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aliyah-the-creator · 3 years ago

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This is my very first post, so I hope I do good! Please give me some feedback, I would love to hear it.

The Umbrella Academy Life Swap:

The Hargreaves switch lives instead of powers.

• Ben ran away at the age of 13 and got lost in the dimension inside his stomach, the Handler eventually finds him and recruits him to the Commission. He works as a super powered agent that saves his victims from his sadistic partners, Hazel and Cha-Cha. Ben doesn’t come back in a 13 year old body like Five, he’s the same age as his siblings, and Ben does know about the apocalypse and has the eye. And unlike Five, Ben actually tells his siblings about the apocalypse and how he was a super powered assassin that acted as the kidnapper and lookout. When the Hargreaves were 13, Ben had tried to talk to Five out of time traveling because logically, he may not know where he would end up, but Five wouldn’t listen to him and started arguing with him. The fighting got so loud that Vanya and Klaus eventually got pulled into the argument as well and it turned into a fistfight with all 4 of them. All of them ended up with scratches and bruises on their faces, a few chunks of their hair missing, and cleaning the mansion floors and ceilings from top to bottom and every single room without using their powers as a punishment for fighting by Reginald. At 2 am, Ben woke up after a nightmare and felt bad about getting Vanya and Klaus into trouble when they didn’t even started the fight in the first place and tried to go to their rooms to apologize, but he never did because the Horror became restless and angry that it didn’t get anything to eat and wanted to make Ben feel how trapped they felt when Reginald always had them kill people, so Ben’s tentacles grabbed him and opened the portal to their world, which was the apocalypse, and trapped him there for 10 years until the Handler came and recruited him and was never seen after that day again. Because of Ben’s disappearance, Vanya and Klaus blamed Five and his ambition for time travel since it was him who argued with Ben in the first place and Five had never forgotten it. Ben hopes that Klaus and Vanya would forgive Five in time. Ben read Klaus’s book about what happened to his family when he disappeared, he read about Luther running away to Dallas to forget about the Umbrella Academy, about Diego staying at the Academy to keep fighting crime, about Allison’s death and how she’s now mute, how Klaus is trying to get sober and stabling himself, how Five became a professor at a prestigious university and a vigilante, and how Vanya took a dark path into alcoholism.

• Five became a lowly-paid physics professor at community college after he was fired for punching a colleague at prestigious university and he’s also a vigilante, but his fiancé Delores doesn’t like it though. Five met Delores at a professor’s conference in Canada where she was presenting her findings on the science of gems and geodes since she’s a mineralogy professor (someone who teaches the study of rocks and crystals) and where he was discussing the possibility of time travel. Those two immediately hit it off and are now engaged, Five proposed to her by using different types of gems to spell it out. Five uses his powers of teleportation to be a mysterious assassin and hero.

• Klaus is a dancer at a local theater and he has somewhat control over his powers, but if the ghosts get too loud, he smokes cigarettes instead of weed so he wouldn’t be high at a recital. He became friends with Leonard Peabody aka Harold Jenkins when Klaus was 23 after his family abandoned him for writing an auto-biography about him having a power that traumatizes him and what the Umbrella Academy was really like behind the scenes, it’s called “The Ghosts Inside the Umbrella Academy: the life of Klaus Hargreaves”. Harold makes him more isolated by threatening to kill himself and haunting Klaus for the rest of his life if Klaus tries to leave him. Since Klaus never had someone ,besides Ben, care for him and give him a home and food since he was living at a homeless shelter when he met Leonard, Klaus thinks that this type of friendship is normal and doesn’t think twice about it. In his book, Klaus portrays his remaining siblings as people who knew about his drug abuse, but didn’t do anything about it; he portrayed Luther as a hotheaded daddy’s boy who was treated like the Golden child, Diego as a momma’s boy with daddy issues always trying to compete with Luther for everything, Allison as his favorite sister who was taken too soon, who’s death was the final straw that tore apart their family, and who acts as a silent ghost mother since she’s mute (no one believes him that he can see her though), he portrays Five as the cause of Ben’s disappearance and as a heartless gremlin who doesn’t care about his siblings enough to see that his siblings are hurting and have real problems of their own, he portrays Ben as his kind-hearted and favorite brother who was the glue that hold their family together and who’s disappearance drove a wedge between the family, and he portrays Vanya as his ordinary violin playing sister that desperately wanted to belong with their family in any way she could, but turned to alcohol when she learned that her dream of being in the Umbrella Academy was crushed by Reginald and who had the easy life of not being exploited by their father for her powers like he was. Vanya actually confronted him about her portrayal in the book and they said some things that they shouldn’t have, but they eventually forgave each other and Vanya moved in with him and Leonard a month later. Klaus didn’t mind that Vanya and Leonard were dating, but saw a striking difference between Vanya and Leonard’s relationship and Vanya and Sissy’s relationship when Vanya came back from the 60s. With Leonard, Vanya was walking on eggshells and isolated from her brothers and couldn’t be herself around him, but with Sissy, Klaus saw that Vanya was happier and could be herself around Sissy and loves Harlan like her own son. Klaus was the one to kill Leonard with his powers by having Allison choke him to death when he badly hurt Harlan with a gun and tried to drown Sissy.

• Allison dies at the age of 17 when her throat was slit by a serial killer on a mission and now acts like Klaus’s mother by always keeping him sober enough to conjure her and giving him healthy advice, but ultimately going along with almost every crazy idea Klaus has. Since she has a slit throat she can’t talk, but she does sign language instead and like Ben, she ages like Klaus, but still wears the same outfit she was buried in: a yellow and green striped dress with a blue flora printed jacket with red heels and a pair of black leggings. She HATES Leonard Peabody because he’s manipulating Klaus into isolation from their family and she tries to get Klaus out of their toxic friendship, but Klaus always denies Leonard’s abuse. She misses her siblings so much that she’s deeply hurt that she had ignored their problems for so long.

• Diego stayed at the Umbrella Academy because he didn’t know how to be anything else but a hero, he also didn’t want to Mom behind, so he began reading and writing code to free Grace from her restrictive rules that Reginald put on her, but after his accident that had him have scars all over his body and face to the point where he lost his left eye and his face is almost beyond recognition, Diego left the Academy when he realized that there was no point in staying and became a recluse in his good friend, Eudora’s house. Unlike Luther, Diego doesn’t have the monkey body because I just couldn’t see that type of body build on David Castaneda. Diego met Eudora at a local boxing gym, Eudora was impressed Diego’s fight skilled and was shocked to know that he was Diego “The Kraken” Hargreaves because Reginald told the whole world including their city and Luther, Klaus, Five, and Vanya that Diego died in an explosion a year ago when he had his accident. Diego ,of course, was pissed that his own father told everyone and his siblings that he was dead instead of saying that he survived the mission and was just scarred for the rest of his life, but he wasn’t surprised that Reginald did that to keep up his reputation. Him and Eudora immediately became fast friends and roommates at her house since Diego had nowhere to go when he left the Academy 6 months ago and was living at an run-down and moldy apartment. They actually tried dating at one point, but because of their conflicted personalities, they decided to just stay friends and roommates.

• 3 months after Allison’s funeral, Luther ran away to escape his father’s tight gripped and cold stare and the house that reminded him of his lovely yet dead Allison when he was 18 years old. He ended up in Dallas, Texas where he became a famous boxer named King Kong since he’s so huge and muscular, met and married a successful TV salesman named Elliott Gussman, and they adopted an African American baby girl who they named Claire Allison Gussman. Luther decided to take Elliott’s last name ,even though it was Luther who proposed to him, to cut his ties off from the Umbrella Academy and the man who turned 6 children into soldiers and who blamed the death of an innocent 17 year old girl that happened to be his adopted daughter on his 4 sons and 1 daughter instead of the person who killed her in the first place. Luther and Elliott had a happy marriage for 3 years until Klaus’s book came out that exposed the secrets of Luther’s past and made him into a hotheaded bully with daddy issues who followed Reginald around like a eager puppy trying to get a reward and a coward ran away from his problems instead of facing them. Elliott was furious at Luther because when Luther came to Dallas he lied about being from a mob family that did all types of shady businesses and that he ran away because his “family” couldn’t understand and accept him being bisexual instead of telling him truth about his abusive father who raised them to be child soldiers, how his brother Diego would always tried to be better than him to their father’s approval, how his brother Five was too smart for his own good, how he loved his sister Allison more than he should, how he tried to forget about Ben’s disappearance, how he ignored Klaus’s drug abuse, and how he denied Vanya’s problem with alcohol for so long. When Elliott read Klaus’s book about what Luther did and who he was, Elliott immediately started arguing with him about his true identity. Luther tried to deny it, but couldn’t because he loves Elliott too much to even hurt him in a way. Elliott actually threatened to separate from Luther when their arguments gotten too much, but he didn’t and instead drove Luther and him to see a marriage counselor so that they could actually talk to each other instead of just arguing. Luther and Elliott eventually made up, but because of the book, Luther is the one that’s more pissed about it and at Klaus for almost making Elliott lose his marriage to him. Btw, Claire is 6 years old in 2019 and was adopted as a baby in 2013 by the Gussman family when Luther was 24 and Elliott was 30, a year after Klaus’s book was published.

• Vanya was introduced to alcohol at 13 years old when Five and Klaus were drinking 2 cases of beer that Five stole, Klaus persuaded her to take a sip of his beer and she hasn’t stop drinking since. Besides the violin and her pills, alcohol was the thing that defined Vanya and her personality. Vanya thought that no one would care about what happened to her since she was so ordinary and isolated that she dumped all of her pills in the garbage disposal and drinks her problems away. With her new coping mechanism, Vanya’s personality changed from quiet and meek to sarcastic and drunk. Five and Vanya left the Academy for college together, but ended up separated by the time they were 20 because Vanya kept drinking her tutition away. By the age of 22, Vanya ended up being homeless because she got kicked out of her apartment for not paying her rent with the money she used to buy alcohol. She still plays her violin, but only for cash instead of at The Icarus Theatre. She also read Klaus’s book and was upset about her portrayal as his alcoholic sister who had an easy life of being ordinary and never going on missions because she doesn’t have a power that can’t be turned off willingly or that can kill somebody; she cried and drank her misery away for 3 weeks until she confronted Klaus about the book, they both admittedly said things that they regretted, but ended up apologizing to each other in the end. She also meets and dates Leonard like in the show and instead of Allison finding the truth about Leonard, it’s Five and Delores who both tried to convince Klaus and Vanya that Leonard is a snake, but they both denied it. Vanya ends up living with Klaus and Leonard when her and Klaus made up when she’s 23. In my first draft I made it Five and Delores that Vanya ended up rooming with, but I wanted to make Vanya and Klaus isolated further by Leonard manipulating both of them. When the house is attacked by Hazel and Cha-Cha, Vanya is the one that’s kidnapped and tortured by them for 2 days and is rescued by Eudora who arrives with back up this time, but is injured in the spine by Cha-Cha. Vanya takes the briefcase and time travels to October 12, 1963 where she ends up falling in love with a woman named Sissy Cooper, a widowed housewife who accidentally ran Vanya over with her car, and becoming a nanny/second mother to Sissy’s 5 year old autistic son named Harlan. Vanya stayed with them until 1966 when a neighbor reported their “unholy” relationship to the police, so to keep them safe Vanya used the briefcase to go back to 2019 with Sissy and Harlan.

—When Vanya gets back to 2019 with Sissy and Harlan, no one believes her story except for Klaus, who promises to her relationship with Sissy a secret from Leonard, and Ben, who was the only one that was worried about her whereabouts in the first place besides Klaus. Vanya tries to become sober for the sake of Harlan not being afraid of her when she gets drunk and for Sissy and her’s relationship since her late husband was an abusive alcoholic, instead of conjuring the one she loves’s ghost like Klaus did in the show. When Vanya was dating Leonard, he would constantly have her and Klaus practice their music and dance at 12am-6am to train them more and if one of them mess up, he’ll have them locked up in a dark and tiny closet with only one dimly lit lightbulb and they would have to balance on a stool on one leg for the duration of their training. Leonard would also take his anger out on Klaus and Vanya if he had a bad day at his shop, which would leave Klaus with bruises on his arms and a black eye and Vanya with scratches on her back and bruises on her neck. (Trigger Warning for those who can’t handle stories with domestic violence) When the 3 of them were 27, Leonard gotten pissed at how independent and successful Klaus and Vanya were getting in their lives by Klaus getting paid more from his dance recitals and Vanya going to AA meetings more to the point of being sober for 3 weeks that he took his frustrations about losing his control out on them by punching and slapping Klaus and choking and scratching Vanya, but thankfully a neighbor called the police after hearing their screams and Klaus and Vanya were taken to the hospital and Leonard was arrested, but unfortunately Klaus and Vanya bailed Leonard out due to dropping charges against him as an apologize.

Here are the things that I changed

• Klaus and Vanya both cause the apocalypse by combining their powers at Klaus’s dance recital with Vanya’s violin because Leonard isolated them from everyone, manipulated them to the point of denying the abuse he put them through, and because of him trying to kill Sissy and Harlan for taking Vanya away from him.

• Five and Delores tries to explain to Vanya and Klaus that Leonard only liked them to get revenge on the Umbrella Academy and it was him that kidnapped Sissy and Harlan to get them to come back to him, but Five gets stabbed in the stomach by Klaus’s new found telekinesis and Vanya makes Five and Delores’s apartment collapsed after knocking Delores out. When the apartment collapses, Allison , who’s coperal at the moment, immediately grabs both a bleeding Five and an unconscious Delores and saves them from death and takes them to the Academy to be treated by Grace. Delores unfortunately loses her right arm to a huge piece of shrapnel lodged into it that’s cutting the circulation.

• When Ben goes to the apocalypse for the first time, he finds Luther with the eye clutched in his hand, Diego wrapped in black bandages holding a woman with a long black ponytail (Eudora), Five in an Armani suit with his eyes opened, and a red headed woman in a polka dotted blouse and a black skirt holding one of Five’s hand (Delores). All of them are dead and Ben finds out that they’re his brothers by the faded black umbrella tattoo on Luther’s wrist when Ben was inspecting the bodies. The bodies that Ben couldn’t find were Allison, Vanya, and Klaus’s, but after learning about Allison’s death from Klaus’s book, Ben kept looking for Vanya and Klaus.

• Vanya gets her burst of powers when Harlan almost drown in the summer of ‘64 in the lake 10 miles away from the farm. Harlan was playing with a beach ball when it got away from him and he tried to get it while Vanya and Sissy were cuddling in the sand and a wave pulled him under the water. Sissy started crying and panicking when Vanya couldn’t get Harlan to the surface, but after a minute of silence she was shocked and relieved to see Vanya holding Harlan in her arms while she’s floating in the lake with glowing white eyes. As soon as they get to shore, Vanya gives Harlan cpr which transfers her newly found powers to him like in the canon.

• Diego doesn’t show himself to his siblings until episode 3 when Hazel and Cha-Cha attack the house because everyone thinks he’s dead and he’s a recluse. He finds out about the attack from Grace (mom) when she calls him from her bedroom phone since they talk every day so that he can know what’s going on and because of these calls, Diego knows about Ben being back, how the funeral went, and how much each of his siblings changed over the years.

• In episode 1, since the siblings’ lives are switched around, the way they found out that Reginald died is slightly different from canon. Luther finds out from the press badgering him after he won a fight, Diego finds out from Eudora when she comes home after work and turns on the Tv in a flash, Klaus finds out during rehearsal on the radio that him and his group are listening to to practice the recital while Allison is dancing in the shadows behind him when the news suddenly comes on, Five finds out from his phone on social media when one of his students sent him the news link after Five teleports to his apartment after saving a 12 year old boy from being abducted by a creep and almost killing said creep by beating him senseless, and Vanya finds out from a bar Tv when she and Leonard are on a date. She immediately calls Klaus who was immediately going to call her to tell her the same thing when he was done rehearsals.

• Just to clarify, since Vanya spent 3 years with Sissy and Harlan in Dallas from 1963-1966, she is 33 years old and Harlan is 8 years old because he was 5 when he and his mom met Vanya. Even though Vanya spent 3 years in the ‘60s, she was only gone for 2 days with Klaus, Five, Delores, Ben, and Leonard searching for her.

• When the Hargreeves all come back for the funeral, the introduction of them to each other are very different. Diego doesn’t show up to the funeral to keep up the reputation of him being dead. Vanya and Klaus show up together, but immediately split up when Vanya goes straight to the bar making drinks for her and her brothers (mostly for her though) and Klaus goes to his old room to reminisce about his past. Five checks their father’s room and office for evidence of something other than a heart attack, he is the one that thinks that Reginald was murdered by someone, and he also greets Vanya and Klaus with Delores who went with him to meet his family. Luther is trying to get through the funeral as possible by almost avoiding his siblings, but that backfires when Five calls a family meeting to talk about their father’s death and Luther sees a tipsy Vanya holding a mix of vodka and rum, Klaus talking to Delores who is laughing at a funny story Klaus is telling, and Five lecturing the remaining siblings on how their father might’ve been murdered.

• Eudora is more present in the show since she survives the gunshot wound in her spine by Cha-Cha, but she ends up being paralyzed from the waist down in a wheelchair. She helps Five with discovering how Reginald actually died and Diego with stepping out into the world and seeing his family for the first time in years. Like in canon, she is the first one to find Vanya at the motel after finding the message that Hazel and Cha-Cha left on the van when they burned down the prosthetic factory after they got drunk off of Vanya’s “special lemonade” which is just lemonade mixed with wine and vodka. Unlike in the show, Delores and Ben go with Eudora as back up in case something goes wrong and it does end up going wrong with Cha-Cha and Eudora having a shoot out with each other in the parking lot that ultimately ends up Eudora becoming paralyzed by Cha-Cha’s bullet ricocheting off a lamppost and lodging into Eudora’s spine with her laser gunand Ben wrestling with his former partner Hazel in the motel room while Vanya is escaping through the vent with the briefcase in her arms and Delores in tow.

Ben breaks Hazel’s wrist and almost beats him to a bloody pulp for kidnapping Vanya, but he stops when he hears Eudora’s screams from outside and sees her on the ground behind her car and he immediately drives her to the hospital while Hazel and Cha-Cha get away before the police show up. Delores and Vanya get on a nearby bus to escape the chaos and they talk about what’s going on in their lives and Delores talks about how Leonard treats Klaus when they’re alone, but Vanya denies any abuse and opens the briefcase. The last thing Vanya hears is Delores screaming.

• The episode “The Day that Wasn’t” doesn’t exist in my AU and is instead replaced with an episode called “Welcome to the 60’s” where Five interrogates Sissy and Harlan about the past while working on the beat up briefcase to learn more about how to time travel. Eudora and Diego talk about how their long time friendship has become into a sibling relationship and about how Diego can reconnect with his siblings again. Luther and Delores discuss how they both want a normal and ordinary life with their husband and fiancé respectively, but fail to see that things can never go back to way they were. Ben goes off on his own to find the truth about Leonard Peabody, but finds himself at Griddy’s where he sees Hazel kissing Agnes and talks to them about his problems. Agnes gives Ben advice about how he can reconcile with his family by actually giving them time to process him being a time traveling assassin and him telling Five to not feel guilty about causing a rift between him and Vanya and Klaus because it wasn’t Five’s fault that Ben “ran away”.

I’ll continue the rest of the story when I have the time. Right now I just want to post this.

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rose-of-pollux · 3 years ago

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So, I ended up down a metaphorical rabbit hole and had a twofold humbling experience last evening.

I was looking up stories of Hollywood ghost sightings (...as you do...) and saw an offhand mention that among the ghosts seen in Hollywood is Lon Chaney Sr. I just got through reading a biography about him... which included a story of how he saved a whole bunch of baby birbs, so, you know, that got my full attention really quickly--

Kudos to the man for doing exactly what you’re supposed to do when you find fallen nestlings--put them back in the same tree as close as you can to the original position. The Audubon Society tells you to do that to this day. But I digress...

I know that one of Lon Chaney’s most famous roles was Erik in Phantom of the Opera. I had my Phantom phase from 2005-2007, and while I was mostly stuck on the 1986 musical, I did watch and appreciate Lon’s portrayal of Erik in the 1925 movie. However, I did scoff--and continued to scoff--at all the stories of people getting shocked in the theatres and swooning during the famous unmasking scene. My thoughts were basically, “Pffft, yeah, that’s not that scary.”

Fast forward to last evening. I got intrigued by the mention of Lon’s ghost being spotted and looked into it further. What I didn’t know was that one of the websites I was looking at had a gigantic header of Lon as Erik in full fury that was taking its own sweet time loading.

Cue Humbling Experience #1: the header finally loads, and I effectively get jumpscared at the very same make-up job I’ve been scoffing at since 2005 and nearly yeet my laptop across the room.

...Mr Chaney, Sir, I sincerely apologize for everything I said about your Erik look since 2005. I 100% deserved that.

Anyway, so, I get over the scare and keep reading about the sightings of his ghost--

Ok, yes, that makes perfect sense that he’d be frequently revisiting a place he had some attachment to during his mortal life.

But the studio is gone now, as noted in that blurb. I knew that part of it (but not that Lon frequented it in the afterlife) because I was ranting about it to Ksturf the other day about how they callously got rid of an iconic piece of film history. So I looked into it, wondering “what bunch of idiots” decided to get rid of it and what dumb thing they dared to put in its place--

Cue Humbling Experience #2: the realization that the thing responsible for the destruction of an iconic piece of film history and Lon’s visiting grounds is a thing headed by Nintendo--a presence that has been in my life for as long as I can remember and has fundamentally shaped me into who I am, and that one of the “bunch” who was involved in the discussions for Nintendo World is very, very likely to have been the late and venerated Mr. Satoru Iwata, whom I also hold in very great respect, as he was actively involved in the many parts of Nintendo that shaped who I am today.

...Mr. Iwata, Sir, I meant no disrespect.

There’s no way of knowing, of course, whether Mr. Iwata knew they were tearing down the historic Phantom stage for Nintendo World, and while I’m sure he’s not the one with enough clout in this situation to blame, anyway (that falls on Universal, who could’ve spared the Phantom stage and chosen a different location for Nintendo World), I still have incredibly mixed emotions about this becase, on the one hand, iconic film history gone forever, but on the other hand, one of my most favorite things in the world is going to have a presence there soon (they’re saying Nintendo World will open in Los Angeles next year).

And, of course... what’s Lon’s spirit doing now with all this going on? The stage is gone, so he has no more catwalks to pace.

Mr. Chaney, Sir, whether you move on or stick around, I hope you find peace.

#random #don't mind me #lon chaney #nintendo

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moony-moon-blogs · 3 years ago

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Table of Contents

List of Characters……………………………………………………………Page 3

Introduction………………………………………………………………….Page 4

Act I………………………………………………………………………….Page 5

Act II………………………………………………………………………...Page 12

Act III...……………………………………………………………………...Page 22

Playwriter’s Biography………………………………………………...……Page 31

Peer Editor’s Worksheet………………………..……………………………Page 32

List of Characters

August Whitlock - Main Character

Roman Zhao - Mysterious Stranger

Henry Bradford - Doctor

Iris Ngoy - Friend

Dolores Whitlock - Mother

Doctor: Random Doctor

Nurse: Random Nurse

The Scenes of the Play

Act I

Act II

Act III

Setting

London, England

Time

1983

Introduction

This play revolves around trauma, around the fact that life isn't always fair. That having resentment for your parents is alright, and that not all people can be saved. Life isn't a movie where everyone gets to live happily ever after, and all we can do is embrace our little pockets of peace each and every day. August Whitlock is 24 years old and an accomplished university student. He gets into a car crash in 1982 (the present) and is taken to a hospital (in London, England) to recover. Once he wakes up, it is discovered that he suffers from amnesia and cannot recall the past 4 or so years of his life. This play revolves around his journey to recovery and discovering himself along the way. This is a story of heartbreak, pain and a boy who deserved far more than he was ever given.

Some spoilers: Some choices I made were purposeful. August is rash. He refuses to open up to his psychologist but after losing his temper he gets scared and trauma dumps, only to regret opening up and shut down again. He’s a finicky character because he is scared and alone. Furthermore, he identifies as homosexual (gay) because I believe that this is another thing made to isolate him and highlight his character. Even after he recovers from his childhood trauma and his recent problems he will never be completely ‘normal’. There will always be something that makes him different: a fact I think intertwines with his personality well which is why I did not make him straight. (I realize going to an Islamic school this might be a taboo topic, however, writing a story about murder does not mean you condone the act itself.)

Act I

Scene I

August wakes up in a cold, stark room. Every surface is white and sterile

Nurse: Goodmorning! You gave us all quite a fright.

August: …

Nurse: My name is Mary Ann, I’m a practicing nurse here. Do you recognize where you are?

August: Seeing as you say you’re a bloody nurse I think I can draw my own conclusions. Cheers, yeah?

Nurse: (A bit flustered) Right, yeah, ‘course. You're in the Royal Berkshire Institution because you’ve had a bit of an accident. You’ve been asleep for a few days. Let me check your vitals before I can ask you a few questions, yeah?

August: …

The nurse begins inspecting August

August: What on earth are you doing?

Nurse: Oh! Um - it’s important to check a patient after they wake up, it’s a bit of a secondary inspection. We just look for dental injury, bleeding, posterior oropharynx obstruction, swelling, or edema in the mouth. And then we have a neck exam by palpating — or I suppose checking — for bony injury, crepitus, midline trachea, lacerations, hematomas, and abrasions. It’s rather important-

August: (Interrupting) Oh. Thanks then. I’m sorry for being a bit peckish, I suppose whatever accident I got in has got me a bit prickly.

A man in scrubs walks in, stretching out his gloves as he enters.

Doctor: Hello Mr. Whitlock, how are you today?

August: (Deadpanned) Peachy. And yourself?

Doctor: Oh, rather well I suppose. I’ve gone over your medical history and it seems like this isn't your first skirmish is it?

August: Take a guess. (Leaning over slightly to accentuate his very large facial scar, toughened by age and is clearly an old scar)

Doctor: (Chuckling slightly) I can take a gander. Now then, it appears that you might have some trauma in your hippocampus. We scanned you in our MRI machine and have some concerns regarding your recollection.

August: What the bloody hell is an MRI machine?

Doctor: A new machine invented, stands for magnetic resonance imaging and lets us see into your head.

August: ….

Doctor: What’s the last thing you remember before your crash?

August: I – I – um (Flustered) I don’t um recall the crash. Or–uh anything before it.

Doctor: What’s the last thing you remember then?

August: I don’t bloody well know. It’s like someone asking you what you had for dinner last week. You know but you can't just go out and say it.

Doctor: Alright then, no worries Mr. Whitlock. Let’s try another strategy: who is the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom?

August: Oh. (With some relief) James Callaghan.

The doctor and the nurse exchange looks, leaving the room in awkward silence.

August: What is it?

Nurse: (Shyly, coughing slightly and saying a bit awkwardly) The Prime Minister of the United Kingdom is Margaret Thatcher, August. (She looks upset for him, a bit of pity in her eyes)

August: (Scoffing) Not bloody likely. You see this lot ever picking a bird?

Doctor: (Sighing with reluctance) I'm sorry Mr.Whitlock, we’ll need to do more testing but it seems like you have some kind of memory loss.

End Scene.

Scene II

A cozy room, clearly an office, but has personal touches like a comfortable couch and armchair. Feels overall very homey and has a nice throw blanket and soft pillows.

Doctor Bradford: Good Afternoon August. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

August: ….

Doctor Bradford: My name is Doctor Henry Bradford. I’m a licensed specialist here to help you with your traumatic brain injury and your overall mental health. I understand it must be difficult to have to stay in the hospital for your physical and mental therapy in order to recover from your accident.

August: ….

Doctor Bradford: Listen, August. I’m here to help you. Your life isn't over and you can heal and move past this. Mental health is a journey, but it's up to you to take the first step. I understand how scary it must be to lose years' worth of memories, but there is a potential for memory recall.

August: (Snorts) But you don't understand do you?

Doctor Bradford: You're right, I'm sorry. It isn't right for me to assume I can understand your individual experience. Would you share that with me then?

August: (Pushing his tongue against his cheek and gritting his jaw) You think we’re going to have some kind of “good will hunting” moment? Because we’re not.

Doctor Bradford: I don’t assume anything, August.

August: Nah, mate. When you wake up in the morning and look at the sky and see it blue and clear, you assume it's gonna be a nice day and dress accordingly. And when you come here and look at me I know it's not me you really see.

Doctor Bradford: August —

August: (Interrupting) Stop.

Doctor Bradford: A thought is harmless until we truly believe it. You see, once we accept a certain truth in our minds, we forever have a certain bias attached. In reality, a pen is a pen, it's neutral. Likewise, whatever thoughts you have aren't real — they’re biases, preconceived notions you've clung to. (Sighs softly and quirks his head) You’ve been scratching that scar of yours for a bit, what do you think about it?

August: Are you mental? Nothing to think about it mate. It’s an ugly scar and that's that. I don't want to hear you go on about inner beauty and how my scar is perfectly lovely.

Doctor Bradford: It isn't ugly. It isn't pretty. It simply is. Because in reality, it’s just what it is: completely neutral. People may like it, and others may not. But at the end of the day, they're simply thoughts, and those don't matter unless you start believing them.

August: … (Brows furrowed)

Doctor Bradford: I can't make you want to get better. But I can advise you that the thoughts you cling to now that make you so quick to defend yourself against an attack that isn't there will tire you out one day. You’ll decide to better yourself, to move past this accident and whatever other trauma you carry. And I’ll be here for you when that day comes. (Small smile)

End Scene.

Scene III

August is back in his bed in his hospital room. He is currently reading a book and looks very much at peace. A middle-aged woman walks in, based on her body language it’s very obvious that she’s nervous.

Dolores: Hey Gus.

August: (Visibly surprised, immediately frowns) If you’re here, who’s guarding hades?

Dolores: Gus. (Sighs) I was so worried you were hurt, sweetheart.

August: Wouldn't be the first time it happened though, would it? Don’t worry about me, the only way I’ll actually die is if you touch me and drag me across the River Styx.

Dolores: (Visibly confused)

August: (Rolling his eyes in exasperation) I’m calling you the grim reaper Mother. Terribly surprised to see you here though — thought you might still be stuck under that house in Munchkinland or melted by a bucket of water. If you couldn't understand that either — I was calling you a witch this time.

Dolores: Sweetheart, enough with the insults. I came here to check on you.

August: You’ve never bothered before, I don't see the need for you to start now.

Dolores: (Sighing) I got a new apartment. It’s on the twelfth floor and it has such a lovely view. Once we get you out of here you can see for yourself. I’ll take care of you.

August: (Snorting derisively) Didn't think you would ever get that high without a broom Mum.

Dolores: Listen, we can just leave the past in the past. I want us to move on because you're my son and I love you.

August. No, you don't.

Dolores: Gus– of course, I–

August. NO. YOU DON'T. GET OUT OF MY ROOM. MY LIFE. I DON'T WANT YOU AROUND.

Dolores: Please–

August: That sounds really familiar doesn't it? You didn't listen when I said it so you can bloody well bugger off!

Dolores: Gus —

August: LEAVE! I DON'T WANT YOU AROUND. NOT NOW. NOT EVER. LEAVE! YOU KNOW HOW.

Dolores turns away and leaves. August falls back into bed and sobs. Large, body-shaking sobs that leave him curled up and clutching a pillow.

End Scene.

Act II

Scene I

The setting once again changes back to Doctor Bradford’s office. They sit across from one another as August shifts around and settles in his seat.

August: Hiya Doc.

Doctor Bradford: August. I’m glad you seem more open today. Was there anything that particularly changed your mind?

August: …. I don’t want to be like my sperm donor.

Doctor Bradford: People arent black and white August—

August: I am aware of other races, thanks yeah.

Doctor Bradford: (Chucking slightly) You’re a clever boy. My sons would do well to follow your example.

August: Yeah, a trauma victim who would've died alone. Tell your kids that my impossibly high standards are out of their reach and to aim for something not as amazingly astounding as I am.

Doctor Bradford: Would you care to discuss that isolation?

August: Not much to say. My old man beat me black and blue and I look like a freak. Not the kind of person most people want to hang around with.

Doctor Bradford: I’m very sorry for your experience with domestic abuse. How old were you?

August: (Snorts) Not going to ask me what I would’ve done differently? ….. I – I don’t really know. It wasn't like one day he was the father of the year and the next I was a 2-foot tall pinata. It just… was.

Doctor Bradford: I don’t think you could've done anything differently. Regardless, what happened, happened. Nothing will ever change that. Do you feel that if you had done things differently he wouldn't have assaulted you?

August: I dunno.

Doctor Bradford: Listen to me, August. What that man did to you as a child has nothing to do with you or your personality. It's only about him. And it's absolutely not your fault.

August: (Sniffling slightly and pursing his lips to play off his awkwardness)

Doctor Bradford: We all have a certain self-fulfilling prophecy. We like to live up to the social mirror that surrounds us. What you've been made to believe is true will one day become just that because you were so thoroughly convinced of it, that there was nothing else for you to become. Don’t let yourself believe that you were ever at fault — you weren't.

August: I can't ever move on. Every time I look in the mirror I have to see my mess of a face because neither one of my parents loved me enough.

Doctor Bradford: I think they did. Love you, I mean. Obviously misguided, but to them, they really did love you. Don’t go about painting the stairs dear boy.

August: Pardon? Have you gone mad?

Doctor Bradford: Not yet I’m afraid. Let me tell you a story. (Shifts in his chair) There was a man who was walking about when he tripped and fell down the stairs. He gets hurt and goes to the doctor, who in turn gives him an ointment and tells him to put it on the area where he was injured. The next day a friend comes by and sees that very man painting the stairs, practically slathering them with the doctor’s ointment. He’s in shock and asks the man what he’s doing, who turns and tells him that his doctor told him to apply the ointment on the area where he was injured. Don't paint the stairs.

August: I’m not (Indignant).

Doctor Bradford: Your father—

August: Nope.

Doctor Bradford: Right then, um– your sperm donor, hurt you. But your thoughts are only yours. They may have been someone else's creation, but they're your own now. Don't fulfil a self-made prophecy August. You're far too clever for it.

August: ….

Doctor Bradford: You have an abusive sperm donor and a negligent — um egg donor— but you are a wonderful person. You’re smart, dedicated and I’m proud of you for trying.

August: Not a particularly resounding accomplishment.

Doctor Bradford: Yes it is dear boy. I won’t diminish your achievements, and I’m very much proud of you for this first step.

August: (Birdlike tilt of the head. A small smile creeps up on his face and his nose scrunches)

End Scene.

Scene II

August is in a dream, he goes to bed as per usual and the scenery around him changes. He is in this dream as a spectator, almost as if watching things happen on television but from a first perspective point of view.

He sits at a desk in an expansive library, a stack of books on either side of him as he furiously scribbles on a paper. Someone approaches, turns the chair backwards and straddles it.

???: Hey there September. Working hard?

August: Bugger off, yeah? I’ve got a lot of work.

???: What if I wanted attention?

August: Tell me something I don’t know. You’re like a dog all of the time.

???: Woof woof.

August: …. (Goes back to writing)

???: Come on now! You can do your work later, not everything needs to be submitted 5 years before the due date.

August: (Sighing) Do you always do this?

???: Only when I see a pretty boy. (When only answered with an eye roll he reaches over and grabs a pen, clicking and twirling it around)

August: Oi! Give me back my pen!

???: Make me.

August: Prat. (Pulls out another pen)

???: See now you’re just ruining all of the fun. I just want to spend a bit of time with you.

August: Why?

???: And here I was thinking you were supposed to be the clever one. That’s an awfully stupid question.

August: (In indignation) No it’s not.

???: Yes it is. I like you. Isn't that enough?

August: …. I suppose.

???: (Leaning over to elbow him in the gut) No “I like you too”? You’re going to break my heart.

August: Dreadfully sorry for that inconvenience.

???: (Crooked grin) You can inconvenience me any day September.

August: Wrong month. Again.

???: I like matching your name with the current month. Suppose you’re my inconveniencing calendar.

August: (Sarcastically) I’m honoured.

???: Come on now. Let’s go to that cafe you like. I promise I’ll buy you whatever dreadfully depressing drink you want.

August: Right, as if your cups of liquid sugar won't kill you one day.

???: You’re just a bitter old man who can’t enjoy sprinkles and whipped cream and deliciousness. Don’t worry geezer, I’ll hold your hand when we cross the street.

August: You’re older than me, idiot. Don’t worry — I’m sure you’ll make a lovely silver fox when you turn 50 on your next birthday.

???: (Snorting) Well, in that case, I need a fine young man to accompany me. I’m so old and senile that I mustn't be left alone. Such a thing could be labelled elder negligence and you’re far too pretty for prison.

August: Alright then old man, let’s go. (He begins to pack up his school things and return the books to where they were with the man trailing after him like a lost puppy. While August puts up a bravado of being annoyed by him, the audience can see him hide a smile once or twice and attempt to cover up his blush. He is glad that the man wants to be around him. This is the first time August has smiled in front of the audience: he looks happy)

Important note: For any readers, the man’s actor is around the same age as August. They are both university students and were simply joking around about the man being an elder.

End Scene.

Scene III

The audience is taken back to August’s hospital room. He is on his way to visit Doctor Bradford. His legs have not healed and he is wheeled all the way there while he leans his head back and stares at the fluorescent lights overhead. His shaggy hair exposes his forehead and eyes, he looks younger like this, being wheeled around a hospital for his next appointment.

He is taken into Doctor Bradford’s room/office. While August is being settled in, Doctor Bradford moves around his desk and comes to sit in front of him.

Doctor Bradford: Hello August. Welcome back.

August: Doc.

Doctor Bradford: How are you feeling today?

August: Fine.

Doctor Bradford: Anything happen in particular to illicit these one-word responses?

August: Nope.

Doctor Bradford: August, this is a safe space. I really appreciated you opening up last time and I was initially hoping to continue our discussion. Would you care to talk about anything else instead?

August: (Sighing)

Doctor Bradford: August —

August: Doc, last time was a mistake. I freaked out because my fork-tongued lizard of a spawn point decided to come by. I’m not going to trauma dump because this is all a waste of time.

Doctor Bradford: August—

August: Don't take offence. This has nothing to do with you. But I do have some rather lovely art time I need to attend. Said to help with recollection, right? (He waves back the nurse who wheels him out: August attended his mandated therapy so he can't be forced to stay for longer. The nurse can tell he is agitated, the audience recognizes that he is not in a good mood. He exits and leaves Doctor Bradford all on his own.)

End Scene.

Scene IV

August is in a dream once again, he goes to bed as per usual and the scenery around him changes. He is in this dream as a spectator, almost as if watching things happen on television but from a first perspective point of view, as he was last time.

August is walking side by side with the man from last time. In the distance, a carnival can be seen, with flashing lights and screams sound from afar. They approach the ticket booth together in order to gain admission. The worker leans over the counter when she sees them approaching: she has the kind of features girls on the covers of magazines do: petite nose, full lips and doe eyes that only went to enhance her smile.

Ticket girl: Hello there! How many tickets can I get for you today?

???: (With a charming smile) Two tickets, please.

(The girl turns around to grab the tickets and ring him up, but after payment, she slips three pieces of paper into his hand instead of two. Looking down, August notices that one contains a phone number that must have been hers, and is immediately filled with white-hot dread. The audience notices that August is agitated as he turns and walks away, further into the carnival. The man pockets the tickets and runs after him to catch up)

???: What’s wrong?

August: Nothing. (Shrugs and averts his eyes)

???: (In a teasing manner) Something is obviously wrong. Come on then, share with the class, will you?

August: The matter is that I will never look like I belong with you. No one will ever look at us like they’ll look at you and her.

???: (Interrupting) Her?! I met the bloody bint 5 minutes ago November. What are you on about?

August: I’m not angry or anything but you must know we are polar opposites. I will never look like I belong with someone like you. Maybe not her and maybe not today or tomorrow, but you’ll come to realize you need more than someone like me. Someone with less baggage — physical or otherwise. (Feigned indifference but the audience can see him sniffle slightly)

???: Is that what this is about you idiot? God — bloody fu— I really don’t tell you enough do I?? (Running a hand through his hair) You’re beautiful August. And don’t you go bloody interrupting me! You’re beautiful and perfect and I don’t want anyone else — now or ever. You hear that?

August: Rome —

Rome: (Instead of replying he presses his palms into either side of August’s face, tilting it up and forcing him to look into his eyes.)

August: I didn’t mean to make this an entire issue, let’s just go enjoy the carnival.

Rome: No you tosser! We are not moving past this until you understand just how much I love you. You are beautiful. And even if you looked like my great-aunt Mildred and smelled like her musty old coats I would love you still. (Presses his lips against August’s)

August: I love you too. (blushing)

End Scene.

Act III

Scene I

August is back in his room in the hospital. He’s just now waking up because of a nurse rummaging around. She eventually notices August is awake and turns to face him.

Nurse 2: Morning sir!

August: Humph.

Nurse 2: Alright then, love. Let’s get you changed eh?

August: (Inclines his head in approval)

Nurse 2: (Begins to switch his hospital gown to redress some scrapes along his side from the aforementioned accident, she pauses) Pretty tattoo you’ve got, innit?

August: Beg pardon?

Nurse 2: Your tattoo… it’s beautiful.

August: I’ve got a bloody tattoo? Where?

Nurse 2: Oh! I’m — I’m um (Comes to the realization that this is the patient with brain trauma and memory loss) — It’s just on your right shoulder — yes, right there. It’s the roman coliseum, I usually tend to see a gladiator or something but yours is very clean indeed. The linework is very sharp and I suppose it’s very accurate since it’s such a discernable image.

August: Oh. Alright then.

Nurse 2: Have you ever been to Italy?

August: (Deadpanned) If I have, I certainly can’t remember it.

Nurse 2: Oh — right. Sorry. Well once you get out of here you should definitely visit Rome!

August: Rome… (The audience is left to wonder if there is indeed a connection between August’s tattoo of the Roman Coliseum and the stranger whose name is now known to be Rome)

End Scene.

Scene II

The audience can clearly see a Christmas tree, lacking any sort of decoration yet, in the middle of a living room. It looks very cozy and warm, with throw blankets on the back of the couch and a fire in the fireplace going strong.

Rome: I can’t bloody well believe there isn’t any snow on Christmas.

August: It’s only Christmas Eve, maybe we’ll get some snow overnight.

Rome: In London? Not likely with the kind of bipolar weather we have.

August: Stop being such a Debbie Downer. I thought I liked taking the piss at everything between the two of us — don’t go taking my job, not in this economy at least.

Rome: (Sighing) Listen — I’m not good at all this holiday rubbish. I’m not even in the mood to participate right now.

August: We both have family problems, you’ve never thought less of me because of mine, and I would never think less of you for yours. I love you. So if you want to pretend tomorrow is just another day in December, I wouldn't mind as long as I got to spend it with you.

Rome: You're not getting it! I’m probably going to end up just like them, a toxic manipulator that sucks the life out of everything around him. We’re better off calling it quits now.

August: And I’m the melodramatic one? (Sighing and running a hand through his hair) I don’t tell you enough, do I?

Rome: Tell me what?

August: That you’re a good man Rome. And don't you interrupt me! You’re a good person who deserves more than he's got. So unless you can look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me anymore, I’m not letting you give up on me — on us.

Rome: (Avoiding eye contact, he seems to have calmed down from his previous turbulent emotions) Bloody twat.

August: Prick.

Rome: Alright then, what am I supposed to do?

August: You go put on that new Christmas song and I’ll get all the baubles ready.

Rome: Only if I get to pick which colours go on the tree.

August: (Smirking with a knowing look on his face)

Rome: (Grumbling) Yeah, yeah no need to be so smug about it. And for your information — I have a much better palette and aesthetic, leaving you with the baubles all on your lonesome would be a bloody war crime.

Last Christmas by WHAM! begins to play while Rome and August sort through the baubles, occasionally setting one aside while putting some back in another bin. The mood is wholesome now that August and Rome have gotten through their first official holiday together despite the trauma from their childhood that makes them reluctant in some instances.

End Scene.

Scene III

August and Rome are back in their apartment, in the living room while it rains outside. The audience observes the sounds of raindrops pelting against the windows and the sound of crashing thunder far away.

August: I love rainy days. I’m going to make a nice warm cuppa, would you like one as well? It’s chamomile.

Rome: No! These days are meant for indoor fun — not another excuse for you to read and drink tea. It’s all you ever do!

August: It’s alright darling, I don’t mind your illiteracy.

Rome: Yeah, yeah get all mouthy with me, why don't you?

August: Why I terribly appreciate your invitation. How ever would I continue to vex you without your coveted approval?

Rome: (Grumbling) Come on up and dance with me in the rain! Everyone always does it and it's the most romantic thing of all time. Don’t you want to be romantic with me?

August: Not at the risk of pneumonia. You're ten times worse when sick — we can dance indoors and I get to choose the music.

Rome: (Cupping his hands around his mouth and making booing sounds)

August brings out a record player and picks out a Smiths record. Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths starts playing. Readers are free to press the link below and listen along accordingly.

youtube

August: Good times for a change….

Rome: (Mimes shooting himself in the head) This is such a sad song!

August: It is not!

Rome: It bloody well is. I listen to The Smiths and most of the time I get sad. You can’t dance to this August!

August: Humour me? (He approaches Rome and grabs his hands and positions them around his neck and puts his own hands on Rome’s waist) So please, please, please… let me let me let me, let me get what I waaaant this time. (Hums along to the instrumentals) Haven't had a dream in a long time…

Rome: (Slips from August’s grasp and pauses the music and exchanges the record for another one, one that he obviously prefers by the large grin on his face) This is real music we can dance to, come on!

Good Old Fashioned Loverboy By Queen starts to play. Readers are free to press the link below and listen along accordingly.

youtube

Rome: (Rome rolls a magazine into a makeshift microphone and begins to dramatically sing-along, complete with shoulder shimmies and dramatic expressions) I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things, we can do the tango just for two…. I can serenade and gently play on your heartstrings, be your Valentino just for youuuuu… Ooooh love, ooooh loverboy… whatcha doin’ tonight, hey boy! Set my alarm, turn on my charm, That’s because I’m a good old-fashioned loverboyyyy.

August: Very classy, this is your choice?

Rome: Better than yours! Let me serenade you, yes? No interruptions! (He throws the magazine aside and grabs August) Ooooooooh can you feel my love heat? Come on and sit on my hot seat of love, and tell me how, do you feel right after all? I’d like for you and I to go romancinggg… say the word, your wish is my command.

August laughs and goes along with his dramatic re-enactment of Freddie Mercury’s performance. The rain continues to patter against the window, long forgotten now in the throes of laughter and music and dancing. It’s a fun scene that makes the audience energetic, humming along with the music or tapping their foot to the beat: everyone is happy.

End Scene.

Scene IV

August is back in his room in the hospital. He’s just now waking up, rubbing his eyes slowly while he stretches his arms and lets out a yawn. He lays back down on the cot and smacks his mouth.

August: Bloody hell. This probably isn't healthy, is it? Dreaming up a bloke that realistically is weird. (Groaning) I am such a git.

Nurse 2 comes back into the room, she is holding a clipboard and walks on stage/view with a smile on her face and a pep in her step.

Nurse 2: Good morning August! I see your name here on your file, sorry I forgot to get it last time!

August: No worries, I don’t know your name either.

Nurse 2: Oh I’m —

An alarm goes off to alert that aid is required. Nurse 2 gives August an apologetic face and holds up a hand in a gesture that must mean “I’ll be right back!” in order to placate him as she turns and leaves.

August: (Covering his face with his hands and groaning again) I am the biggest wanker to ever exist…. bugger me. Maybe I should bring up the man to the old doctor? He isn't as much of a pillock, is he? I did basically tell him to piss off though… and now I’m talking to myself too. As if I wasn't loony enough. Alright, I’m stopping that now. Ignore that last bit, yeah. Stopping now.

August grabs a pillow and holds it against his face while he screams. The audience can hear a muted scream, muffled as it is by the pillow. It is very obvious that August is feeling conflicted over these dreams. While he is obviously happy in them, it’s clear he doesn't know how to feel or whether or not he should attempt to open up and confide in Doctor Bradford. The nurse enters the room once more with a smile on her face while August removes the pillow from his face.

Nurse 2: Just on my way back I saw you had a visitor!

August: If it’s my mum again tell her to bugger off, yeah?

The nurse opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted when someone walks in. August gasps and a cacophony of emotions overwhelm him: shock, fear, distress.

August: … Rome?

End Scene.

Playwright’s Biography

Mouna El-Youssef is a 17-year-old high school student, currently attending Al-Risala Academy. She enjoys reading, crocheting, and painting on rocks. She currently lives with her mother, grandmother and brother. Her father and two half-siblings live in a different country but she appreciates her entire extended family. Overall, she simply wishes to live her life to the very fullest as a good Muslim.

“I remembered that the real world was wide, and that a varied field of hopes and fears, of sensations and excitements, awaited those who had the courage to go forth into its expanse, to seek real knowledge of life amidst its perils.” (Charlotte Bronte)

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading my script, I sincerely hope you enjoyed my story.

#Youtube

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all-pacas · 3 years ago

Text

FORBIDDEN WEST PLAYTHROUGH PART ONE (i’m on “to the brink” so spoilers up til there)

* oh my god it’s finally here. the fond is the same. the hud is the same. it’s still loading i can’t believe it. * i remember this opening scene from the reveal trailer i think??? the dying fox anyway.

* oh my god elisabet !!!!! fully rendered!!!!! not a hologram with light and coloring distortion!!! in her stupid little robe shirt thing!!!! * OH NO THEY HUGGED * i’ve joked about this already but aloy please invent some sunscreen. ur a red-head u gotta be aware of the risks of sunburn * VARL HAS BEARD HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA * LMAO aloy skipped the meridian victory party and just took the hell off i love her so much * lmao aloy trying to ditch varl too * this opening cutscene is a little stilted — how does varl know what the focus even does etc? — but also i fucking love that he’s HERE ALREADY and just literally living out my “let’s go to california bestie” dreams * oh my god is the tutorial this time aloy teaching varl instead of rost teaching aloy * oh my god aloy making the exact same BLEGH sound she did as a baby eating the healing herbs * FREE CLIMBING?? * OH THE MENU HAS CHARACTER BIOGRAPHIES * oh my god i love that the only alphas in the biography section to start with are elisabet and TRAVIS TATE * ted’s entry mentions the bunker DO WE GET PYRAMID VEGAS BUNKER PLEASE * oh god the glinthawk sound played and i was like PLEASE NO i hate those fuckers at least give me a few watchers first * OH MY GOD I AM IN LOVE WITH BURROWERS. WHAT BUDDIES. WHAT FRIENDS * oh my god like the first game hinted pretty strongly that far zenith was going to be a thing but i was NOT expected it as the tutorial section * is the other guy in these ruins gonna be sylens. is that too obvious * love that aloy clearly has no idea what to name anything and is just like “well i have a tripcaster — I KNOW. A _PULL_CASTER * oh hey osvald i remember the datapoint where the reporter was like “this techbro asshole” * aloy uses her fun new toy to get to the second floor, and varl's like "too bad there's only one and i'm trapped here" and aloy's choices are "find another way up" or just toss it down to him and of course she picks the first one * i love varl flinching and ducking at the holograms while aloy just stands there. * "unescapable risk for the world's elite" lmao i hate osvald already * my instinct thus far is that osvald is worse than ted? ted is a fucking buffoon who no one takes seriously even as he destroyed the world. osvald? he seems like he knows how to sell an actual story. * ANACONDA??????? * NOT A BUDDY * burrowers are still friend shaped and i love them * hahahaha aloy mentioning the beard * SORRY MY WHISKERS OFFEND YOU, ANNOINTED * oh far zenith was trying to steal GAIA huh. that explains a lot. * WHO WAS THE MOLE THO not one of the alphas we know i think * i kind of love varl assuming gaia must be the goddess like. he’s not exactly? he’s wrong but he’s making some pretty logical assumptions? love varl * “is sona ever pleased? i don’t think i’ve ever seen her smile.” “_me neither”_ oh varl * god i love this game. here i am a thousand years in the future with my bow and arrow, plotting the best way to drop a space shuttle onto some snakes * GAIA * TRAVIS * OH MY GOD TRAVIS TATE * THOU SHALL NOT STEAL A SUPER ADVANCED TERRAFORMING SYSTEM * should have known the fucking second GAIA booted up as “version 6.9” * did far zenith literally fail because they tried to steal gaia and travis deleted all their data in reponse * like i get why aloy is so upset and all but honestly what a move from travis tate what a pro * BACK TO MERIDIAN? * BACK TO MERIDIAN * oh oh oh first non-tutorial mission in hzd 1 was point of the spear and now we get point of the lance !!! * love that marad just instantly knows aloy is in town * LOL THEY BUILT A STATUE OF ALOY * honestly aloy you absolutely should have expected that sylens used the spear he gave you as a backdoor and should not be surprised now * NASADI AND ITAMEN * and avad too i guess literally barely noticed him * i was so overwhelmed i completely missed itamen’s line dsfsdf * oh my god i love that they heard aloy was at the spire and everyone was like “fuck better run over before she LEAVES AGAIN” * UTHID AND VANASHA!!!!! “better hand these over before she runs off again!” “really, must you?” omg and itamen is hovering in the background ahhhhhhhhhhh i love team carja * ITAMEN’S GOT A LITTLE SWORD * WATCH OUT FOR THUNDERJAWS he says oh my god i love him * vanasha keeps being like hey aloy when are you going to fuck off this time? oh about to go are you? oh still here? * SHE CALLS UTHID MR SHINYPANTS * aloy growing even more uncomfortable with the flirting than uthid is i think i ship them a little * CAPTAIN CUDDLY * “rumor has it he wanted to stay with me here in meridian” uthid laughs nervously oh my god i definitely ship them * aloy: how did u get the tenakth to like you? avad: bribes :)))) love that for him * avad’s got a cousin eh this sounds Interesting * ITAMEN PLAYING WITH A STICK Oh my god i love him * STOP FUCKING FLIRTING AVAD this was the worst part of him in the last game why did they bring it back ugh * i should have picked the mean option but i chose the brain option instead MY BAD * like god it makes me so mad because i really liked his line about not wanting to get married because he keeps trying to make women someone they aren’t, which i THOUGHT was a nice, self aware reference to the end of the last game, where aloy calls him on doing _just that_ with her and i was like good! you’re learning! don’t date for a while! BUT FUCKING NO * like god avad i fucking want to like you and i like your potential as a character but this was the WORST part of the last game and why now? at least we hopefully won’t see him again? fun as it was to see the meridian crew PLEASE, we do not need romance, we do not need this bullshit especially since aloy has already shot him down like EIGHT TIMES it makes me mad * anyway i hope they keep having aloy come up with terrible names for her weapons * “might be better to rest here for the night, hang out in the morning” aloy ur going to try and sneak away without varl aren’t u * two seconds later: she sneaks away without varl * i love how pretty the credits scene and song are but i’ve also played this game Many Times and know that a lot of these scenes aloy is riding through are just random places in the sundom. so like did you just get lost pal. why you stopping by sunfall. why you riding to brightmarket. i see you decided to visit the tallneck with all the snapmaws around it huh. * stupid oseram expression count #1: sparks to steel * oh yay. erend. * inexplicable and instant love for Stupid Sun Priest. i just love idiots okay * stupid oseram expression #2: big-hammered backside * anyway they told me to go do the plot and i ran off in the opposite direction instead MORE UPDATES LATER

#FORBIDDEN WEST SPOILERS #can you believe i can finally write that #AHHH

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flowerpowell · 4 years ago

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The Royal Holiday Romance (Liam x MC)

PART ONE

A/N: ..... Okay but hear me out. I sat down to finish my two ongoing series and this is what came out instead. It’s not my fault really. This is going to be a short series (about 4 parts me thinks) and it’s going to be cheesy and fluffy, wintery, Christmassy and very Hallmark-y (I watched too many Hallmark romcoms and this is the result).

A/N 2: This has nothing to do with the canon but the characters belong to Pixelberry.

Rating: G

Word count: 1668

Tagging (perma + TRR + Liam tags): @twinkleallnight @kingliam-rys @sfb123 @gkittylove99 @texaskitten30 @iaminlovewithtrr @gardeningourmet @delightfullypinkglitter @hopefulmoonobject @blackcatkita @dcbbw @kingliam2019 @thequeenofcronuts @jared2612 @annekebbphotography @lodberg *

*my taglist is very old so if you no longer want to be tagged in my posts, just let me know and I’ll take you off.

“Wow.”

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

Victoria looked at the scenery in front of her, still not believing her eyes.

“It looks like I’ve just walked into a Hallmark movie set,” she admitted staring at the white wonderland. Her friend chuckled.

“It does look like that a bit. But Cordonia is always so mesmerizing this time of the year. Truly magical. You’ve never been here?”

“No. This is my first time here, and in Europe in general. And you?”

“A few times. I used to come here for winter holidays with my parents many years ago. The last time I visited Cordonia was three years ago when we were filming The Crown and the Flame. We spent a few months here and we were even invited to a dinner with the King and the Queen.”

“Seriously?!”

“Mhm.” Hana nodded slightly. “It was a very important movie for all Cordonians as it was about their beloved and legendary Queen Kenna Rys.”

Victoria sighed in admiration. Hana Lee was one of the most popular and talented actresses in the world. She was nominated to Oscars at least three times and ate dinner with the King and the Queen of Cordonia. And now she was standing next to Victoria Brooks, novice actress, in a snowy Cordonia and talking to her as if they were best friends, not just co-stars.

Victoria realized how lucky she was to be starring alongside someone like Hana. Great actress and even greater personality. No wonder she was so loved by many. And even though she was only playing Hana’s character’s sidekick, she was grateful for the opportunities that came with it.

~~~~

“Liam!!! You have to see this!”

Liam turned to see his friend Maxwell running into the office with a phone in his hand. “Look!”

“Maxwell, I can’t see anything if your phone is so close to my face. What’s happening?”

“Hana Lee is here! The Hana Lee! They’re filming a Christmas movie here, which she’s co-producing by the way, and I have to meet her. Please, please, Liam, use your kingly privileges and let me meet Hana!” Maxwell pouted and Liam bit his lip so he wouldn’t start laughing.

“I know you have a celebrity crush on her but isn’t it a bit too much?”

“You’re saying that just because you already met her and I wasn’t invited!”

“I barely had any chance to talk to her, it was mostly my father who did the talking but from what I remember she was truly a charming person.”

“Well, duh.” Maxwell rolled his eyes. “I just want to meet her. I’ve prepared a welcome dance just for her and I need to show it to her. She’ll love it!”

“And what do I have to do?”

“Come with me to the set and tell the security not to kick me out? You and Drake can hang out somewhere while I’ll be with Hana.”

Liam furrowed his eyebrows. “Drake is coming as well?” He asked.

“NO!” They heard Drake’s voice from the hall just as Maxwell opened his mouth to say ‘yes’. In a moment, their friend walked into the office and stopped right in front of them. “I already said no!”

“Come on, you guys! I have dreams too, you know?”

“And meeting an actress while bringing your friends with you is one of them?” Drake raised his eyebrow at Maxwell.

“I actually wanted to ask her something.” Maxwell blushed a little. “I wanted to ask her if she’d let me write her autobiography.”

“Err…” Liam started and looked at Drake for help.

“Maxwell, you can’t write her autobiography.”

“Why not? You doubt my writing talent?”

“No, actually, yes, but that’s not the point.” Drake shook his head.

“Only Hana can write her autobiography, you can write her biography,” Liam cut in. Maxwell shrugged.

“Same thing. Does it mean you’ll come? Pleaseeeeee. Pleaseeee, pleeeaase!”

Liam sighed as he looked at Drake who was shaking his head. “Yes, Maxwell. We’ll come.”

~~~~

“Where are you going?”

“Oh, I’ve just finished and I thought I’d go for a walk and explore a bit.” Victoria smiled at Hana who looked beautiful in a dress she was wearing for the opening scene.

“But we’ve just started rolling. How are you finished already?”

“Well… Your movie best friend doesn’t have that many scenes. I’m just a supporting character, remember?”

“Oh, okay.” Hana thought for a second. “Would you like to go through the tomorrow’s scenes later?”

“I think I’m okay. I only have a few lines and to be honest, I’m so used to playing background characters that I feel well prepared for shooting.” Victoria said it half-jokingly but Hana’s face fell a little.

“I’m sure if I talked to the—”

“No, Hana, no.” Victoria shook her head. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m happy with my role. I just wanted to say I’m well prepared for this role because I always play best friends. No whining intended.”

“Okay then.” Hana smiled. “Just remember some of the best actors got their awards for playing supporting characters.”

~~~~

Liam was looking at the set, unsure why he agreed to help Maxwell.

“You’re the best, you know that, right?” Maxwell beamed as he was trying to spot Hana. The security let them in immediately after Liam introduced himself and his friends.

“Just remember we should—” Liam started but Maxwell ran off somewhere, half dancing. “—be going soon.”

“Yeah.” Drake nodded. “I’ll be with the food if you need me,” Drake said before leaving Liam alone.

He looked at the set; it was busy and Liam didn’t feel like socializing. He decided leave the set and go for a walk before he’d come again to take Maxwell and Drake back to the palace. The last thing he needed was people recognizing the King on their set.

~~~~

Victoria was wandering through the forest which was conveniently located near the movie set. She thought if she was to be in only a few scenes in the movie, she might as well use all the free time to explore Cordonia. And there was a lot to be explored.

Normally, Victoria would do a thorough research on the country she was going to but because her being in the movie was a last-minute decision, she had no time for anything except for packing.

She wasn’t complaining, though. There was something magical about exploring the country for the first time. She wanted to make the most of it.

What she told Hana was completely a lie. She wasn’t whining and she was truly happy to be playing Hana’s supporting character. Acting wasn’t the career of her choice. She was in love with cinema ever since she could remember. When she got into her dream film school she wanted to become a famous movie critic. Her plans were changed later when one of her professors told her she had a talent for acting and she should try it. Ever since, Victoria had small roles here and there. She loved seeing how the movie industry works from the inside but at the same time, the more she played, the more she longed for something more.

Not wanting to complain, she only silently wondered when she’d stop playing best friends and be a main character, at least once in her life. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but the longer she was acting, the more she believed she wasn’t a main character even in her own life. Maybe it was supposed to be this way, maybe some people were meant to be supporting characters even in their own lives. Maybe it—

“Ooooff” Victoria’s stream of consciousness was interrupted when she bumped into something. Someone. A man.

“I’m sorry, are you alright?”

“A local. Cordonian accent is really pretty,” she thought to herself as she nodded at the stranger.

“I’m sorry I bumped into you. I didn’t see you,” she admitted and the stranger laughed.

“From my point of view, you were looking directly at me. I assume you were lost in thought.”

“I was, sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be. I always lose the sense of reality when I’m in nature myself. You’re a tourist, I assume?”

“I am. Just came here and wanted to explore a little.”

The stranger nodded. “The forests are usually not the first thing the tourists are visiting but I must admit, we do have amazing forests.”

“They might not be for most people but I love going for walks here and forget about my job, my life, everything.”

“Then I think we’re very much alike. I do like to forget about my job as well.”

“Is your job that bad?” Victoria asked and noticed the stranger’s face expression changed.

“It… can be. It’s very demanding and I… sometimes like to take a break. And you?” He changed the subject. “What do you do?”

“Oh, I’m—” she stopped. If she told him she was an actress he’d ask her what movies she played in. Victoria wouldn’t bear seeing the disappointment on his face when she’d explain she plays minor roles. Not when she started to like him.

“Victoria, stop it, you can’t think every single person you meet and have at least one thing in common with is your soulmate. You’re not living in a movie.” She scolded herself and she realized the stranger was still waiting for the answer.

“I’m… in the movie industry,” she finally said. “A critic. Well, a beginner but you get the idea,” she lied, laughing nervously.

“That sounds intriguing, umm…” he stopped at looked at her expectantly.

“Victoria! Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. And you are…?”

“Liam. Nice to meet you.” He extended her hand and to Victoria’s surprise, he kissed it, smiling at her. “And welcome to Cordonia. I hope you’ll have a great time in our beautiful country.”

Victoria felt a chill running through her body as Liam was touching her hand. She offered a small smile in return. “Yes… Me too.”

#choices #the royal romance #the royal heir #playchoices #king liam #liam x mc #king liam x mc #drake walker #maxwell beaumont #hana lee #trr #choices trr #I KNOW I WAS SUPPOSED TO LEAVE TUMBLR OKAY #but when the inspiration strikes you just gotta go with the flow

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moonsubinpr · 3 years ago

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[Lee Soo Hyuk — 35 — he/him] Introducing MOON SUBIN. Word on the street is they are a PRESS SECRETARY FOR THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY affiliated with the DEMOCRATIC PARTY. Though they are RESERVED and INTIMIDATING, they can also be DEPENDABLE and HARDWORKING. In the chaos of New York City, they’re sure to fit right in.

Biography. Ask. Wanted Connections.

I. WRITER’S INTRODUCTION

First of all, I want to introduce myself. You all can call me Jackie, and I am a twenty-one year old graduate student residing within the Eastern Standard Timezone (EST). I have been roleplaying for about 10 years now, however, I took a hiatus from writing on Tumblr due to migrating to other platforms that are more mobile friendly in terms of writing. Now that I have a greater availability, as well as not fond of the newfound style of roleplay on platforms such as Twitter or MeWe, I have returned in hopes to better develop characters and build better connections with other writers. Aside from writing, I enjoy spending quality time with my cat, going out to explore newfound areas, thrifting, reading, and watching random reality television shows. I look forward to getting to know everyone! Feel free to message me for plotting, headcanoning, or for a casual conversation.

II. BASICS

NAME: MOON SUBIN

AGE: THIRTY-FIVE

DATE OF BIRTH: 1986 MAY 31

GENDER: CISMALE

PRONOUNS: HE / HIM

SEXUALITY: PANSEXUAL

HOMETOWN: IOWA CITY, IOWA

AFFILIATION: THE GOVERNMENT

JOB POSITION: DISTRICT ATTORNEY’S PRESS SECRETARY

EDUCATION: BA IN JOURNALISM FROM NYU

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: SINGLE

CHILDREN: NONE

POSITIVE TRAITS: ELOQUENT, INDEPENDENT, INTELLIGENT, RESPONSIBLE, MATURE, REASONABLE

NEGATIVE TRAITS: RESERVED, BLUNT, INTIMIDATING, DEMANDING, SARCASTIC

FACECLAIM: LEE SOO HYUK

III. POINTS ABOUT THE MUSE

Moon Subin was born into a rather average household in Heukseok-dong, Seoul, South Korea. His mother, a down-to-earth woman with a contagious smile, worked alongside her mother as a food vendor in one of the city’s largest market. The two were acutely known for their blood sausages as well as jangeo-gui (grilled eel). In fact, this is how the young woman met the young businessman. Running from a class with only a few cash in hand, he stopped at mother’s spot, asking for anything he could get with the amount of money available. She laughed at his lack of time management, and he only stated that he’ll make time to see her better next time. The following day, he returned and sat to chat with the woman.

Subin was unplanned. The two were not yet wedded when discovering that the woman fell pregnant. However, never did the young couple refer to the baby as a mistake. Rather, they saw Subin’s life as a blessing to better plan for their fast approaching future. During the time in which the woman was pregnant, the man was offered an opportunity to continue his university studies abroad. Sent to Iowa City, Iowa, the young couple packed their belongings and settled within the United States. It’s in this city where Subin would be born, granting him American citizenship despite his parents yet to become naturalized citizens.

Falling in love with the environment, the mother and father went through various means in order to further extend their stay within the country. From a student visa to a work visa, the father was granted more time to better prepare for the examination of becoming U.S. citizens. While his father began to work in a local company specializing in medical prosthetics, his mother worked at a local Chinese restaurant where she befriended Chinese immigrants who helped her with assimilating into the culture.

Subin grew up in an environment where he witnessed the benefits of hard work. His parents worked many hours in order to provide for him as well as to their community. He found this to be admirable, and this encouraged the young boy to succeed in his academics so that he could provide for his parents in the future.

He became interested in the field of communications due to constantly acting as the translator for his parents when making doctor appointments or trying to pitch the best deal at a cars dealership. Words were fascinating, and he especially thought this was the case after reading a number of novels written by authors such as H.G. Wells and Amy Tan. His interest in communications got him involved with the morning news at his middle school and high school. During his four years at high school, he also participated in Model UN and the Debate team. These involvements were the result of his great achievements in social studies courses, and his teachers encouraged him to get involved with these extracurricular activities.

Due to awards achieved in high school, he was granted a scholarship to attend New York University in New York City. Although his parents did not want him to leave their home, they eventually came to terms that this would be good for his future successes. Thus, he went to attend NYU for a Bachelors in Journalism with a minor in Politics. Thanks to amazing professors and establishing connections through networking events, the young man was able to maintain a number of internships---such as volunteering for the current Governor’s former campaign in the creative team for marketing. He later volunteered alongside CNN professionals, and he gained an internship experience with the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office as Press Office Intern. By the time he graduated from university, he’s already met a number of influential, powerful people of the big city.

Upon graduation, he was able to get a job at the Manhattan District Attorney Office as Press Officer due to his wonderful performance during his internship with the office. He held this position for two years before being promoted as Deputy Press Secretary for the office. However, in less than 2 years, he was able to maintain the Press Secretary position due to the former Press Secretary’s leave to another office. In another year, he was granted the position of Deputy Director of Communications for the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office. Subin held this position up until he was given the opportunity to work as the city’s District Attorney’s main Press Secretary.

During his years working for the city and learning about the mishaps behind the scenes, Subin has been able to learn a lot about the dirty truth. He is aware that some of the crimes dealt with in the office are a result to the existing gangs within the city. Although his DA remains slightly oblivious to the people surrounding them, Subin maintains awareness due to the connections he’s established during interviews as well as conferences. They threaten Subin to keep quiet. They ask Subin to twist the truth. He does what keeps him safe, but he holds the knowledge close to his heart. The quiet man knows a lot----perhaps more than what the gangs wish for him to know, and this can be dangerous. One never knows what he can do with all of this knowledge. He could expose them to the public whenever he dares to do so. If he really wanted to, of course.

But, for now, he keeps quiet. He does his job and remains cordial with those he establishes some sorts of connection with. If someone he cares about, though, ever gets hurt, he’s not sure what he’ll do. No one knows.

IV. WANTED CONNECTIONS

Any and all possible connections within the Government. I would love to further develop and establish connections within the affiliation in order to better understand Subin’s position in the government as well as with Law Enforcement, for he works within the District Attorney Office; therefore, he has connections with lawyers as well as officers. This can be good or bad, I am open to all possibilities.

For those in Media, Subin is responsible for addressing those in Media in order to report information given by the DA. Those in media could have interviewed Subin, have gone to a number of his press hearings, as well as questioned his intentions or morales within this position. Anyone who does not trust him is very much wanted. A person who trusts him a lot is also wanted.

To those in any gang, people who has paid him or threatened him to withhold information from the public is very much wanted. Give me some angst in regard to perhaps threatening his family. Perhaps people question how Subin can offerd such a luxurious home or car, and this could be due to payments accepted from those within these organizations. I am open to anything.

I am also interested in a secret relationship that should not be a relationship, however, the two continue to pursue one another in sexual and romantic rendezvous. Subin is not entirely the most relationship-orientated person, however, due to a lot of stress within his career, some fun would be favorable.

#pinned.#wb.intro

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cadence-talle · 4 years ago

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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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a-blue-secret · 4 years ago

Text

CHAPTER XIII

BACK TO MASTERLIST

Chapter XII | Chapter XIII | Chapter XIV

GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun

PAIRING: taegyu

WARNINGS: swearing

WORD COUNT: 4.8k+

AN: Beomgyu's been a bit ia these past few chapters, but here he is! Fun fact: all of his outfits mentioned are real! 1st one is from 191116, 2nd the iconic 200104, and 3rd from the unforgettable 190801 :)

SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for a year and a day, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?

"Ah finally, I'm free!" Beomgyu cried aloud, flinging his arms out wide. "I'm free!" He spun around, skipping down the lane happily.

Seojung and Jisung followed behind silently, watching as the King skipped through the grasses, long coat flapping behind him.

"Sir, we are here to see your house and nothing more."

Beomgyu waved a hand carelessly back at Jisung. "Yes yes, I know that. I only really want to see my house."

The two guards looked at each other. Beomgyu laughed delightedly, stopping to reach up and smell a branch of cherry blossoms. He rushed forward excitedly, and motioned towards the guards to hurry up.

"Come on! Around this corner we can see the back of my house!" He gave a small giggle and disappeared around the corner.

Seojung and Jisung couldn't help but smile at Beomgyu's antics, following him from behind.

Beomgyu had snuck out (well, not exactly snuck out– just left without telling anyone) of the palace to see his house that he'd left behind. Since the tension between the court and the citizens was still present, he and his guards had taken a carriage up to a certain point, and walked the rest of the way down an abandoned country lane. It was alright for Beomgyu, though: he liked the time outside surrounded by nature. Standing in the middle of a field, breathing in the fresh air (and maybe making a pensive wind swirl around him, coat whipping majestically – he can't help his flair for dramatic scenes, even if no one is around to witness them) was wonderful.

Beomgyu stood outside his front door, heels clicking together cheerfully. He flourished the house key he’d taken with him from his chambers back at the palace, and slotted it inside the keyhole. Pushing open the door, Beomgyu let out a sigh of happiness as he stepped into the familiar hallway.

“Long time no see, eh?” he smiled to himself, taking in the details.

The cottage had barely changed. Beomgyu rushed into the front room, and beamed as he took in the ivory curtains, round glasses resting on a side table next to a half-filled cup of tea, and the comfortable velvet armchair which was always stuffed with too many cushions. Peering into the dining room, he smiled as he saw a dinner mat was still set at the table, an empty glass by its side. The kitchen still had clean plates stacked up by the sink, waiting to be put away. He walked into the living room, running his fingers along the dusty bookshelves, packed with novels and biographies which he’d leafed through millions of times. He rubbed a hand over the worn leather of the sofa, rested his cheek on his softest cushion, breathed in the comforting scent of his humble cottage. He sat back into the sofa, smiling contentedly up at the plain white ceiling.

“This. I’ve missed this.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Beomgyu hummed as he put the plates back into the cupboard. He’d just finished dusting the cottage from top to bottom, and had just tidied away the teacup and plates. Walking back to the living room, he scanned all the titles on his bookshelf absentmindedly.

“Ooh-” he gently dislodged a book, looking at the title. Beomgyu chuckled to himself. “Looks like I stole this from the palace. This is one of the books that the scholars use to teach us about clans.” He opened the book and began flipping through the pages. “Oh wait- it looks like there are pages missing?”

Beomgyu ran his fingers along the jagged edges between two pages, which indicated that some had been torn out. “That wasn’t me… I wonder who took them out.” He shrugged, putting the book back. “Oh well. It’s no big deal.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Inside his room, Beomgyu was going through his wardrobe.

“Oh, Choi Beomgyu, what were you thinking?” Beomgyu tutted, staring at one of his old suits. It was a beige blazer with pale blue accents, paired with a pale blue button-down and a navy and brown tie. He twisted his lips disapprovingly. “I suppose it doesn’t look too bad, but the colours just don’t go together! Bleh. I’d never wear something like this now.” He put down the offending suit, tucking it far away into the corner of his wardrobe.

“Oh, I remember wearing this,” Beomgyu smiled as he pulled out another outfit. This one was a pure white button-down with white pants and a silky cloak-like overcoat. The cloak came up to his hip and had white fur trim along the hood and top half. It even had a diamond clasp. “Wait, do I still have the wand to go with this?” He set down the clothes, and rummaged around his drawers, before pulling out a silver stick. “Aha! I do!” He laughed, setting down the ‘wand’ beside the outfit. “Wow, I didn’t even know I kept the outfit from that Christmas party. I might take it with me to the palace: it’s nice.”

Beomgyu came out of his room and yelled down the stairs. “Seojung, Jisung! I’m gonna leave some clothes by this door! Come back here some other time with the carriage and bring them to the palace, okay?” Then he retreated into his room to look through more of his clothes.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

“Wow, this is nice.” Carefully, Beomgyu extracted the delicate piece of clothing from its protective cloth, staring at it. It was a black button-up, stitched with white and silver stars. It still had its cufflinks in as well: five-pointed diamante stars. The design was simple. When Beomgyu twisted the shirt, the silver stitching caught the light, making it sparkle. “When did I wear this?” The faint smile on the corner of his lips died as he remembered. “Oh. Jieon’s… Jieon’s funeral.” He carefully put the button-up back into its protective cloth, putting it back in his wardrobe.

Suddenly, he didn’t feel too into looking through his closet anymore. Beomgyu put back all the suits he’d taken out and opened the door again.

“Let’s go back.”

As he was stepping outside, Beomgyu noticed that the ground was rather damp. He looked back at the guards. “Did it rain?”

Both of them nodded silently. Beomgyu groaned.

“Oh no, this means we can’t go back down the way we came! The mud will ruin my shoes!” Beomgyu sighed. “Come on, we’ll have to go through the town way.”

“I- sir, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Beomgyu pursed his lips stubbornly. “I am not getting these shoes dirty.”

The two guards shared a glance.

“Very well,” Jisung said. “But it’ll be more difficult to get to the carriage.”

Beomgyu pfft-ed, waving a hand. “It can’t be that difficult. The carriage is in a place that’s easy to get to. We’ll be fine. Now, come on!”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

He wandered out into a more bustling street. As he was constantly pushed aside by hassled citizens, Beomgyu reflected that maybe walking was a bad idea. At least no one was really paying attention to him…

He was just wondering how far he had left to go to get to the carriage, when he realised that his guards had disappeared. He spun round, searching for Seojung and the other guy. Nowhere to be found. Frowning, he stood up on tiptoe, straining to look for any sight of them. He was all alone. In a strange street.

It was then that a chill crept over him. It was inexplainable: it was so terrifying and yet compelling at the same time. The feeling kept building up, causing him to feel colder, and colder, and he started to shake. Suddenly, a finger tapped his shoulder. Beomgyu spun around, panicked, and almost ran into a noble who stood right behind him. Looking up from the blue satin coat in front of him, Beomgyu relaxed. It was a noble he recognised- Lord Soobin.

Soobin widened his brown eyes and bowed. "Lord Beom- Your Greatness! What are you doing around here?"

"Oh, uh… just wanted to see how my citizens are doing!" he said brightly. "In a bit of an incognito, get-into-the-scene kind of way."

"Ah, I see," Soobin said, nodding. He watched as Beomgyu glanced around a few times, picking up on how distracted the royal was. "Um… don’t take this the wrong way, but… would you happen to be lost?"

Beomgyu chuckled awkwardly. "I think I may be," he said. "I seem to have lost my guards." He looked around again. "Yep. Definitely lost them."

"Well, it is not right for a monarch to be left undefended," Soobin said. "Would it suit you to perhaps take refuge in my home? I can send word to the palace that you are there, and then you can wait in my home until more guards arrive to take you back to court."

"Oh, if that's alright with you?" Beomgyu asked. "I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Oh, it's no intrusion if the King himself were to enter my humble abode," Soobin laughed. "My carriage is just a few streets away. Would you care to come?" Beomgyu scanned the streets again, in case his guards miraculously appeared.

"I gladly accept your offer," Beomgyu said, when it was clear that Seojung and Jisung were not there.

"Right this way, Your Greatness."

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Once the carriage pulled up into the gravel drive of Soobin's estate, the coachman opened the door for them before hurrying up to the front door to inform the butler to let Soobin in.

When the butler let them inside, Beomgyu whistled.

"'Humble abode'? Soobin, this is an extravagant abode. My, some of these decorations rival that of those in the palace."

Soobin chuckled. "Many thanks, Your Greatness. I have always had a taste for grandeur."

Beomgyu eyed the ceiling, which had elegant swirls engraved into its stone. He caught sight of the golden chandelier, which also had intricate designs along it's candelabras. "Evidently," he murmured. "How do you… how…"

"How can I afford this?" Soobin supplied. He carried on talking as they followed a footman into one of the tea rooms. "My family has a great inheritance. Also, I make money by creating flowers. If you look out of that window, you can see one of my greenhouses out in the garden."

Beomgyu leaned over, staring at the glass building. "Wow," he said. "I suppose one-of-a-kind flowers fetch a high price?"

"Indeed they do," Soobin said. "Tea or coffee?"

"Oh, I'm fine, thank you," Beomgyu said, waving away the attendant. He stared out of the window silently as Soobin calmly sipped his cup of tea. Soobin’s home was so pristine and perfect. It was like it was carved out of pure white marble, painted with the most lustrous gold, decorated with only the finest and most intricate hand. It was almost as if Soobin was the King with the lavish palace, and Beomgyu was the humble noble that had been invited for tea. Beomgyu couldn’t help but marvel at how wondrous it all was.

“Ah, yes,” Soobin said, setting down his cup. He beckoned over one of the footmen who stood outside the door to the room. “Send word to the palace that King Beomgyu is currently safe within my estate. Tell them to bring guards to Lord Soobin’s manor to come find the King.” The footman nodded, before scurrying off. The two of them sat in silence. Beomgyu glanced at the lord. He knew Soobin well enough; the two of them had been acquaintances when Beomgyu was still in court. Beomgyu, because of his faintly royal status, had been a higher noble than practically everyone else, so he’d talked to all of the lords before. Lord Soobin was a rank below him, so they had been reasonably amiable associates. However, he didn’t know the elder well enough to know which clan he came from, or even what his surname was.

“So…” Beomgyu tried, in an attempt to break the silence. “Um… How does it feel having such a young King as your monarch?”

Soobin looked at him. “Hm… well, at first it was a little odd. Everyone found it a little odd. We were expecting one of the Kangs to take the throne, after all, and yet it turned out to be a whole new clan. But if you think about it, had everything gone as the late King Seohu had planned, we would have had an eight year old on the throne.” Soobin leaned back, chuckling. “Now that would be even more odd than having a King who is a mere year younger than me.”

Beomgyu cracked a small grin. “I suppose it would be.” He frowned a little, thinking about the day. Remembering the sense of betrayal and anger he’d felt towards Taehyun. He remembered how his fury seemed to crackle within him. He also remembered the pure fear in Taehyun’s eyes when he growled at him after the Crown Handing. He deserved it, Beomgyu thought fiercely. He deserved all those harsh words, after everything he’s put me through.

Soobin suddenly laid his hand on top of Beomgyu’s where it rested on the table. He seemed to have mistook Beomgyu’s silence as being a troubled one. “It’s okay,” he said. “There is no need to worry. It’s why you made Kang Taehyun your vizier, isn’t it? His knowledge is incredible. He will help you navigate through your reign in the steadiest, smoothest way possible.”

“Thank you,” Beomgyu said, smiling weakly.

“Ah!” Soobin pushed a delicate ceramic plate of cakes towards Beomgyu. “Would you care to try some? They are infused with the essence of my very own flowers.”

Beomgyu looked at the small golden sponges. Each of them had gentle, purple-blue bruises of what must have been the flower essence. He was just about to reply when the footman knocked on the doorframe.

“Sir,” the man panted, bowing at Soobin and then Beomgyu. “The– the guards are here to take the King back to the palace.”

“Thank you,” Soobin said. “Well! It was nice finally talking to you again, Beomgyu. Ah, I mean Your Greatness. Gosh, it seems like only yesterday you were simply Lord Beomgyu. Oh, would you care to take the cakes back to the palace to try? It seems a shame to let them go to waste.”

Beomgyu felt there was no other answer he could give. “Of course, Lord Soobin. If you wouldn’t mind packaging them so they are fit for travel?”

A servant immediately stepped forward, taking the plate and putting it within a small basket, before bowing low and handing it to Beomgyu. He took it, and turned to Soobin.

“Well, I suppose I will be going then,” he said. “It was nice conversing with you, Lord Soobin. Thank you for briefly accommodating me as well.”

Soobin inclined his head. “It was my pleasure.”

Beomgyu stepped out of Soobin’s estate, walking up to a glowering Chan.

“Oh, so you’re coming to collect me?” Beomgyu asked curiously. “Where are Seojung and Jisung?”

Chan still continued to glare at Beomgyu.

“What?” he said. He spread his arms wide and gave a spin, showing his unharmed self from all angles. “Look, I’m not hurt. Nothing happened to me.”

Chan eyed him suspiciously. “Last time you said that, you’d managed to stab yourself in the finger,” he said. “Remember?”

Beomgyu sighed. “Are you really going to bring that up every day for the rest of my life? I told you, the knife fell. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Sure it wasn’t. And I am going to mention it every day, because this happened literally two days after you made me your personal guard.”

“I made you my personal guard because you were the only one out of all of them who I knew, and Taehyun made me choose someone. Also because you were like the most skilled out of all of them. But anyway, I promise that nothing went bad. I’m not injured. I didn’t accidentally fall on my own sword, and Soobin didn’t forcefeed me any poison. Seriously, this trip went fine.”

“If you say so, sire.”

“Yes, I do say so. Come on, let’s go back. Did you bring a carriage with you?”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

“Sir Taehyun, one of King Beomgyu’s guards are here to see you.”

Taehyun opened his door. “Oh Jisung. What’s Beomgyu done now?”

“Disappeared,” Jisung managed to force out, out of breath. “He- King Beomgyu- disappeared- there one minute- gone the next- we looked but- the King- gone-”

“Woah, catch your breath first,” Taehyun interrupted. “I can’t understand anything you’re saying.”

“King Beomgyu vanished. He- he wanted to see his old cottage,” Jisung panted. “When we were coming back, it had been raining and he didn’t want his shoes to get dirty by going on the obscure, mud path we’d taken, so we went through the town. And he- he disappeared. Uh, Sir Taehyun-?”

Taehyun’s eyes had grown wide in alarm and he’d stood up, running out of his room. Jisung hurried to catch up with him.

“Keep talking!” Taehyun called back to the guard. “How did he go missing?”

“I- I don’t know! It was a busy crowd, but the King- he’s taller than average so we could still see him. But su- suddenly he wasn’t there. In the literal blink of an eye, he’d dis- disappeared. It didn’t make sense!”

Taehyun let out a frustrated cry. “That stupid Beomgyu! Why would he go out?”

“Sir- Sir Taehyun? Where are you going?”

“My horse!” Taehyun yelled over his shoulder to Jisung. “I need to go find him!”

“Sir!” A messenger almost ran into Taehyun.

“Not now!” Taehyun brushed past the messenger. “I’m busy!”

The messenger stared helplessly as Taehyun ran past him. Then, he saw Jisung approach and turned to the guard. “Sir! I am a messenger from Lord Soobin’s estate! His Highness, King Beomgyu, is safe within Lord Soobin’s home. He requests someone to be sent to come escort the King back to the palace.”

Jisung widened his eyes and thanked the messenger, before renewing his chase after the vizier.

“Sir Taehyun!” he cried.

“What is it? Jisung I told you, I’m busy!”

“Beomgyu’s safe! He’s in Lord Soobin’s estate!”

“What?” Taehyun yelled. He’d turned the corner and almost tripped over his own feet in his haste. “What did you say?”

“Lord Soobin! Beomgyu’s with him!”

In his frazzled, panicked state, it took a while for Taehyun to register the guard’s words, but once he did, he visibly calmed. “Lord Soobin? He should be safe.” Almost instantly, his face darkened again. “Why the fuck he thought it’d be a good idea to step foot outside the palace, I have no idea…” He looked back at Jisung, who was still running up to Taehyun. He clicked his fingers at the guard. “Fetch Chan! Tell him to go to Lord Soobin’s estate to pick up King Beomgyu!”

Seamlessly, Jisung spun around on one foot and began sprinting back the way he’d come, going to inform Beomgyu’s other personal guard.

Taehyun watched Jisung retreat, and began storming to the front gates. Beomgyu had a lot to answer for.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

As the carriage drew up to the palace gates, Beomgyu’s stomach dropped. Shit. Taehyun was standing on the steps, arms crossed.

Beomgyu opened the door and stepped out onto the pebbled driveway, walking up to the vizier. Taehyun glowered at him.

“Just what,” he said, “just what do you think you were doing?”

Beomgyu sighed. For some reason he felt inexplicably weary. “Look, it’s not my fault I lost them okay? They should have protected me better.”

Taehyun’s fingernails dug into his arm. “How can you lose two guards? Just how? How is that even possible? They’re trained to be able to follow you no matter what. How can you lose them?”

“I don’t know, okay?” Beomgyu said, annoyed. Suddenly, all the tension dropped from his face and he rubbed his forehead with his hand. “Fine. I’m sorry. I should have been more responsible. But can we just… can we not do this? I don’t have the strength to.”

Indeed, now that Taehyun looked closer, Beomgyu didn’t look too great. It was practically the first time he’d seen Beomgyu in three weeks, and the King certainly did look rather tired and wan. And so, Taehyun relented. “Alright. But there’s something we need to talk about. Come on.”

Beomgyu gestured weakly. “Can I at least wash first?”

Taehyun looked at him. “Go on. I’ll be in the Meeting Hall.”

While the vizier strode away, back ramrod straight, Beomgyu slumped up the steps to the palace. Visiting his cottage had taken an emotional toll on him, a toll which was even more tiring than a physical one. Still, he dragged himself through the palace, wanting to get that meeting with Taehyun over and done with so he could go to sleep.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Beomgyu sat himself down in the chair at the head of the table. Taehyun was already seated in the chair to the left of the head, arms crossed.

“So what do you want?” Beomgyu asked.

“Glad to see you’ve finally come out of hibernation,” Taehyun remarked. “I feared that I wouldn’t remember what you looked like.”

Beomgyu snorted sarcastically. “Sure you did.”

“Why did you go out anyway? You know the people are mad about the thing that you caused. Just why would you do that? It’s dangerous, it’s unsafe, if someone saw you and recognised you then–”

“I was homesick, okay?” Beomgyu interrupted. “I was homesick. This palace…” he gestured around at all the marble and gold. “This isn’t my home. It’s my accommodation. It’s the place I sleep and eat and live in, but it’s just not my home. It’s too large and cold and filled with judgy people. And I missed it. My cottage. My true home. My small cottage at the edge of the town, decorated with flowers and away from any accusing eyes. The little house I bought with my own money which I purposefully picked because it was far away from this hellhole. I wanted to get away from here, regardless of the dangers. I needed to get away from here.”

Taehyun frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. Here, you are well-fed and well-dressed and have all sorts of luxuries. Why would you want to go back to a run-down cottage far away from people?”

Beomgyu chuckled, looking down. “Right. You’ve lived here your whole life. You wouldn’t understand.” He looked up at Taehyun. “Just because I am fed and dressed and can sleep here doesn’t make it my home. I don’t fit in within the cold, marble structures of the court. It’s why I left.”

“I still don’t get it, but it doesn’t matter.” Taehyun crossed his arms. “Would you care to explain why you’ve been avoiding all of your duties for the past three- no, three and a half weeks?”

Beomgyu rubbed his forehead tiredly. “I didn’t want to do them. That’s it. That’s the only reason. The Lords had pissed me off, and the amount of things that needed to be taken care of…” His voice trailed off. “I just couldn't do it.”

That made Taehyun flare up. Beomgyu had only been thinking about himself! “Well what about me, hm? While you neglected your duties, who do you think had to step in and take on the tasks themselves? Who do you think had to go through all the things that you couldn’t be bothered to do, in addition to his own duties he needed to complete?”

Beomgyu’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, I– I completely forgot. Taehyun, oh god, I’m so sorry. I forgot that you’d have to do that for me. Wow, I… that was so selfish of me. I’m sorry.”

“You should be. Do you know how stressful it was to manage the court while you disappeared into your chambers? Do you know how hard it was to fend off any suspicious Lords, who were curious about where you’d gone?”

Beomgyu put his head facedown on the table. “Please, stop making me feel so guilty. I’m sorry, okay? I completely forgot.” He lifted his head to the side a little and spotted a basket sitting atop the wooden table. It was the basket filled with the cakes he'd gotten from Soobin. He must have unconsciously carried it with him into the Meeting Hall. Beomgyu lifted his hand and pushed the basket towards Taehyun. “Here,” he said. “My apology.” Taehyun looked at it suspiciously. “They’re just cakes,” Beomgyu sighed, sitting up. “I wouldn’t poison you.”

Taehyun reached forward to take the basket, lifting up the cloth. He pulled out the plate on which two, small cake slices still sat. Bringing the plate close to his face, Taehyun eyed the cakes.

They were of a cuboid-ish shape, and were a healthy yellow. The softness of the sponge’s colour contrasted with the purplish, bluish, bruise-like patterns embedded into the cake. He smelt the cake, still a little wary, but was pleasantly surprised to find they smelt like normal cakes. Beomgyu smiled bemusedly at the vizier’s antics. Taehyun looked at the cakes one last time. Then he shrugged. Eh, whatever. He popped a whole cake slice into his mouth.

Beomgyu had propped his chin up on his hand. “Nice?”

Taehyun nodded grudgingly, already lifting up the second cake. “Yeah. It’s nice.”

“Good to hear. Is… is it a good enough apology for you?”

Taehyun looked up, cheeks full of cake, and nodded.

“That’s good. No matter what you think, I don’t actually want to be hated by you, you know.”

Taehyun nodded absent-mindedly, chewing on the third slice of cake. Beomgyu smiled, endeared, as he noticed some crumbs on the corner of Taehyun’s mouth. He leaned forward and gently rubbed them away.

And just like that, something in the atmosphere shifted. Taehyun stared at him, eyes wide. He was suddenly hyper aware of Beomgyu’s gentle touch, the way his fingers grazed his cheek, and the way he was looking at him.

“You had a little something on your cheek,” Beomgyu said quietly. His eyes were suddenly incredibly soft, and he stared at Taehyun with such an indecipherable gaze. Taehyun’s ears grew uncomfortably warm and he moved away, out of reach of Beomgyu’s hands. Beomgyu quickly snapped back into his normal state, snatching his hand away. He coughed, sitting back in his seat.

Taehyun touched the corners of his mouth, now more than a little self-conscious. He didn’t know why his ears were suddenly burning up from that simple touch. He glanced at Beomgyu, and found he was staring at his own hand with a dazed look, as if he wasn’t sure about what he’d just done. But then, he coughed again, shifting in his seat. Taehyun quickly looked away. The silence dragged on between them for some time longer, before Taehyun finally spoke.

“Anyway, so are you going to come back?”

“Hm?”

“Are you coming back to court?” Taehyun said. “You know, coming back into your role as King.”

“Oh…” Beomgyu sighed. “I probably have to.”

“Good. There are some things which I need to talk to you about.”

“Can we talk about them some other time?” Beomgyu asked.

“What? No. I need to tell you as soon as possible.”

“Come on, can’t it wait?”

Taehyun frowned, and Beomgyu quickly carried on speaking before he could interrupt. “Please. I haven’t recovered from the revel. I know, I know. It's practically been a month now. I know. Call me weak, call me pathetic. But… being told I’m not good enough, and that I’m a fraud, it just…” Beomgyu clutched his hands to his chest. “That really hurt. It really, really hurt.”

He brought his hands into his lap, looking down at his clenched fists. “Also, I just came back from a really emotional experience. I saw my old house again, I went outside again. Lots of memories came flooding back to me, and I need time to process. Also, I almost became lost. That in itself is a traumatic experience.”

Beomgyu sighed, playing with his fingers.. “Going back, seeing my house… I was reminded of the times I was really happy, the times when I could be free, and be myself, within my small cottage. I was content.But I also remembered the underlying sadness which haunted everything I did– the fact that I’d had to leave you. It broke my heart, did you know that? Because you and I... we were so close, and even if we'd parted on bad terms, it still hurt me to leave you. It was like I was leaving a part of myself, and even if sadness wasn't the predominant emotion, it was still there. But then, I was also reminded of the fact that you didn’t object to me leaving, and even accepted it. In those few hours I was at my cottage today, I went through about hundred and one emotions during that short time. Happiness, sadness, anger, confusion, shock… Please understand, I am not mentally prepared to have any sort of political talk right now.”

Throughout that whole time, Taehyun didn’t say a word once. Beomgyu, confused by the vizier’s silence, looked up, and all the colour drained out of his face. “Oh my god, Taehyun!”

#court of lies #taegyu #txt taegyu #txt beomgyu #beomgyu #txt taehyun #taehyun #txt #txt fluff #txt angst #txt fanfic #txt imagine #txt imagines #tomorrow x together #tomorrow by together

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caitybug · 5 years ago

Note

hi i have more hope this isnt annoying/// prompt! baz is the librarian for the local library n simon is the kid who always returns his books late

Definitely NOT annoying!! Thank you so much :D.

I’ll put it under the keep reading :).

(Also if anyone else wants to send a prompt... like go for it. I won’t complain. The more ridiculous the better tbh.)

(Also Meri I hope you were looking for a response that is 1500 words bc that’s what you’re getting kthnx.)

(Might fuck around later and post it to ao3 idk.)

It’s only a summer job, but it’s a job that frustrates the hell out of me at times.

Especially people who cannot follow simple instructions. Return books to the drop off box, don’t shout, don’t run, and please do not participate in sexual activities in between the rows of books.

I say the last one because I just walked into two teenagers groping each other in between the reference and biography shelves.

Choose a better section at LEAST.

If I ever did I’d probably do it behind the romance section. It’s fitting for the mood, at the very back section, and no cameras can see you there.

Not that I’ve thought about it.

I’m checking out a little kid and his mother when I see the worst person to ever walk into the library.

(The worst is probably dramatic. There is a guy who tries to bring in a water bottle that smells of whiskey and a bag of chips that gets crumbs all over the computer. But at least that guy leaves me alone... Simon Snow, however, can’t leave me be.)

Simon Snow can’t seem to pay his library fines. He turns in every book late. It’s ridiculous. There are certain rules in this world, and this can’t be that hard of one. He could just renew the book online even to buy himself some time.

But he never does.

He sneakily tries to drop his books off without me knowing, but he can’t ever get anything past me.

“Snow,” I say, handing the woman her receipt and walking towards him.

He freezes and looks up, face scrunched in embarrassment.

“Do you have money to pay your fines? I can only assume you’re turning these in late too,” I gesture to the books.

“Uh, well,” he stammers. Snow always stammers.

I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow, waiting for a proper answer.

He starts digging in his pockets, pulling out a nickel, penny, a Dr. Pepper bottle cap, and some lint.

I grab the change and frown at the bottle cap.

“Why do you have-”

“There’s a code,” he shrugs, “I was hoping to win a prize.”

Of course, he would do something like that.

“Please bring money next time you come in,” I say, moving to go check out another customer.

He nods and walks out, leaving the Dr. Pepper bottle cap behind.

I grab it and stash it in my pocket.

After I check out the customer I decide to grab the books Snow was returning. What could he possibly be reading that takes him so long?

He has three books this time:

1. Fun Home

2. Heartstopper vol. 1

3. Bloom

I frown.

They’re all graphic novels, so what is taking him so long?

Then I blush, realizing another trend they all have in common.

I shake my head and check his books back in.

I also erase his fines.

______

The next time Snow comes in it’s to check out some books.

I can’t help but think of the books he turned in last time. I was also nosey and investigated the other books he had checked out the past couple of months.

They’re all gay.

Is Simon Snow gay?

“Snow,” I say as he approaches. He has one book, the next volume of Heartstopper. “Do you have your money for your fines?”

He doesn’t have fines anymore, I erased them, but I can’t let him know that.

“Uh,” he responds.

He’s not good at using his words, but somehow watching him fluster about is incredibly adorable.

Snow turns out his pockets and has a crumpled receipt, a french fry, and the cap to a pen.

I shake my head, God this boy is an idiot.

“Snow I’m going to have to stop letting you check out books if you can’t pay off your fines.”

It’s an empty threat. His balance is zero.

He nods, however, and grabs his books and puts the receipt where I highlighted the due date into his pocket.

When he goes to leave, I remember something.

“Wait, you left something last time you were here,” I open my drawer and pull out the Dr. Pepper cap. “Good luck winning, but I am sure you won’t.”

He smiles and grabs it.

“Thanks, Baz.”

I smile back. I didn’t know he knew my name.

_______

The next time I see him I’m shelving books.

I don’t typically do this part of the job, but the page is out sick and we had a huge pile.

I also didn’t want to deal with all of the kids here for the magician.

It’s in the LGBT section where I find him, staring at the books.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you so intensely in thought before,” I say.

Why am I such a jerk?

“Oh, uh, hey Baz.” He says.

He looks like he is blushing.

“Do you need help, Snow?”

He shakes his head and looks up at the top shelf. I look up, following his eye line, and see the third volume of heartstopper.

I step closer and reach up to grab it.

I can’t help but smirk when I hand it to him.

I’m at least three inches taller than him. Good to know.

“Thanks,” he mutters, before turning to leave.

Stop him, my brain says.

My body, however, doesn’t move.

______

The fourth time he comes into the library he is with a girl with brown frizzy hair and dimples on the back of her knees. She’s dragging him through the reference section, piling books into his arms.

It’s quite funny. I can see the whole scene perfectly from the front desk.

They sit at a table and Snow and I make eye contact. He smiles, and I immediately look down.

It’s like looking into the sun when he smiles, blinding and overwhelming. Doctors should put a warning on him.

Don’t look directly at him, it’ll damage your eyes and you’ll be seeing stars for an hour.

We don’t talk, but we keep catching each other’s eyes. My face feels too warm and soft.

I check his library account, and his book is already two days late.

Rolling my eyes, I renew the book and erase the fines.

If my boss found out about this I’d be murdered.

______

The next time I see him is at the back of the library, he is wandering around and I’m putting back books. A book club of middle-aged women came in, and with them, a stack of raunchy romance novels.

“Oh, hey Baz,” Simon says, smiling up at me.

I swear my breath hitches.

“Snow,” I reply, reaching up to put a book on the top shelf.

It doesn’t go there, but I need him to know I can reach that high. Higher than he can.

I’ll fix it when he leaves.

“So, uh, I won that Dr. Pepper prize.”

I look over and raise an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

“I got some money and thought I could pay my fines,” he continues.

I freeze. He doesn’t have any fines.

“Well, Snow, you could go to the front desk and pay those off,” I say, grabbing another book and putting it on the top shelf.

Why am I putting all of these up so high? They don’t belong here.

“I did, actually,” he continues. I cringe. Fuck. “But they said I didn’t have any.”

“Well, they must have looked at the wrong spot because I can assure you there are fines.” There aren’t.

He steps closer to me, I drop my arm. He smells like popcorn and Old Spice.

Why does it smell good?

“Baz, did you forgive my fines?” He asks.

I scoff.

“Snow, why would I-”

“I think you did. The lady at the front, the one with the grey streak in her hair, said it looked like I had made payments these past few weeks.” I cringe, Fiona is going to kill me. “So, my only question is, why?”

I stare at him, not knowing how to respond. ‘Because I like you, Snow. I like the way your golden girls always look a mess. I like the stupid hoodie with a hole in the sleeve looks on you. You are covered in moles and I want to kiss every one of them.

I look at his lips, the thing I want to kiss the most.

“I don’t know what you’re-”

“Baz,” he steps closer. “If I’m off base here feel free to tell me, but I-” he gulps, taking a moment. “I would like to take you out. Consider it repayment.” The way he smiles makes my heart skip.

I nod, not trusting my voice to respond.

And then, fuck, he leans up and puts a hand on my neck, lips almost touching mine.

“Wait,” I manage to stay, pushing him back. His face drops, but I grab his hand and pull him around the corner.

The romance section, corner of the library, where there are no security cameras. If I’m ever going to kiss someone in the library, it’ll be here.

I push him against the stack and kiss him.

And, god, is it good.

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asfaltics · 3 years ago

Text

and yet we went on reading

Flim, sb. Obs. Sc[otch]. A whim; an illusion. 1 in the manufactory of these flimsy things 2 had hung a basket of fodder underneath for these flimsy things 3 Poor indeed are their prospects of continued protection, if they rest upon these flimsy things alone. 4 will you never learn to choose good, useful, lasting articles, instead of these flimsy things that do good to no one, and that a breath 5 took hold of these flimsy things, Oh! 6 the discomfort, the positive misery of these flimsy things 7 wretchedly printed on bad paper, with few or no literary expenses, these flimsy things drag on 8 “These flimsy things don’t last long, they soon break,” said he. “Of course they do!” declared Madame Guibal, with an air of indifference. “I’m tired of having mine mended.” 9 In all her looks the words we see, These flimsy things are not for me And I with them do not agree. 10 of these flimsy things 11 the ice floes ran in under and cut out these flimsy things. 12 about 12 inch in being evident that these flimsy things are depth, which projects over the top of the difficult 13 He knew “Well, it’s a good deal warmer than when to leave a man unhindered and to these flimsy things” he said, lifting the 14 attempt to hit some of these flimsy things, you will put your screwdriver through them. 15 You undertake to fix some of these flimsy things and you put a screw driver into them and they go to pieces. 16 You undertake to fix some of these flimsy things and you put a it in the same condition although I know 17 Lucy gave her skirts a toss “I am getting tired of these flimsy things, and am trying to wear them out” 18 “I must get some more,” he said, “stronger than these flimsy things.” 19 First of all, I know now what it means to travel “light.” These flimsy things 20 These letters, these unintelligible flowers, these bits of lace and of paper, what are they? Around these flimsy things what is there left ? And yet we went on reading. But something strange is growing gradually greater... 21 “Why, if I put these flimsy things on now they’d be in holes before I ...” Thorough Young Lady enters. Thorough Young Lady — “Good morning... I’d like a dozen” 22 They had seen it as a whim, Agnes knew; a flimsy, floating thing which scientists might examine under a microscope. But if that were what it was she was full of them. 23

sources (all but the last pre-1923)

1 Joseph Wright (1855-1930), The English dialect dictionary (London, 1898) vol. 2 : 405 2 OCR cross-column misread (on forged bank notes, and banks), at The Black Dwarf (“A London weekly publication, edited, printed, and published by T.J. Wooler”; January 13, 1819) : columns 21-22 “The Black Dwarf (1817–1824) was a satirical radical journal... published by Thomas Jonathan Wooler, starting in January 1817 as an eight-page newspaper, then later becoming a 32-page pamphlet. It was priced at 4d a week until the Six Acts brought in by the Government in 1819 to suppress radical unrest forced a price increase to 6d. In 1819 it was selling in issues of roughly 12,000 to working people such as James Wilson at a time when the reputable upper-middle class journal Blackwood’s Magazine sold in issues of roughly 4,000 copies.” wikipedia on Thomas Jonathan Wooler (1786-1853), also see wikipedia 3 OCR cross-column misread, at “Mrs. Perewinkle’s Visit to Boston,” by “Muhitable Holyoke,” in Frank Leslie’s New Family Magazine 3:2 (August 1858) : 161-167 (162) 4 ex The Chronicle (“An insurance journal”) 10:18 (October 31, 1872) : 274 on the mismanagement of The Globe Mutual Life Insurance Company under Frederick A. Freeman, its president, and/or other members of the Freeman family (including Pliny Freeman). 5 ex Out of the world, by M. Healy vol. 2 (of 3; London, 1875) : 27 asides — this would be Mary Healy Bigot (1843-1936), daughter of the painter George P. A Healy (1813-94 *) A brief entry on Mary Healy is found at A Database of Victorian Fiction, 1837-1901; rather more, including an extensive list of her publications (journalism, fiction, translations, &c.) is found at her French wikipedia page — “Mary Healy utilisa le pseudonyme de Jeanne Mairet, mais aussi celui de « Madame Charles Bigot » et de « Mary Healy-Bigot ». On trouve des écrits non seulement publiés en français (souvent par Paul Ollendorff), mais aussi en anglais et en allemand. Elle produisit aussi de nombreuses traductions avec parfois l'aide de sa soeur Edith Healy.” in his autobiography is to be found the reason he (and later his daughter after the death of her husband Charles Bigot (1840-93 *)) would move to Chicago — George P. A. Healy, his Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter (Chicago, 1894) : 57 6 ex Alex(ander). Mackenzie, The Life and Speeches of Hon. George Brown (Toronto, 1882), in Chapter 19, The reform convention of 1867. Resolution of thanks to Mr. Brown. Mr. Brown’s reply : 113 7 ex correspondence to the editor (on the subject of “new restrictions in dress”), by “Freedom,” in The Meteor (“Ed. by members of Rugby School”) 175 (May 18, 1882) : 60 8 ex John Bull’s Neighbor in Her True Light : Being an Answer to some recent French criticisms. By a “Brutal Saxon.” Veluti in Speculum. (Third edition. London, 1884), in Chapter 11, The French Press: its Vanity—Le Temps and London Telegraph contrasted—Des Debats—Le Figaro—Le Clairon—Press Laws—Fear of Actions for Libel—Want of Freedom : 87 9 ex conversation about a fan, in Émile Zola (1840-1902 *), The Ladies’ Paradise : A Realistic Novel (London, 1886) : 74 aside — The novel is set in the world of the department store... (wikipedia) 10 “The Village Wedding,” in Poems by Chas. F(rederick). Forshaw, LL.D. (Bradford, 1889) : 28-33 (30) 11 from Act 2, Scene 4 of John Lesslie Hall (1856-1928) his Judas : A Drama in Five Acts (Williamsburg, Virginia; 1894) : 73 aside — “also known as J. Lesslie Hall, was an American literary scholar and poet known for his translation of Beowulf” (wikipedia); (some) papers at the College of William and Mary 12 ex “He saved others” (from Brotherhood Star), at Herald and Presbyter (“A Presbyterian family paper”) 68:46 (Cincinnati and St. Louis, November 17, 1897) : 15 in full — “When ice was running in the North River at New York, a ferryboat was crushed in, under the water line. An employe was sent down to stop the leak, or hold it until the boat could be run into the slip. Bedding, clothing and anything available were passed to him, but the ice floes ran in under and cut out these flimsy things. The boat reached the dock. Passengers were all hastened ashore. The boat was raised up by chains, so that the break was above the water, but the man did not come up on deck. They hastened below and found a bruised body of an unconscious man, pressed close against the opening. Careful nursing brought back life, but broken health and a disfigured body were his. ‘Even Christ pleased not himself.’” 13 OCR cross-column misread at J. B. Fulton, “Faulty Concrete Construction,” in Fireproof 3:6 (December 1903) : 31-33 (32) 14 ex OCR cross-column misread, at Francis Prevost (H. F. P. Battersby, 1862-1949 *), “The Siege of Sar,” in Ainslee’s (“A magazine of clever fiction”) vol. 12 (January 1904) : 1-44 (22) 15 ex Arthur H. Elliott, “The Gas Range in the Kitchen” In Light, Heat and Power 5:12 (February 1906) : 942-946 (944) self-described as “A monthly magazine devoted to the fields of illumination, and also combustion for producing heat and power, wherein the elements employed are natural, artificial, acetylene, gasolene, or petroleum gases.” 16 ex “The Gas Range in the Kitchen," in report of Elliott paper, in The Metal Worker, Plumber and Steam Fitter (March 3, 1906) : 52 17 same as no.s 14 and 15 above, but OCR cross-column misread, at Arthur H. Elliott, “The Gas Range in the Kitchen,” Progressive Age (Gas-Electricity-Water), 24:4 (February 15, 1906) : 96-99 (97) 97 Paper delivered at the First Annual Convention of the National Commercial Gas Association, held at the Cadillac Hotel, New York City, January 24th and 25th, 1906. 18 ex Mrs. Mary Dudeney. All Times Pass Over (London, 1909) : 75 (snippet view only, but entire at hathitrust) aside — little is found, biographically; author of poems, stories, even songs as Mary Du Deney (BL catalogue); are these of the same Mary? — “A novelty appeared in Judge Allen’s court in the shape of a woman, Mrs. Mary du Deney, who sought solace and mental refreshment in a book while her fate was being decided in a divorce proceeding. After reciting the grounds upon which she sought the divorce, the lady was lost to the world until the Judge cut the knot and she again felt the thrill of single blessedness.” (Los Angeles Herald (23 December 1900) : here); and ◾ “...Old Lady Was Swaying, Fatal Collision with Cyclist At Bridgwater. Returning a verdict of Accidental Death at the inquest on Thursday on Mrg. Mary Du Deney. aged 85, of 2. Holmes Buildings. St. Mary-street, Bridgwater, who died in the hospital on Tuesday...” (Taunton Courier, and Western Advertiser (20 September 1947) : here) 19 ex William Caine (1873-1925 *), The Devil in Solution, (nicely) Illustrated by George Morrow (London, 1911) : 68 (snippet view only, but opens to same page at hathitrust 20 from this longer passage — “First of all, I know now what it means to travel ‘light.’ These flimsy things which the Japanese make are wonderfully serviceable. For instance, I purchased a silk Japanese raincoat which sheds rain perfectly, and yet when not in use I carry it in the pocket of my light overcoat.” ex “Japanese Milling, and Weather,” in Rosenbaum Review 2:39 (Chicago; September 15, 1917) : 8-10 asides — devoted to grain trade; at some point title changes to The Round-Up; published by the J. Rosenbaum Grain Company; this would be Joseph Rosenbaum (1838-1919), whose interesting life is sketched by Arba Nelson Waterman, in “Historical Review of Chicago and Cook County and Selected Biography," found here ◾ perhaps more interesting is the editor of Rosenbaum Review (and its successor Round-Up), J. Ralph Pickell (1881-1939? *). ◾ see, for example — “Senate Asks Jardine of Chicago ‘College’” ¶ Secretary Jarine was asked Friday, June 25, by the Senate to explain his connection with the Roundup College of Scientific Price Forecasting of Chicago. ¶ A resolution making the request was offered by Senator Caraway (Dem. Ark.), and adopted. Caraway said the secretary had accepted appoitment as a member of the faculty of the college to teach students “how to speculate and get around the rules of the grain futures act which he administers.” ¶ The resolution asked the Secretary to state whether his information on grain futures markets was obtained as a result of his official connection with the department of agriculture, and what compensation he has received from the college. ¶ The Roundup College school for price broadcasting [sic, should be “forecasting” ?] was held at the Congress Hotel four weeks ago. Secretary Jardine was announced in publicity as the principal speaker. The school is run by J. Ralph Pickell, listed in the telephone book with offices at 1848 West Washington Boulevard and 328 Ashland Boulevard. It is said, however, that the offices have moved to Western Springs, Ill., near Chicago. ¶ Pickell at the time the school was held, said about 500 students would be in attendance. Each student, he said would pay $50 for the course. ex The Illinois Agricultural Association Record (July 1, 1926) : 3 21 ex chapter 23 (the last) in Henri Barbusse (1873-1935 *), Light (Fitzwater Wray, trans.; 1919) : 301 several scans of the same at hathitrust 22 ex Fashions for Men (this passage) and The Swan (in one volume, subtitled Two Plays by Franz Molnar (both comedies in three acts; English texts by Benjamin Glazer); (Liveright, 1922) : 117 Ferenc Molnár (1878-1952), at wikipedia 23 ex Rachel Cusk, Saving Agnes (1993; Picador 1995) : 2

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subject to change, corrections, &c.

#cento #flim #flimsy #tercet #Mary Healy Bigot #The Black Dwarf #Rachel Cusk #Mary Du Deney #J. Ralph Pickell

5 notes · View notes