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overthinkingfandom · 3 years ago

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Cards on the Table - Breaking down the tactics in L'manburg Independence

/rp /dsmp

Much has been said in the fandom about L'manburg's independence. It is, after all, arguably the most important moment in DSMP's history, as the rest of the story wouldn't have existed without it.

In light of the recent anniversary of it, yes I know I’m late, I wanted to throw my hat in the ring and add something to the discussion surrounding it. However, as the morality of the situation has been discussed to death I'll be taking a slightly different approach to it.

Due to the nature of the DSMP's medium, the story has many unique quirks. One of those quirks is how realistic the tactics used in the story's portrayal of politics are. The independence conflict is a great example of it. While on the surface things seem to be rather simplistic in nature, there's a lot more going on that’s less obvious.

Both Wilbur and Dream are brilliant politicians who get to show both their strengths and weaknesses in dealing with an equally skilled opponent in this encounter. There’s actually quite a bit to go into, despite their interactions being so short.

When most people think about the L'manburg's independence, they think about the moment the declaration has been written up and the subsequent declaration of war. While this moment is certainly iconic, it's not really all that impactful in the grand scheme of things. Both declarations are the culmination of decisions that have been made beforehand. It's the moment when those decisions were made that really influenced things.

Conveniently, Wilbur and Dream only hold a single conversation about L'manburg before the declarations are drawn up, so we don’t need to look far in order to figure out where those decisions were formed.

Wilbur has been working on L’manburg, collecting materials and building the wall surrounding it, for almost an hour when he spots Dream lurking. “Get [Dream] into the VC, I need to talk with him. He’s the leader of the other nation, I think we need to have a congress.” (52:44)

Dream: “Hello?”

Wilbur: “Hello Dream. Welcome to our great nation of L’manburg.”

Dream: “L’manburg?”

Wilbur: “Yes. We are seceding from Dream SMP. This is our own server now. This area, just this part [between the walls of L’manburg], is our server.”

Wilbur doesn’t waste any time before getting right down to business and talking about the matter at hand. However, the way he speaks about it here and in the rest of the conversation is fairly interesting. Wilbur is talking about L’manburg as if it’s something which already exists. They are seceding. This is their land. This conversation is merely a courtesy to give Dream a formal notice of their separation.

Yet, a bit later Wilbur shows he knows they need Dream’s acknowledgement in order for L’manburg to be its own entity. Independence is not a concrete thing that can just be taken or created on one person’s whim, after all. It only exists when the people with power agree it exists.

Wilbur: “Dream, basically all we want from you is just acknowledgement that we are an independent nation now. That’s all we need.” (56:20)

So if Wilbur knows they aren’t independent yet, why is he talking like that?

It’s because he’s using a salesman technique called an Assumptive Close. Instead of posing it as a question and putting the choice of agreeing or disagreeing in Dream’s hands, Wilbur acts as if it’s already true and leaves the burden of challenging his claims on Dream’s shoulders. He even moves on to ask secondary questions on how Dream feels about having embassies in his land (and notably he frames it as a question, unlike how he frames the topic of L’manburg’s independence) as if L’manburg is already a political entity.

Wilbur: “Dream, I’ve got a proposition for you. How do you feel about having Tommy’s land being an embassy? Like it’s an enclave in your own land.” (59:01)

Wilbur’s use of this technique has an interesting side effect in that it signals to Dream Wilbur is taking a non-compromising position in this negotiation. In essence saying “L’manburg is independent, take it or leave it.”

A non-compromising position is the game theory term for when someone goes, "I'm going to do that, this is going to happen and nothing can dissuade me from this course of action." It's a strong tactic which forces everyone to react to that person's position, reducing the others' options into a binary of either accepting that position or rejecting it.

This is a very common tactic and various manifestations of it can be seen all over history and media. From Martin Luther who refused to recant or compromise with his famous words of “Here I stand, I cannot do otherwise” to groups who cultivate a "with us or against us" mentality to heroic characters who say they would die before giving in to whatever Evil the story focuses on.

This is the situation Dream is facing here. He can either accept Wilbur's assertion that L'manburg is an independent entity by either encouraging them or even doing nothing, or he can reject Wilbur's assertion by acting against it.

As we all know, he ended up choosing the second option but what were his considerations for doing so?

For that we would need to know what his goal was here, something we don't really get a sense of from his conversation with Wilbur. However, he ends up stating what it was in a later conversation with Skeppy.

(Emphasis added by me and wasn’t part of the original dialogue.)

“Everyone can build wherever they want. [L’manburg] just decided to say that they get to determine where they can build and we can’t and we said well no, you can’t do that. And that’s what the whole war was over.” (31:44)

“[L’manburg] can’t tell us that we can’t go in their land. That’s all we wanted to say. That they’re not independent, they are a part of the Dream Team SMP. They’re just a delusional, small part." (34:26)

Dream lies a lot, so just because he says something doesn't mean it's necessarily true. However, this seems to be genuine. Dream has no problem telling Skeppy “we burned down their houses and blew up the whole land.” (32:36) later on in the conversation, so we can rule out that he's trying to paint himself in a better light, and there aren't really any other reasons for him to lie to Skeppy here about this.

When looking at Dream's options with his goal we can see the choice is pretty much a no-brainer.

Accepting is a total lose scenario for him. Not only will it fail to fulfill his goals, it would actively encourage the sort of behavior he doesn't want to happen, as Wilbur would set a precedent that so long as someone insisted hard enough and implied Dream is a bad person he would fold in negotiations and give them what they want.

Rejecting gets him far closer to his goal of railing against L’manburg’s exclusion. Going to war means he has to invest much more effort and resources into his reaction than if he just accepted as well as deal with the risks any war has, however the sheer difference in ability between Dream's side and Wilbur's side make the risk minimal.

Going to a war he’s pretty sure he can win VS encouraging the sort of thing he disapproves of, isn’t really a hard choice.

This is actually the result of a mistake on Wilbur's part. CC!Wilbur called his character naive (37:49) and he's not wrong. Wilbur has a tendency to act as he wishes and not take into account that people might disagree or retaliate. We see it with him saying they could just ignore the Americans (1:51:17) or during the elections when he told Quackity his scheme and got blindsided by Quackity deciding to run against him.

Historically, non-compromising positions worked best when the person who used it made sure rejection would be more costly than acceptance in one way or the other. In essence, narrowing down the options for others even more and leaving them only with acceptance.

Wilbur may have managed to wipe off the table all other options and put pressure on Dream to accept with his use of Assumptive Close, but he didn't do anything to prevent Dream from rejecting. In fact, it seems like Wilbur didn't even consider it as a valid possibility as he outright dismissed it when Dream brought it up as an option.

Dream: “What happens if the rest of the server decides to take over your land?”

Wilbur: “They can’t. It’s literally not how servers- Dream you’re supposed to be smart man, that’s not how servers work. You can’t just take over another person’s server.” (54:33)

But, you may be asking, if it was better for Dream to go to war against L'manburg rather than grant them independence, why did he end up giving into their desire for independence in the war? Wouldn't it have been better if he just saved everyone the trouble and gave it to them when they asked for it the first time? Or maybe Dream’s obsession with Tommy and his discs is just that strong?

We can find the answer to all those questions at Punz’ video where he shows the behind the scenes of the independence war, including some of the planning which went into it from the Dream Team’s side of the war. Specifically, this quote:

Dream: “[The L’manburgians] are never gonna give up. So then in the end the resolution will probably just be, we won but they can think whatever they want, we’re just going to ignore them because they’re essentially like- You want to think you’re independent? You’re not, you’re still part of the SMP, but if you want to think you’re independent, you can.” (9:04)

“They’re never gonna give up.”

Whether it’s true or not doesn’t matter, as this is what Dream thinks and so this is what dictates his actions. Perhaps he’s overestimating his opponents here, or maybe he’s talking about how even if L’manburg is defeated this time they would try again for independence in the future. In either case, it’s clear Dream thinks the best case scenario for him - completely preventing people from fighting for L'manburg's independence - is impossible.

So, he tries for the second best case. If he can’t prevent L’manburg, he’s going to allow it but only under Dream’s terms. That’s what his “they can think whatever they want” line is all about. He intends on giving them token independence here, something which would satisfy them but wouldn't pose a real threat. Which is exactly what he ends up offering them during the bow duel.

Dream: “Let me just clarify: if you win, we grant L’Manburg independence.”

Tommy: “Alright.”

Dream: “But we recognize it still as a part of the Dream Team SMP.”

Wilbur: “That’s fine, that’s a fine condition.” (40:54)

The token independence thing didn’t work out so well for him. L'manburg quickly grew to be seen as an entity separate from Greater Dream SMP by everyone, and so Dream was forced to concede and treat it as one as well.

However, despite this part of his plan failing, overall the independence war was a glowing success for Dream.

By giving L'manburg independence after winning the war, Dream sent a very clear message. L'manburg only gets to be independent so long as they stay on Dream's good side. If they don't adhere to the terms Dream sets out for them? He can and will kick their asses, as the war so aptly demonstrated.

This message is received loud and clear. During his entire presidency Wilbur went out of his way to treat Dream with respect and try not to piss him off. Something he clearly demonstrates a number of times, like when he asked if he should call Dream “king Dream” (59:08) or during the railway skirmish (24:16).

In fact, it can be argued that this message lasted all the way up to Tubbo's presidency. Unlike Quackity, who was perfectly fine with starting a fight with Dream, Tubbo knew first hand what a war against Dream looks like. He knew that they could not win a war against him, especially in their weakened state at the time, and that influenced his decision.

As Dream once said: "L'manburg can be independent but it can't be free."

#dsmp analysis #c!dream #c!wilbur #strategist c!dream #dreblr #dsmp #analysis #game theory stuff

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kateis-cakeis · 3 years ago

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Alivebur is totally an assholeTM

Some quotes showing Alivebur as totally being an assholeTM:

“Imagine what would happen if we could get every brewing stand off the server, right? So everyone’s brewing stand is gone. And then we make an empire out of producing all the potions on this sever.” - (Wilbur’s I’m in the empire business: 13:21, 24th July 2020)

“I thought we used our words!” (Eret)

“Not in this case. They’ve tried to burn down our forest!” (Alivebur)

- (Wilbur’s The Wall: 1:37:44, 29th July)

“We don’t wish for bloodshed, we don’t wish for war, we don’t wish to show our power in any way, we just want our freedom, we just want emancipation, independence.” - (Wilbur’s The Revolution is Coming: 26:02, 2nd Aug)

“Tommy, do you see what I see? They trade drugs, that makes them effectively drug dealers. Tommy, we have tourists.” - (Wilbur’s L'Manberg Needs Tourism: 1:09:20, 9th Aug)

“This is an important quiz. This means a lot, to the future of L'Manberg. ‘Cause I’m the president- Okay. Mr President Wilbur Soot needs to prove that he’s smarter than a very intelligent green man. That’s all that matters to me, alright?” - (Wilbur’s The Dream Pub Quiz: 11:25, 10th Aug)

“I can already hear a weapon. They’re fighting, they’re fight- See, this is why. Tommy, this is why. … This is why we need to consolidate our power, dude. They’re all just fighting each other constantly.” - (Wilbur’s is about to change forever: 50:25, 3rd Sep)

“I don’t know, man. I don’t know, I think you’d be getting into a fight you wouldn’t wanna start with me. You’ve only been on the positive side of me, you’ve only seen my nice side, because, you know, being my son you get special… You know, you won’t ever see me going against you.” - (Wilbur’s Let’s Capture and Farm Cute Animals to Make Money in Ooblets: 1:45:40, 4th Sep)

“I’m not pro-police. Hold on, don’t put words in my mouth, Karl. Listen, I believe if a bad person is gonna kill someone’s animals, there should be someone to stop them. That’s what I’m saying.” - (Wilbur’s The Election Campaign: 49:41, 8th Sep)

“You say, you say everyone has a good side, Quackity. And you’re right, you’re right, everyone has a good side, but that good side is only there to help themselves.” - (Quackity’s Killing My Enemies: 1:05:32, 12th Apr)

“Quackity, no matter who wins this election, if we are to lose, if we are to be defeated fairly by you in a democratic process, I will honour that of the people of L'Manberg, and I’ll try to give you the smoothest and easiest transition into government that I can.” - (Wilbur’s We Must Get Voters: 1:10:23, 18th Sep)

“Coconut is against everything we stand for. They don’t care. They don’t care about L’Manberg, they just care about votes. We care about L’Manberg, and so did SWAG until they-” - (Wilbur’s Election Night: 1:15:58, 20th Sep)

“We held this election, and by god am I not gonna upset democracy just so that I can keep hold of- This is what the people want, we shall give the people what they want- But Tommy, I am not gonna die with you out here. We need to stay alive. That would be enough.” - (Wilbur’s the election results: 46:06, 22nd Sep)

“And whilst I’m not entirely trustful of Tubbo, I still don’t want to see him getting hurt by Schlatt. So, as long as Schlatt’s being nice to him, then I’m gonna keep my cool.” - (Wilbur’s techno and wilbur make cave better: 37:21, 23rd Sep)

“Tommy, control yourself. Tommy, control yourself, it’s not worth it. Tommy, do not take your shot! He disrespected me, yes! But we’ve talked about this, Tommy…!” - (Wilbur’s techno and wilbur make cave better: 59:36, 23rd Sep)

“I- Look, rigging L’Manberg is not gonna help us get it back, I’m aware of that. But sometimes in order to feel comfortable and safe you have to be ready to give up the things that you’re worried you might lose. And in this case, I think I might lose it already.” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:17:57, 8th Oct)

“Tubbo, look, I’m saying- you don’t deserve to- You don’t deserve to meet the same fate as everyone else here, right.” - (Tubbo’s Manburg Festival Seting Up!: 1:53:12, 13th Oct)

“We are the villains, Tommy! We didn’t win the election and we’re trying to fight for it back! Look how nice this place looks under Schlatt, look how lovely Schlatt has made this place.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 15:57, 16th Oct)

“But I’m not the one who was a traitor so, I should be the one deciding. Don’t get me wrong, don’t get me wrong, it’s fine that you’re a traitor, I like it, I like it, it’s cool- Why did you do it?” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 1:23:39, 16th Oct)

“I don’t, I don’t, I don’t want to kill you two. I don’t want you two to die.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 28:53, 17th Oct)

“Dream, let’s do this as a gentlemen’s duel then, you know. Instead of doing like a bit of a dirty war that we’re planning at the moment, how about we just do it like gentlemanly? We pick a date, we pick a time, and we have the war, and if it all goes tits up, I blow the shit up.” - (Wilbur’s The Meeting: 42:59, 6th Nov)

“I’m just telling you, you shouldn’t be worried, you shouldn’t be afraid. And you know what? At the end of the day, Tommy, I would say we’ve always got each other, but we don’t, ‘cause if it goes wrong, you’re probably gonna hate me.” - (Wilbur’s video Finale: 3:03)

“Remember when we started L’Manberg, I was pretty sure that was, you know. You are a pretty short-tempted, short-fused kind of an aggressive guy, Tommy. I’m surprised you managed to get this far without killing him, you know?” - (Tommy’s The Dream SMP Finale: 1:28:07, 20th Jan)

“Here’s the thing, I genuinely think, if it weren’t for me and you dying right, the server would be in shambles. I know for a fact that if I come back, or if I’m brought back to life in some way it’s definitely gonna just go [shit again]” - (Tommy’s am i dead?: 10:10, 4th March)

“And then you arrive, you arrive, and it was great! And then you left. You got on a train and you left.” - (Tommy’s Breaking Into Prison To Kill Dream: 57:12, 29th Apr)

“Okay, Ranboo, Ranboo, I wanna extend the olive branch again. Ranboo, I’m sorry, Ranboo. I’m sorry, again. I jump to these conclusions, I jump to these conclusions, and I shouldn’t have.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 37:35, 5th May)

“Look, Tommy, I’m not trying to be an arsehole.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 44:20, 5th May) --

“Okay, and Ranboo managed to not get exiled with you? … That’s pretty uh- … Ah, so you got thrown under the bus. Did he not stand up for you? Did he not offer to go with you? … Okay, okay. I’m sure I’ll get on with him.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 50:02, 5th May)

“Quackity, I wanna say, I wanna say to you, like, like from here on, as much as we may have our disagreements here, man, I- We’ve gotta leave Tommy outta this. Like, Tommy, I- I’m sorry if we came off a bit strong.” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 50:09, 31st May)

“Okay, I know we haven’t really got off on- we haven’t got off on the best of terms from the first time we met, I know we had that argument, but uh. I like, you know, I like to think, you know, let bygones be bygones, let’s bury the hatchet. Let’s be- Ranboo, I’m gonna go out on a whim here. Do, do you wanna be friends?” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 18:07, 25th July)

“Sorry. I know that- That’s probably- That may have come across very- I’m really sorry. I meant- Um. I’ll go get you some more red.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 40:38, 25th July)

“So I thought, what a way to honour Tommy, you know, one of the most loyal members of our fair nation, than by naming the song after him, you know? And singing it based on his little, his little muse, you know?” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 9:47, 3rd Aug)

“I relived that explosion in my head so many times man. And, and, and I- I get that you don’t, you don’t trust me, I do, but like, man, look at me, bro, I’m not gonna do it again. I’m not gonna- I’m not gonna hurt you again.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 21:21, 3rd Aug)

“I’m not- Does it look like I’m taking it the wrong way? I’m perfectly- I’m happy. I’m really happy. I’m happy for Tubbo. I’m happy Tubbo’s got a j- Yes! I’m happy Tubbo’s got a job, man. Tubbo, you were telling me yesterday how you felt like you lacked direction, you lacked purpose.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 23:45, 4th Aug)

“I feel alive, Ranboo, I feel alive. Someone’s looking at me and talking to me! I’m alive, I’m alive! This is great.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 27:22, 4th Aug)

“I trust that you will do good work with that TNT I’ve given you. But- And remem- Make it safe. We don’t want it going off by accident.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 34:01, 4th Aug)

“What a nice guy!” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 34:31, 4th Aug)

-----

So there you have it! This post is more about showing how saying Alivebur is an asshole is missing huge swathes of his character. He's not an asshole, he's just a guy, like any of us, which means yes, he can be ratty sometimes, but he's also a lot more than that.

Take a second to really look at his quotes, and you'll realise his asshole moments aren't as common as you'd think.

#dream smp #alivebur #wilbur soot #anyway i was talking in a server about this and felt the need to share some evidence #all in good fun

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tripleaxeldiaz · 4 years ago

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i threw a wish in the well

read on ao3

“I’ll be right back.”

Buck watches as Eddie jogs down the stairs and wills himself to stay seated, to keep reading his book and not run after him to try and eavesdrop. Because Eddie stepping away to talk on the phone is completely normal — even when it’s Chris, he likes his privacy, and Buck respects the hell out of that — but what’s not normal is Eddie returning from said phone call with a self satisfied smile and no details on who he just talked to. Just a shrug and some form of “no one important”.

But it clearly is important, based on the smile, and the fact that someone Buck doesn’t know is making Eddie smile like that is starting to drive him crazy. It was bad enough with Ana, but once that finally fizzled out and Buck had worked through his own feelings, he thought he’d have time — to gauge if Eddie was still interested in dating, if he was interested in dating men, and if he was interested in dating Buck specifically. It was a delicate thing to navigate, and Buck was sure he could take things slow, make sure he read every situation perfectly until he was certain things would work out in his favor.

Clearly, he’d missed his window.

He turns to Hen and Chim, who are locked in a Scrabble battle that’s lasted the better part of two hours. “Do you guys know who Eddie’s been talking to?”

Chim shrugs, eyes never leaving the board. “If you don’t know, we sure don’t.”

“Are you worried?” Hen asks.

He closes his book and tosses it on the counter. “I’m not worried, I’m—”

None of the endings to that sentence make him look good, because there’s no way to spin I’m mad that someone else is making him that happy or I’m pissed I didn’t get to him first to make him sound like less of a jerk.

Hen, of course, sees right through it. “Looks like you’re a little green-eyed about it, Buck.”

He knows she’s right, and he hates that she’s right, so he takes the first out he can find. “Looks like you’re about to lose pretty badly, Hen.”

She flips back around in her chair just in time to see Chim play JACKEL on a triple word score, cursing under her breath. Buck goes back to his book and tries to ignore the expanding ice in his stomach and the fact that it’s been well over 10 minutes since Eddie left.

Not that he’s been counting.

When he finally does come back, sliding onto the barstool next to Buck, the look is back too — happy but almost smug, like the call (the flirting?) was a competition, and he had decidedly won.

“Who was that?” Buck asks, not looking up from his book because he does not care, Eddie can flirt with whoever he wants and it doesn’t matter to him at all, really.

Eddie shrugs, “Nobody.”

Buck smiles tightly and nods and tries not to fume too obviously. One look from Hen tells him he’s doing a terrible job.

~~~~~~~~~~

He finally cracks at movie night.

Eddie winces apologetically as he pauses the movie and takes his ringing phone to his room. Buck waits until he hears the door click shut before rounding on Chris sitting next to him.

“Do you know who your dad’s been talking to on the phone so often?”

Chris shakes his head. “No, but he always goes into his room to talk.”

“You’ve never tried to listen in?”

He looks offended for a second before deflating. “I can’t hear anything through the door.”

Buck huffs out a laugh, reaching out to ruffle Chris’ hair. “It’s okay, bud, you tried.”

The interrogation ends when Eddie comes back, and Buck elects to drop it for now, focusing instead on the movie and the warm press of Eddie’s arm against his own.

But then Chris goes to bed, and they’re standing in the kitchen talking about nothing, and Eddie’s phone rings again, and Buck does not want him to answer it.

“You’re awfully popular these days. Did you make a new friend I don’t know about?” It’s a little harsher than he means it to be, but his grip on “casual” gets looser and looser every time Eddie gets a call.

To his credit, if he notices, Eddie doesn’t say anything, just smiles and shakes his head. “You’re gonna laugh when I tell you,” he says.

Buck’s not sure he’ll ever find the idea of Eddie dating someone who’s not him funny, but he can try. If it makes Eddie happy, he’ll try anything.

“Adriana was at a bar with some friends for her birthday, and some guy kept trying to hit on her and wouldn’t leave her alone. So when he asked for her number, she gave him mine, and when he called I may have...very strongly suggested that he evaluate his life choices when it comes to picking up women.”

“You yelled at him.”

“I was a little short—”

“You yelled at him.”

“He deserved it!” A flush settles high on Eddie’s cheekbones, like he’s pissed all over again at a guy he’s never met. Buck tries and fails to not find it adorable. “Anyway,” Eddie drains the last of his beer, “She’s done it a few other times and given my number to her friends to use too, so that’s what it is. Just trying to be a good brother.”

“You are a good brother,” Buck says, automatically refuting any idea that Eddie is less than the best person he knows. Once he processes the rest of the story, he does laugh, a loud thing pushed out of his body by relief. “Wow, I really thought—” he stops himself, clears his throat. “Doesn’t matter. I’m sure Adriana’s happy she doesn’t have to field calls from a bunch of weirdos.”

Eddie’s staring at him from across the kitchen, head cocked and eyebrows scrunched. He looks confused for a minute before quickly straightening up, eyes darkening and a look on his face that’s less the sly smirk Buck’s seen lately and more...hungry. Wanting. He sets his beer on the counter as Eddie makes his way over, stopping right in front of Buck and placing his hands next to his hips, bracketing him in. Their chests are just barely touching, and Buck wouldn’t have to lean far to finally know what Eddie tastes like.

“Evan Buckley,” Eddie says — rumbles, really, Buck swears he feels the vibrations in every part of his body, “were you jealous?”

And while his first instinct is to deny everything, he realizes that his window — though never really closed — has been thrown wide open. The breeze is cool and inviting, the sun is shining, and Eddie is waiting for him, looking anxious and hopeful.

Screw taking his time. He’s got all his answers.

Eddie meets him halfway, and the kiss feels like a thunderstorm — electric, all-encompassing, but still comfortable, washing away the grit and grime to pave the way for new beginnings. They stay like that for a while, Buck reveling in the feeling of Eddie’s lips soft against his and his hair silky between his fingers, and they only pull away when both their smiles get too big.

“That’s a yes, by the way,” Buck says, still trying to get his breath back.

Eddie snorts. “I figured.” Buck just laughs, and Eddie squeezes his waist and pulls him in again, lips moving from his mouth down his neck, driving any thoughts or snarky comments straight out of Buck’s head.

He’s about to suggest they move somewhere more comfortable when he hears a soft buzzing from across the room. He groans as Eddie peels away, walking over to his phone and seeing the screen lit up with an unknown number. Eddie hesitates before swiping to answer.

“I’m making out with my boyfriend,” he says, deadpan, looking directly at Buck. “And whoever gave you this number isn’t interested. Don’t call again.” He hangs up, going from confident to apprehensive in a matter of seconds.

Now it’s Buck’s turn for a smug smile. “Boyfriend, huh?”

Eddie saunters back over, smiling himself, but landing somewhere around soft and fond instead of smug, and it makes Buck’s heart flip. “I hope so,” he says, hands grabbing Buck’s waist again.

He kisses Buck again, softly this time, and it’s already so familiar, so addicting, and Buck wants to sink into it and never come out.

“I think we can make that work,” he whispers against Eddie’s lips. He grabs him by the belt buckle and pulls him toward the bedroom, and Eddie spends the next several hours making him forget why he was ever jealous in the first place.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #happy friday have some idiots #courtesy of eli and tiktok #ficcery

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werevulvi · 3 years ago

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You know how often I ask myself, why can't I just be normal? It's quite a lot. I wanna talk about something I've never told anyone before, aside from a few strangers online. I've suppressed this my whole life, since childhood. I've acted with anger towards others with the same thing as me, told them how it's offensive and awful. Refused to allow myself to even think about my own urges and desires. It worked for a long time, until I wrote my book this summer, a fiction story about a couple who end up disabled from their dangerous work as assassins. My intentions were just... to try to give good representation and explore something I knew very little about.

So I did a lot of research into my characters' disabilities, and even briefly pretended to have those specific disabilities at home alone, just to get an idea of what it's like to manage daily life with them. It was just a writer's thing, just being a dedicated writer, I told myself, as I researched those disabilities far more in-depth than I did about assassins...

At one point, I would cover my eye with a makeshift eye patch, as one of my main character's loses an eye, and I... it brought forth what I had suppressed my whole life, and I can't suppress it anymore as a result of that. The bottled feelings have escaped and I can't put them back in again.

I think I have Body Integrity Identity Disorder (BIID.) There, I said it.

It's a very rare mental illness that makes you want to become disabled, usually in some very specific way. Most are males, and most desire amputation, but it can pertain to wanting blindness, deafness, or I guess, any conceivable disability. There's only been a few thousand reported cases, but it's also said to be a very secret disorder, so numbers are probably not accurate. It's very poorly researched, poorly understood, and still not recognized as an actual disorder. So you can't be diagnosed with it currently, and there are no set criteria for it. However, it will be in the upcoming ICD-11 (the International Classification of Diseases.) It will then also be re-named to Body Integrity Dysphoria (BID) as it's being recognized as a form of dysphoria, and as a neurological condition.

And now for the obligatory life story:

I don't remember when it started, but as a child, I'd say roughly age 5 or 7, I was obsessed with fictional characters that had a distinct scar over one eye, and either blind in that eye or entirely missing it. I would on occasion play around with a hand covering one eye, and wished I could have that for real. For a long time, I didn't know why I was so obsessed with that. If I was just admiring that kinda physical feature, or wanted it myself, or both. Throughout my teens and adulthood thus far, I've made a lot of drawings of people with only one eye, and scarred faces. I wrote another book back in 2013 with one of the main characters being a woman with a large scar across half her face. I've always been a little too fascinated with facial deformities, having only one eye, and facial assymmetry. And I've tried to express it with assymmetrical makeup looks (not made to look like I'm injured) throughout my teens and 20's.

So it's been with me for a very long time, even though I've tried super hard to suppress it, and tried to tell myself that I should just be happy to have a mostly abled body. But that wish/urge/whatever it is, has never gone away.

When I first heard of BIID, back in 2016 or so, I was angry, and thought of people with it as despicable. I was in deep denial of how much I could relate to them. Didn't want to think of that. But since learning more about the condition, and listening to others who have it, and learning it is actually a real condition... I guess that has helped me eventually come to this point that, well fuck... it me.

Up until recently, I thought it was just a self-harm desire, as I used to be a cutter, but now I understand that the self-harm was not the intention behind what I want with that, but merely the means to achieve it. Kinda like how I wanted to cut my own tits off before I had my double mastectomy. It wasn't about specifically wanting to injure my chest, but to not have tits anymore, and I much preferred the much safer way of doing it, through proper surgery. However, wanting half my face re-arranged is a little bit harder to achieve through elective surgery, even if surgeons were allowed to treat BIID through surgery. So I do not think my desire to get rid of my left eye and surrounding tissues is about wanting to harm myself. It's about wanting to have and live with the result of such an injury. Although I get that might be very unimaginable.

So then, have I ever made any attempts?

Yeah... I have. Once, I think it was when I was 22, I took a blade to my face, but chickened out, and ended up only making a very superficial cut on my cheek, which I was then extremely ashamed of. I didn't want for people to find out I had made it myself. Since then, I've stopped self-harming and have no desire to make a second attempt. I'm scared I'd fuck it up and cause damage I don't want, or... not enough damage. And I'm worried I'd be beyond myself with shame if I would take out my own eye and then other people would show sympathy for my injury, knowing I'd have caused it myself. I just kinda wish it would happen accidentally somehow.

So, to clarify, my BIID targets my left eye and left side of my face. Why left? Honestly because I'm deaf since birth on my left ear, so it would be extremely inconvenient to be deaf on one side and blind on the other. Much more manageable to have one side be blind-deaf and the other fully seeing and hearing. But at first it didn't matter to me so much which side of my face would be affected. I have no desire to become an amputee or fully blind. I also don't have a fetish for disabled people.

Would I date a disabled person?

Yes, but that's because some attractive people just so happen to be disabled, and I wouldn't think I'm particularly judgemental, not that I find their disabilities in and of themselves attractive.

I try to quell this desire, to lose an eye and half my face, by on occasion wearing an eye patch in secrecy. I know it can worsen my vision, but why on Earth would I mind that? It's kinda what I want. But my mom almost caught me wearing it today as she came by for a quick visit, and I have worn it at the grocery store, and out and about in my village. It feels so damn right, yet so fucking wrong...

Let's tackle this question as well: Do I feel like an ass towards disabled people?

Yes and no. Thing is, I'm already disabled myself. I'm not an abled person to begin with. I live on permanent sickness compensation, classified unable to work, for life, with little to no chance at improvement, due to my autism and adhd. I have the energy levels of an old cellphone that drops to 2% battery ten minutes after being fully charged every time. And I hate it. I hate that there's so much in life that I'll probably never be able to do. So disability, is already part of my life, and always has been. So why then would I want to become more disabled, instead of less? Well, yeah that is what I want...

I've faced a shit ton of ableism since childhood, and I actually think that's why I got BIID. Because my actual disability is invisible and not taken seriously in society. And I think that's what I deep down want: to just have my disability be visible and taken seriously. Physical disabilities are taken more seriously. I've even heard that straight from the mouths of people who have both mental and physical disabilities. How often have I not been called lazy for something I've been literally unable to do, just because I "look" capable? How often do I get to hear I "don't seem autistic?" How often do I get told that autism is not even a disability, but merely a personality trait and being socially awkward? How often do I get told I would be able to work if I just tried harder? All. The. Fucking. Time.

I think that's why, ever since I was a child, I've wanted to have a physical disability, which is fully visible, and cannot be ignored. And what's more visible than the face? We interact with it the most. Because I don't really want to be less capable or lose a lot of movement, I just want for my already disabled existence to be visibly disabled.

So that's a big reason for why I think I have BIID. Which is to say, I don't feel like I'm being an ass towards disabled people, because I'm already disabled to begin with, merely wishing I was more disabled and in a more visible way. Had I been abled to begin with, I think that would have been different, but even abled people with BIID don't choose to have this condition. I read a quote from a person with BIID, who got the amputation he wanted, and he said basically that he didn't know what's worse, having BIID or being disabled. I can relate to that. And I think that is the irony here, that simply having BIID is like being disabled in and of itself already.

That said, however, I do understand why disabled people would be greatly offended, angry, or otherwise insulted, by people with BIID. Honestly I cannot understand why they would not be. I'm greatly offended by people who say they wish they were autistic! And I'm offended at myself for wishing I had a facial deformity and only one eye. Why do I want this!? I keep trying to shake sense into myself. It's what's causing my shame and wishing I could just be normal. No disabilities, and no wish for disabilities I don't have. That'd be great.

There is one more aspect I also feel the need to tackle: Transabled.

BIID has recently been rather often labeled as "transabled" in the same vein as "transracial" (wanting to be another race) and transgender. As a transsexual, this comparison is of course something that I have not missed. I'm painfully aware. This is how I see it, alright: Although I do feel like my body integrity dysphoria is incredibly similar to my sex dysphoria, I feel like it would be extremely rude and tone deaf to identify as for example vision impaired, deaf or an amputee, without actually having those disabilities. And I do not know if anyone actually does this. As far as I've seen, some people with BIID may pretend to have the disability they want (like with me walking around with an eye patch despite having no medical need for it) but they don't lie about it, or they try hard to avoid ending up in a situation where they'd feel pressured to lie. So I dunno how much validity there even is in anyone with BIID genuinely identifying as transabled. But regardless of that, I think it's absolutely abhorrent to identify as disabled in ways you are not. And I'd never tell anyone that I'm missing an eye when I do not.

So, I really do not like the term "transabled" and much prefer the BIID and BID terms. I do not like BIID being conflated with being transgender, although I want to very carefully say that the two conditions are so incredibly similar, that... I think that's another big reason I ended up with both. That I've always felt a strong disconnect from my body, which has merely expressed itself in a wide array of ways, ranging from sex dysphoria to body integrity dysphoria, dissociation and even having previously identified as otherkin. I don't think that's a coincidence at all. But then what caused all of that? I don't think there is a simple answer, but a multitude of reasons, and it may even connect with my autism as well as my trauma.

So, I'd say most likely it's caused by a cocktail of neurological and social issues. I was just clearly meant to be a broken person, making the most of my life with the sucky cards I was dealt, and on good days... I guess I'm kinda okay with that. At least it's not boring. Let's end on that not super tragic note. Feel free to ask me anything, if you’ve got any questions.

#biid #body integrity dysphoria #body integrity identity disorder #finally accepting i probably have this #im not happy about it but it is what it is i guess #ok to rb #transabled #im only adding that tag bcos i know many dont know what the condition is actually called

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kitsu-katsu · 4 years ago

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Ghostbur and Wilbur are just so sad

Wilbur created a full nation with others, they fought for it, they gained independence after a war, everything was fine, but then got carried away by his own desire for power trying to rig elections and it fired back, resulting in actual competition, which he still would've fucking won if it weren't for him again, getting carried away by a desire for power and making coalitions legal only thinking about it benefitting him against Schlatt, which also fired back, and he got defeated.

Now he lost his nation and started to see that all of his actions from the start of the election plan were rather bad, thus seeing himself as the villain, and with nothing to lose letting himself go full forward with that, eventually just becoming more and more reckless, more paranoid that everyone would just leave him because he didn't have any power anymore, becoming more anxious because of that, and so embedded on the idea that he was completely bad and that all that made L'manburg what it was had been lost when Schlatt came in, he just wanted to destroy it all.

While all of this mental turmoil was going on, he also had his own son tearing down the walls, burning rhe flag and denying he was his father to his face, just to come back and reveal that he was a spy at the last minute, by this point his trust in people was so fucked, of course he wouldn't entirely come to trust him again either. His paranoia is a BIG part of his character as Vilbur, and we could say that it all also stems from Eret's original betrayal back when L'manburg was still part of the greater SMP.

Also while this was going on, he had Dream just egging him on, playing him like a pawn to his own ends, and taking advantage of his mental state which was already in favour of just blowing it all up and giving him all the supplies needed even if Dream was technically fighting for the other side, because in the end Dream never ever cared for any form of L'manburg, Dream benefits the most with L'manburg being gone, and with Wilbur there he wouldn't even have to do it himself.

Then he dies of assisted suicide in his father's hands, remembering the song and making it clear that it's all in past tense, blowing up his creation, with a crazed laugh and leaving his symphony forever unfinished with the same words once used by the original traitor when trying to destroy it at its roots. Most people end up just remembering him as "the crazy bad dude" even if they miss him, "my bad dad" in one case, "my dear friend" in another.

And he comes back really quickly, but not as himself, but as an incomplete version, a ghost that's the embodiment of innocence by virtue of being physically incapable of remembering the sad things. He can't make amends with his son because he can't remember the bad times. He can't make up for the things people resent him for because he's just as informed as an observer from afar, one that people won't even tell much to because of how sensible the topic is and because of how Ghostbur is, especially with how avoidant he is.

But he reconstructs. Where Wilbur destroyed reaching the end of his straws, Ghostbur built back up again, making everything so much prettier, and only wanting people to be happy, giving blue to suck up everyone's sadness all the time.

Once Ghostbur told Tubbo that he was surely a better president than he himself was, adding as evidence the fact that he didn't even get a grave, no one cared that he died. To which Tubbo responds with "You're still here so we don't miss you yet". To which he says "I'm not him, Tubbo... I'm not Wilbur"

And he remembers dying as a happy memory, his father stabbing him as "the hero slaying the dragon", even if he doesn't have the reason for it clear, he knows people only see Alivebur as "the crazed bad guy".

Phil then blows up New L'manburg, killing friend and only saying he's sending a message that Ghostbur won't understand, he just talks to him as a toddler, and it's so telling when Ghostbur has his outburst and says that he knows he's an amnesiac, and the comedic relief in all of their stories, but he still feels things, all the while throwing his blue at himself. He laments the loss of Friend, laments the loss of the town that he rebuilt where everyone lived, where all their stuff was, where memories were made. "I sowed the seeds of peace and yet I'm the one who pays for war".

And he decides he wants to be revived. Not because he wishes to stop existing as Ghostbur but because he doesn't see himself as strong or apt enough to lead people to a better way, to get everyone out of a rut, even if he only knows that the last of Alivebur was "the crazed bad guy", he knows he was a good leader, and he does remember times when he was ok and happy.

But then the resurrection attempt fails. And Ghostbur disappears.

And that's the end of it.

He just up and disappeared.

Never revived by the people he told. Not left alone in death either.

Now Dream wants to revive Wilbur and use him as a pawn again, but much more explicitly. Now he's planning to tie Wilbur down by the idea of being grateful for his life being given back, even if Wilbur has expressed a desire to stay dead (different from Ghostbur), and use him to escape, make him his playing piece that he can let die and revive when wants, possibly. And Tommy said he got worse while dead, but we don't exactly know how much worse. Did his paranoia grow in the afterlife? Or just a want for destruction? All we saw was that he saw his death as a good thing, because him and Tommy are at the root of all problems, so he sees himself coming back as inevitable chaos and destruction again, "I know what I'm like, that's the issue"

Basically, his character is tragic, be it as Wilbur or Ghostbur and he doesn't seem to catch a break. I love his character so much, man, he makes me sad

#wilbur soot #c!wilbur #ghostbur #dsmp fandom #dsmp wilbur #dream smp #character analysis #l'manburg #l'manberg #it was never meant to be #c!philza #c!fundy #c!tommy #he makes me so sad #but i love him #dsmp

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butgilinsky · 4 years ago

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tension // rc

warning; language, underaged drinking, mentions of cheating, mentions of anti depressants but not rly depression, mentions of smut but nothing descriptive, hella angst

summary; you find out the real reason kiara doesn’t hang out with you and the kooks anymore.

word count; 4.5k+

rafe x reader, platonic!kie x reader, and a sprinkle of rafe x kie

you had been friends with kiara for years. back in middle school, when kiara sat at a table by herself, you shocked your friends by placing your tray directly across from hers and asking her why she chose to sit by herself.

you knew people that liked kiara, so you knew she wasn’t forced to outcast herself, but you quickly learned that she didn’t like the people at your school. she’d rather save turtles that caught in a plastic bag rather than talk about which swimsuit fit her body the best.

she wasn’t like your other friends, and you liked that about her. you liked that she didn’t stray from her genuine personality to fit in, like most people on figure eight did. she was authentic and real, and she wasn’t going to jeopardize that for a surface level friendship.

kiara used to blame her kook year on you. if you hadn’t befriended her in middle school than she wouldn’t have felt so lost when you moved onto high school and she was stuck to finish seventh and eighth grade. the age difference - only two years - never made a difference before, but after spending an entire year with you, her last two years in middle school were hard to swallow.

the pogues didn’t go to the same school, and with you in high school, she had no choice but to turn to sarah. sarah had been a mutual friend between the two of you, and provided a sense of comfort and familiarity that kiara couldn’t find anywhere else.

kiara was excited when she began high school. she could start hanging out with you again, coordinating her elective classes to spend more time around you. it was everything she had been looking forward to for the entirety of eighth grade.

she looked up to you. a girl two years older than her that didn’t care when her friends ragged on her for spending so much time with a freshman. you took her under your wing and made sure nobody gave her shit in high school, and she’d never forget that. even when she spent the entire next year swearing off any and all kooks.

you never understand the switch she had flipped, thinking she had gotten comfortable with her makeshift life on figure eight. you thought you proved to her that kooks weren’t all that bad. you showed her that for every time topper made a crude remark, kelce was there to interject with a light hearted response. you tried to make her comfortable there, treating her like the younger sister you never had.

then she flipped on you. when her and sarah had a falling out, you were caught in the middle of it. you’d been dating rafe at the time, which made you biased in a way you wished you didn’t have to be. you couldn’t throw sarah in your rear view mirror like she didn’t mean anything. she was in the heart of your friend group, and despite what you wanted, you were around her too much to cut her out entirely.

losing kiara hurt. you’d opened up to her about things that nobody else knew about you. you’d slept at her house when things with your parents got rocky. she was there when your brother moved for college, and offered a sense of comfort you couldn’t find in your other friends.

she didn’t ask you to choose, she simply left without another word. she told you that she’d see you in school but that had to be the extent of it. if she was swearing off all kooks, that had to include you, no matter how much it hurt her to walk away from you.

your last summer on the island was supposed to be the best one yet. sure, you’d be back for small breaks during the semester, and an entire month between fall and spring, but you were going all the way to south carolina in august. you were determined to have a good time.

leaving rafe would be hard, seeing as he had just gotten back from his first, and last, year at college, but you were prepared to face the battles, no matter how tough.

something about this summer felt off from the beginning. you didn’t know what it was, but you tried to shrug it off anytime it came up. you did your part in trying to keep your boyfriend and his goons out of trouble, though that proved easier said than done.

it didn’t help when sarah dropped off the radar, beginning to sneak around and disappear for long periods of time. she had blown it off every time you asked, despite you promising her that she could trust you with every fiber of her being. you had been her honorary older sister for years, and you dating her older brother only heightened that.

when she blew off your plans to go to the movie night, you made a mental note to dig into what exactly deemed more important than sneaking drinks during the movie neither of you cared about.

“hey, kie.” your head turned to follow your boyfriend, eyebrows pulled together when he stepped up to the concessions stand to stand beside the girl you hadn’t spoken to in - you don’t even remember how long.

you picked up on kiara’s annoyed expression quickly, sensing a small amount of discomfort in the way that she quickly ignored rafe. he didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care, but it captured your interest fairly quickly.

topper tried to grab your attention, mentioning something about the bottle of burnett’s he scored from his plug earlier that day. you waved him off quickly, eyes firmly locked on the two that stood just a few yards away from you.

“how are you?” kiara spared you a short glance before practically rolling her eyes, trying to mentally map out an escape plan, no doubt.

“i’m fine.” rafe nodded, swinging his weight from the balls of his feet back onto his heels.

“good, good. um, tell your boy that we know what he did.” kiara’s expression stood steady, despite the confusion clear in her eyes that you were sure rafe didn’t pick up on.

“sorry, what boy are you talking about?” her eyes found yours again, but she could tell you were just as lost as she was, so she looked back at rafe quickly.

“uh, he’ll know.” kiara rolled her eyes one final time, though the eye contact between the two last just long enough for your fists to clench at your sides before she turned and walked away.

“bye.” you watched rafe watch kiara walk away from him, his hands shoved in his pockets and back turned towards you.

there was something in the way that he watched her leave. the way his gaze lingered on her longer than normal. the way he chewed on the inside of his cheek when he spun around to face you. how his eyes were locked on his feet for a short second before he was offering you a bright smile as he returned to the same smiling rafe before he’d seen kiara.

“what the fuck was that?” you didn’t notice topper pinching the bridge of his nose behind you, shaking his head at rafe’s lack of subtlety. you didn’t see the way that kelce was shaking his hand back and forth, telling rafe to completely deny whatever the hell just happened between him and kiara.

sure, to anybody else watching it was just rafe and kiara talking. two people that supposedly didn’t like each other, despite their shared title of a kook. two people talking about something very vague and somehow secretive.

but to you, it was your boyfriend talking to a girl he often didn’t associate with. it was rafe talking to your ex best friend who had left you high and dry after a fall out with your other friend, which you had no hand in. it was the girl who had deemed you guilty by association after sarah had turned her back on the girl.

it was obvious there was tension between the two of them, but you had no idea why.

“what was what?” rafe wrapped an arm around your neck, trying to pull you into his chest but you planted your hand flat on his chest to stop the collision.

“that whole interaction, the tension, what the fuck was that about?” rafe rolled his eyes and moved to press a quick kiss to your forehead, something he knew calmed you down without fail.

“the only tension between kie and i is the same tension between her and the rest of figure eight. she hates me, ‘cause i’m a kook and i mess with her dirty pogue friends.” you wanted to push it further, wanted to say something else, but you couldn’t stop yourself from melting into the boy’s embrace when he pressed another, longer kiss to your forehead.

“stop stressing, baby. let’s go sit down.” you nodded, accepting the kiss rafe moved to place on your lips.

the next time you noticed something being off was midsummers. your mind had already been racing when you’d stood beside topper, eyes locked on sarah and john b less than a mile away. you were confused as to why she wasn’t being discrete about it, kissing him during one of the biggest events of the summer.

your hand found topper’s arm, squeezing it gently before leaning into his side to provide a sense of comfort that he surely needed. you were confused, hurt for topper, and you knew it would inevitably become your job to get to the bottom of it all.

you were upset that rafe wasn’t ravishing you in your dress, like you had originally planned. he had made a few comments in your ear as the night progressed, especially after the slit in your dress rode up while you crouched behind kelce to hide from your parents while you downed a glass of wine.

his eyes had been glued to you almost all night long, and while you were drinking it all in and enjoying every minute of it, he’d disappeared at some point and you were now left to comfort a confused and hurt topper.

when the commotion between jj and the head of security erupted in the middle of the crowd, your eyes found rafe. you knew he had something to do with it. you would’ve blown it off as a casual kook v. pogue rivalry interaction, but the way his eyes were trained on kiara when she began sticking up for jj made your blood boil.

“you okay?” topper nudged you with his elbow, but you shook your head gently, eyes burning into your boyfriend’s back as he watched kiara run off, despite her parents’ protests.

“do you know something i don’t, top?” his eyebrows pulled together in confusion, not catching on to what you were asking him. “what’s going on between rafe and kiara?”

you knew you’d hit something when topper’s face fell. his lips parted as he tried to come up with something. a diversion, a distraction, an excuse, anything. you could tell he was digging through his brain for something to say to you.

“topper, what the hell is going on?” he started stuttering, falling over his words as he shook his head slowly.

“n-nothing. why would you- what makes you think that anything’s going on with them? kiara and rafe? pfft, that’s ridiculous, y/n.” your jaw clenched and you put a hand flat on his chest, pushing him back and away from the people stood around the two of you.

“topper. spill. now.” your voice dropped to an octave you never used with topper. he’d seen you use it with rafe on multiple occasions, and the one time that kelce lied to you about the wine stain on your carpet. he knew it was a tone that you only used for specific situations, and he knew it meant he had no way out of this.

“i-”

“what’s up with you two?” your head turned towards kelce, the bright smile he held once left his face at the sight of your tensed muscles and hand still pressed against topper’s chest.

“what’s going on with rafe and kiara?” kelce looked panic, eyes looking over at topper who was shaking his head quickly to say he hadn’t told you anything he was supposed to. “kelce.”

“okay, okay-”

“kelce, no!”

“top, we can’t hide it from her forever.”

“we can if you shut up!”

“she’s clearly catching on-”

“only because you’re giving her ammo!”

“shouldn’t we tell her the truth if she thinks it’s still happening-”

“still happening? how many times has it happened?” topper let out a heavy sigh, mentally cursing kelce for saying too much. kelce always had a soft spot for you, and that proved to be a weakness in more situations than not. “someone tell me what the fuck is going on, right now, or so help me god-”

“rafe and kiara slept together, okay? they slept together when you two were going through one of your spats.” your hand fell from topper’s chest, an uneasy feeling flowing through you as you tried to process the given information.

“it happened once when you drilled into him too far and he kind of flew off the rails a bit. he swore it was a one time thing but then they fell into a bit of a routine. it only happened a few times, but-”

“when?” your eyes flicked between the two boys, who were sharing eye contact to decide who was the one who ha to break it to you. “i don’t care who says it, someone just fucking say it!”

“right before rafe graduated.” kelce rushed out, almost out of breath from how fast the words fell off of his tongue.

you were still friends with kiara then. you’d been dating rafe for over a year at that point, and you were finding out about all of this over a year after it all happened.

“how long?” topper sighed heavily, hating the position he was currently in. he was friends with both of you, but rafe was his boy. he’d been sworn to secrecy for over a year now and it would’ve been fine if you weren’t so observant, and kelce wasn’t so guilt ridden.

“a few months, i don’t know. like three, maybe four.”

you wished the ground would swallow you whole then. you knew it wouldn’t have come to light if you didn’t dig so far, but the damage had been done. you knew now, and there was no way around that.

everybody had been lying to you. your boyfriend, who you loved more than anything. your ex best friend, who you still cared for immensely. the two boys who had stood up for you for years. the two boys who you cared for like they had been siblings born into the wrong family.

your eyes stung, maybe from the tears that didn’t often come to you, maybe from the pressure of holding them back. you weren’t entirely sure which caused the burn in them, but it was uncomfortably present. your head started nodding, and your hands found the fabric of your dress, lifting it enough for you to bend your knees and slip off your shoes.

“what are you doing?” kelce started moving before you could walk away, worried he had just ruined seemingly everything with a simple conversation. a conversation he should’ve steered clear of.

“i’m going home, kelce.” you turned around, almost running right into the last person you wanted to see.

“you’re going home?” he spoke gently, eyes locked on your shoes in your hand before looking back up and cupping your face in his hands. “hey, what’s wrong?”

you grabbed his wrist gently, pulling his hand away from your face and setting it back at his side. he was confused, watching you summon every ounce of self control you possessed in order to stay calm in this moment.

“i’m going home.” you said one more time, walking around rafe and towards your car, but you felt a hand on your elbow seconds later, only a few feet away from your previous spot.

“baby what’s going on? at least let me drive you home-”

“why don’t you drive kiara home, rafe?” rafe rolled his eyes, letting out a low groan at the name that slipped from your lips.

“we’re back on this kie bullshit? there’s nothing going on between kiara and i-”

“there was though, wasn’t there?” rafe paused, his movements stuttering as he stared at you with an unreadable expression. “c’mon, rafe. tell me nothing happened. tell me that you didn’t cheat on me with my best friend.”

“who told you? was it kelce? son of a bitch. i knew his soft spot for you was going to bite me in the ass-”

“the only thing that bit you in the ass was your inability to keep your dick in your pants, rafe.” you ripped your arm out of his grasp then, eyes wide and filled to the brim with tears that you refused to let surpass your waterline.

“baby, just listen to me-”

“no, you listen, rafe. i have never loved a person in my life the way that i love you. i have never done anything to hurt you and i would never think of doing something like what you did.

“i have never spent my time thinking about a person the way that i think about you. i never asked you for anything, never asked you to promise me a single thing. i never forced anything onto you, and you couldn’t do me the decency of just staying loyal to me. i would never disrespect you like that.”

he knew you were right. he’d been at the boneyard when tourons approached you at a kegger. he’d seen you turn every single one down before they wasted their breath on asking. he’d seen you duck and dodge every person’s efforts in any situation, just before you came back to him with an amused smile and another story to tell.

you kept him out of trouble that way. you were honest and transparent. you could’ve easily turned them down and pocketed the experience, but you told rafe every time. you didn’t know he saw almost every time, but you did it because you were loyal. you didn’t see anybody else the way you saw rafe. you’d do anything to assure him that he was the only one you had eyes for.

and the icing on the cake was that kiara was involved. meaning that your entire junior year that was spent juggling time between your best friend and your boyfriend, they were spending their free time with each other, behind your back. you would’ve done anything for either of them. you still would.

“y/n, i love you-”

“i wish i believed that, rafe. i really wish i did.” you shook your head gently, looking back at the other two that were watching with guilt building within them. “i’ve been loyal to the three of you to a fault. i’ve never kept anything from either of you, and-”

you shook your head, looking up at the sky to fight the oncoming rush of tears that continued to build. you refused to wipe them before the fell, but you also refused to let them fall. topper and kelce had never seen you cry, and rafe had only see it a few times.

“i expected better, which may be my fault. i just- for fucks sake. topper i just watched your girlfriend cheat on you and comforted you for the last hour! how in the hell is that not enough motivation to say something to me about this?” you were screaming now, but there wasn’t anybody around to hear any of you.

“y/n, i’m sorry-”

“just, forget it. i just want to go home-”

“baby-”

“we’re done, rafe.” his shoulders dropped, along with his jaw as he stared at you in disbelief. “it’s done. whatever this was to you,” you moved your hand between the two of you, gesturing to you as a couple. “whatever the last two years was is over, rafe. we’re over.”

your voice broke, pitching up in the middle of your words. rafe felt his airways constrict as a lump formed in his throat. he felt tears burn his eyes, much like yours had been for a few minutes at this point. he saw you slip through his fingers as you started taking steps back from him, not daring to show any sign of weakness as you squared your shoulders.

“don’t fucking follow me, any of you.” you threatened lowly, spinning on your feet and walking off before any of them had time to process everything that had just happened.

you tried to find your car, heavily disappointed and frustrated when you remembered you’d come with kelce. you were supposed to come on your own, given that rafe was being dragged along with his family.

the frustration was enough to let the first tear slip out of the corner of your eye, falling down your cheek at an excruciating pace. once the first slipped, it was as if the floodgates had been knocked down.

they came faster than you could wipe them away, which led you to leaving your cheeks a stained and wet mess on your walk home.

you tried to think of all the times you’d blindly trusted the pair, never questioning their actions or motives a single time in the past. you never questioned people you trusted. it had been one of your faulty traits, being loyal to a fault. you blindly trusted people, but it had never come back to bite you this intensely.

you rolled your eyes when you saw the pogue’s van on the same road you had been walking down for longer than you could remember. you were sure it’d pass until it didn’t, slowing to an excruciating pace on the road beside you.

“y/n!” you sighed heavily, fully intending on ignoring the group of kids piled into the van beside you until kie stuck her head out of the passenger side window.

“y/n, why are you out here all aone?” you turned then, facing the van that then came to a stop, kiara’s eyes locked on your tear stained cheeks. “holy shit, y/n, what happened?”

kiara had only seen you cry once. it was the summer before you were going into high school, and you’d fallen off of your surf board. you were frustrated, having fallen more than succeeding that afternoon. the pent up frustration tipped you over the edge you’d been teetering on for months.

you told kiara about the problems you’d been faced with, anxious about starting high school and seemingly losing all the friends you’d had your entire life. you didn’t know what to expect, and you were scared, but you never told anybody that.

nobody expect kiara.

“you were my best friend, you know?” you spoke gently, watching as kiara’s face twisted in confusion. “you were my best fucking friend and i trusted you with things i’d never tell anybody else. i told you about my parents almost getting a divorce, and how i almost had to move in with my brother all the way in maine.

“i told you about almost being put on anti depressants, and confessed every secret i ever had to you. i told you everything. i trusted you with everything. never in a million years did i ever think you would’ve gone behind my back and fuck my boyfriend.”

kiara’s face dropped, her eyes widened while a chorus of gasps erupted from inside of the van. she moved to step out of the van, pushing the door open after struggling to unlock it and stepping in front of you on the dark and empty road.

“y/n, you have to listen to me-”

“no, i don’t. that’s why you stopped hanging around, isn’t it? that’s why you ran to the cut, because you went behind my back and slept with my boyfriend for months-”

“y/n, it wasn’t like that, i swear.”

“then what was it, kiara?” you screamed, your shoulders falling further than they already had while you stared at her with defeat evident in your features.

“i fell in love with him.” you scoffed, rolling your eyes while a sarcastic laugh dripped from your lips.

“that’s amazing, kiara. i’m so happy for you. i’m so happy you found love in the one person on the entire island that held my heart in the palm of his hand.” she sighed heavily, anger bubbling inside of her.

“it’s not my fault i fell in love with him, y/n!”

“did you love him the first time you fucked him? is that why you slept with him, or was it only after you’d snuck around behind my back for months that you started to fall for him?” you raised your eyebrows, your patience for this conversation wearing thin.

when she didn’t respond, you nodded. you smiled softly, despite the fresh tears rolling down your cheeks as you stepped away from the van and kiara.

“y/n, wait-”

“get back in the van and never fucking speak to me, ever again, kiara. i don’t want anything to do with you for the rest of my life.”

kiara felt her heart shatter in her chest. watching you walk away with every ounce of the truth hurt more than the day she’d walked away, shielding you from this heartbreak.

she knew it was wrong the first time she slept with rafe. she’d been vulnerable, and seeing rafe vulnerable somehow helped. she didn’t love rafe then, but it didn’t take long for her to fall into it with him. their time together had been brief, but it was something kiara would never forget.

falling in love with her best friend’s boyfriend was never something she intended on doing. she told rafe it was wrong and that they could never be together again after the first night, but she had trouble following her own rules. she’d been heartbroken when rafe broke things off for good. he didn’t want to hurt you anymore than he already had, and kiara had to respect that.

that had been the leading factor in kiara’s hatred for the kooks. she knew kelce and topper knew. she knew rafe would never tell you, and you’d get to live the perfect life by his side. she hated rafe for stealing her heart and crushing it in front of her eyes. she hated you for living the life she wanted more than she’d care to admit.

she hated herself for hurting you, even if you didn’t know. she’d covered it up with the story of sarah’s party that night. though that wasn’t a lie, it was dull compared to her betrayal towards you. sarah was never her best friend, you were. you just, unfortunately, loved the same boy.

you both were in love with rafe cameron, and he chose you.

but none of that mattered to you as you walked home, tears in your eyes and on your cheeks. you had lost everything in one night, and you didn’t know how to process it.

one thing you knew for sure is that you couldn’t wait to move off of this island.

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe #obx #the obx #the outer banks #outer banks #outer banks netflix #drew starkey #kiara carrera #kie carrera

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melanielocke · 3 years ago

Text

Conceal don't Feel - Two

Love is an Open Door

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @alastair-appreciation-month @writeordie-4 @amchara

AO3

Previous chapter: One: Do You Wanna Build a Snowman

Next chapter: For the First Time in Forever (to be posted)

Cordelia had never been so disappointed in her entire life. She’d been promised a guest, someone closer to her and Alastair’s age, someone who could end her days of loneliness and be her friend. Father had told her about it himself on one of his better days, he’d invited someone of her generation to come help Alastair. She knew the guest would be there mainly for her brother, of course, but Alastair hated being around people and she was sure whoever the guest was would have plenty of time to spend with her instead. She’d longed for someone to end her loneliness for such a long time she had started fantasizing about the person who would be staying until she’d gotten some admittedly unrealistic expectations. Instead, Charles Fairchild had arrived.

He wasn’t as close to her age as had been promised. Instead, he was eight years older than her, which she guessed was technically her generation, but he found himself far too mature to spend time with silly little girls like her. Not to mention, of course, that he was here for Alastair, and Alastair alone. With Father sick so often and Mother filling in, Alastair needed someone to teach him how to be a king. Somehow, her brother tolerated Charles’ presence whereas he still told Cordelia to go away and leave him alone whenever she approached him. After a few weeks she learned Charles had a younger brother around Cordelia’s age, but of course he hadn’t been invited.

With a groan, she returned to her practice with cortana. It was all she had these days, all she cared about. Even if she was all alone and her brother had barely spoken to her in years, she had been gifted the family sword, both a great honor and responsibility. She wondered sometimes why Alastair had chosen to gift her cortana, as it was tradition the sword went to the heir to the throne.

‘I knew it was important to you,’ was all he’d said when she’d asked, but for Cordelia that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. Giving her a powerful sword that was rightfully his because he knew it was important to her implied he loved her, yet nothing else Alastair did or said showed he even cared about her a little bit. If he loved her, he would spend time with her, not hide in his room and yell at her to go away.

Nowadays, he would only ever spend times with Charles, because of course while Cordelia wasn’t good enough for him, Charles was everything. They deserved each other, Cordelia had decided. They were both boring and stupid and could only ever talk about politics. The only time Charles paid Cordelia any mind was when he told her a princess shouldn’t be eating so much chocolate and maybe she should try losing some weight. He had a point, princesses were supposed to be slim and small and Cordelia wasn’t, but he didn’t have to be so rude about it. She didn’t understand why Alastair followed Charles around like some lost puppy. He used to shut the world out, and it seemed like he’d opened the door, but right after Charles had entered it had shut down with full force once more.

She wished she could let it go, and forget about her brother, but she couldn’t. She still remembered the fun they used to have when they were little, how he’d looked out for her and helped her build the most amazing snowmen. It had all happened so sudden, one day they were playing in the snow together, the next he wouldn’t leave his room and refused to even speak to her. Perhaps there was an explanation, something that would make it all make sense. But then why was Charles the exception, and what did Alastair see in him?

***

When Charles arrived in Arendelle, Alastair redoubled his resolve to get this power under control, to never let it show. Letting Thomas see had been a mistake. He’d trusted Thomas, had cared for him, and now they would never see each other again and how could he be sure Thomas hadn’t shared his secret? He had no reason to assume Charles would even accept the way he was. He could never know.

‘The palace of Arendelle is beautiful,’ Charles said. ‘A different style from the palace of the southern isles. Not that that is still in use, it has been turned into a museum. A real shame.’

Charles made no effort to hide the disdain in his voice as he said the word museum.

‘Why?’ Alastair asked.

‘Because there’s no monarchy anymore,’ Charles said. ‘My mother was the Queen of the Southern Isles until two years ago. She ended the monarchy and was elected as president instead. She thought it unfitting for an elected leader to live in a grand palace, so she decided it should be a museum instead to preserve our country’s history.’

Alastair stared at Charles with wide eyes. ‘That’s a possibility? I could just end the monarchy and have elections for a leader? And whoever has good ideas on how to improve the country could just sign up?’

He imagined all sorts of people would be willing to give it a try, and Alastair had never wanted the throne anyway. He had no idea how he’d be king and meet with cabinet members and foreign officials and never show the ice that rested inside of him.

Charles chuckled, as if he’d just said something ridiculous.

‘Perhaps not,’ he said quietly, already feeling stupid.

‘Being a Crown Prince is an honor, Alastair, a great privilege. Who in their right mind would give that up? Why would you not want to be king?’

Alastair sighed. ‘I guess you’re right. It’s just a lot of responsibility, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.’

‘That’s alright. That’s why I’m here. I might not be a prince anymore, but I have a lot of experience being one and later I helped with my mother’s presidential campaign and presidency. I know how to run a country.’

His friendship with Charles might have been a bit rocky at first, but Alastair soon learnt to trust him more. It was a bit like with Thomas, when Charles was near Alastair felt calmer and could control the ice.

Charles was knowledgeable and took his time to educate Alastair on everything he thought was important for a future king. He was often willing to make time for Alastair, even when it was not convenient for him, and Alastair thought as long as Charles was here, everything was going to be alright.

‘What will you do, when you return to the southern isles?’ Alastair asked him one day.

‘Run for president myself,’ Charles said. ‘It’s not the same as being king, but there’s still much good I can do for the southern isles. My mother has done a good job, but I fear she is too sentimental. I can make my country strong again, that is all I ever wanted.

Don’t worry, I won’t be leaving anytime soon. You still need plenty of my help, and I think together we can set up some better trade routes, build an alliance and find new ways in which we can help each other. I think both Arendelle and the Southern Isles could benefit from a closer relationship.’

Alastair was intrigued. Alliances with foreign kingdoms were what he feared the most of being king. He wasn’t charming, too blunt and straight forward to flatter, but perhaps with Charles he could get started on a good alliance without those skills. ‘Of course. Whatever you need.’

***

Cordelia was beyond excited. Alastair had asked her to join him for a picnic on the palace grounds this afternoon. This would be her chance to get her brother back and a picnic was a decent start. Perhaps someday coming winter they could build a snowman again. Cordelia firmly believed you were never too old to build a snowman.

She picked out her nicest dress, eternally grateful it still fit as she was always growing out of her clothes, and went out to meet Alastair in the gardens. For once he wasn’t with Charles, which was nice because Cordelia did not want to talk about politics all afternoon. She had more important things to discuss.

‘I’m glad you came,’ Alastair said.

He was tense, Cordelia could tell. It was hard to read his moods with Alastair, he rarely showed any emotion, but she had learnt to recognize the slight tension in his shoulders, his stiff demeanor, as if he was forcing himself to speak. She wondered why he would be tense.

‘Of course I came,’ Cordelia said. ‘As far as I know you’re still my only brother.’

‘I’m sorry, for the past years,’ Alastair said. ‘I know you must have been very alone.’

Cordelia nodded. ‘Yes. I know you have to study and prepare for being king and all, but why can’t we at least open the gates every once in a while? Maybe invite some girls my age, or even Charles’ younger brother?’

She knew spending a lot of time with a boy her age would be considered inappropriate, but that was still preferable to keeping the company of the portraits on the wall. She had so little experience with social interaction she didn’t even know how to speak to someone her age, and Father expected her to get married when she was older. How was she supposed to do that when she never met anyone? There was no way she was marrying Charles.

‘I’m sorry,’ Alastair said quietly. ‘We can’t do that.’

‘Father could invite Charles,’ Cordelia protested. ‘Surely we can invite someone else. I still don’t have a lady in waiting.’

‘That’ll have to wait, Layla. I’m sorry. I wish it were different.’

Alastair had called her Layla since she was a little girl, after a girl in a story their mother used to tell them, and it was a bit of a weak spot of hers. Still, she was determined not to let it go, because nothing Alastair said made any sense.

‘But why?’ Cordelia asked. ‘What are you so afraid of?’

‘I’m not afraid of anything,’ Alastair bit at her.

There was that temper she remembered from his childhood. It was good to see he still felt anything at all, but Cordelia did not want to make him angry the first time she’d spoken to him in years. Perhaps she should be a little more tactful about this instead of forcing answers out of him. One thing she knew for sure though, there was something Alastair knew and she didn’t. Perhaps more than one thing, Alastair always seemed to know much more than he let on. It was infuriating.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said and she hoped he would believe her apology was sincere. ‘I just wish I could have friends too.’

‘Maybe when you’re older,’ Alastair said. ‘I’ll do what I can, alright? But no promises.’

Cordelia decided to accept that for now. ‘Your life must have been very boring too. I mean, you have company, but it’s Charles. That might actually be worse than being alone.’

Alastair rolled his eyes. ‘He’s not boring. He’s a politician, and a very good one. He knows everything there is about being king, even if he won’t be one himself anymore. It is very generous of him to come here and help me.’

Cordelia made a face. ‘I don’t like him. Most of the time he ignores me, which honestly is fine, but he also tells me I eat way too much chocolate and need to lose weight.’

Her weight had become a bit of an insecurity lately. She was at the end of her growth spurt and quite tall, which she liked, she was even taller than Alastair, but while she’d stopped growing in length, she kept getting wider and had to throw out dresses all the time. Her mother had told her this was normal for girls her age, but Cordelia was pretty sure most girls her age were much thinner than she was, and princesses were expected to be small and skinny.

If Charles was to be believed, it was because of all the sweets she ate, and reminding her of it was hurtful, not to mention he was always rude and condescending about it, as if she couldn’t possibly know what was good for her.

‘I’m sorry, I’ll ask him not to bother you,’ Alastair promised. ‘But I really need him here, alright? I will be king one day, and I desperately need his help.’

Cordelia snorted. ‘Maybe if you wanted to learn how to be a better king, you could actually go outside and spend time with the people of Arendelle instead of hiding here in the castle.’

‘That’s not possible,’ Alastair said stiffly.

He was worried. Cordelia couldn’t tell what it was, but she was determined to find out.

‘Are you scared to leave the palace?’ Cordelia asked. ‘I read a book some time back about someone who was scared to leave their house. It was very intriguing.’

‘I’m not scared, Cordelia,’ Alastair hissed, but something about his stiff mannerism revealed otherwise.

She nodded. ‘Alright, so you have a fear of going outside like that character in the book. Maybe there’s a doctor somewhere who can help you overcome your fear since I have no idea how it’s done and I imagine dragging you outside might make it worse. But that’s alright, I could go out and into the city for you and report back what I learn. We could be a great team, like we used to be.’

‘No, Cordelia, that’s not… I’m not afraid.’ He stopped abruptly, twisting his fingers together.

Alastair was wearing a pair of fancy black gloves. Now that she noticed, he always wore gloves. Perhaps if he was scared of going outside, he was also scared of dirt? The palace was cleaned, of course, but some rooms weren’t cleaned as often because of the limited staff and would collect dust. She did remember her brother had always been rather neat, that had to be it.

‘We’re done here,’ Alastair said. ‘Goodbye.’

He stood up and walked away. They hadn’t even eaten anything yet. Cordelia ran after him.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Back inside. I changed my mind, I don’t want to have a picnic with you.’

Cordelia didn’t understand. He’d invited her, he’d wanted to spend time with her. Had she done something wrong to change his mind? It didn’t make any sense, she might have been a little pushy, but he had to understand it was for his own good, right?

‘Why? Am I suddenly not good enough for you anymore?’ Cordelia yelled, grabbing his shoulder.

‘Leave me alone, Cordelia,’ Alastair hissed. ‘I mean it.’

Cordelia was taken back by the sudden vehemence in his voice.

‘Fine, go back inside to stupid Charles and his stupid lessons!’ she yelled after him as he walked inside.

He didn’t look back, not even once. As if she was nothing. Great, that was her one chance to win back her brother, to improve her situation here somewhat. Now she had no idea what to do.

She returned to the picnic site and collapsed onto the blanket she’d laid out for the two of them. She stuffed some chocolate into her mouth. Chocolate she’d specifically requested for Alastair, because she knew he liked anything sweet, and loved chocolate most of all. Cordelia did too, curse stupid Charles and his stupid comments about her eating habits. She was the princess, she could eat as much chocolate as she wanted. She needed some way to cope with being alone all the time and if Charles thought it was bad for her maybe he should go find her a friend. As it was, she returned to days of loneliness and practicing with cortana. What else was she supposed to do?

***

‘Your father didn’t show up to our meeting again,’ Charles said. ‘We were supposed to discuss your progress weekly, but most of the time he isn’t there. Do you know if he’s alright?’

‘He’s just sick,’ Alastair said, terrified Charles would find out about his father’s drinking. ‘No one knows what’s wrong with him, but it’s been getting worse. Mother has taken over most of his tasks so he can rest. Thanks to you, I can start helping out too. I’ve been working on my correspondence, and I was wondering if you could double check my letter to the Duke of Weselton?’

Charles nodded. ‘I’ll look at your letter. I am sorry to hear about your father’s illness, Alastair, I know it’s been hard on you. How’s your sister under all this?’

Alastair sighed. A couple of months ago, he’d thought he was making progress. Around Charles he felt so much better, he felt as if the ice wasn’t even there unless he called for it. He had thought maybe he could give his sister another chance and he’d invited her to a picnic. If everything had gone well and he’d felt in control around her, he could have told her the truth there, and show her what he was capable of. But when he’d met with Cordelia, everything came back in full force and he’d have to fight with every bit of his willpower to repress his fear and keep the ice inside of him. Cordelia was still mad about his sudden departure, but he’d had no other choice if he wanted to keep her safe. When he’d gotten back to his bedroom, he’d lost control and caused a snowstorm. While he thought his control had improved since Charles had come, the size of any outburst that slipped through had grown.

He was lucky Cordelia hadn’t seen it and at least now that Father was drunk all the time, he wouldn’t notice and put Alastair in chains. He knew it was all his fault though, his father wouldn’t have started drinking if it weren’t for him.

‘I think it’s difficult for her,’ Alastair said. ‘She mentioned you made some comments about her eating habits the other day. I know you mean well, but she doesn’t like it.’

‘I’m just concerned for her. It’s unhealthy to eat so much chocolate,’ Charles insisted. ‘She’ll thank me when she doesn’t have to throw out another of her custom made gowns.’

Alastair didn’t think it was fair to shame her for growing out of clothes when he did the same. He’d started his growth spurt lately and most of his suits had become too short. They weren’t thrown away either, they were sold second hand, as were Cordelia’s old gowns.

‘I think she’s insecure about how she looks,’ Alastair said. ‘And she has plenty to worry about, I don’t think she should be worrying about her weight on top of that. Your comments aren’t helping her.’

He didn’t understand why his control was so much worse around Cordelia. A long time ago, he’d hurt her, and he was terrified it would happen again. Perhaps that was different with Charles. With Charles he could not feel, like he was supposed to.

The problem, of course, was that with Charles he did feel. Just like he had with Thomas. It had not appeared as fast as it had with Thomas, but it was so much stronger now that he’d gotten to know Charles, had spent nearly a year with him.

He wanted Charles. Loved him, even. Alastair didn’t understand why he felt this way. Years ago, he’d met his cousin Jem who’d told him how he loved both Will and Tessa romantically. Alastair couldn’t imagine loving more than one person at the same time, nor could he imagine loving a woman, but perhaps some men longed for the love of other men instead of women.

Perhaps being in love was what calmed his moods, as long as he wasn’t scared. Right now, he wasn’t, not yet. He knew it was unlikely Charles felt the same way. That was alright, because he still wanted to be near him and then everything would be fine.

‘You know, I always found it unusual how empty this castle is,’ Charles said one day. ‘No one else ever stays, your parents always travel to meet foreign leaders and never invite anyone over. There aren’t half as many cleaners and servants as there were in my old palace.’

‘We minimized the staff,’ Alastair said. ‘It seems wasteful to spend money on staff when that could be spent on improving the kingdom.’

‘You don’t even have friends,’ Charles said. ‘No other noblemen visit, ever. You don’t have any companions, nor a page. You sleep alone. It’s odd.’

Alastair frowned. ‘How is it odd that I sleep alone?’

‘When I was still a prince, I had a page. A boy around my age, who shared my bed at night. It was normal at home, for noblemen and women to have a page or lady in waiting share their bed. A good way to make sure your virtue remains intact and you do not share your bed with a woman you are not married to.’

Alastair wasn’t sure that would be effective. Who was to say nothing improper happened between the nobleman and the person who shared their bed?

‘There’s no one here I could lose my virtue to,’ Alastair said. ‘But I know what you mean, my mother does share her bed with Risa, her lady in waiting. My father doesn’t though, he sleeps alone.’

No one could find out he was a drunk. No one would believe in him as a king anymore, and therefore it was up to Alastair to keep anyone from finding out, just like he had to keep everyone from finding out about the ice inside of him.

‘I imagine you don’t have a page anymore at home?’ Alastair asked.

‘We had a fall out shortly before my mother gave up the crown,’ Charles said in a tone that indicated he did not want to talk about it.

Charles did not bring the topic up again for some time, not until he was complaining about his younger brother one day.

‘He’s been campaigning for the right for men to love other men,’ Charles said with a sigh. ‘And for women to love women. Here I was thinking he’d never give up on being silly and going out partying, but this is worse.’

Alastair tilted his head. ‘Why? Is he not fighting for a good cause?’

‘He will make everything much harder for me, for our family,’ Charles said. ‘People are shunning him, of course. They’re wondering, why is he campaigning for this, what does it mean about him? And my brother does not have the good sense to hide he likes both men and women.’

So Charles’ brother was like his cousin Jem, then? Alastair had not met Matthew Fairchild, but it was difficult to hear Charles talk like this. He felt a familiar tingling in his fingers, a warning he might lose control. Something he had not yet felt around Charles.

‘That is very brave of him,’ Alastair said.

‘I prefer to think of it as foolish,’ Charles said. ‘The people won’t accept him, he won’t change a thing. He’ll just make everything harder for himself, and for me. People will watch us more closely. No one batted an eye when Daniel, my former page, shared my bed for years.’

Alastair gasped. ‘You mean to say you love men?’

‘Unfortunately I do. It’s not easy for someone like me. I have to keep it a secret, or I risk losing everything. No one would vote for a man like me to be president. But with the proper precautions, I’ve been quite successful at hiding my affections and desires while still indulging in them. I wish my brother understood that.’

Alastair put his hand on Charles’ and felt the tingling fade. It wasn’t gone, not entirely, but he wouldn’t lose control. ‘Does your brother know about you?’

‘No. I never wanted him to. You’re the first person I’ve told after Daniel, I know I can trust you to keep my secret.’

Alastair felt special to be entrusted with such a secret, and could it mean Charles returned his feelings? Had Charles told him because he hoped Alastair might want to be with him?

‘When I’m king, I will do what your brother has been campaigning for, I will change the laws and allow two men or two women to be together,’ Alastair promised. ‘Get married, even.’

Charles waved his hand dismissively. ‘Don’t be silly, Alastair.’

His heart sank, the tingling increased. He had to tell Charles about his affections, or else everything would become snow and ice.

‘But I’m like you,’ Alastair said. ‘I like men. And I don’t want to hide forever. What’s even the point in being king if I can’t change such things?’

‘They’ll cast you out, Alastair,’ Charles said. ‘Don’t waste your birthright on something the people will never accept. Best to keep your affections a secret. You’re a prince, you can pick any boy you like to be your page or companion and share your bed. No one would suspect a thing.’

Charles put his hand on Alastair’s shoulder, a bit too long for it to be called friendly, right?

‘What about you?’ Alastair asked. ‘I feel choosing a page to be my love would be unfair. Like, would he even get a say in that? It wouldn’t be like that with you.’

Charles smiled and cupped his cheek with his hand. It was smooth, the hand of someone who had not done manual labor. ‘You’re in love with me, aren’t you?’ he said, his voice gentle.

Alastair rubbed his hands together, forcing the tingling to stop. He felt frost underneath his gloves, but it was still hidden. Conceal, don’t feel.

‘Yes,’ he whispered.

‘I suspected as much,’ Charles said. ‘I like you too, Alastair. You’re smart and beautiful, and you will be a great king someday. But this has to be a secret. You understand that, don’t you? I will be with you, but only as long as you can keep your affections concealed.’

Alastair nodded. ‘Of course.’

Then Charles kissed him, and it was like fire, a sudden heat that melted his frozen heart, that stopped the tingling in his fingers, that calmed the storm inside of him. Perhaps love was the answer after all.

Alastair and Charles explored much more than just kissing together. Charles came to share his bed, claiming it was improper how Alastair slept alone all night. No one suspected a thing, but then of course, there was no one who could suspect. It was the first time in years where Alastair felt he might be happy. Even if he was still too dangerous to be around his sister. He tried once more. No promises this time, he just sought her out in her room to see if they could talk. The storm returned almost immediately and Alastair realized his sister would never be safe if he went near her. The only one he could be around was Charles.

It was amazing at first. Long nights together, Charles touching him, making love to him. He’d never known being touched by someone could feel so good, nor that it would melt the ice inside his heart. Charles knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted, and Alastair was happy to oblige.

It was wonderful outside of the bedroom too. He loved how Charles would gently touch his shoulder, his wrist as he guided him through their lessons. But it didn’t take long for the secrecy of it all to start to weigh on him. Charles’ younger brother had fled farther south for his own safety, confirming Charles’ beliefs it was better to keep their love a secret. Alastair was scared the same might happen to him, but what could possibly be worse than people finding out he was a monster with ice in his heart?

Perhaps it would be better to leave, to flee into the woods and snow touched mountains and make his home there. The cold didn’t bother him, he would survive. But Charles could not come with him there, and so he stayed. Even while Charles mocked his ideas, told him he was still too young to understand what it was to rule a kingdom and treated him like was a child despite being old enough to be Charles’ lover.

Once he’d been in control around Charles, but not anymore. He wasn’t sure why it had gotten worse, why he was so scared Charles would leave him, that he wasn’t good enough anymore. He redoubled his resolve, made sure to read everything Charles asked him to, be everything his lover needed him to be. Charles was all he had, he didn’t think he could survive being abandoned. They stayed like this for several years. Alastair never took his gloves, not even when they had sex, and never explained why. Charles thought it was odd, but had come to accept it.

Even when he lost control, the gloves kept it in for a little longer, offered a bit of protection, and the time to get away before the storm began. Whenever he didn’t trust himself anymore, he went to his own private bathroom, a place even Charles wasn’t allowed to enter. Now that Charles shared his bed, his bedroom wasn’t a safe place to lose control anymore and he couldn’t exactly ask Charles to leave. So instead, this bathroom had frozen several times over, and whenever he was going to lose control he just told Charles he needed to use the bathroom. At this point, all the pipes had broken, so nothing could be used, but everything had been cut off from the water network long ago and his outbursts didn’t affect the other bathrooms. Charles had not uncovered his secret, and although it was difficult to keep it from him, it was for the best.

***

Cordelia took her father’s hand. ‘Where are you going? Are you sure you’re well enough to travel?’

‘I’m feeling much better, Cordelia dear,’ he said with a smile. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back before you know it.’

Cordelia wasn’t sure where exactly her parents would be traveling. It wasn’t the first time he left, of course, to meet with foreign nobles, but this time he would be going on a much longer journey, and it had been a while since he’d traveled anywhere. He’d been too sick and Mother had written letters to keep up relations instead.

‘Can’t I come with you?’ Cordelia asked.

‘Not this time,’ her father said. ‘But I promise on my next journey you can come with me. It’s almost time for you to be presented to the world. But this is something I have to do myself, I’m afraid.’

The idea of being presented to the world sounded good, but perhaps that would be a bit much all at once. Perhaps it would be nicer to start with a smaller group of people who could be her friends.

‘What if the people won’t like me?’ Cordelia asked.

‘Of course they will. You are beautiful, compassionate and nurturing, what’s not to like?’

Cordelia could always count on her father to tell her she was beautiful, even if not long ago she’d had to throw out nearly all of her gowns because she’d gained too much weight to fit into them.

‘I’ll still be here, azizam,’ her mother said, which surprised her.

‘Oh, I thought you were going too,’ Cordelia said.

‘I was, but Alastair insisted he was not ready to take over while I was gone and needed me to stay,’ her mother explained. ‘I know that’s not true and Alastair is more than ready, but I thought staying would put his mind at ease.’

Cordelia supposed that should make her less lonely, but her mother spent all her time on filling in for her father and she wasn’t sure where that left her. She knew everyone was keeping something from her, but she couldn’t figure out what and it was frustrating. She’d tried asking her father, who had told her not to worry, that everything would be alright in the end. Then she’d asked her mother, who’d told her that her brother was going through a difficult time, without offering any explanation. Apparently, boys his age often went through times like this, except in Alastair’s case that had been years now. Not that Cordelia knew any other boys Alastair’s age to compare his behavior to, but that was hardly her fault.

It turned out her father wasn’t back before she knew it. It took months to even get word from him. Of course, it was a long journey by ship and it made sense they did not hear anything at first, but after a couple of months Cordelia began to worry. They should have heard something by now, what could have become of him?

‘He’ll be alright, Cordelia,’ her mother had said. ‘We’ll hear from him soon enough. He must have decided to stay longer than intended and it would take time for a letter to reach us.’

But Cordelia could tell her mother was worried too, more so with every passing day during which they did not hear from Elias. Several months after he’d first left, a messenger came.

‘I am terribly sorry to bring you this news, Your Majesty,’ the messenger said, addressing her mother. ‘The King’s ship went down in the southern seas. There were no survivors.’

Cordelia had been in shock at first. Then she’d burst into tears. Mother had cried too, although a bit more concealed. Alastair though, had not shown a thing. He’d taken the news quietly, asked a few questions, and then retreated to his room. As if he didn’t feel a thing, as if he didn’t care.

The funeral was a quiet ceremony, and Alastair didn’t attend. She had been forced to ask Charles where he was and why he hadn’t come to his own father’s funeral. Charles didn’t know the answer either, said something about Alastair being upset and indisposed, but she could tell it didn’t make sense to him either.

Determined not to let him slip away from her like he always did, she went to his room after the funeral, knocking on the door. No response. When she was younger, Alastair would yell at her to go away, he would get angry that she had the nerve to bother him. As awful as that was, his silence was worse.

‘Please, Alastair,’ she said. ‘I know you’re in there. I don’t know why you didn’t come to the funeral, and maybe it was just too hard… But people asked about you, where you’ve been. And I want to be there for you. Just let me in, and we can talk about.’

‘Leave me alone, Cordelia!’ she heard from the other side of the door. He didn’t open it. ‘I don’t care Father is dead, that’s why I didn’t go the funeral. You shouldn’t either.’

It was not the answer she’d expected, although it wasn’t the first time it had seemed like Alastair did not love Father. Sometimes she wondered if Alastair could feel anything at all. She guessed not. There was ice inside his heart, and Cordelia did not know how to reach him anymore. Perhaps it didn’t matter.

With Father gone, her mother was Queen-Regent for now, taking on all of Father’s duties with some help from Alastair here and there until his coronation. Her mother was pregnant, and Cordelia didn’t think it would be good for her to spend so much time working while expecting a child. At least the pregnancy meant that once the baby was here, she would have someone to play with.

In four months, Alastair would turn twenty one and would be crowned king. He only ever spent time preparing for his coronation and his reign, Charles always hovering around him. It was impossible to catch him alone.

Of course, a coronation brought opportunities. Alastair couldn’t be crowned in a small, private ceremony, people from all over the country and even beyond would be invited. Cordelia would finally have a chance to meet actual real life people.

***

Alastair did not attend his father’s funeral. He’d expected knowing his father was gone would bring relief. No more hiding the empty bottles, no more covering up his sickness. No risk Cordelia would find out. Most of all, no risk Father would decide he was too dangerous and would chain him in the dungeons. He had never forgotten that day and even now he still had nightmares. Father had always been cruel to him, and he thought his death would set Alastair free. Instead, he felt empty, he felt a horrible guilt for hating a man who was now dead. He felt the snow and ice tingling against his fingers, seeking release. He pushed it back down with all he had. Conceal, don’t feel, that was what his father had taught him. No emotion, push it all down. Alright then, he would not feel. He would not mourn Father, would not care that he was gone. He would not attend the funeral and pay his respects, it was too dangerous anyway, and Father did not deserve that.

He knew people would ask why, where he’d been, and he made something up about being too sick and overcome with grief to attend. It was a lie. Even without the risk of exposing his ice, he would not have wanted to attend. He hated his father, and he couldn’t bear to listen to people speak on what a great king he’d been. Worse, what a great father he’d been. And there was no one he could talk to. Charles didn’t know what Father was really like, he believed in the lie of his illness. Cordelia was the same, worse even, for she adored Father, she always had. He’d considered telling her the truth, but that would be selfish. It would break her heart, and for what? And Mother had loved Father. Now that he was gone, she wanted to remember the good parts. She was having another baby, and was devastated the baby would never meet his father. Lucky child, he thought. That almost sounded like he resented the baby for getting the safe and carefree childhood he had never had, but that wasn’t true. He was almost glad Father was gone for their sake, and he hoped the baby would grow up happy and loved and protected, even if Alastair could provide none of that himself. It was too dangerous and he would never forgive himself if anything happened to the baby because of him.

***

‘Alastair, are you in there?’

No response. Sona had gotten used to that at this point. She had grown more worried every day. Alastair was to be king in a couple of months, but he had barely left his private quarters since Elias’ death. The only person he spoke to was Charles, and even then Charles had confided in her that he felt Alastair pull away from him. That he wasn’t sure Alastair was ready to be king.

She’d thought, perhaps, as his mother she could reach him. Charles didn’t know about the ice despite them being very close. But with her and Cordelia, all Alastair did was push them away.

He had seemed happy, at least, when she’d told him of her pregnancy, excited to meet the new baby. Mostly, he’d been terrified though and Sona thought perhaps Alastair was scared he’d hurt the baby. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She had to protect her baby, of course, but Alastair was her child too and she didn’t know how to reach him.

Sona knocked on the bedroom door once more. He couldn’t hide in there forever. It was Charles who opened, wearing a dressing robe. Sona knew Charles had been sleeping in Alastair’s bedroom for the past years. It was a way, apparently, to make sure Alastair’s virtue was intact for marriage. Not that Alastair had shown any interest in getting married and with his ice, Sona feared it was too dangerous. She wasn’t sure how Alastair had managed to keep his ice from Charles while sharing a bed, but that was impressive, right?

It pained her, she wanted nothing more than for Alastair to be happy, but she didn’t know how. She’d considered going back to Tessa, had asked Elias to reconsider, but he’d refused. ‘Alastair belongs here,’ Elias used to say. ‘That witch will only take him away from us.’

And now he was to be crowned king and it was too late. At least Charles had been good for him, right? Sona had noticed the way Alastair lit up around Charles, the way he seemed so eager to please him.

‘Your Majesty,’ Charles addressed her. ‘If I knew you were coming, I would have dressed for the occasion.’

‘I am sorry,’ Sona said. ‘Did I wake you? I didn’t realize you tucked in early, I’ve always been a late sleeper myself. I was just looking for Alastair, is he here?’

‘No, he must have left when I was asleep. Usually he goes to the bathroom, his own private one. Even I am not allowed in there. He’s very attached to his privacy.’

Sona knew about the bathroom, the place he went to when he lost control. It was good for him to have such a place right? Somewhere it didn’t matter if the ice became too much for him, because no one would get hurt.

Sona forced a smile. ‘Thank you Charles. I think I’ll look for him there.’

‘I don’t think he’d like that.’

‘He’s my son, and I am worried about him.’

‘He’s been showing progress in his lessons lately,’ Charles said. ‘I do not think you have to worry.’

Sona just nodded, and closed the door. Charles was smart, responsible, and he knew politics, but sometimes she felt he didn’t know Alastair, didn’t understand him. Risa hated Charles, acted as if he’d stolen Alastair away from them, but Sona felt that was a bit too simplistic. It was a difficult situation for everyone, and they were all doing the best they could. Alastair had chosen to spend his time around Charles, and if that was what made him feel better, who was she to judge?

Sona knocked on the bathroom door. No response.

‘Alastair, I’m coming in!’ she called.

She didn’t like invading his privacy, but at least he’d be forced to acknowledge he was in there if he wanted to stop her. He didn’t say anything. Perhaps he wasn’t in the bathroom after all, but it couldn’t hurt to check.

She pulled on the door handle. It wouldn’t budge. Had Alastair locked himself in there? When she pulled a little harder, it broke open and Sona realized why she’d been unable to open the door. It was frozen. Everything in the bathroom was frozen, about half a meter of snow lying on the floor. It was a good thing the door opened to the outside, or she would not have gotten it open at all.

Alastair was lying on the snow, covered in a thin summer blanket. The cold had never bothered him, but he had always liked to hold a blanket when he slept. When he was little, he would sleep with a thin summer blanket in the coldest days of winter, perfectly content.

Should she wake him? He seemed peaceful, at least, now that he was asleep. But he had lost control in here before falling asleep, and she wanted to know what had happened. He hadn’t responded well to his father’s death, and she knew Elias and Alastair had never had the best relationship, but instead of grieving with her and Cordelia, he’d shut them out even more. Sona didn’t think he was alright.

Before she could make a decision, Alastair opened his eyes and pushed himself into a sitting position. Sona wrapped her arms around herself, it was freezing cold in here. That couldn’t be good for the baby, but she was determined to talk to her son.

‘What happened, azizam?’ she asked.

‘I’m sorry, maman,’ he said. ‘I lost control.’

‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘What happened?’

‘I was with Charles,’ he said. ‘He told me he’d been writing with the Duke of Weselton.’

Sona frowned. ‘What’s wrong with that? He’s one of our closest trading partners. Charles has not sabotaged our relationship with Weselton, has he?’

‘No, not like that. You see, the Duke has a daughter around my age and no other heir, and Charles wants to marry her. She will be here for the coronation, and Charles intends to propose there. He thinks the Duke is a powerful ally for him as well as for us. And the laws in Weselton are pretty backward, so if the Duke dies his daughter’s husband will inherit the title, the lands, everything.’

Sona knew Charles liked power, of course. Risa hated him for it, thought he couldn’t be trusted, but Sona couldn’t help but see that even if Charles was a little too power hungry for his own good, Alastair adored him. But if he took the title and became Duke of Weselton, why would that upset Alastair so much? Wouldn’t he be happy for his friend?

‘What does any of that have to do with you?’

Alastair sighed. ‘I know, it’s stupid. But he’ll leave me alone if he marries her. He’d go live in Weselton in the Duke’s palace. He cannot stay here anymore. He’s all I have, I couldn’t bear it if he left.’

Sona took his hand. It was ice cold. ‘You always knew he would return home someday, right? Charles was here to teach you and prepare you, and he has done that. You are ready to be king, joon-am. I know controlling the ice is hard, but you’re smart and compassionate and you will do fine if he’s not there.’

Secretly Sona thought perhaps Alastair would do even better without Charles there. She knew Alastair was kinder, and she feared perhaps it came from a place of self loathing but Alastair was not the kind of king who’d put his own needs before anyone else’s.

Alastair nodded weakly. ‘But I’d be all alone. When Charles and I first became friends, it was the first time I could control myself. As long as it was going well, I mean. I did sometimes lose control when he was upset with me, but he never saw. I don’t know what I’ll do when he’s gone.’

Alastair was crying. The tears froze into snowflakes before they even reached his cheeks. Watching her son cry had always been one of the strangest thing, as if he started snowing. It was heartbreaking to watch, and Sona wished she could hug him, but she knew Alastair wouldn’t let her. He was far too scared he’d hurt the baby.

‘You’re going to be alright,’ Sona said. ‘You’re lonely, I know that. Cordelia is too. But the coronation offers opportunities. Perhaps you’ll meet someone else who helps calm your moods and your ice. You could invite someone to stay, if you want, open the gates.’

Alastair shook his head. ‘It’s too dangerous. Charles is the only one I can trust. I tried, maman. I tried with Cordelia, but every time I go near her I am so scared I’ll hurt her and then the ice takes over.’

‘Perhaps we should return to Tessa,’ Sona suggested.

‘No. The coronation is too close. This curse, it can’t be controlled. Best to be alone, and do what’s right for Arendelle.’

Sona guessed if Alastair wouldn’t return to the village, she’d try to send an invitation for the coronation. Perhaps Tessa could come here and help figure out why Alastair couldn’t control the ice. It was the least she could do for her son.

#Alastair Carstairs #Cordelia Carstairs #Sona Carstairs #Charles Fairchild #Conceal don't feel #Frozen AU #fanfiction #the last hours #tlh

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bittydragon · 4 years ago

Text

The Problems Arising (The Election)

Notes: Here it is! This is the start of that big project I told you all about yesterday! This story is based off of the request by @potatonugget7 - “I was wondering if you could do like, the whole Schlatt arc of L’Manburg but with borrower Tubbo?” (Just in case the picture decides to not load for some dumb reason.) (Also, only reason I’m not answering this as the ask itself is purely due to formatting reasons) Let me tell you, this has been a blast to create. I have actually been talking with the person who sent me this ask and they helped me develop the story. Personally, I think this is turning out amazing. I am very excited to share this project with you all and hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

“Wilbur, relax! We’ve got this in the bag! There’s no way we could lose this thing, not after all the work we have put into this.”

“But Tommy! SWAG2020 has begun gaining a following and Schlatt’s sudden entrance to the election could send this all for a loop. Can we really still win?”

Tubbo watched as his best friend and his brother argued over what the outcome for this election would be.

Wilbur had only become increasingly anxious over the results whilst Tommy was completely confident in their abilities to win the election.

Tubbo wished he could help, but it was rather difficult when he was only a few inches tall. All he could do was sit there and give whatever words of encouragement he could think of to help calm the two humans’ nerves.

But in this moment, Tubbo couldn’t even think of what he could say. Wilbur was rightfully worried, Quackity had begun to gain a following and Schlatt’s sudden entry to the election threw everyone off.

Though, Tommy’s optimism had its own truth behind it. The two brothers had put a lot of work into their election campaign, and that isn’t even considering the amount of work they put into building the country as a whole.

With all this in mind, Tubbo still had high hopes that Wilbur and Tommy would still win.

“Guys, at this point it’s useless to argue about the outcome, the votes are all in already. Nothing is going to change the outcome now.”

Both humans went silent and turned to Tubbo, who barely flinched at the sudden attention. He was used to it at this point. He was just happy that they actually listened to him instead of ignoring him because he was different.

“Though, I do want to ask a favor of you Wilbur.”

Wilbur sent him a questioning gaze. “And what would that be, Tubbo?” Tubbo took a deep breath. He just hoped that they would be alright with this.

“Could I come and watch this time? I could just hide in your pocket!” He took a deep breath as he noticed Tommy was about to say something and continued.

“I just feel as if I don’t get to see what happens with you guys. Plus, I want to be there to celebrate with you two afterwards!” He sent them a wide smile, which thankfully seemed to calm both of their nerves.

“Of course, Tubbo. I’d be happy to-”

“Wait! Why don’t you want me to carry you? Why the hell did you ask Wilbur and not me, your best friend if I may add.”

“Tommy, I wouldn’t trust you to actually keep me hidden either if I were Tubbo, dumbass.”

Tubbo giggled as Tommy began sputtering out various curses and insults. Wilbur only looked on in amusement. Tubbo enjoyed these little moments with them.

They were like a family, something Tubbo hadn’t really had before meeting Tommy.

All too soon, their fun was stopped by the distant ringing of a bell. All three of them knew what this bell meant; the time to announce the results of the election.

They all stood there in silence for a brief moment to let it sink in. Eventually, Wilbur turned towards Tubbo and extended his hand out to him with a smile.

“Shall we?” Tubbo nodded and quickly climbed onto Wilbur’s hand.

His grip tightened ever so slightly to keep himself balanced as the hand moved upwards. It seemed to take no time at all before he reached the pocket of Wilbur’s uniform and slid into it.

He began situating himself inside of the pocket as he felt Wilbur lean down to pick up the envelope that contained the final results.

When everyone was ready, they left towards the podium with a heavy silence hanging between them.

The walk was uneventful and quiet, all three too caught up in their own thoughts. As they approached the podium, they could see many of the citizens of L’Manburg had already begun to gather below. With a heavy sigh, Wilbur walked up towards the podium with Tommy trailing behind him.

As soon as they reached the podium, Tubbo ducked back into the pocket. He’d rather not be seen by others. He’d be content with only listening to the results, they really weren’t something he needed to see to know the outcome.

Tubbo heard faint conversation around him as Wilbur prepared to announce the results that were located in the envelope from earlier. A moment later, Wilbur tapped the microphone and cleared his throat; everyone went silent.

“Hello everyone, and welcome to the L’Manburg election results! In my hand are the final votes for the election, the deciding factor on L’Manburg’s next president.” Tubbo felt Wilbur take a deep breath as he lifted the envelope for everyone in the audience to see.

“This envelope contains the popular votes for the four running parties: POG2020 consisting of Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit, SWAG2020 consisting of Quackity and George, Coconut2020 consisting of Fundy and Nihachu, and Schlatt2020 consisting of Schlatt. With that said, I will now read out the results of the election.”

Silence was all that met Wilbur’s words. Tubbo assumed everyone was anticipating the results with baited breath because even he felt his own doubts creeping in.

However he shook it off as he heard Wilbur tear the envelope open and pull out the sheet of paper.

A few seconds later, Wilbur suddenly tensed up. It felt so slight that he was sure that no one watching would notice, but Tubbo could feel it from inside the pocket.

He was confused, POG2020 was the clear favorite, at least, he thought they were the clear favorite. But the way Wilbur tensed up made his doubts increase tenfold.

“In fourth place with 9% of the vote, we have Coconut2020!”

Cheering suddenly erupted from beside Wilbur, and Tubbo made a quick guess that it was Fundy cheering. At least he still seemed happy despite losing the election.

“In third place with 16% of the vote, we have Schlatt2020!”

An astonished silence followed the announcement. Tubbo shifted in surprise as well. Schlatt had been such a late entry to the election as a whole, and yet, he didn’t receive the lowest amount of votes. He had actually managed to gain a decent following for only being in L’Manburg for a few days, prior to the election.

“That leaves us with the last two parties: POG2020,” he paused for effect before continuing on, “and SWAG2020.” Silence hung in the air, only broken by a small cheer behind Wilbur that went ignored by everyone.

“In second place with 30% of the vote,” Wilbur paused, raising the suspense.Tubbo held his breath, hoping that POG2020 came out as the elected party.

“SWAG2020!”

Cheer erupted from all around, the loudest being Tommy who was standing right beside Wilbur. Even Tubbo couldn’t help but let out a relieved laugh, they had won the election.

“That leaves POG2020 with 45% of the popular vote.” Tommy’s cheering increased tenfold at the new statement. Tubbo knew that if he wasn’t in Wilbur’s pocket at that exact moment, Tommy would be all over his brother in excitement.

Tubbo was about to tap Wilbur to show him how excited he was when he began to speak again.

“Tommy, Tommy please settle down. I need to announce one other thing.” Tommy lessened his cheering but Tubbo knew he was probably still smiling like an idiot. They had won, they did it!

“Two days ago, a deal was made between candidate Quackity and candidate Schlatt. They both agreed to create a coalition government based off of both of their respective followings. Therefore, the new party of Schlatt2020 has 46% of the popular vote. Meaning that Schlatt2020 has won the election by 1% of the vote.”

Tubbo could no longer pay attention to everything going on around him, all of the words around him blending into white noise.

They had actually lost the election.

Wilbur and Tommy didn’t win when it should have been an easy victory for them. The only reason they lost was because of the new coalition government pooling their votes together.

So what was going to happen now? This Schlatt person was the new president of L’Manburg?

He had only been in these lands for around a week prior and the people had already decided that they preferred him over Wilbur. Wilbur hadn’t done anything wrong, he had done nothing to cause a dislike towards him.

And L’Manburg chose a new member over one of the original founders.

Tubbo eventually let himself tune back into the happenings around him and risked a glance over the edge of the pocket as Schlatt began his inauguration speech.

He hadn’t noticed when they moved down from the platform to stand with the rest of L’Manburg’s citizens. He really was lost in his thoughts it seemed.

He glanced over to Tommy who sent a small worried look back. Tommy had done so much for this country and he was now nothing more than another citizen.

Tubbo hoped that Schlatt would at least honor Tommy’s contributions to the country at the very least.

“My first decree, as the president of L’Manburg, the Emperor of this great country!” Tubbo turned his gaze to the podium where the ram hybrid began giving his first decree.

That first line alone made a small chill run down Tubbo’s spine.

“Is to revoke the citizenship of Wilbur Soot,” Schlatt paused for a minute and his smile grew bigger. “And TommyInnit!”

Time seemed to stop for Tubbo as he registered the new president’s words among the now growing cheers and screams. But that meant they couldn’t be on L’Manburg lands.

They weren’t allowed to stay so what are they going to-

“Get ‘em outta here!”

Suddenly, Tubbo felt Wilbur jerk as he turned tail to run. He faintly heard him yelling at Tommy to run, over the roaring blood in his ears.

He ducked into the pocket as soon as Wilbur lurched forward, like he’d been struck by an arrow.

Tubbo ducked as low as he could in the pocket to avoid falling out in the commotion, especially when Wilbur whipped around to check who was behind him.

He then heard Wilbur chug a potion and noticed as the effects began taking place, making Wilbur’s body seemingly disappear into thin air.

Before he was completely out of sight though, another arrow hit Wilbur and next thing Tubbo knew he was free falling toward the ground.

What just happened?

He attempted to prop himself up on his arms in the tall grass, only to see items littered around him.

The sound of people running fell on deaf ears as Tubbo attempted to regain his bearings. It had all gone so fast, he wasn’t exactly sure what had just happened.

“Well this is unexpected. The fuck are you supposed to be?”

Tubbo stared wide-eyed up at the figure that was now towering over him.

It was the ram hybrid, the one who beat Wilbur in the election. At Tubbo’s silence, Schlatt’s eyes narrowed and he let out a small noise of annoyance.

Before he could register what was happening, a large hand reached down and snatched him up in a tight fist.

Tubbo began trying to squirm out of the suffocating grip to no avail as he was lifted off of the ground. The fist only squeezed harder, pushing Tubbo’s breath out of him.

He stopped struggling in hopes that he would be allowed to breathe easier and possibly get a chance to escape.

One glance at his captor however, dashed all hope that Tubbo had. He watched in horror as the ram’s expression changed from confusion to a sinister looking grin.

“You belonged to Wilbur, didn’t you?” Schlatt smirked and began twisting Tubbo around in his grip. “If that’s the case, you might be useful.”

Tubbo tried to steady himself in the man’s hands but was constantly knocked over by Schlatt twisting and turning him.

With the implications Schlatt made and the constant twisting; Tubbo felt sick to his stomach.

The movement finally stopped, only for Tubbo to be trapped in a tight fist once more as Schlatt bent down to pick up the potions that Wilbur had dropped.

He seemed uninterested in most of the things Wilbur dropped when he died, he only seemed to be interested in the potions and Tubbo.

That did not bode well for Tubbo at all.

A few seconds later, Schlatt stored the potions on his person and began walking towards the White House with Tubbo in hand.

Schlatt didn’t even look at him as he began shifting Tubbo around again, further disorienting the tiny boy. A quick glance at the ram however, heavily implied that he was doing this on purpose.

It felt like forever before they reached the White House, at least for Tubbo it did. He felt dizzy and sick by the time they stopped walking, anymore and it may have caused him to throw up.

He was so out of it that he didn’t even notice Schlatt creating a small glass box on the table until he was dropped into it.

Tubbo landed on his butt inside the enclosure with a grunt of pain before looking up in fear. Schlatt smiled and propped his head up on his hand atop the table.

“There you go, pet. Just like home, right? Of course it is!” He leaned in, not giving Tubbo a chance to respond. “‘Cause little fucking things like you are nothing more than pets.”

Tubbo scooted backwards, hoping to put as much distance between himself and Schlatt despite the glass enclosure. He shrunk back further as Schlatt laughed at his actions.

Before either of them could do anything else, someone else entered the White House with a loud, excited cheer.

“Eyyyy, Schlatt! Mr. President! How does it feel to have all this power in your new nation?” Tubbo glanced over to see the newcomer.

He quickly deduced that this was Quackity, Schlatt’s vice president and the reason Schlatt became president.

Tubbo knew that Schlatt wouldn’t have won if Quackity hadn’t pooled his votes with Schlatt, meaning he already had a bitter feeling towards him.

“So what’s our first plan of action- Schlatt? What the fuck is that?”

Tubbo was now extremely aware of the new pair of eyes on him, the attention was too much. Unfortunately, in his situation there was nothing he could do to escape the attention.

Tommy and Wilbur at least respected his privacy whenever he felt overwhelmed, these two however, most definitely did not.

“Dunno, but it was sitting amongst Soot’s stuff after he was killed. Brought it back here as soon as I realized that this weird creature could be used against him if he tries any funny business.” Schlatt never took his eyes off Tubbo as he spoke, unnerving the tiny boy even more.

Tubbo switched his gaze towards Quackity and noticed a small unease forming in his expression. It was almost as if the idea of Schlatt using a small person as nothing more than a tool unnerved him.

It made Tubbo feel a bit of hope for his situation.

“As weird as this is, I’ll be fine with this ‘cause you’re right, it does give us the upper hand against Wilbur and Tommy!”

And with that, any hope Tubbo had left was shattered. The new vice president wasn’t going to do anything to stop Schlatt, he was too loyal to the president.

“That’s what I thought! This is why you’re my vice president! Come now, we have much to figure out with my new country!”

“Yessir!”

With that, they left the room, leaving Tubbo alone in his glass enclosure. He curled up into himself as tears threatened to fall.

He knew he wasn’t going to be able to escape this situation easily, if he could even escape at all. All he wanted was to end this new nightmare.

He just wanted to be back with Tommy.

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nalgenewhore · 4 years ago

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masterlist - ao3 - next chapter

☽ ☼ ☾

As he sat at his gate, he watched the other people. Something about airports had always intrigued him, so many people in their own lives, on their own paths all converging to this one place before jetting off once more.

Lorcan was restless. On the arm of the uncomfortable chair, his fingers tapped out a furious beat. The monotonous drone of the phone line ringing in his ear didn’t help. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. I miss your voice and I need you to pick up so I don’t lose my fucking–

“What, the fuck , do you want?”

He chuckled, “Good morning to you too, princess.” Inside his chest, his heart fluttered. Fuck, he missed her. He missed both his girls. The minute they’d dropped him off at the airport eight weeks ago, he’d been itching to go home.

“I told you not to call me that.” There wasn’t any bite to her words and Lorcan knew - hoped - that she was wearing that soft, sleepy smile of hers.

He hummed, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankle, “Tell me to stop without smiling and I’ll stop. Easy-peasy, Lochan.”

Elide just muttered a curse in Blackbeak and sighed as if talking to him was some sort of divine torture, “Why are you calling? It’s not even three yet, Lor.” Instantly, remorse flooded through him. He’d forgotten completely about the time difference and told her as much. “Mmm, it’s fine. Did something happen?”

“Nah, I just wanted to say hey before my flight. I’m sorry for waking you up,” he said. Lorcan ran his tongue over his teeth. “I’ve… I miss you two.”

The teasing, light mood dropped a bit. Lorcan could hear her breathing slowly and then she answered, her voice weaker than normal, “I know, Lor.” Her swallow was audible. “We miss you too.” Before he could respond, before he could offer her any sort of fleeting comfort, Elide spoke again, “Hold on one second, ok?”

She was gone before he could respond. Lorcan could hear something rustling, like someone slipping out of a bed. He froze, hardly daring to breathe. She wouldn’t- Elide and Lorcan both knew better than to have someone over when they had the kid with them.

There was soft murmuring he couldn’t quite make out and the unmistakable whine of their daughter. Lorcan slumped down in relief, cursing himself for this… jealousy. It wasn’t fair. “Hello?” snapped Stella Luna.

He chuckled, delighted by his child’s greeting, “Hey, Tiny.”

She gasped and that innocent sound, filled with childlike wonder and elation, soothed his aching heart. “Daddy?”

“Hi, Stella. I’m sorry I woke you up so early, I wanted to say hey before I get on the plane,” Lorcan explained with a smile. Thinking about Elide that summer had been painful enough, knowing he was so far from her, but it was nothing compared to the agony of missing his daughter.

“Are you coming home today? ‘Cause I got kindergarten tomorrow, Daddy. Mama said you would take me,” Stella said.

“Yes, I’m coming home today. I’ll take you to school tomorrow, ok?”

“Ok, Daddy. I’ve been very busy, you know. Yesterday we went shopping and at Mintage, mama found me a Wednesday Addams lunch box,” Stella regaled, her words dripping with wonder and awe. “I’m so excited ‘acause I love Wednesday Addams, Daddy, did you know? We watched it last night at Fenny’s house ‘acause he let me choose. He said he was sick of the Addams family and that’s why I called him a dummy.”

He laughed, pausing for a moment to listen to the PA. “Passengers boarding Flight 1203 to Varese, please make your way to gate C49. Passengers in zone one, please line up at the boarding desk.”

“What was that? It sounded funny, Daddy, like a robot,” Stella said.

“My plane’s getting ready to take off, Stel, they want everyone to come to the gate,” Lorcan explained. “How was Fen’s?”

“Oh,” she started, “it was very good, Daddy. After the movie, he taked me to his show an’ I wanted to bring Salem but it’s too loud for him so I sat with Essar and she got me a juice box when I was thirsty. I think it was a secret ‘acause they only give them to me. It was grape which is my favourite, but I didn’t want to finish all of it so Vee drinked it after his show. Then Fenny and me and Con and Vee went to Grampy’s and I fell asleep so Fenny took me home.”

“Passengers in zone two, please line up at the front desk.”

Lorcan checked his boarding pass, “Kid, I have to get on my plane now, ok?”

“Ok,” Stella replied, a little sadly. “I miss you.”

The corners of his lips turned down. Lorcan hung his head, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he tried to think of what he could say to comfort his child. Eventually, he said, “I know, Stella Luna. I miss you too. I promise - once I’m home, no more tours, ok? I love you.”

“Love you too, Daddy,” she chirped, already his happy, bubbly little baby again. “Bye-bye!”

“Bye, Tiny. Put your mother on for me,” Lorcan said, laughing through the sentence. He could hear Stella Luna hand the phone over to Elide.

“Yes , you can sleep now,” Elide said with a kiss smacked on Stella’s head. “Lor, you still there?”

“Yeah, ‘m here. I have to get on the plane now.”

“Ok. Do you want us to pick you up from the airport?”

Though it pained him to say it and further delay their reunion, Lorcan said, “No, don’t bother. I’ll be tired and I’ll probably just crash when I get home. I’ll see you tomorrow, though.”

“Can’t wait, Salvaterre.”

He smiled a small smile, one that was only ever for Elide, “Me neither, Lochan.”

☽ ☼ ☾

He woke up somewhere high above the Cambrian Mountains. For a few moments, Lorcan stared out the small window, groggy and confused.

It took him a second to remember what was happening and why he was on a plane. When he finally did recall, Lorcan pulled his laptop out of his camera bag and placed it on the desk. The band he’d been working with over the summer had bought him a seat in business class for both his flights home.

Lorcan shifted in his seat and absentmindedly toyed with the curved barbell that pierced the delicate skin connecting his upper lip to his gum as he waited for his computer to turn on. He leaned down, searching through his bag for the USB that carried every shot he’d taken in concert that summer.

He found it and sat up straight. A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he saw the background of his laptop. He hadn’t changed it in the three years since the photo of Elide tattooing Stella’s name in Ozuye on the outside of his right thumb while he held a sleeping Stella Luna to his chest with his free arm had been taken. The tattoo was his favourite, though it probably tied for first place with the cartoon-inspired Wednesday Addams on his inner left wrist.

The placement of both designs had been purposeful, so when he was shooting something, he could see them clearly and think about his daughter. He had never met anyone who loved the Addams family more than Stella.

Lorcan put his headphones on and played a playlist at random. Pink + White played as he opened Photoshop and uploaded a file he hadn’t even looked at yet. The photos weren’t needed for another month, but he would rather get them done now so he could focus on the upcoming studio show.

He still hadn’t decided what or who his subject would be. Maybe he would take a break from concerts and focus on something else.

For the rest of the flight, he worked to distract himself from the fact that he’d be seeing Elide again. It hardly made any difference, his mind on her like always. Lorcan had been in love with Elide for… forever. He finally realised it, though, a couple weeks before she had their daughter.

He had wanted… he had wanted a family with her. A real one, where Stella wouldn’t be perpetually split between two homes, but Elide hadn’t wanted that and Lorcan respected her wishes. Maybe it was foolish, but six years seemed like long enough to be pining for someone.

As Lorcan got lost in the thoughts he spent most of his waking hours repressing, a hissing voice that sounded suspiciously like his mother snapped, Elide Lochan is not ‘someone’ and she is certainly not someone you get over. Ever. Stupid boy.

His lips twisted with a rueful smile, though the memory of his mother ached and stung. Lorcan swallowed past the painful tightening of his throat and saved what he was working on, electing to watch something he’d downloaded on Netflix until they’d landed in Varese.

The air in Varese was balmy and he couldn’t stand it. Lorcan was seconds away from trying to peel his skin off. He had always hated the heat, but this steaming humidity was his hell.

When his zone was called to board the flight, Lorcan could hardly keep the grin from his face. The thought of seeing his family, no matter how it hurt him to know Stella would come home with him tomorrow and Elide would stay in her apartment, was a joy nothing else had ever replicated.

His heart seemed to beat a frantic timpani, each pat-pat saying, wait for me, wait for me, wait for me .

☽ ☼ ☾

There was a crick in her neck. Elide muttered a curse with her eyes shut and reached out to her bedside table, only to feel nothing and hear an innocently delighted giggle.

She smiled and kept her eyes closed. Slowly, Elide reached out, “I wonder who could be laughing right now. And where could they be!”

There was that little laugh again, though Elide knew her child was doing her absolute best to stay silent. She heard Salem’s meow of protest and Stella’s sweet shushing.

Staying silent had never been Stella’s strong suit. Elide continued on, now patting the blankets. “Hmm, I do wonder if they could be hiding beneath these blankets!” As she said ‘blankets’, Elide opened her eyes and ripped the covers away. A quick blur of orange and black flashed past as Stella’s fluffy cat was freed and Salem bounded away.

Stella Luna’s shrieking laughter filled the room, gloomy from the rain that poured steadily against the large, paned windows. Elide laughed too as she grabbed her daughter and pulled her into her lap, her fingers digging into the soft part between Stella’s ribcage and hip bone. Stella squirmed away, begging her to stop, “No, please, mama, it tickles!”

Elide chuckled softly and relented, choosing instead to gather Stella up in a long hug. “Oh, good morning, little one. How did you sleep, hmm?” She pulled back and brushed her hand through Stella’s hair.

“Um, I slept good, mama, but I’m really hungry now, so I would like to have breakfast.”

“We can do that. What do you want to eat?”

Stella flicked her eyes up to the ceiling. Though her shape was Elide’s ethereal monolid, the colour of rich browns and deep blacks was all Lorcan. “Pancakes, mama. Can we make them look like bats?”

Elide snorted and nodded, “Of course we can. Why don’t you go wash your hands and we can make them, ok?”

The four-year old was off before she could even say yes, hurriedly careening into the bathroom. Her mother laughed again, but the care-free sound bled into a pained groan as she stood up and stretched. Elide really needed to stop crashing in her daughter’s bed.

Stella hollered back from the toilet, “Mama, can we have chocolate chips in the pancakes?”

Elide smiled as she walked through Stella’s room. On the floor, one of Stella’s toys obstructed her path and Elide jammed her toe into a wooden box. She gritted her teeth against the pain and asked, “Will you clean your room today?”

“Uhhh,” Stella contemplated, “I guess. I dunno why , mama, I don’t care if it’s messy, why do you care?”

“Because your room is messy and you might hurt yourself if you don’t know where something is,” Elide replied steadily. As she pulled on a pair of shorts, she heard little feet race into the kitchen. Elide twisted her hair up and clamped it into place with a hair clip. When she padded into the kitchen, Stella Luna was standing obediently on her stool, her hands clasped like a perfect little child. Elide hooted at the sight, “Oh, you little demon.”

Stella grinned proudly at the nickname and pushed her wild hair back with both hands. She sighed in annoyance, “Mama, help please. It’s too much.”

“Of course, witchling,” Elide said. Stella clambered up onto the counter to sit patiently. Elide hummed something soft as she parted her daughter’s hair and weaved two simple pigtails. As she braided, Salem gracefully leapt onto the counter and made himself comfortable in the fruit bowl, resting his chin on his crossed paws like a proper gent. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Stella chirped as she climbed down and ran to the pantry. She flung the door open, “Mama, is Daddy coming home today?”

“He is. Remember, he called last night, baby,” Elide replied as she pulled out eggs and milk from the fridge.

“Oh, I thought that was a dream ,” explained Stella. She lugged over the large container of flour, carrying it with both arms and almost tipped over. She decided to put it on the floor and push it to the counter. “I wanna play music!”

Elide laughed as she picked the flour up and began measuring out the dry ingredients, “Go for it, Stella.” She watched in delight as Stella ran to the record player and sat on the floor in front of it to peruse the stack of records.

A couple moments later, Stella had decided and put the vinyl on. She pranced back over to her stool as music played. “Mama, can I crack a egg, please?”

When I met you in the restaurant, you could tell I was no debutante

“Yes, ma’am,” Elide passed her an egg, “Be careful, you remember what to do, right?”

“Yup!” Stella delicately cracked the egg on the side of the liquid measuring cup and used her thumbs to open it. The yolk and egg white plopped perfectly into the milk and vanilla. She picked up the whisk and mixed it all up.

Dreaming, dreaming is free

Stella was soon bored and trailed over to the living room. She sat down and started to dance with her frog stuffie, singing along, “I don’t want to live on charity, pleasure’s real or is it fantasy…” Elide grinned at the sight and found the silicone mold in the top drawer.

A few minutes later, Elide slid a stack of bat wing pancakes onto a plate. “Stella? Food’s ready.”

“Ok, mama,” Stella said. She skipped to the table and climbed onto her chair. “Can I have maple syrup too?”

Elide had already grabbed the bottle and grabbed a pair of forks drying in the dish rack. She put the plate down and sat, passing Stella her fork. Stella doused the pancakes in maple syrup and attacked viciously, stuffing an entire pancake into her mouth. Elide laughed loudly, “Baby, eat your food properly. C’mon, you know better.”

Stella grinned around the sticky-sweet mess and chewed thoroughly before swallowing. Elide took the plate and cut the food up into bite-sized pieces before passing it back. The four-year old abandoned her fork in favour of her wee hands and stuffed as many chocolatey-mapley-buttery pieces as she could into her mouth.

“Good gods, child,” her mother said. “You’ll choke.” Delight surged through her at the sound of Stella’s gleeful laughter, albeit muffled. She grabbed a napkin and reached out, holding her daughter’s chin hostage as she wiped the mess away. “I am so happy your father is coming back, he’ll finally take you off my hands, you gremlin.”

Stella gasped loudly and wrenched her chin free, “Mama, can we go to the airplane place? I want to surprise Daddy. Pretty please?”

She made her eyes big and wide, sticking her bottom lip out. Elide cracked immediately, “I think he’d like that, wouldn’t he?” Stella nodded with such vigour Elide half-thought her head would fly off. “We’ll do that later, Stel. Why don’t you finish your breakfast?”

Stella needed no further prompting.

☽ ☼ ☾

His bag was the second bag out. Lorcan easily slung the black duffel over his shoulder. He made his way out of the baggage claim and around fellow passengers numbly awaiting their belongings.

Lorcan thought about pausing, his fingers twitching to grab his camera and freeze the moment. There was something slightly surreal about it all. A voice told him to stop, to do it, but the sweet, pure voice of his baby calling him home was louder.

He was still listening to miss star’s jamzzz and clicked the ball of the piercing in his tongue against his teeth to the beats. I’m Not A Loser by the Descendents’ played at maximum volume as he strode across the scuffed and dingy linoleum.

Vaguely, he thought he might’ve heard someone calling for him. Pausing, Lorcan half-pulled a headphone off his ear. He looked around, narrowing his eyes in confusion at the sea of strangers.

“Daddy!”

“Kid?”

A wee one shot out through the passing crowd. Her hair, jet black and thick, curled out of her assumedly once-tight and neat braids. Her eyes were thin and dark, so rich and depthless, framed by long lashes. The little lass seemed to have a piece of the sun setting her warm, coppery complexion aglow from beneath. “ *Até , hi-hi!”

Stella launched herself up and Lorcan dropped his bag to catch her. He held her tight to his chest, one hand cupping the back of her head. “Tiny, Creator above. I missed you so much, my darling moon.”

“Hi, Daddy,” Stella whispered, her arms tightly wrapped around his neck. “It’s nice to see you.”

Lorcan laughed raspily at her formal greeting, “Wow, so fancy, miss Star. ‘It’s nice to see you’, really? You’re killing me, Tiny.”

She giggled, shaking her head as she pulled back, “No, I’m not fancy, Daddy. I’m tough ,” she snarled, baring her teeth intimidatingly.

Lorcan laughed again, his head tipping back, “The toughest .”

Stella beamed and abruptly stopped, an outraged gasp escaping her. She grabbed his face and pulled his head back down. When she felt his stubble, Stella Luna pulled a face, “Daddy, you have to shave. It’s scratchy.”

“What, I thought I looked nice like this, babe,” he said, shifting her to his side. “It’s that bad?”

She stared at him for a while before slowly shaking her head, “No… it’s ok, Daddy. Mama likes it like that.” Stella laid her head on his shoulder. Lorcan smiled and held her tightly again, his eyes closed.

For a long moment, neither said a word, until Stella became restless and started peering out around her. “There’s so many people, Daddy.”

“There is,” he agreed. Lorcan brushed something from her cheek and Stella batted his hand away. “So, you learn to drive while I was away, or something?”

“No! I’m still little , Daddy,” Stella Luna corrected him with a giggle. “Mama drived me.” She pointed vaguely towards the entrance, “Mama’s over there and she said, ‘Stella, hold my hand and stay close ‘till we see your dad, ok?’ but you’re so tall and I sawed your head so I ran and didn’t listen to Mama.” Gasping softly, Stella put her hands over her mouth, “Oh no. Mama! Mama, hello? I am here,” she curled her arm over his shoulder as she craned her head to look around. “Where she go?”

Lorcan looked around as well, loving and hating the way his pulse sped up at the prospect of seeing her . “I don’t know where your ma is, maybe she- oh,” Lorcan cut himself off as he saw a familiar flash of long black hair through the crowd. “There she is.”

Through the throngs of passengers and travelers, Lorcan saw a fair skinned, petite woman. Her hair was dark, streaked with purple, and fell to her hips. She left it be in its natural waves, but had it cut into a blunt, pointed fringe that framed her heart-shaped face. Her round, plush lips were painted deep, nearly black, red. They curled into a teasing grin, “Hey, Salvaterre, I see you’ve finally decided to rejoin the rabble! Was the tour too preppy for you, what with all the first class flights and champagne?”

He laughed and reached out to flick her nose, “Shut your mouth, Lochan. I’m common folk for life.” Elide laughed and Lorcan smiled, “Fuck, I can’t believe that you two came to pick me up.” He pulled Elide into a hug, something finally settling inside him as he held his girls for the first time in two months.

“No, no swearing, Daddy,” Stella chastised him, her frown disapproving, “Fuck is a bad word. A very bad word and we’re only allowed to say it when we listen to music.”

Elide laughed and slipped her arm around his waist, “A wretched word, really. It’s like you want our daughter to become a menace to society.”

“Oh, really? And what if our daughter wants to be a menace to society?”

Stella Luna nodded, sticking her chin out, “Yeah, what if I want to be a menace to society, mama?”

Elide shook her head at the two of them and narrowed her eyes at him, “This is your doing, you know, Lorcan.” Oh… how his heart stopped as his name tumbled from her lips. Lorcan struggled to breathe for a moment and Elide’s warm grin faltered. “Lor? You alright?”

“Y-yeah, just jet-lag,” he said quickly. Lorcan averted his eyes from Elide’s concerned gaze. Stella Luna wiggled, whining slightly. When she was set down on her feet, she grabbed Lorcan’s hand in one of hers and Elide’s in the other.

“Let’s go!” she shouted, tugging them along with all her might. At fifteen kilos and a solid one-hundred centimetres, it wasn’t much, but her determination made up for it. Over her head, Elide shot Lorcan a smile and a wink.

Lorcan rolled his eyes and chuckled. Stella skipped and hopped along to Elide’s car. Lorcan tossed his duffel in the trunk as Elide helped Stella into her booster seat and he walked over to the passenger seat. “Daddy,” Stella said, “did you know my birthday is in two months? That means I’m gonna be five whole years.”

“Wow, you’re going to be so old ,” he said dramatically, smiling in the rearview mirror when Stelle’s jaw dropped open and her eyes widened.

“I don’t want to be old. Old people are yucky. Like you and mom.” Elide and Lorcan looked at each other and burst into gutsy laughter at their daughter’s words. Stella sniffed primly and turned her face to the side, “It’s not funny to be old. Being old means you die. Do you want to die, Daddy?”

“If I die, I become a ghost and I’ll haunt people,” he said.

“Would you haunt me ?” the girl asked, her eyes filled with morbid curiosity.

Elide huffed a laugh. She turned the car on and smoothly pulled out of her parking spot to the freeway that would take them back to Orynth. “You two are ridiculous. Stella, baby, no one’s haunting you.”

“Yeah, except for me,” Lorcan ever-so-helpfully stated.

As Elide exclaimed in annoyance, Stella giggled uncontrollably. The dark haired woman couldn’t help but laugh along and the sound of their laughter soothed the dull ache of missing them.

☽ ☼ ☾

“ Até, ‘m tired,” said Stella, trailing up to Lorcan. She was all ready for bed, dressed in her Jack Skellington pyjamas. Her dinner of tomato soup and grilled cheese had been devoured an hour ago. Lorcan was in Elide’s kitchen, washing the dishes as Elide worked on a sketch and Stella checked her backpack over and over and over again. She was not going to be caught unprepared for her first day of kindergarten.

He rinsed off the iron skillet and placed it in the dish rack. Lorcan dried his hands and turned to his daughter, who held her hands up expectantly. With a fond smile, Lorcan scooped her up and asked, “Time for bed? Did you brush your teeth yet?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded and dropped her head onto his shoulder. “Daddy, don’t forgot Mr. Ribbit.” Stella said softly, already falling asleep. She clutched at his shoulders, a yawn splitting her little face in half.

His grin softened and he kissed the top of her head, “Can’t forget your frog, now, can we?” There came a low chuckle from the living room. Elide walked over to them, her pencil stuck in her hair and carrying the fuzzy green animal. She passed the animal to Stella and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Lorcan offered her his hand, “Come with us?”

Elide nodded and slipped her hand in his. They walked to Stella's room together. She breathed evenly and deeply, her eyes closed. Her lashes brushed the tops of her rosy cheeks. Lorcan set her down with care and tucked her blankets around her. “Good night, my darling moon,” he said softly - in his native tongue - and brushed her hair back before it could tickle the tip of her button nose.

“Night-night,” Stella whispered, her eyes cracking open. “Are you gonna come drive me with mama tomorrow to school?” She snuggled into her pile of pillows and held her blanket up for Salem to settle in beside her. The cat curled up against her and purred softly as he flicked his fluffy tail over her protectively.

“Yes, I am.”

She nodded, “Good. That’s good, Daddy.”

“Alright, Tiny,” he laughed softly, “go to sleep, yeah? You’ve had a big day.” He kissed her forehead and stood up to let Elide say good night.

Elide sat down on the edge of the mattress and cupped Stella’s face in her hand, her words soft and too low for Lorcan to hear. She too chuckled and kissed Stella Luna’s cheek, then got up and stepped over to Lorcan.

They closed the door and silently walked back to the living room. Lorcan sat down on the couch and rubbed his eyes. Elide curled up in the opposite corner and smiled, “Tired?��

“Yeah,” he said, dropping his head back against the couch. “Fuck me, I have to go home.”

“Why don’t you just stay here tonight? You’ll have to come back tomorrow anyway,” Elide said, her voice measured.

Lorcan looked at her, but her face was turned to the side. “Are you sure, El? I honestly don’t mind and I haven’t been to my place in a while.”

She glanced over at him, “No, c’mon, it’s fine. It’s not like we’ve never done it.”

“Done what?”

Elide shot him a flat look, “Slept in the same bed.”

Lorcan choked and his eyes widened, “El- what? I was just going to take the–”

“I swear to Anneith if you say ‘couch’, I’ll strangle you. I’m not making you sleep on my couch when you’ve been gone all summer.” Elide stood up and walked to her bedroom, her hips swinging enticingly. Lorcan quickly looked away. “Besides, my bed is big. I promise I won’t give you my cooties.”

He snapped his teeth and crossed the room to join her. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

Elide crossed her arms over her chest and smiled cockily, “I knew you would.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lorcan said, pulling her into his arms. Her body melted into his. They fit perfectly together. They always had. “You’re always right, aren’t you, princess?”

Elide hid her smile and slipped her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed above his heart. For a long moment, neither said a word. Then, Elide pressed her forehead against him and whispered. She couldn’t speak any louder, fearing that the tears she’d held back for years would finally spill over. “It’s nice to have you home, Lor.”

“It’s nice to be home,” he murmured, gently rubbing her back.

“It wasn’t the same without you.” It’s never the same without you.

He closed his eyes, hating the tears that blurred his vision. “Wasn’t the same without you, either, Lochan.”

☽ ☼ ☾

an: ahh ! it’s here ! a few things will b different for this wip, so i just want to let u all kno:

- chapters will b posted once a week on mondays, at 8pm pacific standard time

- there will b flashback chapters !!

- there will b depictions of recreational drug (marijuana) and alcohol consumption - i will put warnings for these n if there r any other triggers u would like me to warn, pls let me know

- if u want to b added/removed from the tag list, just send me an ask - it is rlly no trouble at all <3

translation: *Até: Father/Dad in Lakota (i headcanon lorcan to be native american - speficially Oglala Lakota. this will b more apparent/relevant in future chapters. i call his tribe 'the ozuye'. 'ozuye' means war-party in lakota)

songs played in chapter: (by order of appearance) 1. Pink + White - Frank Ocean 2. Dreaming - Blondie 3. I'm Not A Loser - Descendents

@mythicaitt @werewolffprince @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @ladyverena @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @spyofthenightcourt @thegoddessofyou @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @claralady @neonhellas @darlinminds @readingismyonlyhobby @autophobiaxx @silversprings28 @myshadowsingeraz @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @elriel4life @always-in-a-daydream @jlinez @ladywitchling @mariamuses @darklesmylove @adelzd-bookblr

#star-crossed & moon drunk #sc&md chapter one #all the stars rewrite #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #stella luna salvaterre lochan #isa writes #nalgenewhore #whoo hoo we're in for it now buds #this is a slooowwww burn

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womenfrommars · 3 years ago

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“But what about the icky nasty kinksters 🥺” bitch, women are literally going to die because of abortion bans and all you can think about is moral grandstanding. “If you don’t agree with me ur not a feminist cause that means your prokink 😡” I don’t have the time or energy to give a single rip about imaginary freaks right now because I LIVE SOMEWHERE WHERE IM ABOUT TO HAVE LESS BODILY AUTONOMY THAN A CORPSE! My state already has shit abortion laws and it’s about to get infinitely worse. You don’t even live here. I don’t care what county you “meant” to be talking about, abortion conversations got a whole lot more busy in the past two days because SCOTUS decided that women do not have the right to their own internal organs. You are distracting from the conversation. I don’t want to hear anti-abortion sentiments from some cunt who lives in a country who has abortion rights. Omfg, you live somewhere with better abortion laws than my state has EVER had. The sheer amount of privilege your shit take comes from is fucking unbelievable. You have the privilege to worry about stupid stuff like imaginary kinksters. Most women don’t!! THERE ARENT EVEN EXCEPTIONS FOR RAPE OR INCEST, WHICH ARE IMPOSSIBLE TO PROVE ANYWAY AND UTTERLY USELESS. I can have literally everything taken away from me if some scrote decides to rape me. I could fucking die if that happened and it wouldn’t matter. There are politicians advocating for not even aborting when the pregnancy is ectopic. You can be arrested and charged for miscarrying!!! And all you care about are freaks on reddit????? I never want to hear this shit from another “feminist” ever again. You can take your opinion and shove it up your ass. This is literally the worst take I’ve seen from radblr. It’s sick and disgusting that you thought this was a good thing to post in the first place and even worse that you keep defending your wholly anti-feminist take. Jesus christ, what a lack of empathy or compassion for other women. It’s so fucking selfish. And I haven’t even acknowledged that most of the reproductive rights we have at all could be rolled back, including all birth control which btw is the only thing keeping me from bleeding out once a month, because they hinge on roe v. wade and all the privacy laws that influenced. It’s not even just womens rights, since I know you don’t care about those! Roe v. wade has so much resting on it and they are just taking it away like it’s nothing. We didn’t even get to elect these people and we have no way to influence them. This is shit that started before I was even born. They know what they are about to do is unpopular with the majority of the American public but they don’t care. We are losing +50 years of progress in a second and you only care about the “wrong” kind of woman getting an abortion. There is no hope here. I hope a meteor takes out my entire country tomorrow. I want it all wiped off the face of the earth. I’d be happier if everyone here was dead. I’d be happier dead. I hope the entire SCOTUS spontaneously drops dead. We’re all going to let this happen and no one will care. I don’t want to hear another stupid take about abortion and I wish everyone who disagrees with me would die. I’m so fucking tired. An old high school classmate messaged me saying he wants to rape me because I was vocally pro-choice and he wants to punish me. I’m sure other women here are getting the same kinds of threats. These are my internal organs!! I should have the right to my internal organs!!! Always! Idc even if a woman had consensual sex and got pregnant, she still has the rights to her own insides!!! If you have nothing useful to say then just stay quiet. No one asked you about how you felt about the “morality” of abortion. What a stupid thing to try and answer in the first place. No one wanted your dog-shit opinion.

Anon please get help. I'm not even saying this for snarky Internet clout. I really do believe you need professional help

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shini--chan · 4 years ago

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Okay, I've been wracking my brain to think of an ask for you because I know your writing is fire, and I don't want to waste it! If the mood strikes you, can you write a little yandere Levi in a universe of your choosing or constructing? I'm sort of interested to see how you imagine him as a yandere 😊

Thx, fam!

As I told you once before, this is the ask that almost made me forfeit my principal of answering asks chronologically. :P

So, this will be my usual mix of headcanons and Imagines if you don’t mind, since I have a lot of thoughts on this man and just don’t want to stumble into the snare of writing a full length story … yet.

I’ ll also keep this general, since the universe any Levi fic is set in just changes the nuances, and not fundamental character traits.

Also, I have to remark that it is already too late for me - I’m hip deep in academia.

Yandere Levi Ackerman

Captain Levi is a very orderly person, it is part of his lifestyle and how he interacts with others and himself. It is something he is really strict about and he wouldn’t tolerate anything less than perfect hygiene in a lover. To him, there is nothing less disgusting than poor body hygiene and should you start slacking off in anyway when it comes to taking care of yourself, a very fundamental aspect, then he won’t shy away from taking matters in his own hands.

You gasped as a bucket of water was frigidly emptied over head and you threw yourself out as your bed, expecting your assailant to have lunged onto you, should you have remained there.

Instead, he was standing right in front of you.

Somewhat shyly, you looked up into Levi’s pale face and sneered at the accursed object that he was holding in his hand. He sneered right back at you, the corners of his lips curled slightly upwards in disgust. A rather uncommon display of extreme emotion on his part, for being a commonly stoic man.

“Get up!”, he curtly barked to which you stiffly groaned. Sloppily, you got up, still groggy from being rudely awoken and not in the best mood because of it. The water running in rivulets down your body and made your sleep wear cling to your skin didn’t help either.

“What was that for?”, you whined, completely oblivious as to why he was being so imperious to you. What had you done to warrant such poor treatment?

“Don’t get cheeky now, little brat. You didn’t shower last night and went all sweaty to bed. You deserved what I did to you now.”

Him being orderly isn’t restricted to personal cleanliness, it is also about how disciplined a person is with themselves. Having had to live in harsh environments for his whole life, he is a firm believer in pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps. That also means that should you suffer from any mental disorder, trauma induction or not, he wouldn’t be very understanding. Not that he wouldn’t be concerned about your broken state of mind, rather he wouldn’t see how being kind and coddling you would fix it.

“You know brat, if you would stop sulking and feeling sorry for yourself, your life would start getting damn better”, he snarled at your cowered form.

Hunched over the table, you had elected to grab a beer to numb the pain that was ravaging your heart. Watching people die never became easy, especially when they were close to you.

“Just leave me alone”, you begged and raised the tankard to your mouth again. Yet before the wooden rim could touch your lips, it was shamelessly ripped away from you. Levi’s sharp grey eyes were honed on you, the fire of anger dancing in them. Just why did he have to play judge now of all times?

“No, you look like shit and you’re talking shit. Moping around wouldn’t make anything better you idiot. You need to your act together, not get piss drunk.”

Furthermore, he needs to be in control. As soon as he feels like his vice-like grasp over reality is slipping, he does what all people do that are losing their power – he scrambles to re-attain it. And he doesn’t hesitate to utilize violence. On top of that he sees respect given, as power given, so he demands the piety that his position ought to give him. It doesn’t matter that you’re his lover, if anything you ought to give him his due. Rows with him are literally the worst – be prepared to be swept of your feet!

Roughly, you were slammed against the wall in a manner that knocked the wind out of your lungs with a crude sound. It was followed by a gasp as your ears rang from your skull having banged against the stone and your muscles and bones ached.

“What did you just say?”, Levi snarled, a rare look of utter rage on his handsome face. You knew it was a rhetorical question, he had heard you the first time around. But you were too steep in your own anger to not push your luck.

“Don’t be like that, darling”, you spat the last word as if it were poison in your mouth. Warranted actually, since you had been coerced and tricked into this relationship. “I said that maybe you should take a leave out of your superior’s book because all your shortcomings make you unbearable to be a runt. Somehow, I doubt that would work, though – you’ll always remain a sewer rat at heart.”

A wrong move – those handsome features contorted to something utterly ghastly.

“You know we wouldn’t have such problems if you could control that attitude of yours. And if you would show me respect”, he hissed as he pressed you further against the wall, so that you were sandwiched between stone and muscles to a painful degree. The hands grasping you by the front of your clothing didn’t help either.

Lips twisting into a snarl of your own, you countered: “Respect is supposed to be earned, Captain. I will only respect you if you respect me.” You were really insistent on digging yourself your own grave, weren’t you?

“You’re much prettier if you keep that mouth of yours shut.

“Consider the feeling to be mutual, brat. Why should I give you any respect if you won’t give me any? And remember, I’m above you, so I don’t owe you anything. You owe me the world.”

Levi also has a strict set of rules that he expects you to follow to the dot. A fair warning, however, he may change the one or the other spontaneously and not inform you of it until you’re bent over his desk. Also, it is common knowledge that he endorses corporal punishment and celebrates pain as a prim method to install discipline. He really thinks that bad behaviour can be beat out of somebody. He is also exceptionally cruel with his punishments. This can be traced back to how he was desensitized to violence at a relatively early age and revels in have people submit to him.

You had barely set foot in his study when he looked up from his paperwork and ordered you: “Come over here, and bend over the desk.”

Shocked by his harsh words, you nevertheless complied. You knew that resistance would only make matters worse. Still, as you bend over and pressed your cheek against the cool oak you asked: “What did I do wrong this time?”

Briefly, he stopped rummaging through the chest that stood by the window and glanced over his shoulder.

“Are you serious? Don’t you already know? And I though you weren’t so goddamn stupid”, he snapped.

Finally, having found what he was searching for, he turned towards you again. There was a semi-bored expression gracing his visage as he drawled: “I told you a thousand times before, pet. When you are finished with your afternoon chores you are to come directly to me. No chit-chat with somebody else, no fooling about and yet you disobey me again and again. Your ears really are just for decoration.”

You opened your mouth to protest but he carelessly cut you off: “I don’t care if they are your friends, you don’t need them. You just need me.”

Upon that you fell silent and closed your eyes in hopelessness as you waited for your punishment to commence. When do pain came after a minute of silence you dared to open your eyes and glance back.

Seeing that you were focused on him, Levi cleared his throat as if to say “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Then you remember and with a great amount of shame you bared your bottom and meekly requested: “Please Levi, my love, spank me thoroughly.”

As usual, it sickened you that he made you ask to be punished. It was his way of normalizing and justifying his abuse. And conditioning you.

A dark chuckle rumbled in his throat as he grabbed you by the nap as he pressed you against his desk. “There is a good little pet”, he whispered as leather made contact with your supple flesh.

This man has a difficult time warming up to people. All the agony of losing those that meant the world to him repeatedly has caused him to become cold and reserved. That means that in his mind, you should view it as a privilege that you are the love of his life. Because of that, he won’t accept rejection. Also, since he hasn’t had somebody really close to him in ages, he will be very clingy and overprotective. The world has the habit of robbing him, so you won’t allow you to be stolen as well. Not to forget that he is a man of action – being passive or also relying on words to solve situations just isn’t his style.

Your skin was on fire due to his ministrations, or rather because of the disgust they evoked. The arm around your waist that pressed you against him made you want to claw at his skin and his lips against the tender skin of your neck made you want to throttle him.

Yet you knew that it was just wishful thinking. Engaging in such protest would be futile since he was stronger and quicker than you.

“Look here Levi, I told you…”, you tried to reason with him but he just silenced your objection:

“Shush, sweetheart. Don’t ruin the moment.”

Then he resumed kissing your neck and collar bone, sometimes tugging at your skin with teeth in order to cause bruises. You tensed as his free hand snaked down your leg and hooked itself under your knee.

The captain is a military man and fairly intelligent. He knows how to deal with an enemy, how to assess their strengths and weaknesses and how to keep them contained. And also, how to best combat them and capture them. He really is the worst opponent you could meet on the battlefield.

So how to evade him? You take him off the battlefield, place him in a situation where aggression can’t help him achieve his goals. He is a military man, as said before, so he is accustomed to low context communication – words must be direct, and you must mean what you say so that they are no muck-ups. Little conversation and more orders and demands. Levi doesn’t have a silver tongue to begin with, quite the contrary actually.

That means he cares a bit for codes, since they are of use to him in his branch of expertise. But he cares little for symbolism since he has categorised that as sappy nonsense reserved for romantics. So, you have an avenue to express yourself that he won’t catch up on unless somebody explicitly told him what it meant. Consider yourself lucky, it is exactly this that will prevent you from going insane.

“Flowers? Again?”, he gruffly asked.

It made you look up from the novel you were reading to see him eyeing the tansy and peonies that you had placed in a vase on the nightstand.

You had to suppress a smirk and work to keep the self-satisfaction out of your voice as you meekly inquired: “They are there to give a bit more colour to the room. I can always put them away if you want.”

You were being obedient to him for a change and that was why he decided to allow you a few luxuries. Besides, since you were so affectionate in the past two months, why shouldn't he return it with gestures of his own.

“Keep them. I’ll just never understand why you like them so much”, he answered and then stalked over to the bathroom. Of course he would never comprehend it, with his spartan and austere tastes, just like you would never understand that the small yellow flowers meant ‘I declare war on you!’ or that the orange lilies that had been there a few days ago actually proclaimed your hatred for him.

Hopefully, he would never find out.

Intelligence doesn’t automatically mean that he is omnipotent or that he is an all-powerful overlord. It just means that he is quick to comprehend tactics and strategies and devise his own. He isn’t immune to mistakes. So, when he ropes you in, in his games, you have to play a wholly different game of your own if you want to get out. Military, remember? There are many walks of life that he is unfamiliar with, many possibilities for you to escape his clutches that he wouldn’t even account for.

Giddily, you smiled at yourself in the mirror. You barely recognized yourself, with all the paint and heavy cloth that decorated your body. Levi didn’t either, just how it was supposed to be.

You had spotted him in the audience as you had pranced about the stage, looking very disgruntled at not having you by his side or locked up in his quarters. Even you had heard the rumours of how a few days ago he had flown into a frenzy, searching high and low for something.

You were one of the few that knew it was someone and that someone was you. Knowing him as well as you did, you made the fair guess that he also wasn’t here by his own volition, rather his comrades had dragged him here in an attempt to distract him.

And you also knew that had looked everywhere he presumed you to be – in the forest, somewhere tucked away in his estate, in the taverns and at the city borders and at the docks. Just not amongst the theatre troop.

That would probably stay that way, and you could use the opportunity to escape him.

Adding to the fact that he is bad at expressing himself like a normal human being, he is also very emotional underneath that stoic veneer. In combat situations, he has an outlet for all his pent-up emotions. Else you have to suffer his outbursts and mood swings. Nonetheless, the world isn’t a gigantic battlefield and if the right buttons are pushed, he could lose it at exactly the wrong time and place. Levi would lose badly at the game favoured in the royal courts of provoking-the-other-until-they-embarrass-themselves.

Levi was very close to unleashing his unholy rage and as a precaution, you had taken to stepping out of range. While you found the whole situation very amusing, you didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire.

“…however, since you come short on some things, I don’t expect you to understand that. Should I repeat what I said, in bitesize chunks so that you don’t lag behind this time”, the nobleman prattled while he looked down on your “lover”.

Said man pressed through gritted teeth: “You filthy swine, go stuff all your pretty words up your ass.”

The noble emitted a fake gasp and murmured aghast: “You really are so crass. The rumours of you being a dwarf barbarian are true.”

That was the last straw for Levi. In the following minutes, a small crowd gathered to see what the commotion was all about and it ended in the guards having to restrain him. Really, it was hypocritical of the Ackerman to threaten you about causing a scene when he was the one prone to temper tantrums.

#yandere levi #yandere attack on titan #yandere aot #yandere snk #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere levi x reader #my writing #yandere levi ackerman

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connordavidscamera · 4 years ago

Text

Living, Learning, and Filming Ch. 3 | Connor Brashier

A/n: one again, revised/rewritten. I remember loving this chapter a lot when I first wrote it, so I hope you guys like it too.

Summary: Someone’s falling…

Warnings: kinda fluffy

Word count: 2.2k

***

Week 2

“You want to pick the music?” I ask, handing her my phone.

“Oh, sure.” She scrolls through my Spotify for a minute until she comes across a song she likes.

“So, what were you and Shawn talking about?” I rest my arm on the center console, hand up, silently asking for hers, but she doesn’t place hers in mine. I leave my hand there anyway, just in case.

“Um, nothing much.”

“No? Seemed like something important.”

“He just um… asked me on a date.” Y/n says when we reach a stop light and I slam on the brakes a little harder than intended.

“He did what?” I glance over at her, but she won’t look at me. “Y/n,” I say, trying to get her to say something, anything.

“He asked me out,” she says again, her voice small.

“And?” I prompt. “What’d you say?” I can see that she’s hesitant to respond, and just by that alone, I’m not sure I want to know the answer. “No, nevermind,” I say, looking forward just as the light changes. “It’s your business.”

We’re silent the rest of the way back to campus. When I park, I turn the car off and she looks at me for the first time the whole ride. “What are you doing?”

“Walking you to your dorm. It’s late, you don’t need to be walking out here alone.”

“There’s no one out.”

“It’ll just make me feel better knowing you got to your dorm. Okay?” I say, staring at her through my hooded eyes.

“Okay.” She takes her bag from the floor board and opens the door. I wait for her at the hood of the car and without asking, I take her hand. I don’t care if she said yes to Shawn or not. I want to hold her hand, and as long as she’s okay with it, I’m going to hold it because her skin is so soft against mine and I love the feeling. Thunder sounds and lightning cracks against the pitch black sky and she jumps just a little at the unexpected sound.

“Guess it’s gonna rain,” I say and she nods, leading us to her building.

“Yeah,” she answers and just as she says it, the first raindrop falls, followed by a heavy shower. She squeals and I can’t help but chuckle as she hurriedly leads me to the main door and she struggles to enter her code with just one hand, but she never lets go, and neither do I. She finally gets it in after three failed attempts, but we’re both soaked through by the time we get inside, you can hear only the squeaking of our shoes on the linoleum floor and the soft squishing of our feet in the damp shoes. I can’t help but laugh when she almost trips trying to get up the stairs, but I’m quick to catch her and keep us both from tumbling.

“Come inside?” she asks when she gets her door unlocked.

“I really should get back.”

“Stay,” she says, begs, really. “At least until the rain lets up. I’d feel better about it. Please?”

And when she gives me those eyes, the ones that hold nothing but sincerity, who am I to deny her anything she wants from me. “Okay,” I nod. “Just until the rain stops.”

Her room is warm compared to the hallway, and the drastic change in temperature causes a shiver to run up my spine. Almost immediately after putting her bag on the desk, she goes to her closet and grabs some clothes. Two hoodies that look like they absolutely swallow her up, and then she goes to her drawers where I watch her pull out a pair of leggings. “You can pick either one of these,” she says, laying the hoodies at the foot of the bed. “They’re my dad’s, so they should fit.”

“Thanks,” I mutter as she disappears into the bathroom. She comes back a second later with a towel.

“Here, so you can dry yourself off.”

“Oh, thank you.” I take the towel from her hands and she smiles sheepishly at me.

“Um, I’m gonna shower really quick. Will you be okay out here?”

I nod with a smug smile on my face, “I’ve been left alone before, y/n.”

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, smartass. I’ll be fast. Make yourself comfortable. There’s drinks in the fridge, and snacks in the pantry if you’re hungry.” she pulls out a shirt from her top drawer and once again disappears into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

After drying my hair - or attempting to, at least, I pull off my shirt which has been clinging to my body since we got inside. I pull her dad’s sweatshirt over my head and try to pat my jeans dry. They aren’t clinging to me quite as much as you would think they would, but they’re definitely leaving me a little chilly.

The stack of books by her bed catches my eye when I fold the towel over her desk chair. The stack is as tall as her nightstand. I don’t know anyone who has ever brought this many books to school with them. That just means you have more to take back and unload when you leave and return to campus.

I hear the door handle click and I know she’s behind me. “Find anything interesting?”

“Did you bring all these?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “I bought most of them since I’ve been here. There’s this really cute bookshop downtown. Seriously, it has a great selection. I go whenever I can get away from my homework.”

“So it’s a leisure thing,” I muse.

“Of course. What else would it be?” I smile as I watch her reach for her brush and sit cross legged on her bed. “Why are you staring at me like that?” she asks, looking up at me from where I stand near her tower of books.

“What else don’t I know about you?”

“Quite a bit, pretty boy. What do you want to know?”

"I want to know everything." I say, electing to ignore the fact that she just called me pretty boy, even though it makes me feel all types of giddy inside. Giddy, what a stupid word coming from me.

We talk for hours about… well literally everything. I don’t even realize that it’s nearing two in the morning until I check my phone to see that Brian texted me three hours ago asking where I was. “I should get going,” I whisper into her hair, taking in the scent of her shampoo, memorizing her scent. It's intoxicating.

She’s dozing off on my shoulder and I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be at this moment than right here. Seriously, a blinding flash of light could swallow the world whole at this very moment and I wouldn’t mind because I would die with her in my arms.

“No,” her arm wraps around my waist. “Warmth. Stay.”

“Y/n, it’s late," I try.

“All the more reason to stay. Please?” she groans, basically crawling on top of me.

I sigh in content because I had no idea her body could feel so comforting on mine. “Okay. But I have to go first thing in the morning,” I say, but I barely believe it myself because as long as she’ll have me, I’ll stay.

“Fine,” she agrees.

We’re quiet for a minute before she mumbles my name and oh wow it sounds like heaven. “Connor?”

“What’s going on, baby?”

“I said no.”

“Hmm?” I furrow my eyebrows, looking down at her.

“To Shawn. I said no.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Because if I’m going to get to know someone like that, I want it to be you.”

“Wait, what?” I wait a beat for her to respond, but she doesn’t. “Y/n?”

She stirs, pulling at the covers and when I look down, I know she’s asleep, her eyes moving behind her eyelids as she dreams those sweet dreams that I could only wish on her. Those sweet dreams I can only wish to be in.

---

I stumble into the apartment as quietly as I can the next morning because I know Brian is asleep; he doesn’t have class until noon, that lucky bastard.

“And where have you been all night?”

I jump, dropping my phone on the ground. “Shit! Shawn what are you doing on the couch?”

“Spent the night. What happened? I thought you just went to take y/n back to her dorm.”

“Yeah,” I scratch the back of my neck, “I did. But it started raining pretty hard, so she told me to stay until the rain let up. It just got super late and I uh… stayed the night with her. No big deal.”

He nods. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I say, grabbing my phone.

“What’s going on between you two? I mean, I kinda picked up on something last night, but-”

“Well if you picked up on it, then why did you ask her out?” I know it comes out kind of hostile, but I can’t help it.

“Whoa,” he puts his hands up in surrender. “Look, I didn’t mean to step on your toes. I think it’s great that you’ve found someone you like. I just wasn't sure if it was serious."

I didn't think it was either, but I'm seriously falling for this girl and it hasn't even been three weeks yet. “It’s not. Yet.”

---

Week 3

I’m falling. I’m falling and I’m falling hard and it’s going to hurt like hell when I land. Because neither of us have spoken about what she said the other night. In fact, we haven’t spoken about the other night at all. And I don’t think either of us intend to.

“Y/n, come here.” I usher her over to the tree in front of me, with its multicolored leaves that in this early autumn season are starting to fall, just like me.

“Hmm?” she shows up behind me, chin resting on my shoulder

“Can you stand here for a minute?”

“Okay. Any specific way?”

“Nope, just stand there and look pretty.”

She groans, but slips from behind me and leans against the tree. “But that’s hard.”

I’m already filming when she says it. “What’s hard, y/n/n?”

“Standing and looking pretty,” she sighs dramatically.

I shake my head, starting to walk around the tree. “You’re doing a damn good job of it right now,” I say as I round the corner.

She covers her face, letting out a soft laugh. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?” I ask with an amused smile.

“Saying things like that,” she mumbles, pushing her hair out of her face.

“Why? You gonna kiss me if I don’t?”

She hums and pushes herself off the tree. She waits until she’s out of frame, until her body is pressed impossibly close to mine, before she speaks. “If kissing you is the only way to get you to shut up, then yeah,” she whispers into my ear and I think I lose balance for a second. Her lips press gently onto my cheek and I know I’m a thousand shades of red when she pulls away.

I want to lean in, so badly I want to. Because she’s here and she’s so close and it would be so easy to just capture her lips right here, right now… But it’s not time. No matter how badly I want it, I can’t give into these feelings just yet, not until I know for sure that she feels the same.

Sure, she’s given me signs that she wants me too, but how do I know it’s not still just a game to her? I started it, but y/n’s the type of person to end it.

And thinking this actually makes me believe that I don’t care. That even if this is a game, I want nothing more than to get my heart broken by her if that’s the case. It would be a privilege.

“Con? You’re staring.”

“I know,” I say, my eyes focused on her lips.

“It’s making me nervous,” she says quietly.

“Y/n?”

“What?” She questions, her eyes trailing down to my lips too. I can’t help but wonder if she wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss her.

I take in a breath, “We should go get something to eat,” I say and I hate myself for it. In my mind, I’m punching myself in the face right now. “I’m starving.”

She pulls away from me, looking down at the ground. “Oh. Yeah, okay. Sure.”

I don’t know if I’m imagining it because I want it to be true, but I swear I see disappointment in her eyes as she gathers her things.

“Hey, are you okay?” I take her by the elbow before she can walk ahead of me.

She shrugs me off and I think I can physically feel my heart breaking at the subtle movement. “Yep. I’m fine.”

“Y/n?”

“Come on, Brashier. You’re hungry, right?” She starts walking forward, but I hurriedly get in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.

“Wait, y/n. What happened?”

“Do you want to kiss me, Connor?”

“Well, I-”

“It’s a yes or no question. Do you or don’t you?”

***

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officially-a-bee · 4 years ago

Text

Amber rummages around, pulling her knives and her whetstone out of her bag. “So.”

“So.” Thom stared at her, dark eyes shining.

“What do you want from me? And stop staring, it’s creepy.”

“What do I want? Amber, I thought you would’ve figured it out by now. I’ve only been following you, trying to talk to you, for the past month.”

“Yes, I noticed and was thoroughly creeped out.” Amber scraped her stone against her blade, and an irritating scraping sound emanated through the room. “The only reason I let you talk to me right now is because I was bored of trying to lose you. Now stop with the guessing game and just tell me why you’re here.”

Thom threw his hands up exasperatedly. “I want your help! You’re one of the best fighters out there, and you have personal ties with Havoc themself. I need your help to save this country!”

“Oh?” Amber tilted her head slightly.

“I’m on an important quest to stop the Dark Army from taking complete control and reigning supreme over this country. They already control the West, the South, and the Northeast; the East Coast is really all that stands between them and total dictatorship. I believe I can stop them and keep the island free, but I can’t do it alone. Will you come with me? It’ll be a long and arduous journey, but you’ll be paid extremely well when the job is done, and then you can go right back to your own quest.”

“What else is in it for me?” Amber asked skeptically.

“What - what else? I just told you, you’d save the world, be known as a beloved hero across the land, and get paid for it, that’s what you get. What else could you want?”

“It’s just, I’m a little busy right now, you know? I’m not sure if this is worth my time.”

Thom looked bewildered. “Worth your time? The fate of the world is at stake! You don’t get to be busy, this is destiny at work!”

“Hmm. Fine.”

“You’ll help me?” Thom lit up.

“Ha. No.” She sat back and chuckled. “No, I don’t help creeps. I just thought it’d be amusing to lead you on.”

“No? Come on! You can’t say no, the world is at stake! What will it take to convince you? My mother’s a wealthy merchant, I’ll pay you handsomely.”

“Oooh, he’ll pay me handsomely, huh? Funny, I thought I was pretty handsome on my own.” Amber shrugged and continued idly sharpening.

“You - well, I wouldn’t call you ‘handsome’, but you are attractive, I have to agree-”

“I didn’t ask. Shut up.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up!” Thom said indignantly. “I am the hero of this realm, and I’m offering you the chance to become a hero too! You should be thanking me!”

“I’ll tell any asshole to shut up if they deserve it, I’ll thank you as soon as you’ve done me a favor, and you’re no hero of mine. No means no. I don’t need to be a hero. I have a job of my own to do.” Amber tested the edge of the blade with her thumb, apparently judged it sharp enough, and pulled out a different knife.

Visibly trying out a different tactic, Thom picked up the finished blade and tested it against his own thumb. “This is a good dagger. Did you choose it yourself? The craftsman must have been very good at his job.”

“No, I slayed a great spider-beast and upon slitting its throat, that knife dropped out into my open palm, which is how I knew I was blessed by the gods.” Amber deadpanned.

“Ah, yes, the trial of the spider beast!” Thom’s eyes lit up. “You are indeed blessed, I had no idea I was in the presence of such an accomplished warrior!”

“Don’t bullshit me. I was being sarcastic. My girlfriend made it for me. Give it back.” Amber didn’t wait for him to hand it over, electing to snatch it away instead.

“Oh! I didn’t realize you travelled with any friends. Where is she? I imagine any friend of yours must be just as lovely as you are.” Thom twisted around to look at the door, as if Keira was about to walk through at that second.

“You’re Western, aren’t you.”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“Never mind.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, Amber casually carrying on with her sharpening, Thom looking around the room for another way to continue the conversation.

“So, what friends do you have, then? You must have allies. Tell me about Havoc!” Thom asked, sounding just a little bit desperate.

“My friends are none of your business. And I imagine what little you do know about Havoc is too much, in their opinion. They prefer the mystique, if you didn’t know.”

Thom blinked. “Well, I - I did know that, but -”

“But you thought I’d go behind their back and spill everything I know about them to you, a stranger I just met who’s been tracking me for the past two months? I think not. Obvious threat of them having me murdered in cold blood the instant I let a secret of theirs pass my lips aside, I don’t betray my friends. To anyone. But especially not to creepy strangers like you.”

Thom sat forward interestedly. “So you just go around with the possibility of them killing you whenever they feel like it hanging over your head? Seems like a pretty one-way friendship, if you ask me. If you came with me, you wouldn’t have to worry about it. I could protect you.”

Amber snorted. “You wish. They’d mow you down faster than you could yell my name in warning. Anyway, just because they’d kill me if I told someone else their personal details, doesn’t mean that they’re not incredibly helpful to me when I need it. We’re business partners, and it’s a hazard of the job.” Amber very pointedly did not include the more personal side of her friendship, and that Havoc was significantly more likely to kill the person who’d heard the detail, rather than she who told it. (At that, she wondered if she could get this asshole out of her hair by telling him some harmless secret. Havoc would have him dead within the week. . . but no, she didn’t want to inconvenience them. If Thom got too annoying, she’d just lead him into the forest and kill him herself.)

Thom did not know how to respond to that.

“So how long until you get out of my hair? My answer isn’t gonna change, you know.”

Thom, looking defeated, stood up slowly. “I hope you reconsider, milady. The world could use you as their hero.”

“I’m not your lady, or a hero. Get out.” Amber flipped the knife she was sharpening, and stared him down. Thom scrambled out the door, and slammed it firmly shut behind him.

***

The next day, Amber went down for breakfast, but Thom was still there, this time accompanied by a short-haired blond woman in leather armor. Unlike the previous night, when Thom had arrived unarmed, both warriors had swords strapped to their belts - Thom with a large double-handed thing, and the woman with a black shortsword so short it could have been mistaken as a large everyday butcher knife had the handle been crafted slightly different. Thom perked up when he saw Amber enter the room, and he said something to his companion; she scowled, but nodded, and he bounded across the room.

“Amber! Good morning! Have you thought about my offer any more, now you’ve slept on it a bit?” He smiled brightly, as if he was trying to radiate charm from his pores.

“I didn’t, because why would I when I already answered you and considered the matter ended,” Amber said flatly.

At that, the blond woman swished up behind Thom, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hello, Amber. My name’s Sam. I heard you were indecisive, and I hoped-”

“Not to be rude, but I’m just going to stop you there. I’m not indecisive. I don’t want to go with you at all. I have my own business to attend to.”

Sam deflated. “Are you sure? We could really use you, you know. I’ve heard so much about you and your accomplishments.”

Amber shrugged. “It wasn’t that great. I had a lot of help, from people who most definitely would not want to work with you.”

Sam stepped closer, and nudged Thom out of the way. He peeled away for the bar, interpreting that it might be easier to have someone else try to convince Amber. He was wrong, but Amber didn’t mind the alone time with the woman - she was pretty, and seemed nice.

“Do you mind me asking what you’re trying to do, Amber? What’s so important that the entire country can wait?”

“My girlfriend got kidnapped. I’m saving her,” Amber said simply.

“Oh! I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe if you came with us, we could help you on the way to our own fight.” Sam sounded sympathetic.

“Look, I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I don’t work with people I don’t know, and I don’t need any more help. I’m good where I am. I appreciate the offer, though - your boy over there expected me to be on my knees thanking him for giving me a chance, after he offered me nothing but gold and renown.” Amber nodded towards the bar, where Thom had struck up a drinking competition with five other men, and a dozen other people had circled around them urging them to drink! drink! drink!

Sam rolled her eyes. “Yeah, he’s a little bit full of himself like that. But he’s got a great heart, I promise. He’d help you in an instant if you asked.”

“But only if it was convenient to him, right?”

“I don’t - well, probably, but what do you mean by convenient? We’ll go get your girlfriend, it wouldn’t be an issue -”

“I mean,” Amber said tiredly, “that I’ve been tracking this girl overseas for a year now. It’s not a matter of skipping over to the dragon’s lair, slaying it, and going home happily ever after. Pirates have her. It’s complicated.”

Sam was quiet for a moment. “Oh,” she said softly. “You’re right, then. Thom wouldn’t be too happy about having to deal with that. I’m sorry.”

“Didn’t think so.”

The two sat in silence, somewhat more companionably than the previous night with Thom, but it was awkward nonetheless. They turned their attention to the bar, where a short, rough, butch woman had shown up to challenge Thom and the other men. She was efficiently drinking them all under the table; a few people nearby whooped appreciatively.

Sam turned her bright, ice-blue eyes back to Amber. “I really am sorry about your girlfriend. I wish I could do more.”

Amber shrugged. “You could come with me.”

“Oh - you know I couldn’t. What we’re doing, it’s really important too, you know.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Is there anything else I can do?” Sam asked. “Resources, weapons. . . Thom knows a bladesmith in town, if there was anything you needed.”

“I have so many knives on me right now, you have no idea. I’m good. Thanks, though.” To demonstrate, Amber pulled three from the lining of her jacket, stabbing them into the table.

Sam nodded understandably. She stood up, bobbing her head respectfully at Amber. “I think, then, if your answer is definitely not going to change, I’m going to go get Thom and take my leave. We have other business to attend to in town.”

“Have fun.” Amber wiggled her fingers, somewhat dismissively, and focused on dislodging her knives from the bar table. One knife got its tip broken off, and she swore at it. Sam hurried away, retrieved Thom from his place among the drunken bar buddies, and went for the exit.

***

Later that day, Amber headed to the town’s market to restock on dry goods for her journey, and she ran into the pair a third time. Sam was doing business with the butcher, and Thom, still drunk, had been stationed on a crate some ways away and was trying to stop the sunlight from making it anywhere near his face. A crowd had gathered to laugh at him.

Sam finished whatever she was doing, turned around, and called out to Amber brightly. “I know you said you didn’t want help,” Sam said quickly, striding over, “but just a few minutes after we left, I remembered something that might be of some use to you.”

Amber arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Sam reached into her pack, and drew out a small throwing knife. “I want to give this to you.”

“I appreciate the thought, but I’m not really a throwing knife type of girl.”

“Listen. It’s an elven blade, enchanted to always stay sharp and always hit its target. It’s served me well in the past. I know it’s not your style, but it just might help in a pinch. It was a gift from a friend, who told me to pass it on when I no longer had need of it. I want you to have it.”

She pushed the knife and its accompanying tiny sheath into Amber’s hands, anxiously waiting for a response.

“. . . I’m sure I’ll find some way to use it,” Amber said begrudgingly. Sam’s face lit up, and she threw her arms around her.

“Make sure to pass it on when you don’t need it anymore! It’s tradition!”

Amber acknowledged that she would, and the two parted ways with amicable goodbyes.

***

In fact, Amber found a use for it that very same day. Luckily, the bladesmith in town knew the real value of elven blades. After buying herself some sturdy new travelling clothes with the money she got for it, she treated herself to a jar of honey and a jug of wine for the road, and still had coins to spare.

#my writing #fantasy #alcohol mention #tw alcohol

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