#pls appear in tags this is the eleventh time ;-;

[crystalirises]

Did He Ever Love Me?

Edit: This is a repost since my tumblr is being weird and for some reason my posts are not showing up??? Help ;-; (also repost since I posted it on the day of the wedding and I wanted to scream about that for a while :) )

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Hi guys… I know the wedding is gonna drop soon…

Just kidding, I couldn’t write wholesome Fundywastaken or angst wedding times to save my life. I just can’t write wedding angst guys. I can’t ;-;

Anyway, this is just a scenario that occurs within the DadSchlatt AU I’m making, some of the details are in the link below:

And yeah I hope you guys like this! @oakskull and @meismom, I posted it yay!

(Edit: removed Ao3 tag cause maybe that’s causing my post not to show up in tags???)

"Fuuuuuuuundy, there you are! Holy shit, I’ve been looking all over for you." He froze, tucking his diary within his pocket as a practiced grin formed on his face. He turned to see Schlatt, surprisingly sober as he strode towards him. There was a weary look on the ram hybrid's face, one that Fundy wasn't sure he liked compared to the man's usual smirk. "I need to talk to you in my office. Now."

"Mr. President, it's an honor for you to come yourself but you usually send a guard when you... want to summon someone." Did Schlatt know? Did he know that Fundy was a spy...? He sucked in a quivering breathe, hoping that the man doesn't notice his sudden bout of nervousness. He stood up from the fence post he had been sitting on, his shoes thumping loudly against the ground.

A flash of emotion crossed Schlatt's eyes, a flicker in his gaze that Fundy couldn't pinpoint. A hand landed on his shoulder as red piercing eyes stared into his soul. If Schlatt didn't stab him right then and there, he might as well have died from the man’s intense gaze. "Just... Come with me. It was best that I... It's better that I come to get you myself. This won't be pleasant, Fundy."

He could do nothing but follow Schlatt towards his office, scenarios of his terrible demise flashing within his mind. Schlatt... was strange. At times, he could barely predict what the ram was going to do. Fundy tried not to trip on his own two feet as the building to Schlatt's office began to appear within sight. He didn't want to die. He needed to apologize to so many people. To Niki. To Eret. To Tommy. He didn't even get the chance to apologize to his dad about–

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as thoughts of his dad surfaced. He didn't mean it. He didn't mean to disown him. He needed to gain Schlatt's trust… but that didn't matter now, did it? Schlatt was going to corner him into his office, taunt him for thinking he could have escaped Schlatt's suspicions and slit his throat, leaving him to choke on his own blood. He wouldn't get a burial. Would anyone even care if he died? No… They wouldn’t care for a traitor like him…

He shuddered to a stop, willing his tears to dry as Schlatt abruptly paused. A scowl reached his lips as a single tear cascaded down his cheek. With the back of his sleeve, he wiped the traitorous tear away just as Schlatt turned to face him. Fundy blinked, Schlatt looked nervous. The man shuffled continuously on his feet, his lips pressed into a thin line as if contemplating the words he were about to say. “Fundy. I need you to stay calm throughout this, but I won’t blame you if you start to… uh… ya know… fuck.”

"Of course." He didn't know why Schlatt was mocking him with false display of care. Stay calm? Yeah, he'll stay completely calm even as Schlatt decides to stab him. Fundy wrapped his arms around his chest, as if consoling himself as he followed Schlatt into the building. The cold of the chipped marble floor beneath seemed to seep past the soles of his shoes, the pristine white walls a stark reminder of how they reflected a lie. This entire land was covered in blood yet was so perfectly hidden by the falseness of serenity.

George and Punz stood at the office's doorway, swords sheathed at their sides as they gave Schlatt a nod. For a moment, Fundy caught George's eye. The human's usual exhaustion replaced by weariness and pity. Oh, of course George would know he was about to die. Great. Fundy turned his eyes away, choosing to look down at the floor instead as he entered his death room. The oaken door closed with a soft click that resounded in Fundy's nervously twitching ears, it sounded like the toll of a final bell.

"There you are Schlatt, you know it's rude to keep me waiting! You know I-I-I love what you've done with the place, really captures your style and— oh! You brought my traitor son with you!" His head snapped up, nausea climbing its way to his throat as he locked eyes with his da— with Wilbur. No. No. No. No. Why was he here? Why was Wilbur here? He turned to Schlatt, his breath harsher than he wanted it to be. Sensing his panic, Schlatt placed a hand on the top of his head, as if the gesture was meant to calm him down.

“I’m sorry, sir, but w-what is this?” Fundy doesn’t miss the manic gleam in Wilbur’s eyes. The frantic and frenzied movement he made as he stared fiercely at the hand on top of Fundy’s head. Fundy’s ears were pressed close to his head, the rising need to rush out of the room and hide inside his bunker slowly took over his senses. He only snapped out of it as Schlatt’s hand moved to his shoulder, his grip tight enough to keep him in place. He couldn’t even leave. He wanted to leave. “Why is he here?”

“Your president invited me.” Wilbur let out a chuckle, sitting himself on one of the chairs that circled the long presidential table. Fundy couldn’t help but look at his father, noticing the dark circles under his eyes. His brown trenchcoat was draped heavily across his shoulders, the man’s thin limbs sending a pang of guilt to Fundy’s heart. Wilbur looked like an absolute wreck. “So… Schlatt! Did you invite me to flaunt your little victory in my face? I’ve heard the people love your proposal. A festival! How festive of you, hm?”

Schlatt’s usual smirk was nowhere to be seen. He felt Schlatt’s hand drop from his shoulder and Fundy watched as the ram’s scowl deepened with every word that came from Wilbur’s mouth, his fists were clenched so tightly at his sides that Fundy feared they would begin to bleed soon. He began to back away, his hands clawing the door’s wooden surface as Schlatt began to advance towards the table. Schlatt had a temper. He knew that… but he’s never actually seen him furious before.

“WILBUR!” Fundy jumped as Schlatt slammed his fist onto the table, a small crack forming at its surface. Fundy wished he was anywhere else but there. Wilbur looked up, a perplexed look on his face as he forced himself to look at Schlatt. “I have had my suspicions since I first came here, and I want you to clear them up. For your sake and for Fundy’s. Fundy, I know you don’t consider Wilbur your father but Tubbo clearly says otherwise and I doubt he would lie to me. Fundy, what do you remember of your childhood?”

“I— uh… that’s kind of a personal question…” Fundy laughed awkwardly, trying to dispel the tense atmosphere. “Um… I-I can’t say I really recall much, Schlatt… uh, it was kind of a long time ago, you know?”

“What’s your earliest memory?” Schlatt didn’t want to let this go, huh? Fundy shuffled on his feet, uncomfortable to be under Schlatt’s scrutiny. Wilbur looked between the two of them, a blank look on his face as if the confrontation bored him. Fundy averted his gaze from both of them, concentrating on remembering his earliest memory. He remembered the bitter scent of potions, his feet scuffing loudly against the marble floor of the hto dog van. He remembers Wilbur, reaching down to hold him in his arms.

Life was simpler back then, before that bloody war... Before he had been forced into a role he never wanted to play in the first place. Back then, his father didn't dream of independence or glory. No. His father looked at him as if he was all that mattered, as if he was worth more than the entire world itself. Now... He looks up at his father - at Wilbur - and sees a hollow shell of the man he once called his dad. He can't bring himself to look at Schlatt, choosing to disappear into the memory of a better time. To a better life.

"I remember the... camarvan and... I remember Wil." Fundy tries to keep the sweet nostalgia out of his voice, Schlatt could still peg and label him for a traitor if he showed a semblance of regret. "That's it."

"Good. Good." He didn't see how any of that was good. Schlatt laid a hand on the table, his sharp gaze snapping to Wilbur. "Remember those daring adventures we used to have, Wil? All those strange lands we traversed. I have to say, the rising lava one was my favorite. You remember those times, Wil? Just you and me, two idiots thinking they could outrun the world."

"As far as I recall, I remember nearly falling into lava and nearly drowning because you refused to hide your damn horns." Wilbur growled, low and harsh. "Those hunters wouldn't stop chasing us because you— I told you to hide them but you chose to keep them on full display for the world to see and nearly killed me in the process!"

"Yeah... I remember that." A deep chuckle resounded throughout the room as Schlatt walked towards Fundy. "I'm just surprised, you know? When I found out you had a son, I was expecting a human kid but then... Here's Fundy! Glad to see you didn't try to force the kid into wearing a stupid hat... Oh wait! You did! Didn't take your advice either, did he?"

"What is this about, Schlatt? You want me to apologize? Is that it, hm? You want me to say sorry to you for trying to keep you alive?"

"How does a human have a kit for a son?"

The tension in the room grew heavier at the question, almost suffocating as Fundy processed Schlatt's question. Fundy shivered, watching as the manic gleam in Wilbur's eyes turned practically murderous. Fundy didn't understand where Schlatt was going within this. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. His hand gripped at his arms, nearly breaking his skin as he found his voice. "Why are you asking that Schlatt...?"

"Just... I'm really sorry, Fundy. But I think this matter should be settled now." Schlatt didn't even give him the choice, and from what Fundy could tell, Wilbur didn't get a choice either. "Wilbur, we travelled through many lands together and I know you. I know what you're like. When I ask you this, I want to hear the truth. How the fuck did you get a kit for a son? What the fuck did you do Wilbur?"

“What did I… What are you asking me about, Schlatt?” Wilbur stood up, small tremors wracking through his body as he grips the edge of the table. The shine of insanity dancing in his gaze has disappeared, replaced by the look of a man who’s about to lose everything again. “Wha— Don’t you dare—"

“What’s the best way to get people to love you? To show you’re a revolutionary who fights for the freedom of all? I would say having a hybrid for a son would definitely give you some points, huh? Look at General Wilbur. How noble of him to adopt a kit!” Fundy swallowed down the bitter taste of bile climbing up his throat, Schlatt’s words tearing at his heart. “But did you, Wilbur? Did you adopt or did you kill a family and take their child? As far as I’m aware, fox hybrids would fight tooth and nail for their children.”

Fundy took a breath. Schlatt was a liar, Wilbur would never… But then… Schlatt knows Fundy was loyal to him. What did he have to gain by lying? No. No. No. Schlatt was lying, right? He had to be! Wilbur wasn’t—

Wasn’t what, Fundy?

“You’re joking, Schlatt. How dare you—” Fundy’s ears twitched, why was Wilbur glancing off the question? “This is a really funny joke, Schlatt. You're just— you're just twisting this situation into your favor, you-you—”

“Answer the damn question, Wilbur.” Schlatt rolled his eyes, a subtle grin playing on his lips as he leaned closer towards Fundy. “No more running, lover boy. Did you or did you not kidnap a kit from his family?”

“I—”

Fundy fell to his knees, the slight hesitation in Wilbur’s voice the final straw. He curled up into himself, sniffling as he thoughts about the implications. He wanted Wilbur to deny it. He wanted Wilbur to be furious. He… He… He began to wail. Why couldn’t Wilbur just answer the question? Why couldn’t he just say the fucking truth? Fundy’s hands gripped at his ears, tugging them as he tried to abate the horrible thoughts that circled his mind. His heart felt as if it was burning. His whole body felt as if it was on fire.

“No answer. Alright.” Schlatt’s footsteps were muffled under Fundy’s wailing, but he could hear them no matter how much Fundy tried to escape the situation. “You know I was expecting you to defend yourself there, Wilbur. Believe me, I wanted you to defend yourself. Now look what you’ve done. Does this satisfy you, Wilbur? Does seeing your so-called son cry give you joy? ‘Cause I didn’t want this either, Wilbur.”

“If you didn’t want this then you wouldn’t have arranged this meeting. If you didn’t want this you would have left my damn son out of this.” A scathing growl tore itself from Wilbur’s throat, though Fundy barely heard it. Fundy had no choice but to listen to every word that reached his ears, had no choice but to listen as his father’s voice began to rise. “You were my best friend and now you’re accusing me of-of kidnapping?! You think I— Fundy shouldn’t be here. He’s young. You’re filling his head with nonsense—"

“SHUT UP!” Fundy snapped, shutting his eyes to stop his tears. He didn’t want to hear whatever the fuck Wilbur had to say. His avoidance of the question was answer enough. “Just… shut up, Wil. Just shut up.”

“Fundy—”

“Oh! Maybe I have this all wrong.” Fundy wished that Schlatt would just stop, the ram had gotten his point across. He got what he wanted, didn’t he? Fundy looked up at Schlatt, but the man continued, “Maybe you didn’t kidnap a poor kit from his family. No. No. No. How could I forget the second option? Maybe… Maybe you killed his real parents. Maybe you killed them and took Fundy for yourself, huh? Maybe—"

Schlatt placed a hand on Fundy’s head, fondly caressing his hair. Wilbur went livid. He leapt from behind the table, a crash echoing through the room as Wilbur pushed against his chair, knocking it over. Schlatt didn’t get the chance to continue as Wilbur punched him on the cheek, the ram collapsing onto the ground. Wilbur’s back was all Fundy could see, as if Wilbur was putting space between the two of them.

“How dare you.” Wilbur seethed. His hand rising to strike once more. If he had a sword, he would have killed the ram right then and there. Fundy felt fear and so did Schlatt. “HOW FUCKING DARE YOU—"

“GEORGE! PUNZ!” Fundy’s voice echoed through the room and surely out into the hall. Wilbur froze on the spot, turning to Fundy with betrayed shock in his eyes but all he sees in his son’s face is terror. Terror directed at him. At him. Schlatt laughed quietly, picking himself up from the floor just as George and Punz rushed into the room. They took one good look at Schlatt’s bleeding cheek and quickly apprehended Wilbur, the man snarling and cursing as the two finally managed to hold his arms behind his back.

“Fundy… My son…” Wilbur tried to reach out to Fundy, struggling in the two guard’s hold. Fundy looked away, his heart heavy in his chest. He didn’t know what to think, but he knows he didn’t want to see Wilbur. Not now. “I would never… I-I-I love you, Fundy. I would never… I… I… I can prove it. I can prove that you’re my son. Just tell them to let me go.”

“Take him away.” The words taste like poison on Fundy’s tongue.

“That’s right. Get him out of here. Make sure he doesn’t take another step in Manburg ever again.” Schlatt placed himself between Fundy and Wilbur, his lips curled into a sneer. “Mark my words, Wilbur. As long as I live, I will make sure you stay the hell away from Fundy.”

“NO! NO! NO!” Wilbur’s voice began to fade away, Fundy’s ears twitching as he still hears the man screaming his name out in the hallway. “FUNDY! FUNDY! MY SON!”

Fundy breaks down once more, cursing his good hearing as he listen’s to his father’s heartwrenching cries. Maybe the man did care for him… maybe… Fundy didn’t know.

He feels a presence at his side, a hand rubbing up and down his back. Schlatt doesn’t look at him and Fundy doesn’t look at the man either. What could they say?

After a moment of silence.

“Why would you do this, Schlatt?”

“Because I was worried, Fundy.”

“Why?”

“I do care for everyone in the cabinet, Fundy. Believe me.”

“You should have told me what this was about.”

“I know.”

“Was this planned from the beginning?”

“I was planning to confront Wilbur when he first introduced you to me.”

“Do you… do you think he loved me?”

“Maybe he eventually did, Fundy. Maybe he did.”

He feels Schlatt pull him into a warm and comforting embrace.

“It hurts.”

“I’m sorry, Fundy. I’m so so sorry.”

.

.

.

The residents of Manburg watch as a lone fox stands before a roaring bonfire, the smell of burning paper wafting through the air.  

With his hat in his hands, he stares into the flames.  

He doesn't toss it in.

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So yeah that’s just a scenario that happens within the AU I’m making. So this is a very ambiguous situation. Is Schlatt being genuine? Is he manipulating Fundy? Is Wilbur the bad guy here? I’d love to hear your interpretations!

So pls do tell me what your interpretations are 👉👈

Anyway, hope you guys liked it!

[arodrwho]

tag urself: autistic dr who edition!! i’m penguin !

pls don’t rb if ur allistic

image description below the cut

[id: an autistic dr who tag urself meme with 15 whole dr whos.

first doctor grabbing their lapels, labelled “hmmm”: -Rules Are Important -eating is so much effort -“eh? what’s that?” “what’d you say?” “sorry?” -names are Hard -hypoempathy like woah -tries their best -subtle stims

second doctor sitting cross-legged playing the recorder, labelled “recordo”:

gotta have that comfort object™ -faceblind af -hypersensitive to sound -always drops things -anxious bean -mom friend -Loud Fucking Hands

third doctor using venusian aikido, labelled “fite”: -sings themself through tasks” -Friends Are Important -what u mean [special interest] isn’t a personality trait -softe clothe -change is the Worst -ready 2 fite -impatient

fourth doctor staring wide-eyed, labelled “eyes”: -always staring or never looking there is no inbetween -knows ur being figurative but takes u literally anyway as a joke -samefood samefood samefood -never met a hairbrush -always clothes are like onion. have layer -catch them squished between furniture & the wall jus chillin -social skills just a lil 2 the left

fifth doctor with a hand in their pocket, labelled “mashed potat”: -Bland Is Good -would marry a vegetable -math?? numbers??? how do???? -dad friend -hypoexpressive -hands in pockets always bc what do w/arms?? -voice does what it wants. powerless to stop it

sixth doctor with their arms splayed, labelled “cats.”: -Loud Autistic -lov them bright colors & visual stims -big voice big music big body stims big emotions Big -don’t you dare feed a vegetable -what do u mean it’s not time for jokes -repetition is Good -feels deep emotional connection to cats

seventh doctor with their umbrella, labelled “umbrella”: -comfort object but lowkey -hypoempath y -what’s pain again -big goof and enigma rolled into one -analytical -tries to Plan Everything -Anything Can Be A Stim Toy, Even A Spoon

eighth doctor with their arms splayed, labelled with 8 question marks in a row: -doesn’t know what they’re feeling but sure is feeling a lot of it -speaks fluent sarcasm but cannot understand it -memory like a sieve -the Artistic autistic -bouncy -super cuddly but Only W/Friends -gets sensory underload more than overload

war doctor with a confused expression, labelled “no more (spoons)”: -always confused -always tired -ten million questions -heavy clothe -no time for figurative nonsensw -dad jokes, probably -self care? what the fuck is that

shalka doctor, labelled “opera”: -relationships are Confusing -siiiiinging is stiiiiiimmyyy -got that patented flat affect™ -bottles up emotions -can connect Anything to special interest -practical to the extreme -dramatique

ninth doctor sending playing cards flying, labelled “big ears big emotions”: -can’t read a room to save their life -puns, esp. the really terrible ones -feels naked w/out a jacket. exposed. bad. -expressions don’t match emotions -[buffering] “...ah” -hypersensitive to pain -how do word feelings??

tenth doctor sticking their fingers in their mouth, labelled “jam jar”: -oh fuck was that rude? -stim w/own hair -emotions? gotta mcfuckin script -infodump at speed of light -meltdowns ahoy -did someone say black & white thinking? -see thing? lick thing.

eleventh doctor falling out of the tardis, labelled “flail”: -dyspraxic like woah -so many Bad Foods -spin spin spin spin tw i r l -echo echo echolalia -cope with change? hahahhahah no pe -wHAT DO U MEAN THAT WAS FLIRTING -withdraws when highkey stressed

twelfth doctor happy-dancing, labelled “penguin”: -Do Not Touch -celebratory stim dance -often appears uncaring but actually is Highkey Caring -fuckign loves puns -strong food opinions -just wants to infodump 24/7 -hoodies for Days

thirteenth doctor with one raptor hand, labelled “disaster”: -hyperexpressive -impulsive -absolutely cannot drive -raptor hands -grip strength? what the fuck is that -does the lil shake fist happy stim -must have bag with them at All Times

end id]