening.

He turned off his headlights as he pulled into the drive, not wanting to wake anyone, especially Time, up. He shot off a quick text to Wild when he parked.

A window opened and Legend’s head poked out to glare at him. His phone dinged.

Royal Pain 3:12 am

what are you doing here?

He glared back at Legend and typed out a response.

taco bell run

Legend glanced down, presumably at his phone, then back up a Warriors with an incredulous expression.

at 3am????

and if so why are you /here/????

Warriors pointedly looked around the house where Wild emerged from the bushes. Said brother grinned and popped open the passenger door to climb in.

“Hey,” he grinned. His hair was a mess, with at least two visible sticks stuck in it, and he was still in his sleep clothes. Despite this, he seemed fine.

“Legend has us made,” Warriors nodded to their brother, who was still glaring with his head out the window.

Royal Pain 3:15 am

twilight won’t be happy about this

Warriors frowned, trying to shield his phone from Wild as he typed back.

twilight won’t know

Warriors did not like the look in Legend’s eyes as he got the next text.

unless i tell him

Warriors glared up at his brother, working his jaw.

what do you want?

He hated the pleased grin Legend shot him.

the most expensive thing on the menu on your dime

fine

Warriors shoved his phone away with a growl, flipping off the overly smug Legend as he put the car in gear. “Asshole,” he muttered.

“What was that about?” Wild asked.

“We’re buying him food too now,” Warriors growled, flicking back on his headlights.

“Oh, cool,” Wild leaned back into the seat and pulled out his phone. “So the Taco Bell we’re going to only has the drive thru open, and it’s just off main street,”

Warriors nodded, focussing on the road and not that Wild had found the aux cord.

About thirty minutes later, as Wild finally turned down the music to provide directions, he snapped and turned to Warriors mid direction. “Do you want to sign my cast?”

Warriors blinked. “Maybe when we stop, I’m not crashing to sign your cast right now.”

Wild nodded, and pointed across Warriors at the street they had to go down.

They pulled into the drive thru and ordered, then had to wait for the very expensive thing Legend wanted. Warriors turned to Wild as the car idled.

“Do you have a marker?”

Wild blinked at him, then brightened up and offered out a sharpie and his right arm. The cast, under the signatures and well wishes of their family and all of Wild’s friends, was painted in very poorly drawn flames. Warriors raised an eyebrow as he searched for a clear spot to sign.

“Hyrule painted it for me,” Wild explained with a grin.

“Ah,” Warriors hummed as he finally tracked down an empty space by Wild’s elbow.

He scrawled out his name, not much room for anything else, and then handed the capped sharpie back to Wild while he twisted around to accept the food from the drive thru worker.

He shot off a text to Legend to let him know they had his food, alongside an upset emoji. Legend sent him a devil face emoji back. Wild dug through the bag for his food, sharpie stuck in his hair alongside the twigs, which seemed to be multiplying.

Warriors rolled his eyes and pulled back onto the road.

At some point, Wild pulled the wrap out and handed it to Warriors, who ate one handed as he drove. Wild was right about one thing, the wrap did taste very good.

He pulled into the drive of the farmhouse, headlights off, just as he finished off the wrap. He phone dinged the second he put the car in park.

Royal Pain 3:58 am

where’s my food bitch

Warriors looked up to the window where Legend was leaning out and glaring at him.

Wild laughed at the surly look on Legend’s face, climbing out and taking the bag with him. “I’ll feed him,” he promised, grinning. “Thanks for the trip, War!”

“No problem,” Warriors grinned back. “Just make sure you get to bed once you’re inside, so Twi doesn’t suspect in the morning,”

Wild gave him a thumbs up. He shut the door a little too hard, making Warriors wince, and bounced up to throw the bag up to Legend. Legend caught it the second time, when Wild opted to use his not broken arm to toss it, and disappeared inside again. Warriors’ phone dinged again a few seconds later.

Royal Pain 4:00 am

thanks pretty boy

your secret is safe with me

for now

Warriors rolled his eyes and sent him a thumbs up back, then pulled out of the drive again to head back to campus. He was actually starting to feel tired now, so he figured he’d get home and just crash. It’d be like, 4:30 in the morning by then, and he was pretty sure Volga would be asleep. And if he wasn’t, they had a rule that after 4 am until 7 they were allowed to ignore each other, so it’d be fine.

Volga was asleep when Warriors snuck in, passed out in a chair with the book on his chest. Warriors took the sight in, then sighed.

He dropped his keys in the dish, then pulled off his jacket and scarf to hang in his room. He grabbed a bookmark off his shelf and wandered back out to pull the book off of Volga’s chest and set it down so the spine wouldn’t crease. He left Volga like that, however. He didn’t want the books to get damaged, but if Volga was dumb enough to fall asleep in the common room without a blanket, then he deserved what he woke up with.

He was very lucky that Warriors was too tired to find a sharpie.

He fell asleep before remembering to take off his shoes.

(---)

The next morning, so about noon, he was woken by Volga pounding on the door to put his phone on silent.

His phone buzzed on the desk next to him and he pulled it off and up to his head, hitting answer before looking at the contact.

“Hullo?” He slurred, still half asleep.

“Twilight knows,” Legend greeted him.

“What?” Warriors sat up, groaning as his back complained from sleeping on his stomach all night. It took a second for his brain to catch up.

“Twilight knows,” Legend repeated. “Hyrule sold you out, unintentionally, and I can hear him selling you both out to Time,”

Warriors blanched as the words registered. “Oh shit,” he threw himself out of bed, hissing as he realized he slept fully dressed, and scrambled for the things he’d need in order to flee. “How long?”

“Twenty minutes if you get lucky and Wind pulls through, less if not,”

Warriors cursed under his breath as he changed his shirt and tried to make it look like he hadn’t been sleeping in what he was wearing. “Thanks for the heads up, I’d say I owe you but,”

“You’d rather not owe me,”

“Yeah,”

“Look, if you get caught and cave, I go down too. This is self-preservation. Don’t cave and we’re even.”

“Got it, I won’t,”

“You better not,” Legend hissed. “Good luck,”

“Thanks,” Warriors nodded, even though Legend couldn’t see him.

He tossed the phone on his dresser as the line went dead and he went about trying to comb through his hair so he looked presentable.

A hard knock on his door came a few seconds later.

“I put my phone on vibrate, Volga!” He shouted through the door. “You can drop it now!”

“Link?”

Warriors paused, then opened the door. Lana, Impa and Artemis waited on the other side, Volga glaring at them and hovering behind them.

Warriors blinked dumbly at them. “Uh, hi?”

“Hi Link! Good morning!” Lana grinned and waved at him.

“It’s noon,” Impa reminded the group, eying Warriors up and down.

“Oh, right,” Lana nodded, then went back to grinning at him. “Good noon, Link!”

He snorted and shook his head to clear it. “Good noon to you too, Lana. Can I ask what you’re all doing here?”

“We were hoping you’d join us for something,” Artemis smiled at him, also looking him over, trying to find whatever Impa had picked up on. “We’re going on a small road trip since all our finals are over, and we were planning on hitting a few different cities over the week,”

“Mhm,” Lana nodded quickly. “We’re leaving today, and are taking no calls until we get back, and we’re camping in the car, which is why we’re using my van, and we were hoping you’d come with us,”

“I’m in,”

The three girls blinked at him. Maybe he answered too fast, but taking no calls, meaning no contact with his family, for a week gave them time to move past this, and he really didn’t want to deal with a lecture from Time. His friends just offered him asylum, whether they knew it or not.

Impa narrowed her eyes. “What happened with your family?” She asked, already onto him.

“Nothing that’s my fault,” he responded, ducking back into his room. “What should I bring with?”

Lana listed off what they figured they’d take and he pulled out a suitcase, nodding along as he started packing. He fired off a text to the group chat as he grabbed his jacket, tossed over one arm, and wrapped his scarf around his neck.

World’s Best Captain 11:39 am

Leaving on a road trip with some friends. Be back in a week, but I can’t take calls until I’m back. Don’t kill each other!

He put his phone on silent and slipped it into his pocket.

He might have a hellish text backlog when he got back, but it’d be better than the lecture from Time. And besides, he got to spend a week with the best girls he knew.

As far as he was concerned, everything worked out win-win for him.

Wild was right, the crunchwrap supreme from Taco Bell did work wonders in supplying love and personal fulfilment, even if not in the way he meant it.

He made a note to get Wild something as thanks while they were out. Maybe some crash pads. Goddesses knew that his brother needed them.

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

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The Coordinates Of My Heart ~ JJK [Request]

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

GENRE: Angst, fluffy ending, established relationship

PAIRING: Jungkook x fem!reader

It was no secret that Jungkook had tattoos all over his body, everyone had seen them by now but not every single tattoo that covered him. There was one very secret tattoo that nobody except for you and Jungkook knew about...Well, you, Jungkook and his ex-girlfriend that was. It was only a small tattoo on his left peck but it was one of the biggest mistakes Jungkook had ever made in his life, the whole time he was getting his collection of tattoos he swore he would never have someone's name tattooed onto his body and yet there it sat. Black ink across his peck with her name in cursive writing with a small heart attached at the end, "SeoJun" The tattoo bothered you a lot but you would never let that show in front of Jungkook. You'd been dating for almost three years now so you never brought it up except for the first time he showed you. He wanted you to know that she meant nothing to him anymore but that it was there and something he had to deal with.

It was still a crushing feeling to see another girls name tattooed on his body and him always saying that he would never do it again, never tattoo a name across him anywhere on his body. You knew he was thinking rationally but there was a part of you inside that cried out to know why he wouldn't put your name on himself instead but the other part of you thought rationally. He probably didn't want to chance it by getting your name tattooed anywhere on himself and having the relationship fall through.

"Baby I'm so tired," Jungkook groaned that morning as he walked down the stairs to you in the living room he was shirtless and wearing a pair of shorts, you were trying to convince him to go swimming with you. It was his week off from the studio, he took it off to spend time with you but for the last six days he'd done nothing but lay in bed gaming or go out to dinner with his friends, or hang out with the boys.

"I'm only asking for this one thing baby...Please! I don't want to go alone." You giggled to him as you tugged on his hands trying to convince him to go with you, he looked at you tiredly as he shook his head.

"I'm busy today," He mumbled as he took his arm out of your grasp, ignoring the look of confusion written across your face as he walked into the kitchen. Jungkook hadn't told you he'd made plans with anyone which was why you'd woken him up in the first place if you'd have known he was busy you would have left him. Following after him, you went into the kitchen and he began to make himself something to eat,

"Busy with what? We haven't hung out all week, you said you took the week off to spend time with me." You uttered you knew it probably sounded as though you were being childish but right now you didn't care, you'd missed your boyfriend and this week it felt like you saw him less than you did when he was actually working.

"I actually said I took the week off to relax, so far I haven't done any of that." He grumbled as he began pouring himself a bowl of cereal, not meeting your eyes as he spoke. Rolling your eyes at him you shook your head,

"You've relaxed plenty, all you've done is game and sleep...As well as go to lunch, or spent time with friends...W-What if we went for walk instead? Namjoon said he found this really cute hiking trail..." You trailed off when you realised Jungkook was more interested in the phone that was sitting in his hand than he was in listening to you talk to him. The thought of him ignoring you was heartbreaking enough, you began to overthink everything, maybe he was getting bored of being with you...

"But of course, I wouldn't want to take you away from what is really important." You grumbled to him referring to the phone before storming out of the kitchen and into the living room to grab your swimming bag to go alone since he wasn't that bothered about you anymore.

"Are you upset because I won't hang out with you?! We don't have to be around each other 24/7 Y/n." He followed you into the living room staring into your eyes as he waited for you to say something back to him. He didn't mean for it to come out as harsh as the way it was.

"No, but it would be nice if my own boyfriend wanted to do something with me. Watch a movie, go for a walk, order food. All you've been bothered about is gaming or hanging with the guys, we haven't done anything this week." He rolled his eyes at you before going back into the kitchen without another word in your direction. You knew it wasn't supposed to start a fight but there was a part inside of you that wanted answers from him.

"Tell me I'm wrong then. Tell me one time this week you've even wanted or offered to hang out with me." You stated as you walked back into the kitchen, he put his bowl down into the sink shaking his head at you.

"I've been busy. I'm doing stuff all week, I don't need you jumping down my neck-" He stopped talking when his phone began to ring on the table in front of him for a second you could have sworn a panicked look spread across his face. Out of habit your eyes glanced down to see who it was but as soon as you saw the name you wish you hadn't. SEOJUN. Was written across the screen in big bold writing with a broken heart beside her name just like the tattoo Jungkook had only the heart was broken.

"W-Why is she calling you?" Instead of answering you Jungkook just turned the phone over so you couldn't see it and shook his head at the question.

"Jungkook..." You whispered feeling insecure at the thought of him starting to see her again, it wasn't that you didn't trust him. It was Seojun that you didn't trust. She was manipulative and cunning. She always got whatever it was she wanted if she used the right way on Jungkook it was like she had a spell on him.

"Y/n it's not what it looks like, she's just started to say sorry to me that's all. She wants to make up for all the awful things that happened, she opened up her new shop so I've been going to help-" The look on your face made Jungkook stop talking instantly and he knew he fucked up, it was a look of sadness and anger as you realised he'd been spending all of his time with her.

"S-So you've been spending time with her? On your week off..." He nodded his head slowly not wanting to lie to you about where he had been anymore,

"Because I knew if I told you, you would be upset-" He tried to rationalise it but you cut him off,

"Of course I would! You've been spending all of your free time with your ex-girlfriend and lying to me about it!" You yelled out as you stared down at his phone, it was starting to ring again but you both ignored it this time letting it go to voicemail.

"I was just helping out with her shop, she's straightened herself out." You scoffed at the thought of it all and the phone began to ring again, it was clear she wasn't going to quit calling him until he finally answered her call.

"So she's trying to get back with you?" You questioned as you stared at him folding your arms over your chest,

"No! She's trying to say sorry..." You rolled your eyes at the statement, at how naive he was being about all of it and began walking away from him not wanting to listen to this.

"Am I not allowed, friends?!" He snapped at you making you turn to face him you were angrier now at the fact that he was making it seem like you were forcing him not to talk to her,

"You can be friends with whoever you want...B-But didn't you think about how this would make me feel? Seeing her again? When she's literally tattooed across your chest?!" He heard the crack in your voice as you stormed out of the door, leaving him alone in the world of his own thoughts. He knew how much the tattoo hurt you even if you refused to show him that sometimes, he groaned picking up his phone to her.

"I'll be running late today, come by about 2 pm? The place will be empty and it'll be just me and you, like old times." He sighed as he heard her voice down the other side of the phone,

"We should stop, she's suspicious..." He whispered to Seojun as he walked out of the kitchen and towards the front door, you were sitting in the car so he walked up the stairs to talk.

You whimpered as you got into your car, starting up the engine and driving off towards the pool. You didn't even need to go, you just had to be out of the house for a while to let your brain cool down from what was happening, you were probably just overreacting to it all.

When you came in after swimming the house was empty, all of the lights were off so you knew Jungkook must have been out or up in bed asleep but it was only 7 pm so that was unlikely true. You dropped your keys down in the small bowl by the front door and kicked off your shoes wanting nothing more than to snuggle up beside Jungkook and say sorry for that morning but he wasn't there so you went for the next best thing. Having a shower and curling up in one of his shirts while you waited for him to come home, you'd left him some texts but if he was still upset about this morning you doubted he would answer you.

As you walked into the kitchen you saw a note on the door,

Went out to think. Don't wait up. Love you. x x x JJK x x x You smiled halfheartedly as you read the note from him to you and screwed it up before putting it into the bin. All you had to do was remind yourself that Jungkook loved you, he would never do anything to hurt you.

Later that night Jungkook pulled up outside the house and saw your car,

"I'll call you later, Y/n's home so I'm going to talk to her if she's awake," Jungkook said to Seojun who hummed before hanging upon him. He shut the door carefully and headed up to the front door, it was almost 12 pm so you were most likely asleep in bed but when he walked into the living room you were out cold on the sofa. Draped in one of his jumpers and a pair of shorts with a blanket around you, the TV was playing to itself all of their Bangtan bombs and he smiled to himself. At least you weren't too angry at him to fall asleep to his voice, he turned off the TV and headed into the kitchen.

A small hissing noise made you wake up when you heard small grunts of pain,

"Guk?" You moaned out as you rubbed your eyes, the kitchen light was on and the moaning was coming from there. Terror ripped through you at the thought of him and someone else being in there together but Jungkook would never do that...Would he? Slowly sliding off the sofa you tip-toed into the kitchen to see Jungkook with his back to you, he was hissing as he pulled something off his chest,

"Kookie? What's going on?" Jungkook jumped as your voice suddenly filled the air, he turned to face you and you saw what he was struggling to do. There was fresh clingfilm wrapped around his chest along with some pads,

"Jungkook?" You frowned walking further into the kitchen as you helped him take off the cling film,

"I did something." He mumbled as he took your hands into his own to stop you from removing the rest of it all,

"We have to talk..." You stared into his eyes waiting for him to continue and he looked down,

"I know how much the tattooed bothered you without you saying anything...That's the reason I've been seeing Seojun so much, she runs her own tattoo parlour instead of working for other people now..." You remembered him telling you once that she worked as a tattooist in someone else's shop,

"S-So you went to her to get a tattoo done? Why didn't you tell me?" He let go of your wrists and allowed you to keep unwrapping the clingfilm until it got to the end and the flower could be seen,

"Because we were working on something I couldn't tell you about," Sitting on his left peck, covering the entire muscle was a huge tattoo of your birth flower. Tears began to well up in your eyes as you stared at the masterpiece,

"The best part." He whispered as he took your hand carefully and lead it over to the middle of his chest, written in small black in were some coordinates.

"Do you know what that is?" You stared at them with a frown on your face shaking your head at him trying to work it out,

"It's the coordinates of where I first told you that I loved you," You stared at the coordinates before wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and dragging him into a passionate kiss. Tugging him closer to you until he hissed out in pain,

"S-Sorry, the tattoo is sore." He chuckled as you looked at it again,

"Where's your cream? I'll apply it and then we can go to bed?" You questioned as he nodded at you, telling you where the cream he used for all his tattoo's was kept and went to sit on the sofa for you. Smiling happily as he waited for you to come back to him.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @rjsmochii @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @bisexualmess007 @innersooya @sw33tnight @jin-from-the-block @sweeneyblue1

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blueskrugs · 4 years

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Mary’s Song | Tyson Jost

happy friday! we’ve got josty this week! even better, this one’s longer and has minimal angst. I hope y’all like it, thanks again to @broadstbroskis for being my beta, and I’ll see you next week with the first song from Fearless!

length: 2.7k words

I looked at you like the stars that shined in the sky, the pretty lights And our daddies used to joke about the the two of us, growing up and falling in love

You’d known Tyson Jost for as long as you could remember . You had been neighbors when you were little, had gone to the same preschool and everything. Your moms said you’d been inseparable from the start.

Well, really, Tyson had offered you some of his snack, and you’d declared that you were best friends. It had kinda just stuck.

You heard your moms laughing sometimes, and they would say that you looked at Tyson like he’d hung the stars in the sky, though you didn’t understand what it meant at the time. You just knew that Tyson was your favorite person, and that you wanted to be friends with him forever.

Take me back when our world was one block wide I dared you to kiss me, and ran when you tried

Tyson got into hockey when you were still little. He was head over heels from the start, though from the one time you had tagged along with Laura and a toddling Kacey to practice, it seemed like there was more falling than playing hockey.

“I bet I could teach you how to ice skate,” Tyson said one day after school.

You laughed, because he knew that you were scared of falling, but Tyson was looking at you earnestly, all messy hair and bright brown eyes. You were seven, and Tyson was starting to show some talent on the ice, you knew he loved it, but you would like to keep your feet on solid ground, thank you very much.

“Aw, come on,” Tyson begged.

“No way, Tys,” you said, but Tyson kept pushing, literally, shoving up into your space and leaning on you.

“It’ll be fun!” he tried. You just shook your head at him. “Alright, fine. Tyson’s eyes turned mischievous, and you knew then that this wasn’t going to end well for you. “What about a bet? If I win, I get to teach you how to ice skate.”

He had you there. You were nothing if not competitive, and Tyson knew that better than anyone. And when Tyson with you and competition, you would stop at nothing to win.

“Ugh, fine,” you said, crossing your arms. “But a bet’s cheating, and you know it.”

Tyson just grinned at you. You thought for a minute. Tyson was bigger than you, just a little, but still enough that he wasn’t above tackling you into a snowbank to get the upper hand. You knew because he had done it just last week.

You had an idea.

“Bet you can’t catch me,” you said, and Tyson opened his mouth to complain. But you pressed a kiss to his cheek before scrambling off the steps you were sitting on, and Tyson was left staring after you, mouth still open.

You’d overheard the other boys in your class talking about cooties and teasing Tyson about being best friends with you just the other day. He’d been blushy and weird about it for a couple days before deciding that he could, in fact, be best friends with a girl, cooties or not.

You laughed, loud in the quiet of your neighborhood, as you heard Tyson shout, “Hey!” and collect himself enough to race after you.

He did end up catching you, because you were too busy laughing to keep running. You’d never admit it to Tyson, either, but letting him teach you how to skate was fun.

Well, I was 16 when suddenly I wasn’t that little girl you used to see They never believed we’d really fall in love

In another few years, hockey went from something for Tyson to everything, and he was heading off to B.C. You didn’t let Tyson see you cry when he left you behind, but it was hard, only 12 years old and watching your best friend get on a plane for 800 miles away. You didn’t want him to forget about you.

Tyson always came home, though, and when he was too far away, he would always call, always answer the phone for you. Before you knew it, you weren’t kids anymore, and Tyson was getting drafted. You were there with his mom and Kacey when Colorado called his name. You were so happy for him, but as you watched him pull that jersey over his head, you couldn’t help but feel like you were losing your best friend again. You weren’t sure you’d get him back this time.

Except in the middle of the madness that was the draft party back home later that week, Tyson grabbed you by the arm and dragged you outside. He was still wearing an Avs hat, but it was crooked, and his cheeks were flushed.

“I’m proud of you,” you told him. You felt like you’d been saying that a lot lately, but you still meant it every time. Tyson just shrugged at you, ducking his head.

“I wanna talk to you about something,” he said. Up close like this, Tyson seemed nervous.

“Tys. What’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna miss you,” he admitted, but there was still something he wasn’t saying. He’d left you before, that wasn’t anything new.

“I’m gonna miss you, too, Tys, but-”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Tyson blurted, cutting you off.

You froze. Tyson looked unsure, curls askew under that stupid hat, and, yeah, he was just your best friend, but you’d probably been a little bit in love with him for years, too.

You didn’t quite know how to say that, so you stood up on your toes and pressed a kiss to Tyson’s lips. When you pulled back, hands still on Tyson’s shoulders, he was grinning down at you.

“So.” Tyson’s hands found your hips. “Guess you love me, too?”

“I take it back.” Tyson was going to be annoying about this, you could already.

“Nope,” Tyson said. He kissed you again, because he could. “Too late.”

Not much changed after that. You and Tyson still spent all of your time together, except there was a lot more kissing. Tyson had always been a tactile person, always looking for an excuse to be close to you, to be touching you in some way, and now he didn’t need an excuse. You couldn’t turn around without Tyson being there, a kiss pressed to your cheek, your temple, your lips.

You rolled your eyes at him every time, but you didn’t really mind.

You saw your moms smiling knowingly at you two sometimes, when they saw you curled up on the couch watching a movie, and you remembered the way they used to say you looked at Tyson like he’d hung the stars. You knew what that meant now, and they might’ve been on to something all those years ago.

You asked Tyson about it one night late that first summer together, underneath those very stars, on your backs in the grass.

“How’d you know?” Tyson turned his head to look at you. “That you were in love with me?” You were still young, but with Tyson it just seemed right.

Tyson laughed, rolling to his side and propping himself up on one elbow.

“I think I’ve always been in love with you,” he admitted. He was blushing a little.

You leaned up to kiss him, and when you pulled back, he was blushing harder. “Me too.”

You weren’t able to be there the night Tyson made his debut, but he called you after the game, all bright eyes and flushed cheeks and messy curls that you loved so much.

“I love you,” he said quietly, like he still didn’t quite believe any of this was happening.

You wished you could be there to hug him, tell him again how proud you were of him.

Take me back to the time we had our very first fight, the slamming of doors instead of kissing goodnight You stayed outside ‘til the morning light

The distance never did get easier, especially on the days Tyson struggled with his hockey, and you wondered if there would ever come a day where Tyson would have to decide which he loved more: you or hockey.

But there were always summers together, and long weekends and spring break. You made it work. Or, you thought you did.

“Have you ever thought about transferring schools?” Tyson asked one day out of the blue. He’d only been home a couple of weeks after the Avs had been knocked out by San Jose. You were sitting on the front porch swing after dinner, Tyson’s arm around your shoulders, but you tensed and pulled away from him.

“Why would I switch schools?” You had stayed close to home, and you were on pace to graduate early. Most importantly, you were happy.

Tyson shrugged, but his nonchalance seemed fake. “You could come down to Denver,” he said. He was looking over your shoulder at the sunset.

You raised your eyebrows at him. You hadn’t followed Tyson to UND, and you weren’t about to uproot your life to follow him to Denver. He’d been okay with that. You’d thought he’d been, at least.

“I’m not switching schools, Tys,” you said. You couldn’t decide if you were really angry or just hurt. This wasn’t Tyson asking you to move to Denver with him; it was him asking you to give up the life you were building and planning to be his girlfriend.

You stopped yourself from reminding Tyson that he couldn’t even stay in the lineup again this season, because he knew that already.

“Why not?” Tyson looked like he really didn’t get it. “You do want to come to Denver, one day, right?”

And, yeah, of course you did. There wasn’t a future in your head that didn’t have Tyson by your side. But you were supposed to graduate first, be able to start a life of your own out in Colorado, not just follow Tyson there.

“What if I don’t?” came out of your mouth instead. Tyson's face fell. He’d hurt you, and now you’d hurt him, too. “Tyson, my friends and family are all here, how am I just supposed to leave everyone behind?” You would, one day. You just weren’t ready yet.

“I did it.” Tyson’s voice was small.

He had, and you’d been one of the ones he’d left behind, over and over.

“And what if you change your mind about me, about us?”

Tyson recoiled as if you had slapped him. You supposed you had, in a way.

“I won’t,” Tyson said lowly. He looked like he wanted to grab your hand. “I would never.”

You believed him, but you couldn’t do this anymore tonight.

“Good night, Tyson,” you said, standing up and heading inside. You didn’t look over your shoulder to see Tyson’s face as the screen door shut behind you.

You woke up the next morning to find Tyson passed out on your living room couch. He was still wearing yesterday’s clothes.

“Sweetheart,” your mom said carefully as you walked into the kitchen. “Why did I find Tyson asleep on the porch swing when I went out for the paper this morning?”

You giggled a little in spite of yourself. Like a lot of things, last night’s fight felt a little stupid in the daylight. That also explained how Tyson was currently drooling on one of your mom’s throw pillows.

“We got in a little bit of a fight last night,” you told her. “I should probably wake him, eh?” He didn’t look very comfortable, but you didn’t imagine he’d slept very well outside, either.

Your mom just smiled into her coffee.

You watched Tyson sleep for a moment before poking him to wake up. He pressed his face deeper into the pillow for a second before blinking disgruntledly up at you.

“Hey.”

“You’re an idiot,” you told him, but it just came out fond. Tyson grinned up at you. He had pillow creases on his face.

You ended up going out for breakfast, after taking Tyson home to change into not-stale clothes. You both apologized over waffles, but you didn’t talk about it. It was fine, you were fine. The future was scary.

Tyson didn’t bring it up again that summer. Not until you were on FaceTime one late night after the season started, when you were both tired and defenses were down. It was easier to talk about the future that way, for some reason, making plans while you were both half asleep. You dreamed of mountains that night.

Denver could wait, and Tyson would always be there waiting for you, too.

A few years had gone and come around, we were sitting at our favorite spot in town And you looked at me, got down on one knee

Years passed. You graduated college. Moved to Denver, moved in with Tyson. You loved Denver, and you loved Tyson. And on late nights when you couldn’t sleep, you could just reach across the bed instead of reaching for the phone.

It happened back home in Alberta, though, because Tyson was sentimental like that, and home was where it all began.

You were next to Tyson on porch swing after dinner, just like you had so many times before, except tonight Tyson seemed nervous. He was clutching your hand tightly, and he was rambling, some story about JT you were pretty sure you’d heard before. When he paused to take a breath, you nudged him with your clasped hands.

“What’s up, babe?” you asked. Tyson’s ears turned red the way they always did when you called him “babe.”

Tyson squeezed your hand, then brought it up to his mouth to press a quick kiss to the back of it.

“Do you remember all the days we used to spend out here when we were kids?”

You did. You’d do your homework out on the porch swing on nice days, and when there wasn’t homework, you’d find some other reason to be outside. It had always been both of yours favorite spot.

“I always hoped we’d end up back here like this one day, y’know?”

You did know, but Tyson was letting go of your hand and sliding off the swing, down on one knee next to you, before you could respond.

“Tyson,” you breathed out instead.

There was a ring in Tyson’s hands, and he kept turning it over nervously as he continued talking. You had a half thought to hope he didn’t drop it.

“In my head, I was gonna have this great speech, and it was gonna be all romantic and shit, but now I can’t think of any words to say.”

You giggled and reached out to run your fingers through Tyson’s hair before cupping his cheek. He leaned into the touch. The sun was setting behind him, bright pinks and yellows across the sky, and it was just like every other time you’d sat right here together.

“I love you,” you said, because it seemed important.

“You’ve been in my life for as long as I can remember, and I can’t think of anyone else I want to spend the rest of my life with. Because that’s all I want, to be with you forever.” Tyson paused, took a deep breath. “Y/N, will you marry me?” he asked, looking up at you with big brown eyes.

“Yes, Tyson, of course,” you said, laughing. You might’ve been crying, too; it was a little hard to tell.

After all this time, you and I…

Alberta was home, but so was Denver. Tyson had been by your side for as long as you could remember, and he’d be there for as long as you could imagine.

You’d been lucky to fall in love with your best friend, but you’d probably always been a little bit in love with him, so maybe luck had nothing to do with it.

When you bought a new home together, Tyson insisted that you had to have a porch swing. Not that you would have objected.

“D’you think our kids will be like us one day?” he asked you once. There was a ring to match yours on his finger, now.

“What?” All those years, and sometimes you still didn’t understand half of what came out of Tyson’s mouth.

“Like, cute, fall in love with the kid next door stuff,” Tyson said.

You just laughed.

#cait writes things #the swift series #tyson jost #tsyon jost fic #tyson jost imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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543634 · 3 years

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another rant this time about my family

my little sister is clearly the favorite child of my parents. she always gets what she wants, a dog, two cats, her fav dollhouse, a piano and now she also got a iphone 11pro with 12years in the middle of the year simply because she annoyed my parents with it for so long until she got it. she is also paying a small part of it while but only 250euro and im sitting here with some android for less than 200 euros. i know this is a first world problem but i wish my parents wouldnt spoil her so much. and she is so mean all the time to me and our parents which just makes me so angry because why would you do something to the people that literally give you everything you want?? when i turned 12 i got a fucking button phone which i had until i turned 14 and i couldnt even text my friends and she just becomes everything she wishes for. i also got a fucking childs lock on my phone rn which means i can only use it for 2hr from 8am to 9pm and my dad also has to approve the apps i want to download so i dont have tiktok or snapchat on my phone but my sister was able to download it without needing anyone to allow it. and i already told my parents that i dont like having this childlock on my phone but my dad didnt change anything eventhough he said he understands me. my parents also told me i can just say what i want and then i get it but everytime i want a book or buy one myself i get snapped at for spending so much money when they literally spend hundreds on my twelve year old sister . i honestly dont understand my family at all

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not-poignant · 3 years

Note

Do you think many things have changed about you being a writer online since the beginning of the Fae Tales Universe compared to now? Not only writing style, but including how you are online, or how you think about fandom?

Oooooo

*thinks*

Actually yeah, I mean writing style yes, but in terms of how I think about fandom and how I am online, that has changed a lot. (Adding a Read More because oh god this got LONG).

I used to like, try and be 100% kind all the time, since firstly that comes very naturally to me, and secondly because I was so like...happy and thrilled that folks were communicating with me in the beginning.

But then I was taken advantage of, and one person in particular was abusive, and at the time I didn’t see it for what it was. I’ve also been stalked. I’ve had someone turn up on my doorstep uninvited. And over time I think I’ve become no less grateful (if anything I’m more grateful for the amazing readers), but also more wary? Like, I’m more likely to delete troll messages, than I used to. And sometimes I think it will be more obvious if I’m impatient or if I’m asserting a boundary in an ask response.

Radiotherapy to the head/neck for the cancer I have also really altered things there. I realised I could die at any moment, life is really short, my tumours could metastasise at any time (I actually have one that’s growing at the moment, which is alarming) and that I don’t really have the...patience I guess, to spend time constantly saying ‘this isn’t a music rec blog’ or ‘please don’t recommend books to me because most of the time I don’t like them and people tend to resent me for it’ (as an example) year after year after year. Or to deal with bad faith anons, or anons who just enjoy the novelty of getting me to answer incessant questions about space or something else that has nothing to really do with me. I can’t tell you how many asks I’ve gotten about ‘will you ever make Augus and Gwyn dads, could they adopt a baby’ but it’s a lot and I’ve deleted most of them.

So I actually think I’m more realistically human than I used to be, online. Which is a weird thing to say, right? And maybe that pisses people off. I’ve always been very opinionated, probably to my detriment, that’s never really changed. I’m still going to tell antis to go fuck themselves.

I try and stick to a policy now with messages that piss me off, which is ‘take time before you reply to this.’ I don’t always succeed, but I usually like to wait 12-24 hours before I reply to those messages (or delete them), so I can at least give a fair and moderate response. I really hate feeling like I just got angry at someone who’s possibly only 18 years old and doesn’t really know how to articulate themselves well on the internet, and it can sometimes be hard to tell the difference between ‘troll’ and ‘someone who really just is nervous and shy and doesn’t know how to phrase their question.’

In terms of fandom, I love replying to comments more than ever, actually. Like I love it. I love kudos even more than I used to. I really am grateful for all reader engagement. But I don’t have as much time and energy as I used to respond to every ask, so I respond to asks less, and I respond to them in a less timely manner. I really hate that, but sometimes it’s like ‘I can’t spend all of today replying to asks, I literally have to write the chapters that people want to read.’ I also get social anxiety around asks, and people can be impatient - like no one sends a second comment on AO3 going ‘heyyyy you haven’t replied to my comment yet’ - but you’d be surprised how much people put pressure on you on Tumblr sometimes, as though I also don’t have social anxiety and things might be really stressing me out. :(

In terms of my priority, it’s always 1. Writing content, 2. Replying to comments / being active on the Discord, 3. Replying on Patreon when necessary, 4. Replying to asks. If I’m behind on writing, everything else gets hit. I think when I first started out, I actually put comments and asks ahead of writing content sometimes, but now I know I will literally spend all my time responding to folks and that’s a me problem, and I’ve worked on that since lmao.

I’ve realised over the years that instead of just writing for myself, like I always used to, I also just want to deliver so many of you wonderful people good stories. This has come to matter to me more. The best way, I think, to repay some of the amazing faith and love you’ve all showed me, is to try and give you the best possible writing I can until like, my cancer makes that impossible. And so I’ve become a lot more focused as a writer, and a lot more like ‘this is where I want to be.’

I’ve also realised I care a lot less about traditional publishing, I really love serials! Er, that was a big one, I thought one day I’d transition from writing serials online to publishing books, but now I would like to always be writing serials, and publish books on the side. In a perfect world, I could also publish the serials as books too, so people could own them if they wanted to.

I’ve also seen over the years the rise of antis, and puritanical censorship, and more, and that’s made me angrier, and also much, much stronger re: feeling centred in what I write and what I have written. So I feel like I am much more like...genuinely not bothered by what antis have to say to me, and ironically I get less bothered by antis than ever before, probably because they know that I’m Teflon with claws whenever it comes to any of their rhetoric. I have a media degree that says they have no idea what they’re talking about, and I’m angry on behalf of all the readers who feel ashamed for reading certain content, and who deserve not to feel that way. So that’s like...a thing that’s changed over the years - my anger, and my anger on behalf of readers who might feel guilty or ashamed for liking noncon or incest or underage in fiction. It’s fiction. They’re allowed to engage in that without being afraid of being bullied for it. But that’s not the world we live in.

To be honest, a lot of the changes have been positive! I’ve become more sure and focused, I’ve actually become happier as a writer and a person, and I enjoy the fandom experience more, as well as writing fanfiction and stuff. I wish I had more time to like... chat about AUs and stuff and write Tumblr posts like I used to, but radiotherapy hit me pretty hard with some permanent energy loss and side effects, and so where things have changed in a bad way, it’s almost always because of health and not because I love fandom any less. And where I’ve changed in terms of sometimes being a bit more cynical about anon asks I try and remind myself to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, and to just remind myself that I have my boundaries, and I’m safe/okay. I hate that I have to do that nowadays, but it was kind of stupid that I didn’t do it before.

I can’t believe how like... how lucky I am to be here. Lucky to be alive. Lucky to write for you all. Lucky to write stories I love. Lucky to reply to comments and asks like this one. I don’t ever want to lose sight of that or the gratitude.

I think the day I stop being grateful, is the day I need to walk away. It’s humbling, honestly, and I feel that more and more over time, and not less. Even when I’m an opinionated dumbass who writes too much most of the time, lmao.

(I didn’t even get to talking about how my writing style changed I’m sorry anon THIS GOT SO LONG FUCK)

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neurodihuegent · 4 years

Text

[PART ONE] Huey's character development: season 1 to season 3.

with ducktales 2017 coming to a close in less than two weeks, i thought that now was best of all times to create a post of how i think huey has developed as a character throughout all three seasons. please remember, this post is just based on how I see his character development, and you're free to have your own ideas and/or not agree with all of my points!

1.) learning to adjust to new environments/accepting failures: When we were first introduced to huey's character, one of the biggest take aways was that he's a very "by the book" kind of a person, and has a hard time adjusting to foreign environments or situations that he will need to go with the flow and what he already knows, rather than doing everything by the book.

This was mainly introduced in "The Terror of the Terrafirmians!" in season one, where we could literally see Huey scrambling to make sense of the situation, and at some points, spouting out B.S. to make sense of the situation in his head. While he did end up coming to terms that the Terrafirmians are in fact, very real, he still only decided to believe it once it was documented in his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook.

Progressively throughout the show, we see Huey being put in situations where he has to be able to think quick on his feet rather than anxiously try to sort out all that he knows from the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook. Because of his personality, Huey not only had a hard time adjusting to foreign environments, but it's also been shown that he has a hard time accepting set backs as well. From what we've seen, it's easy to infer that when Huey has his mind set on something, he will do nothing short of achieving that goal: And when said goal is not achieved, or is starting to look like it won't be achieved, he takes it very personally.

This is especially seen in "The Infernal Internship of Mark Beaks!" and "The Challenge of the Senior Junior Woodchuck!": Where in "The Infernal Internship of Mark Beaks", even though Huey was definitely more qualified for the position by a significant amount, when Dewey got the position, his first instinct was to get angry instead of congratulate his brother: Granted, Dewey wasn't completely deserving of the position over Huey, and at this point, Huey was just a kid still learning how to manage his emotions, but his instictive reaction tells a lot about his character at the time. Thankfully, we see this progress with "The Challenfe of the Senior Junior Woodchuck!", where Huey is once again put in a situation where the odds were against him, considering that this time around, Violet was more qualified and prepared for the position than he was. At first, Huey does take this badly, getting super anxious that he'll have to do a challenging, dangerous course that no 11-12 year old probably should be doing, on his lonesome without even the help of the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook, which has been shown to be a source of comfort for Huey. At one point, he is only surviving through the course by creating a talking Junior Woodchuck Guidebook in his head, but even that goes south as he gets so overwhelmed and anxious to the point where he sets it on fire in his head. Eventually, noticing how far he's fallen behind Violet, and realizing how deserving she is of the title over him despite his love for everything Junior Woodchucks, he is able to come to terms with the fact that he lost, and instead of getting upset or beating himself up for it, he gracefully allows her to be announced as the winner, and shows her his full support. This is meaningful, because if this was season 1 Huey, we honestly can not say that his reaction to his loss would've been the same: He probably would've gotten a lot more upset about it than he actually did in season 3.

"Quack Pack!", despite somewhat being more of a comedic episode, also sheds light on how Huey's learned to adjust with a change in environment: He was the first character (other than Donald, who was fully aware) to pick up on the fact that they are in an alternate universe, set inside of a 1990s sitcom, and becomes increasingly anxious about it as a result, especially since everyone was pretty much oblivious of it at first. However despite this, when the family confronts Donald about the wish, while Donald does make a compelling point of how this scenario gives them a sense of normalcy and security, Huey also brings up the fact that despite the hardships they may face, adventuring is an integral part of their new found family. Even though Huey has always been pretty enthusiastic about adventuring, especially in comparison to Louie and pre-season 3 Donald, there has been times where adventuring has caused him anxiety due to being confronted with new settings or situations that he doesn't immediately know how to handle, so considering this, I think that line alone has shown the great improvement Huey has made with adjusting.

2.) embracing "The Duke": in the first two seasons, while we always had somewhat of an idea that huey was the triplet that inherited the infamous McDuck anger, "The Duke" wasn't something that was necessarily explored much in the first two seasons, leading people to believe that it was just for comedic plot. However, in season 3, we finally got an image of what "The Duke" actually is and represents, alongside with how Huey truly feels about this side of him.

Based on my perception of "The Split Sword of Swanstantine", Huey sees The Duke as an entire separate entity from himself rather than just how far his anger can really go, decides to completely reject this side and keep it locked away in his brain. Of course, we've had our early season moments where The Duke "slipped out", but for the most part, leading up to The Split Sword of Swanstantine, we never really got a full glimpse of what exactly the Duke is: and given his personality, it makes sense as to why Huey was rejecting this side of him instead. Not only does The Duke represent one of Huey's most vulnerable states, but knowing how far his anger can go, goes completely against the side of his personality that he does allow to shine: Being orderly, being well put together, and being the brain of his sibling trio, which being blinded by anger would all deter. Despite the strength that embracing his anger gives him, Huey obviously still sees it as a weakness, because it's the side of him he doesn't want people to see, especially those closest to him, because before the events of The Split Sword, Huey didn't exactly have the greatest control of his anger, so while nobody would want to think of it, no one knows how far he could really go if he's pissed enough.

However, thanks to the encouragement of Lena, Huey was finally able to embrace that side of him, and fully gain control over his anger which is something we don't typically see with the infamous McDuck Anger, given that the only way he could defeat Steelbeak who had an obvious advantage, was to tap into his true strength. The biggest takeaway Huey got from this situation, is that his anger shouldn't be treated as if it's a separate entity, or as if it's something to be embarassed of, but to truly embrace that side of himself, and learn how to control it, all things that he was able to accomplish by the end of "The Split Sword of Swanstantine".

3.) building new relationships:

Since season one, it's been hinted that Huey does struggle a bit on the friendship aspect of things. He does have very close relationships with his brothers and Webby, but even these can be hindered by clashing personalities and differing interests. Even though it's fairly obvious that HDLW all love and support each other like family, Huey has never really exactly been shown to have a bond with someone where he shares completely similar interests: Now, this isn't really important in friendship, often times opposites attract even down to the friendship aspect, but it is nice to have someone where you can just sit and chat about similar interests, and do stuff together that you'll both enjoy.

The first time we've gotten a hint at Huey struggling with making friends was in "The Day of the Only Child!", where, if the Beagle Brothers didn't show up, Huey would've been out of luck with finding two other participants for the three-man cookout, considering that everyone else was already paired up and Louie and Dewey were already off doing their own things for the day. Also hinted in that same episode, is the fact that Huey make struggle with loneliness as well (Huey "Be horribly alone." Dewey: "For once!"), given that he's spent most if not all of his life constantly with his brothers and Donald, so even if him and his brothers did have fall outs every here and there, he could always rely on them to be there given that outside of them, he didn't rely have any other friends.

Now, this somewhat turns around in season 2, when we're introduced to Fenton, who Huey not only idolizes as Gizmoduck, but looks at like a genuine best friend and most likely, as an older brother figure. Besides Huey's admiration of Gizmoduck, it's been shown that they bond over their similar interest in science, and in general, Huey is constantly looking out for Fenton and always wanting to protect his best friend from any danger or hurt that he himself can prevent. Despite Fenton undoubtedly being Huey's closest friend, I think that it's also important to shed light on the friendships that he's made that are more in his age group.

Following the events of Astro BOYD!, we are introduced to Boyd and Huey's friendship, two characters that existed in the show prior but never had any interactions. Huey and Boyd bond over their interest in the Junior Woodchucks, something that we once again see Huey get backlash for from his fellow Woodchucks, for being too "by the book" and not just "relaxing and being a kid" (even going as far to label him as a "robot"). Even in Boyd's malfunctioning, Huey is determined to stay by his side until the end, not only because of their shared interests and the bonding they began to do at the very beginning of the episode, but also because Huey understood what it was like to be cast away and treated as less just for being different (or in Huey's words, "wired a little differently"). Even though Fenton is Huey's closest friend by a margin, I would consider Boyd's friendship with him really meaningful, at least given the circumstances of how they became friends in the first place: Two people who were cast aside, for not being what society considered the "perfect/normal kid", and instead of people working with them, they were just cast aside easily. Considering how fast Huey probably had to grow up given the circumstances of living with Donald who, despite being an amazing father figure, dealt with poverty pretty often, it's no wonder why he's very mature for his age and very "by the book", but it's also no wonder why kids who probably didn't have to grow up with those circumstances, would easily be turned off. Louie and Dewey are a lot more understanding considering they grew up in the same setting, but even they dealt with it differently, often leading to their personalities clashing, which is even lampshaded in this episode as another insecurity of Huey's when building relationships ("Are you sure you want me to continue? My brothers are usually *begging* me to stop.).

We're also introduced to another friendship at the very beginning of season three, with Violet. Even though at the beginning, things were a bit rocky considering how anxious Huey was getting from the Senior Woodchuck competition, and his determination to beat Violet, even to the point of leaving him behind when she probably needed him the most, by the end of the episode, we see both Violet and Huey not only reconcile, but start to actually bond. During this high stress situation, Violet was a great source of relief for Huey, using her own experiences of failure to inspire Huey to not give up, and that even if he does lose (which he did) in this specific situation, there'll be more opportunities because he is great when it comes to the Junior Woodchucks. Even when Violet wins, instead of being bitter which would definitely be expected considering that Huey is a child and how much he was anticipating winning, he is able to put his grievances aside and congratulate her because she helped him greatly during a point of weakness. Even if Violet and Huey's friendship didn't end up as closeknit as his and Boyd's, or as prominent as his and Fenton's, I think this was still a meaningful connection for him as Violet was great balance for the anxiety that he was feeling at the time, and despite him leaving her behind, she beared no ill will towards him.

This is only the first part, where I examined what I felt were the key component to his character development over the last three seasons, and the next post will focus on other aspects that weren't as focused on during the series!

#huey masterpost #huey duck #ducktales

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deeranger · 3 years

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Fic Writer Questions!

@oddsocksandstuff tagged me in this, thank you so much, sweetie! ❤️

1) How many works do you have on AO3? I’ve got 40 so far (of which 25 are SPN fics). There’s more to come!

2) What’s your total AO3 word count? 486,667, apparently. That tells me each of my fics has an average wordcount of 12,166.675… Seems about right. I was never any good at keeping things short.

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? Uhh… On AO3 I’ve written for Supernatural, Supernatural RPF, X-men (Cherik) and McFassy (James McAvoy/Michael Fassbender). But I’ve written a lot when I was younger that has never made it online, including NCIS, Pirates of the Caribbean, and lots of weird one-shorts starring everyone from Michael J. Fox to Kevin Sorbo from “Hercules: The Legendary Journeys”. 🤨

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos? “A Lesson to be Taught” – an SPN Wincest pwp fic where a dominant Dean fucks (and spanks) Sam and they discover that Dean apparently has a daddy!kink. Comes with a photo manipulation too! There be dick.

“Taking Game” – a semi-dark medieval Cherik (Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr from X-men) AU. Basically, Charles is a poacher hunting on king Erik’s land to his great dismay. And so, he’s captured and gets the choice between losing his life or serving the king for a bit… Dubcon and smut ensues. “Only Like This” – a little SPN Wincest dub-con fic about hopelessly pining Dean doping Sam just so he can touch and kiss his oblivious little brother. It’s okay. Sam won’t remember when he comes to. “It’s Only Carnal” – A dark SPN Wincest noncon fic where soulless!Sam needs to blow off some steam. And when it comes to carnal activities his brother isn’t exactly a novice – so why not use Dean’s body to make them both feel good? “Demonized” – a long and dark af SPN noncon fic written in collaboration with the awesome @palishere. Sam is captured by some nasty demons who use him to lure in his brother. At first it seems the demonic scumbags are just really perverted and have a weakness for sexual torture, but they turn out to have ulterior motives…

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not? Yes, always. I think it can be a bit demotivating for a reader to leave a comment and get zero response – and so, they might not bother to comment on the next fic. At least, that’s how I feel personally. And besides, I really want to let readers know that I appreciate them taking the time and effort to actually tell me what they think.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Oufff… Seriously? How can I possibly pick just one when 99.8 percent of my fics are not only dark af but have gut-wrenching ambiguous endings as well? I, err… I’m gonna have to think really hard about this one, hold on… *Insert buzzing cicada sound*… Uhh… Well, I guess it might be… “Play or Pay” – a dark female!reader-insert Wincest fic where demon!Dean has you and Sam trapped somewhere underground. Sam ends up being on the receiving end of the demon’s cruelty when he tries to save you. Using Dean’s body the demon ends up raping Sam while the reader tries to escape to get help... There’s a little twist in the end. Loads of dead dove here, including death (not Dean or Sam). “The Orange Hour” – where undercover inmate!Dean has to rape CO!Sam in order to save both of their lives and get them out of the jail in one piece. It doesn’t go completely as planned. (Comes with an nsfw photo manipulation). “Demonized” – loads of bottom!Sam torture, full of hurt and absolutely no comfort... It’s just… I dunno, I think I and @palishere had a collective meltdown in the noncon and angst department. Sorrynotsorry.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written? Nope, I’ve never in my life written a crossover. Usually, I’m too laser-focused on 1 obsession at a time. I can’t multitask, okay?

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic? Yes, the fandom purity police has visited me on AO3. The usual self-proclaimed know-it-alls vomiting their bullshit all over the comment section about how “problematic” noncon is and how “sick” I must be. I thought about moderating comments for a while, actually – but I just deleted their follow-up comments until they left me alone. 😤

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind? Yes!! Gimme! Usually, I write noncon smut or just good ol’ pwps that feature some sort of dominance. That’s it. That’s my jam. In general, the only smut I don’t write is the cute, fluffy, feel-good, cuddly stuff… My smut’s usually pretty rough and/or some sort of dub/noncon.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes. Someone stole “It’s Only Carnal” and posted it as her own on some Portuguese fanfiction site. She even replied to comments, answered questions and talked about how much she loved writing it, etc… Luckily a sweet mutual on Tumblr let me know about it and I reported her for plagiarism. The stolen fic was taken down shortly after and the account deleted. Goddamn thief. 😡

12) Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes. Honestly, I can’t remember which fic(s). But people have contacted me on AO3 and asked for permission to translate my stuff into Chinese. I have - of course - happily allowed them to. It’s such an awesome compliment to get, I think!

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, 2. “Demonized” and the fluffy Ficfacers prompt fic “The Masks We Wear” starring Sam and Dean taking their pranks a step too far. Basically, the brothers get angry with each other and they need to talk it out… No smut in this one, can you believe it?!! But that was kinda the prompt we received. The prompt was literally: “Sam and fluff”. Anyways, both fics are co-written with the lovely @palishere. You can find her AO3 here. 😊

14) What’s your all time favorite ship? Wincest!!! Definitely. Gimme all the brotherfucking, please. No contest. And coming in on second place I guess there’s Samifer – never paired consensually, though. I just love Lucifer messing with Sam’s head and torturing him in all kinds of cruel ways.

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Oh, that’s a mean question… I have a noncon WIP where Sam and Dean are in prison. I wrote a whole story outline, gathered my own little dictionary of prison slang, etc… But I never made it past page 10 or something. Sam was supposed to get jumped by a gang of inmates and then Dean was supposed to helplessly watch from the sideline, offering to trade places if they’d just leave his little brother alone… And after that it’s all about a mix of healing and vengeance… But the story has been lying on the shelf for more than a year and I doubt I’ll ever continue it. Oh, wait! I almost forgot – I have a long Cherik WIP sequel to “To Have and to Hold”! Just checked, its wordcount is 18,729! Holy crap…. What a waste, huh? But I honestly don’t think I’ll ever finish it, because I’m not into Cherik anymore. That ship has kinda sunk for me…. So, now I’m hyperfixating on Supernatural, yeah?

16) What are your writing strengths? Description, I think. I just love details and setting the mood. I like to think I’m pretty good at writing in English too even though it isn’t my native language… I wish to be better and expand my vocabulary but I’m doing okay nonetheless.

17) What are your writing weaknesses? Description, I think. Yes, you read correctly. I often describe things TOO much. Sometimes to the extent where the pacing gets so slowed down that I feel like the scene loses its ‘feel’. I don’t know if it’s just in my head, but that’s my major concern about my writing. That and my signature ambiguous endings, lol.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Love it. It can be difficult to pull off, but if you get it right it can be magical. Just don’t overdo it and make sure that the reader can follow. I don’t think I have any fics online where I do it, but I’m not a complete stranger to it either.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for? Ack, my poor brain trying to go back to when I was friggin’ 13… You know how many years ago that was?! 25!!! Okay!? *Huffs*…. Anyway, I THINK it might’ve been Keanu Reeves’ character in “Johnny Mnemonic”. Or maybe David James Elliott’s character as Harmon Rabb in the early seasons of “JAG”. I dunno. Either way this question makes me feel really old and I don’t appreciate it. Don’t @ me. 😅

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? That’s probably a tie between “The Orange Hour” and “It’s Only Carnal”. They’ve both got nice pacing and that’s my biggest challenge, I think. Also, I love the whole Morse code thing in “The Orange Hour”. I don’t even know what happened or how I came up with it, but hey, I can surprise myself if I want to, I guess! And of course there’s the smutty noncon and all of the hurt… So, those two fics are my personal faves. 😏

I’ll tag @jackandthesoulmates, @pinkoptics, @palishere, @wrenseroticlibrary, @decadent-prince, @negans-lucille-tblr, @juinae and @impala-dreamer and everyone else who feels like doing it! Feel free to ignore, of course.

#dee answers #fanfiction questions #personal

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ticktockofthemetronome · 3 years

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“ i don’t care if the clock turns backwards. i don’t care if i keep on hurting. i don’t care if you won’t look at me. i only want you to live and smile. ”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

❝ 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙮'𝙨 𝙤𝙘 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙚 ❞ ✧ ೃ༄

Picrew

┍━━━━━━━☟━━━━━━━┑

𝐁𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

name: starly nicknames: blue tangy [floyd], madame penance [rook], my dear [azul] gender: female age: 16 birthday: december 12 star sign: sagittarius height: 150cm hair: wavy black eye color: dark grey homeland: ?

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

dorm: ramshackle year: first class: 1–A, student no. 28 occupation: student club: boardgame club best subject: math

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

dominant hand: right favorite food: hard for her to pick, but she generally likes saltier foods least favorite food: shrimp (she can’t eat that and most other seafoods due to allergies) dislikes: witnessing death hobbies: lying down in bed and practicing magic talents: understanding things really quickly

┕━━━━━━━☝︎━━━━━━━┙

»—————————–✄ personality, um, and trivia down below

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

✦ starly is an ambivert. she won’t initiate conversation unless it’s necessary, and she won’t be engaged in the conversation if the other party doesn’t interest her. when she’s with people that she is comfortable with, starly is much more talkative and sociable, sometimes being really loud to the point that she needs to be quieted. when enough time with people passes, she will be exhausted and go quiet. she is a go-with-the-flow type of person, so depending on her mood, she can either be the one who tries to stop people from doing something crazy, but more often than not, she’s either enabling it or partaking in it.

✦ honest to a fault, starly wears her heart on her sleeve most of the time, making it easy to tell when she’s happy, angry, or just plain bored. she is also a horrible liar, and she’s aware of this, so she mostly gives up and tells the truth anyway. however, when it comes to the deepest problems that eat away at her, starly will not indicate anything that she’s going through something. burdening others with her problems makes her feel a little guilty, and she either has to trust the person completely or be pushed enough times to get her to talk.

✦ starly is not easily motivated to do things because she wants to lie down and relax all the time, hence why she doesn’t have many hobbies. she may be writing some stories from time to time, but they’re not very frequent. she also doesn’t like it when her peace is ruined, so when she’s first transported into twisted wonderland, her stress is almost palpable. due to this, she hates having to face conflict and would want to go about her day without any problems aside from school. however, when something truly captures her attention, she will fixate on that and dedicate nearly all her time to that one thing.

𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜

“ heal what has been hurt. change the fates’ design. save what has been lost. bring back what once was mine. ”

penitent’s deal is the unique ability that enables starly to reset time to any point in the past, though the farthest she can go is her first day in nrc. her unique magic takes three seconds to activate after she says her um incantation in which no one can move. after those three seconds, time will stop moving before it starts reversing at light speed.

due to its near omnipotent nature, starly will feel weak after using her unique magic— how weak depends on how much time she resets. resetting a few hours back won’t do anything as long as she has her magical pen, a few days may give her a slight headache, weeks may give her a migraine, and months may leave her sick for a day or two. the reset also physically affects her, so if theoretically, her 22-year old self would reset to when she was 16, she would be back to her 16-year old self physically. however, the blot will still accumulate in her crystal from magic usage. when she says her incantation, she is rendered immobile, leaving her open to attack, so anything can happen in that timeframe. if starly dies during the three seconds that the reset is activated, she may not return in the next timeline.

most people would not remember the events of the previous timeline. however, depending on the amount of magic one has, some may be sensitive to the resets. mages with decent enough abilities may experience a slight sense of deja vu or have somewhat vivid dreams of the previous timeline that could be forgotten. strong magic users such as the dorm leaders experience a stronger sense of deja vu and will have vivid dreams about the previous timeline. then there are the particularly exceptional ones who will know that a reset has occurred.

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚

✦ starly originated from a universe where my friends’ sonas and mine interact with each other! she didn’t have her own standalone story where she’s the only one in ramshackle until very recently, and there are many differences between her standalone story and her story in that universe. for this blog, i will only be sharing her standalone story.

✦ starly was originally supposed to remain magicless all throughout her story in twisted wonderland. however, one day, i remembered this undertale au called flowerfell where frisk’s resets cause a flower to grow on their body. it made me think of how in twst, you can always return to any part of the story, which made me think about the possibility of resetting time to any point in time as you wish. and that’s how starly’s um came to be.

✦ speaking of her um, it was originally titled as reset. however, it sounded too literal and too short, so it was changed.

✦ starly has the habit of always apologizing even when she doesn’t have to (example being saying sorry to someone when she just needs space to move and she has to go past that person). she thinks this is why took calls her madame penance.

✦ starly is very competitive in games, hence why she chose the boardgame club. her favorite opponent is azul because he’s the best at bringing out that desire to improve in her.

✦ like the in-game mc, starly comes from a world where even the concept of the great seven and mickey don’t exist.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #starly #oc profile

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cadence-talle · 4 years

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Sugar Snow and Peppermint Pathways

Pairing: Fitz Vacker/Dex Dizznee, Sophie Foster/Biana Vacker

Wordcount: 9,587

Summary: Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever.

Dex rolls out the cookie dough again. "I hate them so much."

(Or: nearly everyone is a famous baker, Biana and Fitz are both a little bit in love, and Dex Dizznee does not, under any circumstances, want to interact with the Vackers.)

Other notes: my Winter Exchange gift for @yeetersofthelostcities! I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you as much about this fic as I did, but it’s also 9k, so I think you can forgive me.

Read it on AO3 (much recommended since this is long and some of the fonts didn’t quite translate to Tumblr) or under the cut!

World-Famous Vacker Siblings Rumored To Be On 2020’s Annual Holiday Bake-Off

Fitzroy and Biana Vacker have been making a lot of headlines this year, from the opening of their new bakery in Chicago to the millions of dollars they’ve donated to various charities around the globe. The sibling duo seems to have been born with baking skills- and it’s no surprise, since their mother is Della Vacker, author of five bestselling cookbooks. (See our biography of Della Vacker if you’d like to learn more!)

But this December may mark their greatest trial yet. Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off garnered more than three million views last year, and it’s set to get even more attention this year now that four-star restaurant owner Edaline Ruewen is hosting.

For those of you new to the bake-off, the rules are simple: it’s comprised of five different baking challenges, spread out over the week leading up to Christmas Day. Each of the eight competitors will have five different chances to wow the judges- and on the final day, whoever’s made the most impact will win thousands of dollars. Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever.

--read more--

OTHER NEWS

13 Christmas Cookie recipes to brighten up your winter!

“It’s All In The Butter”: Edaline Ruewen shares the secret of her famous butterblasts!

Fintan Pyren opens a new barbeque joint in Upper Manhattan. Its name? Flambé.

Subscribe to BAKER’S WEEKLY ONLINE today and get a free tote bag!

-/-

December 12, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“No.”

“Yes,” Biana says cheerfully, leaning over the dining room table to ruffle her brother’s hair. Fitz glares at her. “I’ve already signed the papers.”

“But-” Fitz sighs, apparently already giving up. “Ugh. I’m busy.”

“Fun fact: spending thirty hours trying to refine the perfect croissant recipe does not qualify as being ‘busy’. Our croissants are delicious. They don’t need any more work. You, however, need a vacation.”

“Funner fact: competing against my own sister on a reality show broadcast to the country is less of a vacation than working out apricot croissants would be.”

“Even more fun fact: ‘funner’ is not a word.”

“Even funner fact: I literally do not give a single fuck.”

Della’s laugh crackles over the phone, warm and bright. “Language, Fitzroy,” she says. Livvy snorts.

“He’s twenty-two years old, Dell. I don’t think you get to say that.”

Biana giggles. She can almost picture the scene at the other end of the call- her moms curled up on the couch, Della nursing a cup of mulled cider as Livvy talks intently about her patients at the hospital. Their menorah will have four candles lit by tonight, mirroring the one that sits on Biana’s own side table. The whole house will be filled with warmth and laughter.

Biana misses that sometimes, looking around her empty apartment. Wishes she was still a little girl and could snuggle up next to her mom and watch The Nutcracker because Della knew, without asking, that Biana was sad. Before all this… responsibility.

That’s not really fair, though, because when she was a little girl Livvy wasn’t there, and Della was sad, and Fitz was angry. So maybe she doesn’t miss the old days- maybe she just misses having someone there to understand her.

Fitz is here, she reminds herself. He’s not leaving. He’s good, and he’s not leaving.

“... chocolate chips on the ceiling,” her brother is saying when Biana snaps back to the conversation. Over the phone, Della groans.

“Don’t even mention that. Goodness, I’m glad you’ve left the ‘crazy parties’ stage of your life behind, Fitz. Those were hell to clean up after.”

“I don’t know, it was pretty funny to watch him try to repair a chair while hungover the next morning,” Biana teases. Fitz rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I didn’t-”

There’s a loud beeping noise Biana registers as an oven timer, and she spins around towards her kitchen before realizing it’s coming from her moms’ end. Della makes an apologetic noise.

“Sorry, darlings, we should go. I love you!”

“Love you too,” Biana and Fitz echo. There’s a rustling sound, like Della is moving to hang up, and then she pauses.

“Oh, and Fitz, I think the Holiday Bake-Off is a wonderful idea. Good luck!”

And then Biana’s phone is flashing the Time Elapsed: 22 minutes screen, and her brother is back to glaring at her.

“No.”

“I’m not arguing this anymore,” Biana says, moving towards the kitchen and filling up a pot of water. “Do we want spaghetti for dinner?”

“Sure,” Fitz retrieves several cans of tomato sauce and dumps them in a pot. “I just- sorry. What if we lose?”

“Well, at least one of us is going to lose,” Biana points out. “And even if we both get the lowest ratings in the entire show, so what? We don’t need the money.”

“But-” Fitz waves his hands in the air. “We’re going to be- people are going to be watching us. What happens if we fuck up?”

Oh. Of course that’s what he’s worried about. Fitz has always, always been worried about public appearances. Biana sets the water on the stove and moves over to him, leaning against the opposite counter.

“Bro. Man. My dude.” She says seriously. Fitz purses his lips in a way that makes it clear he’s hiding a smile. “Fitz, we’re going to be fine. No one’s going to be judging how we do in this competition.”

“Sorry, do you hear yourself?”

“Okay, fair, but you know what I mean. Losing this contest isn’t going to wreck our business. If we can strike up enough of a friendship with whoever does win, we could even stand to grow.”

Fitz stares at her. Biana stares back. The tomato sauce starts to bubble.

“Fine,” Fitz finally says. “Do we have any veggie meatballs?”

-/-

December 13, 2020.

The Good Place Bakery

Middlebury, Vermont.

Dex drops the cookie dough onto the flour-covered counter, smacking it with what’s probably more force than necessary. It holds up, though, and he cuts out two entire trays of tiny snowmen and stars before his co-owner arrives in a blaze of glory.

“Guess who’s got a date this weekend!” Keefe sings, dumping his coat on a hook and pushing himself up on the counter. He gets a good look at Dex’s face and frowns. “Whoa, who bruleed your creme?”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Dex rolls his eyes, “and everything’s fine. What poor guy did you pick up now?”

“His name’s Nathan and he’s beautiful,” Keefe sighs. “But don’t try to change the subject. Why do you have your grumpy face on?”

Dex grabs the letter from where he threw it across the room half an hour ago and hands it to the other man. Keefe skims it.

“You have been invited onto Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off,” he reads. He glances up at Dex. “Okay… didn’t we already know that? Soph’s been talking about the contest for weeks.”

“Yes, but I got more information this time around,” Dex says tightly. “And it turns out the Vacker siblings are also competing.”

“Oh.” Keefe sets the letter down and picks up one of the cookie sheets, sliding it into the oven. “Well, I think you can beat them.”

“Of course I can beat them,” Dex snaps. “That’s not the problem. The problem is-” he sweeps up the dough scraps and prepares to roll them out again. “The problem is they’re fake and I don’t like them.”

He’s aware he sounds like a child. It’s hard to describe, though, what makes him so frustrated about the Vacker siblings. The two of them just make it look so… easy, though. Born into fame and given a head start in front of everyone else. Dex had to take out three different loans to start this bakery, and even that was with Keefe’s huge trust fund.

“They’re just… fake,” he says lamely. “No one’s that perfect.”

“Mmm.” Keefe hums, then murmurs, “okay, but you know who is that perfect?”

Dex sighs. “Okay, tell me about Nathan.”

Keefe is halfway through the story of how they met- at the library, apparently, because that’s widely known to be the most romantic spot in town- when Amy shoves through the doors and steals an unbaked cookie.

“Morning,” she grins around a mouthful of crumbs. Dex raises an eyebrow and slides the cookie sheet towards Keefe before she can eat more.

“Morning,” he says. “How’s Marty?”

“Still hates everyone but Sophie,” Amy shrugs. “Who isn’t here, obviously, because she and Mom are in Chicago setting up the Bake-Off.” She squints at Dex. “I can’t believe you got onto the show. There have to be rules against that.”

“Technically, that only applies if it’s direct relation. So, like, kids and parents.” Keefe grabs a piece of cookie dough. “Plus, even if Edaline did give Dex super high ratings on everything, he can’t win unless the other judges agree.”

“You’re going to get salmonella,” Dex tells the two of them. “But yeah, Keefe’s right. I’ll have to actually try if I want to win.”

“Do you?” Amy asks. Dex bites his lip, dusting some flour off his shirt.

“The money would be nice, I guess. But- I don’t know. We’ll get publicity either way, and that’s what’s important.”

“Attaboy,” Keefe gives him a thumbs-up. “You’re gonna win all the brownie points. Well, assuming they have you make brownies.”

“I-” Dex stares at him, shaking his head. “Why don’t you tell Amy about Nathan.”

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

Biana glances around the room, light reflecting off the chandelier above and casting glittering patterns on the carpet and various couches scattered around the hall-like space. Four days have passed she broke the news to Fitz, and she’s wondering if this was a bad idea after all.

She’s not the first one here, thank goodness; there’s a tiny blond woman seated on a chair further down chatting to a man with silver-dyed bangs and a frizzy-haired woman tapping impatiently on her phone a few feet away. A door at the other end of the hall presumably leads further into the hotel.

A buzz in her pocket prompts her to retrieve her phone, and Biana opens it to find three texts from her brother.

ritzroy

Ok I made it to our room

[image.jpg]

There’s a paper crane on the kitchen counter is this some sort of message

yes.

they're trying to tell u that u r a paper crane

ritzroy

*you *are

I know you only do that to annoy me.

now get down here i feel awkward standing all by myself

ritzroy

Have you tried talking to people?

fuck you

Sighing a bit, she plops down on a couch half-obscured by a large plant. Someone coughs from where they’re sitting next to her and Biana turns around to apologize.

“Hi,” says Sophie Foster.

Biana stares. The woman is about half an inch shorter than her, blond hair tucked back into a ponytail and white blouse slightly wrinkled. Biana’s seen this face on television upwards of a hundred times- the award-winning chef daughter of Grady and Edaline Ruewen attracts attention, after all- but never quite like this, with eyebrows furrowed and mouth tilted a little to the side.

“Hey,” Biana says about a minute too late. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t know there was someone sitting here.”

“No problem,” Sophie assures her. “You’re Biana Vacker, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Biana nods, slightly stunned that Sophie Elizabeth Foster knows her name. “You’re- Sophie Foster.”

“That’s me,” Sophie says, smiling a little. “You ready for the competition?”

“Definitely,” Biana responds. “I mean, I don’t celebrate Christmas, but I watched the Holiday Bake-Off last year, and it seems like it’s super fun? And it’ll be cool to see what other people make too.”

“Yeah.” Silence falls over the two of them, and Biana cringes inwardly. This is the worst possible thing. Where on earth is her brother?

Searching for something to say, Biana opens her mouth. “Um-”

“Huh?” Sophie turns a little more towards her, eyes fixed on Biana’s face. Biana swallows a little.

“Uh, I was actually really nervous when I noticed I was sitting next to you. I’m kind of a huge fan.”

Sophie blinks. “You’re kidding.”

“No?”

“When I found out you were going to be competing, I literally asked my mom if she could get me on the show because I wanted to meet you so bad.”

Biana’s staring again. “Oh.”

Sophie’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out, tapping the screen. Biana tilts her head a little in confusion.

“Gotta go,” Sophie says with an apologetic smile. She stands up and starts towards the door, turning back to say one last thing before she leaves.

“You’re even prettier in person.”

When Fitz shows up two minutes later, Biana’s still staring wide-eyed at the place where Sophie was just standing. Her brother flops down onto the couch next to her and raises an eyebrow.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Biana shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Well, I dropped the bags off. The room’s nice,” Fitz offers. “Oh, and Mom says we should video chat tonight. She wants the tea.”

Biana blinks. “The… tea.”

“Her words, not mine.”

“Yeah, I think I could tell. What-”

“Hello, everyone!” The door at the end of the hall swings open and a smiling red-haired woman steps out, followed by two others. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Edaline Ruewen, from Vermont. I’ll be one of the judges next week. We’re all gonna go around and introduce ourselves, I’ll outline a schedule, and then y’all will be free to go. Cadence?”

“Good afternoon,” a tall dark-skinned woman greets. “I’m Cadence Talle, food journalist for the LA Times. I’ll be another one of your judges, along with-”

“Bronte.” The third man interrupts. He raises an eyebrow at the faces waiting for him to go on. “Well?”

“Looks like someone’s judging us already,” Fitz whispers. Biana muffles a laugh in her coat sleeve as the blond woman from before speaks up.

“Hi, I’m Marella Redek. I’m a pastry chef over in Portland.”

“Tam Song. I do the baking for a restaurant here in the city.”

People introduce themselves quickly, names flashing by in quick succession- Maruca Chebota, Jensi Babblos, Stina Heks.

“I’m Biana Vacker,” Biana says when it’s her turn. “My brother and I co-manage a couple bakeries across the country.”

Fitz raises his hand. “I’m her brother.”

“Dex Dizznee,” says the last competitor, a strawberry-blond man seated on the arm of a couch. “I have a bakery up in Middlebury.”

“Wait, The Good Place?” Fitz leans forward. “I made your chocolate cream pie recipe once. It’s fantastic.”

Dex blinks, face finally settling in an expression that reminds Biana of some of the people at the huge dinner parties her dad used to throw- carefully, delicately concealed disdain. She wonders what Fitz has done to warrant that look.

“Oh, that’s cool,” Dex says calmly. “Chocolate cream is one of my co-owner’s favorites, actually.”

Fitz nods. “Neat.”

Edaline smiles at them, clapping her hands for attention. “All right! Let’s go over the schedule, then. The first round is on Saturday, and the last one is next Wednesday. You’ll be expected to arrive at the kitchens by eleven am…”

“What’s up with him?” Biana whispers. Fitz raises one shoulder in a tiny shrug.

“I don’t know, but he doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

There’s no way Dex can hear them- he’s nearly fifteen feet away and Edaline’s voice carries throughout the entire hall. Still, he’s staring at Fitz when Biana glances at him, and there’s molten caramel in his gaze.

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Room In Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

“And then he just went, ‘Neat.’ Neat? Like, what the fuck?”

“Dude, you know I love you, but don’t you think you’re making a bit of a big deal out of this? He just complimented the bakery.”

Dex heaves a sigh, flopping onto his hotel bed and staring up at the light fixture. It’s probably trendy, with all those boxes or whatever, but Dex can’t really tell. This is why he’s a baker.

“I know, I know. He just- gets under my skin. I’ve been pissed all day.”

“Funny,” Keefe says, and Dex can just hear him smiling. “I thought you had more of a problem with the Vackers as a whole than you did with Fitz. Or is he just too attractive to be anything but your singular arch-nemesis?”

“Enemies to lovers speedrun,” Amy calls in the background and Keefe laughs. He’s probably having dinner with Grady and Amy tonight like they typically do once a month. Normally, Dex, Sophie and Edaline are there too.

Dex’s family is weirdly spread across the country- Grady and Edaline live an hour away, Rex and Bex are somehow both coexisting at Seattle University while Lex stays closer to home back in Michigan, and Sophie and Amy split their time between Middlebury and their apartment in San Francisco. They do their best to stay in touch, though, even with the bakery’s odd hours and the Ruewen’s constant media appearances.

“So how’s the hotel?” Keefe asks. Dex shrugs.

“It’s a hotel. My room has a little kitchen, which is nice, and there’s, like, a bigger community pantry-slash-kitchen down the hall. It feels like college.”

“College is worse, actually,” Amy says. Dex snorts.

“You say that like I haven’t been to college.”

“Dude, we met in college,” Keefe points out, “and you did not get the full college experience. You just, like, baked 23/7 and then miraculously passed all your classes with the last hour.”

“Yes,” Dex says over the sound of Amy’s cackling. “Yes, that is exactly what I did. You’re completely right.”

“I know,” Keefe says. “I’m always right. I have, never, ever done anything wrong.”

“You called me this morning to freak out over your date outfit for a date that’s three days away, but go off I guess.” Amy deadpans.

“Fuck you-” The sounds of a small scuffle come through the speakers and Dex rolls his eyes.

“I’m going to sleep,” he calls. “See you guys in a week.”

“Good luck!” Amy calls, and Dex hangs up.

-/-

December 19, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Biana tucks one last strand of hair back into her braid and glances over at the imposing black camera standing next to her station. There are ones just like it scattered around the entire room, fluorescent overhead lights reflected off their shiny exteriors. It’ll be weird trying to bake with someone recording her the whole time, but she can take it.

“Good morning, everyone!” Edaline calls, sweeping out to the judges bench with Cadence and Bronte close on her heels. There’s some sort of sheet-covered circle on the wall behind them. “I hope y’all are ready to bake!”

Everyone cheers and Edaline throws her head back, laughing a laugh with just enough snort in it to sound real. Biana’s reminded suddenly of her own mother; Edaline has the same sort of tough core and caring nature covered by a thin layer of plastic for the cameras. She wonders if Sophie is the same.

“And without further ado,” Edaline says. Biana snaps her attention back, hoping she hasn’t missed anything important. “Today’s challenge is…”

Bronte tugs on the fabric and it falls away to reveal a casino-style roulette wheel. If Biana squints, she can see words written on each colored section; CHOCOLATE and RASPBERRY and ALMOND.

“Cookies,” he announces.

Cadence sweeps her gaze over all of them. “Spin the wheel twice to find out what ingredients you need to include, and then you’ll have forty-five minutes to bake. Understood?”

Biana nods, glancing at the camera out of the corner of her eye and rearranging her face into something a bit more excited. She should probably start thinking about what to say in the post-baking interview.

Fitz is the first to spin the wheel, and he gets COCONUT and STRAWBERRY. He looks a little confused but smiles, media persona still firmly in place.

Biana gets GINGER and CHOCOLATE, returning to her station with a wide smile. This recipe is one she created with Livvy- they were home alone while Della and Fitz went out to a show and decided to try the most difficult food combinations they could think of.

Honey-covered crickets were surprisingly delicious. Hot sauce mixed with Gatorade was not.

(I knew what I was going to do immediately, she tells the cameras afterward. It’s a family favorite; chocolate-ginger crinkle cookies.)

She retrieves a packet of candied ginger and grabs two bags of chocolate chips, dumping one bag in a saucepan and starting to melt them. A few feet away, Dex Dizznee stares at his ingredients- ALMOND and ANISE, a fairly simple combination- before turning away towards the ingredients. If Biana had to hazard a guess, she’d say he’s making biscotti.

(Biscotti’s probably too obvious for almonds, Dex shrugs later, but my friend Keefe and I perfected an almond-anise biscotti a while back and I figured, why waste what little time I had on something new?)

Once she gets started, it’s easy to just focus on the recipe. She’s not like Fitz; baking’s not the be-all end-all stress reliever it is for him, but there’s definitely something comforting about the familiar motions. Before she knows it, she’s pulling the sheets out of the oven and arranging the prettiest ones on a plate for the judges to try.

Marella Redek goes up first, showing off her caramel-pecan shortbread with a polite smile.

(I’m just glad I didn’t get one of those crazy combinations, she says with a sigh of relief.)

Then Fitz, who’s managed to make tiny sandwich cookies filled with strawberry jam and dusted with coconut in forty-five minutes. He fidgets with his hands as the judges taste them.

(I was really worried when I got my ingredients. I’m so relieved they turned out okay.)

Biana’s cookies go over well, Cadence nodding and reaching for another one. Finally Dex Dizznee steps up.

“Almond-anise biscotti,” he says with a small smile. The judges all bite into the cookies at the same time and smile.

“Delicious,” Bronte says. Dex grins and steps back to his station.

Fifteen minutes later, the contestants stand in front of the judges bench in a straight line, worried eyes and tapping feet all the way down.

“All your cookies were exquisite,” Edaline says. “But one of you made a fantastic first impression.”

Cadence offers the group a tiny, sideways smile. “Dexter Dizznee,” she says. “You are today’s winner.”

There’s a round of applause and Dex’s cheeks go a little bit red.

“Thank you,” he says.

(I won! It’s only the first round, of course, but I’m still proud to have started off on the right foot.)

“Hey,” Biana nudges her brother’s shoulder as they trail out of the room for individual interviews.“That wasn’t too bad, huh?”

“No,” Fitz tilts his head and glances back at the still-smiling Dex. “I guess it wasn’t.”

(I don’t think I’m too sad about losing this round. Dex’s cookies looked absolutely delicious, anyway.)

Biana’s phone buzzes on the way back to her room. She pulls it out to see two messages from an unknown number.

415-623-7868

hi!! sorry if this is mega creepy but it was super cool to meet you the other day and i’d love to talk more sometime

this is sophie foster btw

“Holy shit,” Biana whispers. Her brother turns around with a questioning glance but she waves him off. “Nothing, I’m fine.” She’s pretty sure she’s grinning at her phone screen with all the force of a thousand suns. “I’m totally fine.”

(Tomorrow, we try again.)

-/-

December 20, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Buoyed by the previous day’s success and an especially good breakfast buffet (he is not immune to chocolate-chip pancakes, no matter what he might claim), Dex practically floats into the kitchen the next day. His mood isn’t even brought down by Bronte’s lackluster announcement that the second challenge is simply Snowflakes. The bakery’s meringues are a town favorite for a reason, after all, and that reason is that they’re fucking good.

He does get annoyed, though, by the man leaning against a counter a few feet away as he pipes the meringue. Fitz Vacker is tapping his fingers against the marble, watching the ice cream machine with a calm sort of fixation. Dex huffs and accidentally pipes too much meringue on the baking sheet.

“Do you mind?” He grumbles under his breath. Fitz’s head snaps up.

“Sorry,” he says, slight accent curling around his words. It’s not a British accent or really any sort Dex can discern, and that just makes him more frustrated. “Am I in your way?”

“No,” Dex says as politely as he can. He’s well aware of the cameras standing a few feet away. “No, you're fine.”

Fitz nods and tilts his head towards the meringues, apparently taking Dex’s grudging silence as an invitation. “Those look pretty good.”

“Thank you,” Dex says shortly, letting out an annoyed sigh internally when Fitz doesn’t budge. “You’re making ice cream?”

“Heh, yeah. I couldn’t really think of anything else, so.” Fitz shrugs. “Ice cream bars.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “At least it’s cold, right? Like snow.”

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, like snow.” He leans back a little to give the now-completed snowflakes a once-over. “What do you think?”

“They look great!” Fitz enthuses, jumping a bit when the ice cream machine lets out a long beep. “Oh, looks like that’s me. I should go. Nice to meet you!”

And then he’s off to his own station, bowl of ice cream clutched tightly in one hand. Dex allows himself thirty seconds of staring into the camera like he’s on The Office before he sighs and slides the meringues into the oven.

What on earth was that.

He bumps into Sophie on his way out of the room after interviews. Biana Vacker’s chocolate-pecan-bark snowflakes won today; unsurprising, since they looked almost real- and he kind of just wants to go back to his room and sleep for a month. His cousin, however, seems to have other ideas.

“Quick,” she says, grabbing his arm. Her phone is in her other hand, screen lighting up with a message. “How much would my mom kill me if I went on a date with one of the Bake-Off contestants?”

“Um,” Dex blinks. “I’m going to need some more information?”

“Okay, so I met Biana Vacker the other day, and I might have gotten her number from the contestant files we have? And then texted her? For like five hours last night? And I might have asked her out and she might have said yes?” Sophie tugs at her eyelashes. “Please help me, I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“You’re going on a date with Biana Vacker,” Dex confirms. “Why?”

“Because she’s smart, and pretty, and incredibly funny, and because I don’t have some weird hate-obsession with her.”

“I don’t-”

“Yes, you do. Seriously, how much is Mom going to murder me for this?”

“How much is Mom going to murder you for what?”

Edaline’s standing a few feet away, arms folded across her chest and eyebrows raised. Sophie’s eyes go wide, but she sighs as if already giving up.

Dex gets it. Edaline is scary when she wants to be.

“Is it illegal and-slash-or nepotism if I go on a date with Biana Vacker tomorrow night?”

Edaline blinks. “Probably not? As long as you can confirm that she’s not using you to get further in the contest.” She shrugs. “I could talk to Cadence and Bronte about it, but they were all right with Dex being on the show, so.”

“Wait, really?” Sophie grins and throws her arms around her mother. “This is the best. Thanks, Mom! I’m gonna go text her.”

She takes off down the hall, typing frantically. Edaline watches her go with a fond smile.

“It’s incredibly weird to see her this old,” She says to Dex. “I still think of her as twelve, honestly.”

Dex snorts. “Yeah.”

“So,” Edaline cocks her head, looking at him with the same I’m going to ask you a question and we both know what the right answer is look that Dex’s own mother has. “I saw you talking to Fitz Vacker earlier. Making friends?”

“No.” Dex says immediately. Then he rolls his eyes. “He’s not as bad as I was expecting, though.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, like, posh and rich and British or whatever they are. But he’s actually a decent person or whatever.”

“Or whatever.” Edaline laughs. “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun either way. I’ve got to get to a meeting, but I’ll see you later, all right? Say hi to Keefe for me.”

Dex nods and heads back to his room.

He really needs to sleep.

-/-

December 21, 2020.

The Art Institute of Chicago

Chicago, Illinois.

“Here we are,” Sophie says as they push through museum security and enter the clearly-marked Thorne Rooms. Biana glances at the art curiously; the exhibit is made up of tiny glass windows set into low walls all around. She peers into one and lets out a tiny gasp.

“Oh.”

It’s a tiny room in there; chairs and sofas all with perfectly embroidered cushions as small as Biana’s thumb. Through minuscule doors in the back, Biana glimpses a painted background and a balcony. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

Sophie snorts behind her, and Biana realizes she said that last bit out loud. “Right? It’s all real, too. Took Narcissa Thorne and her craftsmen eight years.”

“Wow.”

“I used to come here all the time,” Sophie says, stepping forward and tracing one finger over the glass. “Whenever we were in town. I wished I could live in some of these rooms.” She glances back at Biana and gives a little self-deprecating smile. “Pretty stupid, probably.”

“No, it’s not,” Biana shakes her head. “I get it. It would be nice to escape for a little bit, especially to a place that looks like that.” She tilts her head at the room. Sophie laughs.

“I’ll bet it gets really dusty, though. And that chair seems highly uncomfortable.”

They move throughout the whole exhibit, making low comments to each other every time they see a particularly amazing piece of furniture or a fancy candlestick. Biana finds herself relaxing more and more- Sophie is smart, and funny, and keeps shooting her little smiles that make Biana’s knees weak.

That day’s competition had been the hardest yet. Each contestant had had to make a dessert based around a Christmas carol; a specific, judge-assigned Christmas carol. It was, for lack of a better term, absolute shit.

Biana had gotten Santa Claus Is Coming To Town- not the worst, considering the circumstances, and at least she knew it- and had had to figure out how to map the route of an overweight stalker on baked goods.

She hadn’t won; that honor had gone to Maruca Chebota’s fondant replica of a sleigh for Over The River And Through The Woods. (Biana is pretty sure that song is actually a Thanksgiving song, but she wasn’t going to contradict.) Still, Biana’s happy, content as they leave the museum and move down to an Italian restaurant a few blocks away. Smiling as Sophie’s hand brushes against hers.

They get settled in a little corner near a window, knees bumping under the table. The room is dim, lit by one chandelier in the middle and candles on every table. It’s warm, something delicious wafting through the air.

Sophie leans forward to grab a menu, hair lit golden in the candlelight, and Biana revises her earlier statement. The Thorne Rooms aren’t the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. This woman is.

“Everything okay?” Sophie asks. Biana realizes she’s been staring and gives her a quick nod.

“Yeah, no. Everything’s perfect.” She glances down at the tablecloth, sees Sophie fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “Are you all right?”

“I, uh,” Sophie tugs at one of her eyelashes. “I just wanted to say that I don’t really tend to talk to my mom about the competition? So, like, if you’re just trying to get an edge or something-”

“No!” Biana shakes her head, reaching forward to grab the other woman’s hand. “No, no no. Absolutely not. This is like, the opposite of that.”

“Pretty sure the opposite of that would be divorcing me to lose the Bake-Off,” Sophie says, but she’s smiling. Biana smiles back.

“Well, I don’t want to do that either.”

“What do you want to do?”

Biana shrugs. “I don’t know. This is pretty nice. I like spending time with you.”

Sophie blushes and tightens her grip on Biana’s hand. “I-”

“Pardon me.” There’s a waiter standing next to their table, notepad in hand. He offers them an awkward smile. “Are you ready to order?”

“Right!” Biana says at the same time as Sophie’s “Yes! For sure! Just give me a second!”. They grin at each other and look back down at the menus.

“Thank you,” Sophie murmurs after they’ve ordered. Biana doesn’t have to ask what for.

“Of course.”

(Biana leans down to kiss her barely an hour later. Sophie smiles against her lips and tugs her in closer.)

(Biana doesn’t get back to her hotel that night.)

-/-

December 22, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

Dex can’t sleep.

There’s no particular reason why, no loud party down the street or flashing lights outside his window. He just can’t sleep, which is especially frustrating when he glances at the clock and finds it’s one AM. Tomorrow- or, today, really- is event four, and if he wants to make a good impression, he’d better do it on more than three hours of sleep.

Heaving a sigh, he flops himself out of bed and flips on the light switch. As long as he’s awake, he might as well read or something.

A loud crash sounds from down the hall. Dex blinks and grabs his sneakers, opening his door and peeking out. No one’s in sight, but rustling noises are coming from the communal kitchen a few doors away. Dex decides that sleep is for the weak and pads down to investigate.

Fitz Vacker is standing in the middle of the kitchen, aggressively stirring a bowl of what looks like cookie dough and frowning. There’s a flour-dusted cookbook on the counter.

“Um.” Dex coughs a little. Fitz looks up from the cookie dough and turns toward him. He's wearing a sweatshirt thrown over a pair of what looks like Walgreens-brand pajamas. Dex is a little surprised that a Vacker would wear something that shitty.

“Sorry,” he says in his annoyingly perfect accent. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, you’re fine. Why are you still awake?”

Fitz shrugs. “Couldn’t fall asleep. You?”

“Same.” Dex moves over and peers into the bowl. “Sugar cookies?”

“They’re a classic Christmas cookie, right?” Fitz looks at him. Dex blinks. “No, really, I’m asking. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, they’re a classic. My aunt used to make them all the time in December. I’d come home from school and she’d be, like, chilling on our couch with three different kinds of cookies.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t even realize she was famous until I was eight. She was just Aunt Eda.”

“My mom used to have to do all these photo shoots? With baked goods and shit? And she’d bring me and Bi along because our daycare didn’t go that late so we’d just be hanging out around this camera equipment and doing our best not to break anything.” Fitz looks down and stirs the cookie dough a bit more. “Bi always says we grew up with a camera in our faces, so much that we never learned to be normal. She’s more right than I’d like to think.”

Dex doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have anything to say; he’s always assumed, like so many other people, that the spotlight on the Vackers was effortless and encouraged. Life seemed so easy for them.

Of course it does, Dex reminds himself. Life always looks easy when you’re the one looking at it.

“Sorry,” Fitz grabs the bowl and turns away, reaching up into a cabinet for some powdered sugar. “I get… honest when I’m tired.”

“Yeah, well, I get grumpy, so you’re still better off.” Dex grabs a baking sheet out of where they’re being stored in the oven, since the cookies look about ready to be rolled out. “You’re fine, though. No cameras here.”

You’re not being judged here, he means. I’d like to get to know you.

This must translate at least a little, because Fitz gives him a small smile and dumps the dough out onto the counter.

“Help me? I think the cookie cutters are in the bottom left drawer.”

“Got it.” Dex grabs a tiny metal snowman and cuts out a piece of dough, laying it flat on the metal sheet. He’s reminded suddenly of going through the same motions back home, with Keefe and Amy arguing good-naturedly over his head.

There’s a different air in the kitchen right now. It’s quieter, slower, dark-dark-chocolatey; something bitter and sweet and smooth all at the same time.

“Are you worried about the competition?” He asks. Fitz blinks, lifting another three cookies onto the sheet before answering.

“I don’t think so. I was, before, but once I got here…” he gives an expansive shrug. “It’s just baking. Baking calms me down.”

“Hence the cookies at one AM,” Dex notes. Fitz laughs.

“Hence the stress-baking cookies at one AM,” he agrees. “I don’t even think I was stressed about the contest, just-” he waves a hand in the air. “Just stressed in general.”

“I get that.” Dex presses a few buttons on the oven and tilts his head toward the table a few feet away. They’ll need to wait for the oven to heat up before they put the cookies in. “I was pretty scared of fucking up at first, but, I mean, it’s a baking competition. Everyone’s gonna forget the butter at some point.”

Fitz squints at him. “I can’t tell if ‘forget the butter’ is an expression I’m unaware of, or if you actually did that and I just didn’t hear about it.”

“Maruca from Cali did that, actually. I have more style, at least- I forgot the eggs.”

“My friend’s cat got into my kitchen once,” Fitz says seriously. “Not during this contest, but when I was making her daughter’s birthday cake. There was hair everywhere. It was… a cat-astrophe.”

Both of them are silent for almost a full minute, just staring at each other, before Dex breaks down.

“That was terrible,” he wheezes, trying to stop laughing. Fitz grins.

“I know, I’m embarrassed of myself.”

“You should be.”

The oven beeps and they both startle, turning toward it. Fitz retrieves an oven mitt and slides the cookies into the oven. Dex closes the door and stands back up, suddenly realizing how close they’re standing.

“You should try to sleep,” Fitz says quietly. “It’s late.”

Dex nods slightly but doesn’t move. There’s a tiny bit of flour on Fitz’s cheekbone. He doesn’t know why he notices it.

They seem to stand there forever, just looking at each other. Then, suddenly, Fitz turns away and looks over the cookbook again.

“I should sleep,” Dex says. Fitz nods, face shadowed in the dim lights. Dex turns away and heads back to his room.

What the fuck was that.

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

“Dex Dizznee. Biana Vacker. Maruca Chebota. And Tam Song.” Bronte reads out the names, then looks down at the contestants. “The four of you have won the past events, so you’ll get an extra prize today.”

“As you all know, today is the last event!” Edaline says cheerfully. “All eight of you have made some truly fantastic desserts in the past week, but only one person can win and today’s your final chance to really wow the judges. So, Event Five is…”

Cadence gestures toward the table up front, which holds two candy-covered houses. “Gingerbread houses,” she says. “You have four hours to bake, assemble, and decorate a gingerbread house with your partner.”

“Yep, you’ll be working in pairs for this one,” Edaline says when the murmurs start up. “And our four previous winners get to choose who they’re working with.” She smiles at Biana. “Although, Miss Vacker, I’m afraid you can’t work with your brother.”

Biana laughs, turning and holding out a hand to Marella Redek instead. “All right. How about it, partner?”

Marella shrugs and takes her hand. Edaline gestures to Dex.

He glances over the seven remaining contestants. Jensi Babblos seems nice- he probably wouldn’t be too bad to work with. Or maybe he can pair up with another winner and ask Maruca?

Then Fitz catches his eye and Dex remembers the previous day, cutting out cookies in the early-early morning light. It’s not really a choice after that.

“Fitz,” he decides, and the man strides over to stand next to him.

The other two pairs find each other, Edaline lays out the final rules, and then she shouts go! and they’re off.

“Hand me the cinnamon?” Dex asks. Fitz drops it into his hand and Dex dumps a tablespoon in the bowl, starting up the mixer. “Okay, and we should get the icing started so it has time to cool-”

“Already done,” Fitz says. He points to a bowl of fluffy white icing on the counter a foot away. “We should probably-”

“Figure out the decorations, yeah. You wanna-”

“Sketch something?”

They grin at each other and Dex pours the gingerbread batter into a pan. “Perfect,” he says. The oven lets out a tiny beep when he closes it.

The hours pass quickly, in a blur of candy and icing. They cover the sides of the house in dark red modeling chocolate and drag a toothpick through them for the individual bricks, carefully shape a vanilla wafer chimney, build a candy-cane fence. The actual construction of the house is tricky- Dex has to hold the walls up while Fitz pipes the icing and then keeps holding them until it sets. They get through it with only one roof collapse, though, and the final house looks pretty good. Fitz glues down three peppermints to make a path in front of the door, Dex attaches tiny sugar cookie trees to the ground, and they’re done with two minutes to spare.

“Wait, no. Hang on.” Fitz rummages through the mess they’ve made at their station, skirting a camera and grabbing the half-empty container of powdered sugar. He dumps it into a sieve.

“Snow,” he and Dex say in unison. Fitz laughs and shakes the sieve over their presentation board, covering the whole thing in a fine layer of powder.

“Perfect,” Dex says just as the timer goes off. “Let’s win this thing.”

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Cameras flash as they zero in on Dex and Fitz’s gingerbread house, presumably taking the shots that will go along with Edaline’s and the winner of Event Five is Fitz Vacker and Dex Dizznee! announcement in the actual show. Biana’s staring at the opposite wall, though; if she looks towards the recording equipment, she doubts she’ll be able to hide how nervous she is.

The competition doesn’t matter in the long run, but it would be really, really cool to win.

“Now,” Edaline says after the cameras have returned to their original places. “You’ve all shown amazing talent in the past few days. Frankly, all three of us were just blown away at some of the things you created. But one of you managed to wow us at every turn, showcasing your art as well as your baking skills. And that person is…”

Next to Biana, her brother stares at the ground. A few feet away, Dex is twisting his hands together, expression schooled into something just left of panic. Biana takes a deep breath.

“Maruca Chebota!”

The room is silent, and then everyone breaks into applause. Maruca is smiling wide, tears glittering at the corners of her eyes.

“Thank you so much,” she manages before getting crushed into a giant group hug.

Later, Biana stands in the front hall of the hotel with her suitcase by her side. She and Fitz are flying home tonight, and she can’t wait to get back to her own apartment.

“It’ll be nice,” Sophie agrees. “I’m heading straight out to Michigan to see my aunt and uncle for Christmas.”

Fitz appears in the doorway, talking animatedly with someone out of sight. Biana takes the opportunity to give Sophie one last kiss.

“I’ll text you?” She asks. Sophie nods.

Fitz strolls up, Dex by his side. They’ve finished their conversation, apparently, and are now just looking at each other. Biana coughs.

“We should get to the airport.” She reminds him. Fitz jumps.

“Right! Yes, of course. Um-” he glances back at Dex and then sweeps the shorter man into a hug. Dex’s eyes widen but he hugs back.

“It was so nice to meet you,” Biana tells Dex when the two break apart. “Have a nice Christmas.”

“You too,” Dex says, and then he and Sophie are gone. Biana elbows her brother.

“Dexter Dizznee, huh?” She asks. Fitz glares at her.

“Shut up.”

-/-

December 28, 2020.

Dizznee Family Household

Detroit, Michigan.

Christmas is low-key. Or, it’s as low-key as Christmas with the Dizznees can be, anyway. Bex manages to get lights on the roof, Rex brings his partners to dinner and the three of them break into an impromptu performance of Deck The Halls, and Lex sets up an elaborate present-wrapping station in the living room that seems to involve heinous amounts of tape.

Edaline disappears upstairs a few times to work out all the details of the show, but she has enough time to help Kesler baste a turkey and kick all of their collective asses at foosball alongside Juline. Grady makes chocolate-covered cherries and Amy eats too many of them and Sophie laughs herself to tears when her sister trips over an armchair in her post-chocolate haze. They smile and exchange terrible presents and sing carols and it’s all normal, as normal as anything gets these days.

So maybe they’re not low-key. Maybe it’s just Dex who’s low, Dex who still feels like something’s missing.

He lost the competition. He’s not mad about it; losing by a few stray points isn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. And the publicity he’ll gain from just being on television is definitely worth it.

None of that explains his mood, though, and Dex is starting to wonder what on earth he isn’t seeing.

“Hey,” Sophie says, wandering into the den and flopping down on the couch alongside him. Dex has been absentmindedly fiddling with a Rubik's cube for the past ten minutes, and he only now realizes it’s solved. “What’s up?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been mopey all day,” she says. “All week, actually. Which is weird, because you’re not normally mopey.”

“You- noticed?”

Sophie gives him an affronted look. “I do pay attention.”

“I’m not mopey,” Dex protests.

“So staring into the distance and frowning is just a hobby?” Sophie sighs, plucking the Rubik’s cube out of his hands and scooting closer. “Look, I’m not trying to shame you. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Dex stares at her, then glances down at his hands. “I… who do you keep texting?”

The question catches Sophie off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been glancing down at your phone and smiling all through vacation,” he says. “Who are you texting?”

Sophie’s cheeks flush pink. “Um. Biana?”

“Oh.” Right. Biana Vacker. Dex had almost forgotten about her, in all the chaos of the last day of competition and then heading back home. Sophie didn’t, apparently. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“You sound like a greeting card.”

“Fuck you, I’m trying.”

Sophie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Thanks, though. I really like her.” She tilts her head. “Now, back to your moping.”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Sophie says. She fixes him with a look that says I can see into your soul and there is some weird stuff in there. “Dex. What happened when you teamed up with Fitz Vacker in the last round of the contest?”

“Um.” Dex blinks. “We… made a gingerbread house?”

“And after that?” Sophie raises an eyebrow. “Dex, I know you. You’ve hated the Vackers possibly since you were born. How on Earth did you go from that to hugging Fitz when you said goodbye to him?”

“I-”

There have been a lot of things recently, Dex reflects, that he’s been unable to explain, even to himself. Why he disliked the Vackers in the first place. Why he’s been empty the past few days.

Why he and Fitz are sort of on decent terms now.

But things start to dig themselves out of his memory; an out-of-the-blue compliment about his pies, a night spent in a terrible hotel kitchen unable to sleep, a grin and a tiny peppermint swirl and fake sugar snow on a rooftop.

“Oh.” Dex’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Sophie asks. As if on cue, three strawberry-blond heads poke into the doorway. Dex groans.

“Do you hear that?” Rex asks, shit-eating grin on his face. Lex nods seriously.

“I believe it’s the sound of a local man realizing he’s been in love with Fitzroy Vacker this whole time.”

Bex gestures towards Dex as if she’s holding a microphone. “Tell me, sir, how does it feel to come to such a conclusion? Do you think your behavior towards Mr. Vacker will change after this?”

“Please leave,” Dex says flatly. Sophie squints at him.

“Wait, are you really-”

“I don’t know. Please make them leave.”

Sophie looks from him to the triplets, who give her matching smiles. She shakes her head and stands up.

“I don’t think I’m capable of doing that, honestly. I’m going to go text Bi.”

“Traitor!” Dex calls after her. The triplets flop down on the couch, garishly patterned Christmas sweaters clashing terribly with the blue cushions. Bex gives him an exaggerated I’m thinking look.

“Hmm,” she says. “You know, maybe Amy was onto something with all her ‘enemies to lovers speedrun’ stuff.”

“I’m leaving this family,” Dex mutters, shoving a pillow over his face. “I will go to Canada and buy a large house and never have to see any of you ever again.”

Rex raises his eyebrows. “Wow, you’d leave your boyfriend behind like that?”

“Nope! No, nope, not doing this.” Dex stands up and moves towards the door. Behind him, he hears at least one of his siblings fall off the couch.

“Seriously, though. What are you going to do?”

Dex turns back around. Rex and Bex are sprawled on the floor in a tangle of feet, but Lex is looking at Dex with a strangely sympathetic expression. He sighs.

“I don’t know.”

There’s a buzz in his pocket and Dex pulls his phone out as his siblings start to untangle themselves.

Fos-Boss

hey. wanna go to nyc?

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“You’re doing it again.”

Fitz leans his head over the back of the couch and frowns at her. “Doing what?”

“Your whole woe is me, time to stare aimlessly at the wall thing.” Biana waves a hand towards her brother. “Stop that and help me cut the baklava.”

“This is… a lot of baklava for just the two of us,” Fitz says. “Are you sure you didn’t decide to throw another giant stupid New Years party again?”

“I promise there will be no giant New Years party,” Biana says. “I’ve invited two people over. That’s it.”

“But you refuse to tell me who those people are, which automatically makes me suspicious.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. Biana smiles at her brother and takes the knife from him.

“Why don’t you go find out?”

Fitz sighs and moves out into the hallway. Biana hears him swing the door open, and then- nothing.

She pushes the now-cut baklava onto a plate and leans her head out the doorway. Her brother is standing there, staring at a man with strawberry-blond hair. Sophie stands behind him, smiling awkwardly.

“Hello!” She says, directing the statement at Biana since her cousin is still locked in a staring contest with Fitz. “Happy New Year!”

“It’s not New Years yet,” Biana laughs, coming out of the doorway to grab Sophie’s coat and drop a quick kiss to her lips. “How was your drive?”

“Long,” Sophie says. “But I’ve had worse. And we had some decent pancakes, right?”

“Right,” Dex murmurs, still staring at Fitz. He shakes his head. “Yeah, they were pretty good. Happy New Year, by the way.”

“You too,” Fitz manages. Biana hides a laugh behind her sweater sleeve and grabs Dex’s arm.

“Hey, you wanna come help me open the champagne?”

“Sure, but-”

“We’ll be fine,” Fitz manages a bright grin. “I’m gonna show Sophie some of Bi’s elementary school pictures.”

“Fitzroy Avery Vacker, don’t you dare-”

Fitz laughs and Biana and Dex retreat back to the kitchen. Biana reaches for one of the bottles of champagne and turns towards the shorter man.

“I’m not going to give you a shovel talk,” she shrugs, “mainly because I think you already know I could murder you if you hurt him.”

“Yep,” Dex nods. He looks down. “But you don’t have to worry about giving me a shovel talk. It’s not like we’re dating.”

“No, you two have just been in love with each other for a ridiculously long amount of time.” The cork pops out of the champagne bottle and Sophie cheers from the other room. Biana grins at the stunned expression Dex is giving her. “Come on. Only an hour till midnight.”

They put the Times Square Ball Drop on at 11:30, watching as some band Biana vaguely recognizes but couldn’t name rocks out in front of the crowd. Sophie says that looks cold, and Biana says it’s always cold. That’s why I stay home, and Sophie snuggles a little closer to her. At the ten-minute mark, Dex and Fitz make some sort of telepathic agreement to go out and stand on the balcony.

“Hey,” Biana mutters as the lights onscreen get brighter. The countdown should start soon. “I’m so glad I met you.”

Sophie turns her face, so close their noses almost brush. “Me too,” she smiles. “But I’m even happier I get to do this.”

A hurricane could probably pass through the apartment right now without Biana noticing. Sophie's lips are soft, and Biana knows this woman will stick with her no matter what.

Numbers start to flash on the screen. Biana couldn’t care less about what they say.

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Fitz Vacker’s Plant-Covered Balcony

New York City, New York.

“The apartment’s Biana’s, technically,” Fitz says as they step out into the cold night air. “But she never uses the balcony and I needed a place to put my plants, so it’s mine now.”

“And you’re certainly using the space,” Dex notes. He can spot at least five different kinds of flowers out here, and that’s just with his non-existent plant knowledge.

Fitz laughs, loud and bright against the painted backdrop of the sky. There are only a few stars Dex can see, but the whole sky is a shade of midnight blue that makes up for the darkness.

“I am, yeah.” He leans on the railing for a moment, staring down at the world below, before turning back a bit. “How was your Christmas?”

“Good,” Dex says. “How was your… Hanukkah?”

“It ended before the contest started, but yeah, it was good” Fitz glances down at the street again and Dex goes to stand next to him. Minutes tick by, the two of them just watching cars pass by.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Fitz says finally. The words are soft, barely more than whispers, and Dex thinks for a moment that he imagined them. Then Fitz looks up and meets his eyes.

A cheer goes up from around the city, people everywhere shouting Ten!

“I’m glad too,” Dex says. Carefully, oh-so-slowly, he reaches up and cups the other man’s cheek. Fitz’s eyes flutter closed for just a moment.

Seven!

“The ball will drop soon,” he murmurs. “If you want to watch it.”

“I’m fine,” Dex smiles. “Unless- you want to?”

Five!

“Nah,” Fitz says, reaching up to touch Dex’s hand where it’s still on his face. “I think I can do without the spectacle for tonight.”

Three!

Dex nods, rocking forward just a little.

Two!

Fitz’s eyes are bright, and his breath is warm where it ghosts across Dex’s skin.

One!

They barely have to move in before their lips meet.

-/-

January 1, 2021.

Somewhere Over New York City.

Fireworks bloom into bursts of color against the dark sky.

#lynn rambles #my writing #kotlc #detz #sophiana #fitz vacker #biana vacker #sophie foster #dex dizznee #edaline ruewen

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