#also this was a request (someone asked a badly drawn gummy and someone else asked for him playing fetch with missile)

[dailyedgeworth]

today, pov: you are missile and a badly drawn gumshoe is trying to play fetch with you!!!

[thejollyroger-writer]

The Fourth Annual Rogers Christmas Eve Sculpting Competition and Candy Eating Party

A/N: Hello, @queen-mabs-revenge ! It's been a pleasure being your KRSS this year, even though I'm pretty sure tumblr ate most of my messages! It's still Christmas here, so I'm not technically late-- but here it is! 

It's 300% canon non-compliant, since Liam's present, I sort of refuse to acknowledge any sort of timeline, and I take many, many more liberties with it. The Brothers Rogers have been given the cursed first names "James" (Liam) and "Matthew" (Killian) after J.M. Barrie, creator of Peter Pan, and of Captain Hook. Forgive me, it's just a big ole mess, but they're competitive and family and celebrating Christmas, what else do you want from me???

Summary: 

It's that time of year again, time for the Rogers Christmas Eve Sculpting Competition and Candy Eating Party, a competition for the ages. But unlike the past three years, Margot is coming, sitting in with James as one of the “official” judges. What kind of shenanigans will ensue this year?

Rated G for general happiness, competition, and celebration - 2.5K words

Written for @knightrooksecretsanta

Also on AO3! 

It’s been a tradition for three years now, the annual Rogers Christmas Eve Sculpting Competition and Candy Eating Party. It started as innocent gingerbread house building, but because they are both incredibly competitive, it quickly became much more. The first year, they were just houses— extravagant, meticulously decorated houses.

The next year, they were mansions, built in different rooms so they couldn’t see what the other was doing, items exchanged and requested strictly through James, able to go back and forth between the rooms and watch their technique. (Even though he has no idea what’s going on most of the time— there’s not an artistic bone in his body.)

It only went up from there.

Last year, Tilly built a landscape that came straight from her imagination. And Matthew continued on with mansions, building not only the house, but the entire property, complete with a pool full of vanilla icing dyed blue and little candy ducks.

He won that year.

And he knows exactly what he is going to make this year, and has been sure to buy enough rope-like candies to make it perfect. He's planned it all out, has drawn the blueprint out in his head one too many times (he can’t put it on paper, because then someone is bound to find it and realize his plan.)

He just needs it to work.

James shows up first, boxes piled in his arms that he sets down on the table.

"Thanks, brother, I really appreciate it."

His brother just smiles, shaking his head, then turns on his heels to get the rest of the boxes out of the car. By the time he makes it back up the steps, Matthew has started to dig through the boxes, finding the specific items he requested: pull-apart Twizzlers, bubble gum tape rolls, a bag of gummy bears, planks of chocolate molded to have wood grain, plus his share of the boxes of graham crackers and gingerbread that will be the main foundation of his piece.

Smiling, he pulls out his secret weapon, a special molded chocolate piece that he ordered on the internet. He hopes it's enough.

Tilly was not nervous. Absolutely not, no way.

She was a lot of other things-- excited, overwhelmed, thrilled, elated…

But nervous? Nope. Uh-uh.

Why would she be nervous? She's celebrated Christmas before.

So why is this year any different?

Looking down at her hand, her attention is caught by the sparkle of the multicolored lights strung around the doorway as they reflect in the bright diamond of the ring on her finger.

Right, that's why.

This isn't her first Christmas, her first holiday celebration. But it's her first holiday celebration that she's actually celebrating with Margot. Her first Christmas as a fiancee. The first Christmas where Margot will be celebrating not just with her, but with the Rogers brothers, too.

No, she is absolutely, definitely, positively not nervous.

That's probably why her hands are shaking so badly that the scissors slip out of her grip as they glide across the wrapping paper, somehow managing to spin around on the top of the table and slice open the pad of her thumb.

Great, just what she needs. Another injury, and on a night when she needs everything she has, a night when she has to beat Matthew.

After covering the cut with a band-aid to prevent the blood seeping from it from getting everywhere, Tilly adds the present to the box next to her.

She looks up at the clock: 3 o'clock, it reads. Margot will be home any minute, and then they can head to the Rogers' apartment. With her newly bandaged finger, she finishes wrapping the last of her presents and wedges them into the box.

Smiling, she turns towards one of the drawers in the kitchen, taking out the last things she needs for the competition tonight. She asked James for all of the basics: the boxes of graham crackers, a vat of vanilla icing and food coloring to make all the colors she needs. Edible grass. Crazy colored candy canes. Gummy worms. She even trusted him enough to ask for a deck of chocolate cards.  

But the gummy mushrooms and little tiny white chocolate flower arrangement that she ordered off the internet? She would trust the Rogers brothers with her life— has done so in the past— but with the secrets of her plan for this year’s Sculpting Competition?

That might be going a little too far.

It came to her in a dream just before thanksgiving, as weird as that all sounds. She had just finished reading Alice in Wonderland and Margot insisted that they watch the Disney animated movie.

It amazed her. So much different than the book, but it was beautiful. So many things stood out to her: the hookah-smoking caterpillar, the singing flowers, the bread-and-butterflies, the Queen of Hearts and her men as the deck of cards.

And then, that night, she had the dream: all of her favorite parts of the movie, recreated with graham crackers and candy.

It’s perfect. And exactly what she needs to beat Matthew this year, after that whole mansion landscape from last year. She needs to win, not only for herself, but for Margot. It’s more than enough for her that Margot actually wants to be with her, a miracle that she loves her as much as Tilly does. Has accepted her for who she is, quirks and all, and the weird little family that she’s built herself with James and Matthew.

It’s absolutely crazy, thinking that Margot might love her more if she wins tonight. But that doesn’t change the fact that she still wants to.

She’s standing in the kitchen, staring down at her engagement ring again when Margot comes through the door, tossing her backpack onto the chair next to the door.

“Merry Christmas eve!” Margot greets her, quickly taking the few steps between the door and the kitchen to press a kiss to her cheek.

“Merry Christmas eve!” Tilly says back, a smile spread across her face.

“Just give me a minute to change, and then we can head to the Rogers’, okay?”

Still smiling as Margot heads back towards the bedroom, Tilly decides that whether she wins tonight or not, she’ll still be happy. Nothing could ruin the happiness that she feels in this moment, finally able to celebrate Christmas with all of her favorite people.

But, of course, winning would help.

Matthew is practically bouncing off the walls by the time Tilly and Margot arrive, far too much tea and adrenaline running through his veins.

Sure, he’s a cop, deals with adrenaline all the time, but the excitement that comes from the Christmas Eve Competition is different than anything he experiences at work the rest of the year. That doesn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around Tilly in a tight hug, then Margot once she sets down the box of presents, and James does the same.

Then, once everyone is greeted and set, Matthew sets Margot and James at the counter, going over the guidelines with them all. Matthew gets the kitchen, Tilly gets the dining room. Absolutely no going between rooms for the two of them. If somehow, they’ve missed a supply they need, Margot and James are the only ones to go back and forth between the rooms. They start as soon as they’re ready, but there’s no strict ending time— they’ve never gone past 8, but this year might be the year that they have to.

The two of them start to separate their supplies, James handing back the lists they gave him three weeks before, and the distribution begins.

This year, it takes five hours, the longest one yet. The last piece Matthew puts in place is the chocolate helm, the focal point of his masterpiece for this year: a ship , complete with a full set of correct riggings and tissue paper sails. Sure, he might be playing to the judge: he knows his brother and the love for ships that runs through both of their veins, but he heard about this town that decorates model pirate ships for Christmas.

And he knew. He knew what he was going to do this year.

James walks back through the doorway, laughing at Matthew as he dips the paintbrush to put the name on the other side.

“Where did the name come from, little brother?”

“ Younger ,” Matthew says between gritted teeth, focused on the cursive letters on the chocolate. “And it just… I don’t know, came to me the other night. I wasn’t even planning on giving her a name, but I discovered this one, and it just clicked.”

Taking a step back, he licks the rest of the icing off the end of the paintbrush, then smiles over his creation at his brother.

The Jewel of the Realm.

“Very regal. I like it, though.”

Margot leans back against the doorway, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “Well, it's interesting, to say the least,” she says with a smile.

“But… impressive?” Matthew asks, poking for some kind of compliment.

Margot and James both lean back, arms crossed over their chests, and stare at the ship in front of them for a few moments.

“It is actually pretty cool,” Margot says, but James just smiles, shakes his head, and leaves the room.

For the perfection in the detail and execution of Matthew's Jewel of the Realm , Tilly's Wonderland scene has eye-catching color and interesting creativity that it somehow lacks. Both James and Margot have spent much of the past five hours watching her rotate between brushes and different forms of icing in rainbows of color, painting each different piece with the same eye for perfection that Matthew has, from the delicate flowers to the half-painted white chocolate rose bushes held by some of the playing cards.

It really is awe-inspiring, the amount of thought and detail she put into the entire scene to make it as close to the animated movie as she could possibly make it. The last piece she adds, just after Matthew finishes the cursive lettering on the side of his ship, is the mushroom topped with the brightly-colored caterpillar.

Then, also just as Matthew did, she holds her hands up, taking a step away from the table as she raises her eyes to the judges, smiling widely.

“Finished?” James asks, slowly walking around the table with Margot to take in the whole scene that she has laid out.

“Yes!”

“Excellent,” he replies, then, without taking his eyes off the table, he calls out, “Matthew, she's finished!”

Wiping his freshly-washed hands on his apron, Matthew strides through the curtain they hung over the doorway, but stops dead in his tracks when he sees what lies before him on the dining room table.

“Bloody hell,” he mumbles, eyes wide. “Tilly, love, this is incredible.”

Though she probably wouldn't have believed it possible, Matthew's compliment makes her smile grow wider.

“Thank you!”

They all take a few minutes to try to take in everything in Tilly's creation, their silence only broken by one of them asking a question or whispering some kind of exclamation under their breath. Margot notices the small hedgehog used as the croquet ball. James is incredibly impressed that all of the little flowers have even smaller faces.

Then, once they've all circled the table at least a dozen times, James leads them into the kitchen, giving Matthew's ship the same treatment. Margot asks if all the rigging is completely correct, and Matthew says it is, backed up by James’ agreement. She seems incredibly impressed. James notices the Jolly Roger drawn on one of the smaller tissue paper sails and lets out a soft chuckle.

“We have to decide on a winner,” James says, cocking his head back towards the dining room, and Margot follows him into the next room.

“Your detail here is exquisite, Matthew,” Tilly says after a few moments, leaning in closer to the side of the ship as she softly runs her fingers across the wood grain in the chocolate.

“Thanks, love,” he says, a nervous smile on his face. “Did you paint those flowers yourself?”

Tilly's smile is far from nervous. “Yes, I did. I've been studying pictures of those flowers since Thanksgiving, trying to dedicate them to memory.”

“They're perfect. The colors were fantastic.”

“And all of these ropes are… are where they're supposed to be?”

“Aye, they are. I thought I was going to run out of Twizzlers near the end, but somehow I made it.”

“That's incredible, truly. It looks to realistic.”

Matthew walks over to the tea kettle, pouring more water into his cup of tea, then stirring it before taking a careful sip of the water.

Another few moments of silence pass between them before James and Margot come back through the curtains, and both Matthew and Tilly turn quickly towards them.

“So, there's a first this year,” James says, the words coming out slow.

“And it's all my fault,” Margot adds.

“The judges couldn't come to a decision.”

Amazed by the turn of events playing out in front of them— not to mention what it means— Matthew and Tilly turn towards each other, eyes wide.

“So you're… You're both winners.”

“And it never would have happened with just one judge,” James says, smiling at Margot as he wraps his arm around her shoulders.

“And Tilly, just so you know, without your fiance here, you would have won.”

All three of them turn towards Margot, whose face turns bright red faster than she can try to hide it with her hands.

“You voted against me?” Tilly asks, her jaw dropping, but a smile spreads across Matthew's face.

“You voted for me?”

Margot drops her hands, then gestures towards Matthew's ship sitting on the counter. “Look at it!” she yells. “It's perfect! It doesn't even look like it's made out of chocolate!”

Matthew smiles at her compliment, not for the first time tonight, but then snaps his head towards his brother.

“You voted against me? Your own brother?”

James’ response is much less emotional than Margot's. “Yes, I did. Her entire creation was impeccable. Yours was excellent, as well, but hers… it's perfect.”

Matthew turns around to face the fridge and leans his forehead against it.

“What do we do when we both win?” Tilly asks, taking one of the extra candy canes on the small table and unwrapping it.

James just shrugs, a smile spreading across his face. “Well, if it were up to me, we would just eat candy, forget about this, and open our presents.”

Matthew lets out a loud sigh, making sure everyone knows how he feels about the subject. Beating Tilly was apparently more important to him than he thought.

But once Tilly and Margot both agree with James, grabbing a few pieces of candy off the pile and following him into the living room, there's not much left that he can do. So, he grabs his flask out of the cabinet above the fridge, pours a generous dose in his mug with his tea, and, with another heaving sign and one last look back at The Jewel of the Realm, he follows them into the living room to continue on with their Christmas Eve celebration.

[daily-apocalypse]

Excuse me, I’ve been drinking.

Personal growth-wise, this week kind of sucked.  I was weak.  I was distracted.  I let things come between me and my learnin’ stuffs, like socialization and shopping for necessities.  I’m losing sight of the end game, and I know it.  I need that, though, the idea of being something greater than I am now, if I’m going to get through this.

I did finally get a hair cut and no one noticed, so that’s upsetting in its own right, but I also got different colored pens and post its and notebooks and, despite no sleep going from Wednesday into Thursday, leaving me, at 9am, telling my dependents to do what they like in regard to working out so I could sleep since someone decided ‘sweltering’ was a good temperature for the thermostat, I ended this week on a strong note.

Come Friday afternoon, after diligently working out and dedicating more time than usual to understanding wtf code was being thrown at me, I wasn’t a floppy Spock come 4pm.

Due to this, I’ve come to learn that exhaustion isn’t the sole reason I don’t log into game anymore.  Perfectly energized, there’s this restlessness inside of me once I stop working out or coding that just can’t be filled by throwing myself at useless pixel challenges.

In matters of my heart, however, I was settled.  That may not seem like a big thing to some people, but it’s a pretty big thing, I promise.  I don’t tend to have heart issues, so when they happen, it may as well be declared some kind of miracle.  The TLDR is that I’m better off and happier without them.

In fact, the moment my life faced upheaval and my bestie suggested alternatives to despair, he also sent me pics of this guy... this guy I was pleasantly surprised I remembered from 2 halloweens ago.

And I panicked at the prospect of being set up on a date with a stranger.

I’m in no state to devote myself to a relationship where heartbits are involved.  Not that I ever am, but most especially right now.  I lack funds, I lack energy (for the most part), I lack courage, and relationships take time and attention and courage and energy, above all else.

I’d be a wreck.  I’d barely have those qualities, at the best of times, but now...?

And I’m obviously saving myself for Antoni from Queer Eye, so I’m clearly not into relationships that can possibly happen or work.  Please, remove all sensible nonsense and prospects from my sight asap.

And my heart is still broke.  Settled, but broke.

It was a break I learned from.  A break where I had to face the guy daily afterwards.  How to cope?  My MO has been to run, in the past, but not this time.  So, instead, I cut him out of everything.  I simply stopped acknowledging his existence for my own survival.

Outside of tonight.

Long before I began drinking for the evening, I made out a list of all the things I aspire to be, for future reference and general guidance when I forget myself:

1.) Fit 2.) Generous 3.) Compassionate 4.) Kind 5.) Courageous 6.) To look for what I have in common with another person, rather than how I’m different from that person.

And the night ended with this person talking to me and messaging me, leaving me feeling like I’ve legitimately been missed, asking for a second chance.

It seemed unreal, them asking for another chance.  They hadn’t really done anything wrong, and yet, here they were.  And I felt missed.  It’s been a couple of months since we’ve spoken.  He believed I hated him.  I didn’t hate him.  I just couldn’t cope with him.

It only seemed right to say that, yeah, being friends again would be nice... given what I’d only a few hours ago carved into a post-it note and adhered to my desk as a reminder of just what sort of person I wanted to be.  Acquiescing to this request for friendship seemed to fit with 2-5, and maybe 6.

To be clear, I don’t want anything from him.  But I enjoyed him so much, and life is just easier without him in it because I don’t have to daily lament what I can’t have.  It was a rare joy to feel like myself with someone.  There’s been a few times since we stopped talking to each other, even tonight, where we either say or laugh at the same thing, because we’re saying or feeling or enjoying something the same way, and it’s like, “get out of my head.  You’re not welcome here.”  But that was the beauty of our friendship... the absolute nonsense that we could revel in together.

And sharing stupid parts of our lives.

Him getting the wrong couscous in a vain attempt to prove a point and failing miserably in unforeseen ways.  Sharing his blizzard.  Him having avocado toast for breakfast while I try out some pancakes in some completely unplanned and undiscussed freaky friday exchanging of lifestyles.

I made banana pancakes the other day and couldn’t get his voice out of my head, taunting me about it.  I wanted so badly to tell him, to take pics and show him... this after he admitted some sort of netherlands waffle cookie was good to our group.  I’d never made pancakes of any sort before, and these were beauties to the eye and to the tastebuds.

We were very very anti each other’s preferred breakfast pastry, you see.  I was team waffles, he was team pancakes.  We argued for at least two weeks straight over which was superior.  I’m not even exaggerating.

It’s insane and a little unfair how people can follow you around without even being there; how the stupidest things can remind you of them, or what they might think, feel, or say... so that, in these few months we haven’t been speaking, he’s been gone, but still somewhere in my head, there’s occasionally this little voice giving its unwanted opinion.

In a way, it’s a relief -- of course it is -- that he said anything, that the alcohol left him brave or sleepy or *whatever* enough to address our silence and how it came to be.  I wonder if he’s heard some version of me in his head, too, commenting on food or the weather or some other random thing.  Surely, he must have. If so, this must be why he said something.  If not, he missed it and this must be why he said something.  Right?  Maybe?  Maybe, though I’ve been alone, I haven’t been alone.  Or maybe it was him extending an olive branch, making amends and reparations for some completely unrelated resolution, some list to be a better person, like I have posted to my desk now.

In another way, it’s utterly the worst ever.  It’s dangerous finding someone like him, because then I want someone like him, so I can be me in every way I am with him, and the abject sadness of that not existing is too much for me to deal with.  Because of the proximity.  Because it’s right there.  It’s so easy to want.  Even when it’s not something I should want.  And then I fear it can’t be found anywhere else.

It’s also a bit of a relief that I’m drawn to the food and wine guy on Queer Eye. We were passionate about food, this guy and I.  Don’t get me wrong, it sucks that neither are available, but at least I’m pointed in a direction and kind of know it’s not just him.  It’s me.  I’m DTF: down to food.

And I appreciate ridiculous shit.

I used to own that shower cap.  Not even lying.  Pack of 3: leopard print, green, and white.  The print flaked off the leopard and the elastic bands went gummy on all three.  Sad. Face.  Regardless, I was always that kid at lunch who’d eat whatever exotically awful combination of foods and condiments others could come up with.

I’ve never owned a sweat band, car shirt, or questionable doll person, but I’d be so about that life if it were suddenly presented to me.

1.) I don’t know how to upload my own gifs to tumblr.  2.) I actually have a photo of myself from a few years ago, in Target, wearing that same unicorn bike helmet while holding up my soon-to-be Ninja Turtle panties.

I originally enjoyed Queer Eye for its message and the feels and didn’t think too much of Antoni until I noticed he was usually the one exploring the unknown while others were helping out the hero, and then the show was elevated to a whole new level and worth watching again just to see wtf was going on in the background.

How hard can it possibly be to find a person with these qualities who can also worship me as hard as I’d worship them?  That’s my night.  That’s my life.  That’s why it’s so hard to cope with this guy, because he’s so close to my vision of perfect.