#considering that he was lying to his father in his letters maybe Wilbur really was scared of people being disappointed in him

[bistaxx]

Canon lives and Wilbur's first death retroactively make his second even worse in my opinion. (Both deaths are horrible and I'm not saying one is worse then the other but I am saying that people don't talk about his second as much as they should imo)

In the final control room Wilbur's last words were him shouting at the others to escape but it was too late, his teenage friends and child were already doomed and he couldn't do anything to save them. He was their general, their older brother figure/father, he failed them.

So imagine how he must've felt being shot at with arrows alongside Tommy, all he can do is yell at him to run until Wilbur gets fatally struck by an arrow knowing very well the same thing could happen to Tommy... and he can't protect him. Tommy who is on his last life because Wilbur couldn't protect him during the war. The war that they only won thanks to Tommy's selfless act. Tommy thankfully makes it out alive but I can't begin to imagine how stressful that moment would've been for c!Wilbur.

And gosh... the end of the revolutionary war is just so poetically bitter. Wilbur fails to fight with words so with the declaration of war must turn toward weapons, he tried his best but the L'manburgians were outmatched and slaughtered; and all the suffering ends up for nothing because technically they lost the war when Tommy lost the duel, that was it for them.

And then Tommy makes the deal with Dream- the discs for L'manberg's independence. Now while Wilbur was definitely proud of Tommy and ecstatic to have secured independence I wouldn't be surprised if deep down it pained him and bruised his sense of self-worth even more.

Wilbur didn't just fail as a general, he failed to do what he believed in; fighting with words. But Tommy succeeded. I feel like that weighed on Wilbur a lot, even if he hid it.

Even if c!Wilbur was bad I really dont think being betrayed by a friend and slaughtered, then later shot to death listening to people cheer that he was being exiled was deserved

He wanted to do drugs on a tiny area of land? Oh boy it's not like he got suddenly and brutally murdered for it unexpectedly and also incredibly unnecessarily as a punishment while Also trying to get who he cared about who was also in danger out of the situation while the people who ordered his death and cheer. Yknow despite the whole "fighting with words" thing

He wanted to rig an election? He was a bit morally dubious during the election? Oh boy it's not like he got suddenly and brutally murdered for it unexpectedly and also incredibly unnecessarily as a punishment while Also trying to get who he cared about who was also in danger out of the situation while the people who ordered his death and cheer. Yknow despite the whole "fighting with words" thing

Bro his deaths were horrific, sudden and traumatizing and nobody talks about them like. Ever. Both times he didnt fight back, the first time he was relying on a friend to help him against their enemies who were beating them down, he had HOPE man,, the second time he stepped down peacefully, declaring himself a citizen. And he got hunted down murdered for it. Both times he was yelling at - his last words - his little brother figure to run

Do you ever think about the fact that c!Tommy and c!Wilbur repeatedly watched eachother die?

[appleflavoredkitkats]

Notable Angsty Fundy Quotes From his Stream “My Curse”

Do you think I’m an idiot? Of course I replaced the bed, of course I did! I tried everything!

I saw Ghostbur… but… but… you know, he was different. It was not- It- I don’t know.

I wanna move, I wanna get the hell out of here, I don’t wanna be here anymore. I set up a little cart and I’m just gonna leave. I am done with this place. I AM DONE. WITH WHATEVER IS HAUNTING ME. I wanna take what matters and leave.

*looking at L'Manhole* Oh my god. Why? What has happened, man? What has happened to this place, what happened to anything? What ha- why? Why must everything have gone the way that it had?

*referencing L'Manberg* It used to be beautiful. I used to not have nightmares about this place, I had dreams, I had hopes. I was following in their footsteps trying to… be the best that I could.

Phil, can I be honest with you? There’s this thing alright? There’s this thing that has been happening to me for, I don’t know, the past six, seven days where I- I just haven’t been able to close an eye because- not because I’m bad at sleeping, but because every time I fall asleep, Phil, I- I- *sigh* I don’t know what I’m experiencing man. I need help. I’ve been seeing people, I’ve been talking to people that I don’t know- I’ve been seeing stuff that- it’s gonna sound fucking stupid but- but- I’ve been- I…

The first time it happened, I was in this wasteland. I was- I was- I saw the van, Phil, I saw the van. Like, three, four times! Every time I left, it kept appearing in front of me again. And- and, Wil- He was in the van. He was there. I SAW MYSELF, PHIL.

I saw him in the van, Phil, I saw him in the van and I passed it once, twice, three times, and then he wasn’t there. The last time, it was continuously the same van and then it was gone! He’s just always been there, then he vanished! They’re so SURREAL, Phil! I literally, just, it stressed me the FUCK out!

He died, no. No no no! No no no no, I wasn’t there, but I know what happened! Don’t fuck with me.

HOW THE FUCK DID THAT HAPPEN? WHAT HAPPENED? HOW CAN YOU JUST REVIVE? HE JUST- WHAT HAPPENED, HOW?

*slams table while sobbing* WHY? *more sobbing* He should NOT BE REVIVEd? DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE’S DONE? LOOK AT THE PLACE. HE’S BLOWN IT- HE STARTED EVERYTHING. EVERYONE WAS FRIENDLY, HE STARTED L'MANBERG, I WAS BORN THERE. I WAS BORN IN A PLACE THAT HE BLEW UP HIMSELF… why is he back? WHY? WHY?!

WHAT THE FUCK DOES DREAM HAVE TO DO WITH IT? WHY THE FUCK WOULD HE DO THAT?

*insert sobbing here, and maybe a sniffle, and another sob, another sniffle*

HE IS MY FATHER! And- *incoherent sobbing*

I’m scared, Phil.

What if he’s just completely different? What if he was not the same… dad that used to, you know, care about me? The same person that raised me on the grounds of L'Manberg when it still stood mighty and glorious. What if he’s… I don’t know what- Thirteen years… he can be completely different.

I need him to be, you know… *laughs bitterly* I don’t wanna see him but I really do! It’s… *sobbing* I want him to be gone, but at the same time, I just really just…  I want him to be there for me again…

Schlatt died. Wil… got killed. And Wil was writing you messages, uhm, but leaving out… Why would he leave them out? Why would he specific- there’s no reason to do that- why would you-

He’s the man who likes to make as much fun in life as possible, and what is more fun than lying to his own father?

Why would he leave out such a giant part in history?

Phil, listen to me, I don’t think Wil is telling you the truth at all. I’m afraid he’s leaving out HUGE parts.

I don’t know- I DON’T KNOW ANYMORE! There’s so many questions and Wil just doesn’t show up? We have like 20, 000 questions Phil, and this is not even about just you and me. This is about everything! He lied to you. Dream revived him for… whatever reason. He’s not showing up, why is he not showing up?

Phil I- I’m scared.

I don’t know what’s gonna happen when we see him. I don’t know what he’s gonna be like. I don’t know- I don’t know, I just want it to be Wil. I just want it to be the person that I remembered. The person I have good memories of. Not the… Not… Not the other… not the other person.

Thirteen years- he’s been pranking, he’s been having some fun. Maybe he’s had time to think as well, and he’s been able to write letters… Surely he’s just going to be the… good ol’ Wil… surely… right?

Well, stay strong, I guess?

Take care, Phil.

Considering my dreams, considering what I’ve seen, days ago, I saw Wil in the van, in the desert. The dreams that I’ve had on my own- they’ve been terrifying, and every single time I see him, and last time it wasn’t him, and now we have Phil telling me Wilbur’s back?

Chat, at the start of the day I wanted to say “Let’s start a new chapter!” but… I don’t think this one has ended. *shoots an arrow at TNT*

This is gonna be a fuck fest, this is gonna be insane.

[jay-me-says]

Things Were Different Back Then

CHAPTER THREE: Tension

Masterpost w/ more info on the fic | Note: all SBI-related relationships here are platonic!

Tubbo wakes with the sun. He hadn’t shut his curtains last night, and the window opposite his bed casts a bright, amber light over him. Despite being tired, and annoyed by the interruption to his sleep, he finds it in him to appreciate how the early morning sun turns his bedspread to flame. He turns his fingers around in the patch of light. It’s like he’s dipping them in magic. The red bandanna Tommy gave him has been sitting on his headboard for weeks, a small comfort in the time his friend was gone. The orange sunlight makes it look especially warm and vibrant.

After lying in bed for a few minutes more, staring at the square of orange light on his covers and skin, Tubbo forces himself out of bed and to his wardrobe. He dresses at a snail’s pace in black dress pants, a pastel green button-up, and a vest in such a dark shade of green one could mistake it for black from a distance. With a black tie in hand, Tubbo sleepily walks out to the living room so he can put on his tie in front of the mirror. The consequences of staying at the bench with Tommy so late last night are catching up to him. Worth it, he thinks.

In the middle of fidgeting with his tie, trying to get it just right, someone opens the door, startling the boy. A brief shot of adrenaline rushes through him as he whips around to look at the front door. His surprise turns to relief and then confusion when he sees Tommy coming through the door. He thought his friend was still asleep in bed- he certainly should be after last night. “Jeez, Tommy. You scared the hell out of me. Where were you so early?”

Walter pads over the couch and hops up, head resting on the arm nearest the mirror. Tubbo doesn’t mind. He reaches out to pet the dog’s big, white head. Tommy plops down on the couch next to Walter as he speaks. “I went for a walk,” he says, then yawns. Henry II squawks from his shoulder in protest of all the sudden movement.  Tommy pets his little, green head apologetically. “Sorry, mate,” he murmurs.

“Well, are you up to going to that meeting with Fundy and Niki today?” Tubbo asks, turning back to the mirror to work on his tie. “We’re planning out the next few rebuilding projects. You don’t have to go, but I figured it would be nice for you to come along. Might help ease you back into things.”

There’s silence for a moment as Tommy thinks it over, then, “Yeah. Yeah, that might be good. When is it though? I think I’ll take a nap if I have the time.  

He must’ve been out really early this morning, Tubbo thinks. “It’s at nine o’clock, at Fundy’s again. So you have a few hours.”

“Right, then. See you in a few hours.” Tommy trudges off to his room with Henry II still on his shoulder. Walter remains on the couch. Tubbo gives the dog one last pat, then heads into the kitchen. He’ll make some soup, he decides. He can reheat some for Tommy after his nap.

Tubbo sets about cooking, glad to have something to do to fill some of the extra time brought on by his early start to the day.

~

The sound of knocking rolls through the house. Fundy gets up to answer the door, knowing it must be the other council members arriving for the meeting, but his grandfather beats him to it.

When he sees Tommy at the door with the others, the fox is a little surprised. He had only expected Tubbo and Niki, especially after yesterday’s conversation. He supposes it makes some sense, though. Tommy should know what they’ve been up to before reclaiming his seat on the council.

After Gramps has warmly greeted Tubbo and Niki and given Tommy a big hug, Fundy leads them to the kitchen. For the second day in a row, they sit at the table and talk.  

Niki places a book on the table in front of her and opens it to a recent page of handwritten notes. Loopy brown font scrolls across the creamy pages. The margins are packed with little symbols and arrows connecting extra notes to lines of text. Fundy wonders if the book would quite make sense to anyone but her.

Readjusting in her seat, she says, “I jotted down some things with Quackity yesterday while we were walking around. We saw a lot, but I want to highlight a few of the things we thought were most pressing.

“First, the water level in the crater is starting to rise with each bout of rain. It is shallow so far, but once it fills up more, we’ll get Drowned spawning. It would be easy for us to fight them off when need be, but it would be safer and more convenient to light the area up before they get the chance to spawn.”

Fundy feels sort of sick at the mention of the destruction his father had caused, but pushes it away and tries to focus on the discussion.

“We could chain up some lanterns,” Tubbo suggests.

“Or use sea pickles,” says Fundy. “It might be easier than dealing with scaffolding and screwing in hooks for chains.”

“You’re right, nice thinking. I’m pretty sure I have some tucked away somewhere, but we could ask for people to chip in anyways.”

Niki marks a little circle next to a line of writing in her book. “I can send out some letters after the meeting asking for help.”

She tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear and continues, “Next, there’s a strip of open land near Party Island. It’s in a spot that would be easy to connect to the paths, so it’s a good place to add something. Quackity and I were throwing around ideas yesterday and our favorite was turning it into a community garden. We could plant flowers and trees and set up some benches. And there could be a designated spot to grow a few crops, like berries and potatoes. Everyone has been good about getting their own food, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep an extra source around.”

“That would be good.” Tubbo shifts in his chair and leans forwards a little. “We could put a chest near the crops and stock it with bonemeal. But that might require us to build a skeleton farm.”  

The four of them go around like that for a while, planning out and prioritizing new projects. Niki and Tubbo do most of the talking, but Fundy and Tommy contribute where they find it useful. Once they’ve gone through Niki’s list, they help her write out notes to the citizens of L’manburg, calling for help and sea pickles, as well as a few letters asking specific people for help with projects.

When they’re all done, Niki closes her book and stands from the table. “That’s everything taken care of for today. I’ll hand these letters off to Ponk to be delivered as soon as possible.” Tubbo and Tommy say bye to Fundy, then leave the kitchen, heading for the front door.

Niki hangs back for a moment, though. She reaches into her book and hands Fundy some loose papers she pulls out. Her promise rings from Puffy sparkles brilliantly in the daylight streaming in from a nearby window. “Will you read over these for me? It’s a few drafts for some of the laws we spoke about last time. I’d give them to Tommy and Tubbo, but you’re better with words than any of us. Figured I would use your skills while we still have you on the council.”

Fundy nods as he takes the papers, glad to have something useful to do. “Yeah, I can do that. Of course.”

Niki thanks him with a smile, then follows Tubbo and Tommy to the door.

Fundy feels good about the meeting. Being on the council had never been something he wanted to do, but it came with certain perks. Like the satisfaction that came as the reward of a productive meeting.

Still, he’ll be relieved when Tommy takes his post back. The only reason he’d agreed to this in the first place was that Tommy and Tubbo asked him to. “No person I would rather have fill my spot while I’m gone. I trust you,” Tommy had said. So, of course, Fundy had said yes.

Although he knew if Tubbo wasn’t already on the council Tommy would’ve gone to the brunette first, it still felt nice to be trusted. He’d been worried he would have trouble earning back trust after the war. For a while, Fundy had posed as a Schlatt supporter, gathering information about the dictator to smuggle back to Pogtopia at the right time. No one else had known he was faking. Much to his relief, he’d been able to slide back into his spot as a citizen of L’manburg easily after the Second Revolution. He was sure a few people had their doubts at first, but as hard as he had worked as a council member this past month, he doubted anyone could question his loyalty anymore. Or he hoped, at least.

Just as Fundy stands to go to his room, planning to start reading over Niki’s papers, Wilbur appears in the doorway again, like he did yesterday. He wears a gray shirt and eyebags.

The tall man is silent for a beat too long to make it not awkward, and Fundy is considering asking him what’s up when he finally speaks. “You could speak up a little more in meetings, you know. Tommy and Tubbo asked for you to fill in because they trust you and value your opinion.”

The critique annoys the fox. His dad is sort of right, but it feels like the only thing he talks to him about anymore is the council. Fundy knows he was never born to lead, and that’s one of the reasons he’ll be glad when Tommy takes his post back. The other is that Wilbur will finally stop talking to him about it.

Maybe it’s his attempt at bonding, the little pieces of advice. Wilbur was a leader once, too. Maybe his father wants to draw a connection between them because of that. But Fundy doesn’t want his father’s advice on improving his leadership skills, he wants his father to have a normal conversation with him. They never talk anymore. Throughout his life, Fundy had always been able to talk to Wilbur about whatever- nonsense, any questions that came to mind. They’d lost that somewhere. Now it was all stiff limbs and awkward comments back and forth.

“I could. I say what I think would be helpful. When I think of more ideas and helpful things to say, I will say them.” Fundy allows his annoyance to seep into his voice, then instantly regrets it. As frustrated as he is with him, the sting on his father’s face makes him want to pluck the words back out of the air and stuff them into the garbage.

Wordlessly, Wilbur walks out of the kitchen and down the hall. A few seconds later, Fundy hears his father’s bedroom door gently close behind him.

Another successful conversation for the books.

~

Tommy had been relieved this morning when Tubbo hadn’t asked where he’d been. He truly didn’t want to explain to his friend that he hadn’t gone to bed. He feels relieved again that their present conversation is staying away from the topic.

It’s just them two now, Niki having gone back home after they left Philza’s. They walk the paths of L’manburg, chatting about the meeting. Which projects they’re most excited for, how soon they think others will be done, what they want to tackle next.

Tubbo is rambling about some ideas he has for the community garden when Tommy realizes where they’re heading. The docks. Tommy thinks about last night and how long he had stood there, letting the waves spray his arms. He hadn’t realized how late he had been out until he’d noticed the horizon turning pink, drawing his attention to his knees, which were stiff from being in the same position for hours. They still ache a little.

Tubbo must realize he’s gone a bit quiet, because he stops talking and follows Tommy’s gaze, then smiles brightly. “I haven’t been here in ages!” he yells.

The brunette takes off for the edge of the docks at a jog. The almost childlike excitement makes Tommy smile and he sets off after Tubbo.

When he catches up, he leans against one of the logs like he’d done last night. He takes one of his pointer fingers and absently rubs patterns across the rough surface. Tubbo is talking, and Tommy tries to pay attention, but continuously finds himself zoning out. He’s still tired, and he can’t seem to push his brothers out of his thoughts. It makes him a little angry. Damn Wilbur for taking up so much space in my head.

Like always, despite Tommy’s best attempts to hide it, Tubbo notices how his friend has shut down. The shorter boy places a gentle hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “You look a bit drained. Do you want to head back to my place? I have to visit with Big Q, but you could stay in and rest for a while.”

Tommy nods, grateful for the out. The pair head back to Tubbo’s. When they get in the door, the brunette half-jokingly orders Tommy off to the guest room before leaving again. Tommy obeys, finding Walter already occupying most of the mattress. He shoves the wall of white fluff over a little, then climbs in next to him and buries his face in his dog’s coat.

Curled up at a weird angle to accommodate Walter, Tommy lets himself feel all the bad stuff. The guilt, the sadness, the anger. He lets it all overflow inside of him, making his heart ache and his eyes glisten. Eventually, the comfort of the bed and the residual strains of exhaustion from a sleepless night take over, pulling him in and out of dreamless sleep.

~

It wasn’t really a lie when Tubbo told Tommy he had to talk to Quackity. He does need to fill in the secretary of state about how the meeting today went and what they’d decided to do. But it could’ve waited, or he could’ve sent a carrier parrot.

Mostly, it was an excuse. He’d wanted time alone to think and to worry. Tommy kept slipping away from him. First at the mention of Wilbur, then at the docks. He would just recede into his own head and that would be it for the conversation. It’s properly worrying Tubbo now, but he doesn’t know what to do for his friend.

The president walks vaguely in the direction of Quackity’s house as he mulls over the Tommy Thing. It feels like no time has passed at all when he realizes that he’s nearly walked right by his destination.

Tubbo backtracks a few steps and goes up to Quackity’s door, then knocks.

The sound of footsteps approaching comes from the other side of the heavy spruce, then the door swings inward to reveal the secretary of state, dressed casually in a hoodie and his signature beanie. A grin cracks his face at the sight of Tubbo. “Hey, man! How’s it going? Come in!”

A small smile tugs on the president’s lips as he greets his friend. Big Q’s energy is infectious, and there’s always so much of it that one could almost reach a hand into the air and grab a fistful of it. It fills Tubbo’s stomach with a certain lightness that floats up into his chest.

Quackity steps to the side to let him by and Tubbo enters the house. A short hallway ends in a living room, with open doorways on either side of the space leading off to other areas of the house. The secretary of state steps past Tubbo and flops down on the couch, gesturing for Tubbo to take a seat. The president makes himself comfortable on the armchair across from him.

“So, how’d the meeting today go? Did Niki tell you about the community garden idea?” Quackity asks.

“Yeah, we all thought it was a good plan. We were discussing keeping some chests of bonemeal by a designated crop area, but we’ll need a skeleton farm for that.” Tubbo goes on to explain the more important details of the meeting to Quackity, getting cut off when he mentions that Tommy was there.

“Wait, I thought Niki said he wasn’t going to get back into council stuff yet,” he says, absently fidgeting with one of the strings on his blue hoodie while he speaks. One of his legs is up on the couch, tucked into his chest with his chin sitting on top of his knee.

“He isn’t- well, not really. Fundy is still officially filling in for him for another week. But we thought it would be a good idea for him to come with us to council meetings. Just to ease him back into things before taking on the full responsibilities again.”

Quackity is silent for a few seconds. The hoodie string lies limp in his now-still hand. His eyes flit up and down Tubbo’s face, studying his expression. Nerves flutter in the president’s stomach, wondering what the other boy is thinking. He’s about to ask what’s wrong when Quackity finally speaks. “Something’s up, man. What’s going on?”  

Tubbo sighs and leans back into the chair a little, caught. He doesn’t even consider whether or not to tell Big Q. The secretary of state had been a good friend to him, always willing to help or lend an ear, and they’d grown closer this past month. Tubbo felt safe talking to him about it.

“It’s Tommy. He’s been sort of off since he’s been back. I’m getting kind of worried.”

Quackity cocks his head to the side. “Off how?”

“He’s been zoning out a lot. Like, one minute he’s talking just fine and the next he’s dropped the conversation completely.”

The other boy is quiet for a moment, readjusting his beanie while he thinks on his response. “I’m sure he just needs more time to get settled. He only got back a few days ago and there must be a lot of memories here for him to deal with. Give him some time to process. And if it’s really bothering you, talk to him. He’ll open up to you if you ask.”

Tubbo thinks about that for a moment, absorbing the advice. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right. Thanks, Big Q, I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Tubbo.” After a pause, he says, “Honestly, I’m kind of surprised you aren’t the same way Tommy is. You were there through everything, too. All the wars, the explosions. And you were close to Techno and Wilbur, too.”

The president hadn’t really considered that before. He felt he had grieved his losses already, but he suspected there would always be a sharp ache in his chest when he thought of Techno. What he wouldn’t give to horribly fail at practice fights against him again.

Quackity and Tubbo return to the topic of the council meeting, then simply chat about whatever comes to mind for another hour or so. When Tubbo leaves, his stomach hurts from laughing and he feels a bit better. The brunette walks home in the bright late afternoon sunlight, thinking about the advice Quackity had given him. He should talk to Tommy. If only he could gather the courage.

~

For once, Wilbur decided to go to bed at a semi-acceptable hour. He’d pulled plenty of all-nighters in the last month, reading his books well past sundown, but his dad had forced him to bed earlier than normal last night and it had disturbed his unusual sleep schedule.

As he’s about to enter his room, he notices a shaft of light poking out of his son’s room from down the hall. Wondering what he’s doing up so late, Wilbur goes to check on him.

He finds Fundy sitting cross-legged on his bed, looking through a stack of papers atop the cyan sheets. He seems tired. His ears dip ever so slightly and his eyes, peering at the writing, are half-closed.

“What’re you up to?”

Fundy glances up at his father, then looks back down to his papers. “Niki asked me to read over some things for her. Figured I would get to it now since we’ll be out helping for a while tomorrow.” The fox stifles a yawn.

Wilbur had received a note from a carrier parrot earlier, like he assumed the rest of L’manburg had. The note stated that the council was in need of volunteers and sea pickles to help do some mob-proofing under the Stilted Sector, as the section of L’manburg built over the crater had been nicknamed. Wilbur, Fundy, and Philza would all be pitching in. Though, Wilbur’s stomach filled with a certain dread at the thought of being that close to the destruction he had caused.

“Exactly why you should get some sleep soon. It’ll be a lot of work tomorrow,” he says.

“Yeah, okay, Dad.”

Wilbur could’ve sliced through the tension in the room with a sword. He can hardly remember the last time he’d managed to get through a real conversation with his son. He always managed to mess up somehow. But he supposed he deserved it for everything he’d put Fundy, and so many others, through.

Unable to see a way to salvage this pathetic attempt at an exchange, Wilbur awkwardly mumbles a goodnight and heads off to his own bedroom. He forgoes any sort of prep and dives straight for the comfort of the cozy bed and his favorite blankets.

‘

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[lisannach]

self - para.

summary: life-long reflection and what happens beyond her stint at gallagher.

notes: i may have cried writing this but im also a mess period. thanks for hanging w this woman for the last few months, its been a blast! also, this is my love letter to the og series, specifically to liz’s valedictorian speech that still makes me cry to this day. 

what is a gallagher girl? seven-year-old lisanna knew of the world of espionage the day her mother, sylvia "swan song" harlin had snapped the neck of someone that had entered the manor and had pulled a gun on her younger sister lisbeth earlier that night. when the harlin children were gathered in the family room, the four of them had their futures planned out right then and there. and while their mother would rather shut down the whines of 'well i wanna be a rockstar!' , 'i hate seeing blood!', 'i'm scared!' , their father welcomed them and assured them they would adjust soon enough. "so, it's like the military?" a then thirteen-year-old wilbur had asked their parents. lisanna saw her mother's lips curl, "not quite." and it was the first time she’s heard the names gallagher and blackthorne. and amidst the escalating pressures of being sylvia’s daughter, she thinks: i’d love to be a gallagher girl. "it's exciting here, isn't it, lis?" lisbeth had asked her, one afternoon during her first year, lisanna during her third and had gotten her own share of stress from her threat elimination and weapons classes. she remembers nodding, a smile from ear to ear. it was the mark of her unusual stride in life; the smile that was always present when she's not knees deep into serious espionage business. "i bet it's even more exciting once we're out there, betty. can you feel it?" and lisbeth laughed, "i'm just a first year, lis! but i know you can't wait to get out there!" after teaching lisbeth how to properly put a kiss on one of gilly's statues, she leads her to the towers and they gossip about life, about the other girls, and about their brothers. one already on the field and one in blackthorne. as a gallagher girl, lisanna savors the moments of normalcy - the homework, the bonds, and the moments she didn't have to fill with her incessant talking. the goal was to graduate with great grades and a job, therefore making her mother proud. to be a gallagher girl was the highest mark of pride and she'd reap every benefit she could and make sure lisbeth does too.

"gallagher girl?" ellison had asked, tone somewhat dripped with judgment. to him, he had known that prissy little academy to be of renown; brilliant girls they said. but ellison would be lying if he didn't think of lisanna then as just one of those girls. spoiled out of their brains with dresses that fit them well, shoes that isn't as sharp to kill, and trust funds as deep as the atlantic ocean. "does that scare you, caspar?" she had asked, one brow raised. behind her saccharine smiles lay a rabble-rouser, one who thrived in chaos and danger and -- well, was it really a surprise that she had adapted to the life as her father had predicted? ellison grinned. back then, he had graduated from university of virginia and was about to go into quantico. to him, lisanna was just another college grad that frequented the royal diner in d.c. a pretty face, sharp wit. surely, it would be a one-night thing? years later and she finds herself out of the field, tending to an infant of her own. while gallagher never did have a childcare curriculum, she figures she could get through it. gallagher girls were made for anything, after all. even babies. her mother a year back had spoken to her, saying that because of one little thing ( at least to lisanna ), that she didn't have a birthright to much of anything. goodbye trust fund, goodbye prestige that came with being a harlin .. but lisanna didn't care. fuck being a harlin, she remembers whispering to herself more than a few times in her life. ellison's hard work plus her own let them afford this nice apartment in d.c. while it was no manor, lisanna knew it was never about how big your house was. it was full of love and energy and with elisa in her arms, what more could she ask for? turns out, when the child has grown up .. she asks for a lot more than what she thought she would. and she almost regrets it. what makes a gallagher girl? elisa was twelve. lisanna was long gone from her role of wife and mother and she was back on the field working mission after mission. she craved the thrill and the danger and the chaos and -- ellison could never say no to her leaving. even if it hurt. because he knew her. he fell for her and he knew why. he expected her departure, but he never expected what would happen next. the way their daughter acted out in an attempt to see if she could lure her mother back somehow. if, maybe, she made enough of a wave, lisanna would reconsider working in the field and come back. but at twelve, elisa wasn't a gallagher girl yet. lisanna would think about it, but it wasn't a life she wanted to push onto them. but years pass, elisa's behavior worsened and ellison was at the end of his rope. so lisanna opens the door into her world, hoping it would be the one to satiate the chaotic energy her own spawn had given off. and it did. elisa was twenty-one, and lisanna was slowly sinking into a specific state of boredom. who knew after twelve years of being in this job, living a life that your own personality could actually take, that you would ..get bored? the thrill wasn't fully gone, no, but it was getting there. so she sends her daughter a message to meet up in d.c. for one day during the summer. at the last minute, she gets called in and, like before, she chooses that world and leaves her daughter hanging. she's forgotten what it was like to be a daughter and to realize that having a matriarchal presence might mean more than she could ever think. because after twelve years, you stop being a gallagher girl and become the very thing they want ( or don't want ) to be. this pleases her mother, who had wanted nothing more but for her children to thrive in the field and excel. killing machines who will help shape society as we know it. she never did ask any of her children if that's what they wanted nor would she have cared. if she did, then she'd know just how much lisanna struggled inside. not just because she doesn't quite know where she stood, but because for all intents and purposes, she should know. she has the skills, the mentality and the endurance. so what's wrong? when lisanna is invited back to gallagher to teach, she almost lunges at the opportunity. it wasn't the shady alleys of moscow or the sweltering heat of monaco as she waited for the target to appear, but that was what she liked about it. a new thrill, a new kind of fun. "fun" to be used loosely, of course. there was nothing fun about the brotherhood and dead bodies and betrayals and a fire. but it occupies her. but she was here for one precious thing: a second chance to see and reunite with her daughter. and while it didn't work out the first time, elisa comes around. and she almost couldn't believe it. what's a gallagher girl made of? there was a distinct difference in how she handles family in every part of her life. even more if she took specific people into consideration. with her parents, she kept them at arm's length and made sure to smile widely for pictures and to shoot straight at targets. with her siblings, she was the shoulder to cry on and tears rolling down their faces as she cracks her tenth joke in that hour alone. with coworkers on the field, she was a no-nonsense weapons master who will kill if the mission said to kill and would deliver frappuccinos at the mission cool-down party. with ellison, she was lisanna harlin. the girl-next-door, triple pepperjack cheese and more tomatoes than what ellison is comfortable with in a tuna sub. the one who supported his every big decision and never complained about the quaint little apartment they called home because it meant much more than a house to her - it was her family. all on her own. and she had so much love to give than she's ever have given before. with elisa, she was blanket forts near the biggest window on starry nights, coming to her defense when sally easton says she pulled her hair when she didn't, and the shadow of a woman she's thought about for the twelve years she was absent. gallagher's curriculum didn't teach her any of that. and while she considered some of the girls and the faculty to be family during her stay then, they surely didn't teach her about separating from your husband and abandoning your daughter. does she still consider herself a gallagher girl? the morning after the end-of-the-year party, she watches the graduates walk across the stage, elisa's sleepy figure next to her, and she beams with a strange kind of pride. gallagher ( and blackthorne ) could claim them for as long as they want. living trophies of the kind of success you could get if you get in and survive all four years. but lisanna knew that it could only take you so far out there. she drives to d.c., elisa in tow, and after they park the car, they pass by the familiar pot of plant that has now long died and the door opens and she sees the love of her life. a scruffy beard and undereyes darkened to years of shouldering the chaos happening everywhere twenty-four seven. and she feels like she's back in that week after graduating gallagher academy and she's getting her usual order at the royal diner and this fresh bastard comes in and thinks he could smooth talk his way into her pants for a night. it's a lie. he stays for a few days and years pass and she's lived a few more lives than she ever thought she'd ever live and she's here. "well, if it isn't my favorite gallagher girls." ellison remarks, opening the door further to let the two in. elisa almost runs to the living room to drop off the bags and use the restroom because her mom did not stop at all during the drive ( but she also wanted to have their moment because it has been twelve years ). wordlessly, lisanna hugs ellison, her head against his chest and she hears their entire life together. and she realizes that while there was absolutely nothing wrong about being a gallagher girl or a spy, she loves being lisanna. and she never had to choose. all this time, she never had to choose. she could just have it. right here. / e p i l o g u e . she hears people talk. lisanna wasn't retired yet, after all. and through ellison's plans to get promoted once again and elisa's strange rants and ravings, she hears people talk. of many things. about a lot of people. and when she hears of jack's ( @jvckstone​ ) death, she exhales and takes a day off from her family to attend the funeral, somewhere in the back. to say that she was grateful for the tiny bit of hope he gave back in their room after elisa had rejected her was an understatement. after the funeral, her mother calls her for the millionth time and she presses ignore for the millionth time. the youth called it self care and if she ever had to face good old "swan song" ever again, she'll be sure to give bobby ( @bbygrvr​ ) a call. he's more than perfect to bring just to converse with her mother as she sips rum from their teacup and smiles every so often when her mother looks over. and after returning home to d.c., she lays back in the chair as her phone rings to her daughter who raves about everything under the sun to her. ellison arrives with two cups of tea, one for each of them. "so, like, is that so cliche? mom, he is so hot, i can't get over it. but would you hate me if i slept with a musician?" elisa asked over the phone. "i would." ellison called over from the love seat and lisanna lets out a laugh. "you know i won't."

and she sees the rest of her life beginning. just like that.