when the voices win

Why can’t you stay?

word count: 129 | ship: BrentxSophist | weight of the crown inspired AU.

…

Brent froze in the doorframe. There, in the room, was Sophist, his silly tophat, over-the-top cape, and his unforgettable purple suit. 

“Hey, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Sophist gently spoke, playing with the back of his neck as he did. 

Brent didn’t know how to respond. It’s been a year? Two? Maybe even three since they last saw each other. It felt like an eternity for him. And he knew why he left. Sophist had his responsibilities to his people, just as Brent did. [...]

Still unsure on what to say, Brent walked up to him, each step taking what felt like an eternity, yet consistent in his pace. 

Sophist let out a soft sigh, smiled warmly while and afterward, and opened his arms allowing Brent to come in?????????

SEVERE hurt/comfort

word count: 622 | Ship: Suppose to be BrentxEevee but I stopped before I got there | This fanfic is HEAVILY inspired by another fanfic I found, but I don't remeber where it is and I can't find it

Brent sat on his throne, his mind wandering as he watched out the window. He saw the people of the village, how the kids ran around or how the adults stood and chatted. He could feel that same, [creeping] feeling sneak into his chest, that feeling which he could never really pin-point what it truly was. The only way he could describe it was yearning. A desire for something else, maybe another life. He felt pitiful for it. He was king after all. Anything he wanted was quite literally at his fingertips, but the constant work, pressure, negotiating, it made him question if he was truly fit for this life, and his dad never made him feel any better.

“Of course, what else is the king supposed to do besides sitting on a throne?” Well speaking of the devil, his dad’s harsh footsteps echoed throughout the hall. Brent felt his body stiffen, fingers shaking and the desire in his chest changing to uneasiness. 

“I’m sorry father I was just-”

“I don’t want to hear your excuse. You know when I was king I brought this kingdom from a pitiful waste of space to something respectable…” Another one of his useless rants. It’s almost like he was addicted to talking about how ‘great’ he was, despite the fact he almost certainly did very little to actually help his kingdom.

“And now our kingdom has you.” The final word was spoken with hatred lacing it, “The king who refuses to do anything for its kingdom, the king who would rather sit on his throne, and the king who chooses his friends over-”

Finally he snapped, “Oh that’s bullshit and you know it.” 

“Excuse me you do not speak to your father-” 

Brent bulldosed right over whatever his ‘dad’ had to say. “I’ve done so much to bring this kingdom back to where it was before your rule. Do you know how many shitty policies I had to undo? Or reiterate? It’s been three months since my coronation and the entire time I’ve been fixing the mess you made.” Brent paused after finishing, taking a heavy sign before taking a seat back down in his throne. There’s so much more he wanted to say but he knew he was already pushing his luck. He rubbed his temples waiting for his dad to explode in whatever breakdown he’s going to have.

“Brent Moose Skill.” Brent rolled his eyes, already knowing what would come. “At the end of the day I am still your father. I don’t care what throne you sit on or whose crown you’re wearing.” He was pissed. Every other word was said through gritted teeth. He climbed up the stairs standing face to face with the new king, still yelling at the same volume he was when he was down the stairs. “But you will respect me and you will respect my rule.” Brent wanted so badly to punch him right in the face, but somehow managed to fight the impulse. HIs dad gave him some personal space. HIs dad uttered under his breath, “I regret letting you rule my kingdom.” 

Brent felt dumbfounded from his words. What did he mean ‘his kingdom’? He wanted to scream again, let him know all the good he did and all the bullshit his dad did, but he chose to not fight this battle and sit back down on his throne, even with a defeated sigh.  His dad, on the other hand, had no intention of stopping. He continued his rant, “I can’t believe you failed so badly on ruling. Our military is suffering-” That’s because military funds are being moved to help those after the fires. “-The nobles are dissatisfied-” Because I’m prioritizing our citizens.

As the Snow Hits the Ground

(yes I posted this one before but its cute god damit)

word count: 1066 | Ship: BrentxEevee

The gentle snowfall in the Kingdom of Skill was never something surprising, yet to Brent it was always a nice welcome to the day. While the cold was never his favorite, he could never deny the elegance a fresh coating of snow brought to the kingdom. Or perhaps he favored the way snowflakes gently whisked to the ground, or maybe it was the found memories he had with his family before-

A gentle knock stopped him from finishing that thought. Slowly, he rose from his perch at the window sill, and walked over to answer the door who's knocking never stopped. He pressed his hand against the door as he opened, making sure to do it as slowly as possible—it had become a habit to do so for whatever reason. Well he knew the reason, he just didn’t want to admit it.

As soon as he saw it to be Sophist, he opened the door fully, a warm smile crossing his face without his command to. He knew Sophist was never fond of the snow, if anything he actively hated the cold. Though anytime he pressed for answers all he got was “some shit in my past,” which just had to be as vague as possible. Before Brent could truly question it Sophist welcomed himself into Brent’s room, plopping himself on his bed as the complaints came in immediately. “Bro why does it have to be snowing, now I can’t get anything done.” The annoyance in his tone was undeniable, though maybe a bit of sarcasm was sprinkled in.

Brent gave a slight chuckle at the absurdity of it. “It’s literally only like two inches, it's not even that bad.” Sopshit chose not to take the easy jab at the lude joke Brent set him up for, instead responding to the comment with an answer he knew Brent already learned, “Well I can’t go to my observatory cause its snowing, plus its like super cold in there, and you know I don’t like the cold.” 

“You’re living in the Kingdom of Skill, it snows like every week.”

“Doesn’t mean I like it,” he replied, a bit too sly.

Brent sighed. He was getting nowhere with this. He walked over to his bed, taking a seat behind Sophist letting his head rest on his lap as Brent ran his hand through his hair. A comforting silence filled the room. Brent never minded these moments, he actually found them quite comforting. It was a warm reminder it wasn’t just those snippets of dialogues he fell for. It was the person behind those. A slight blush brushed his cheeks.

He could tell Sophist didn’t think the exact same. He nervously scratched at his wrist, eyes never quite landing in one spot as they jumped around the ceiling, sometimes stealing a little glance at Brent as he still stroked his hair, though that never lasted for more than a moment. 

Brent finally let Sophist out of his misery, killing the silence with a question he asked countless times before, “Why do you hate the snow so much?” Finally his eyes landed on Brent, staring at him blankly—maybe he was looking for something, or maybe it just took him a second to process the question—before snapping back to his fidgety state and answering the question, “Told ya some shit that happened, like, ten years ago.”

“What happened?” Brent’s eyes never left his own hands, them running through Sophist’s hair must have been the most interesting things. Sophist’s nails dug deeper into his skin, his mind seemingly unaware of the stim. His eyes never held still for more than a few moments, constantly glancing at Brent’s expression now definitely trying to find something. The silence, this time, made both uneasy. Brent interjecting, deciding to give Sophist an out this time, “-that is if you’re comfortable to share. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Oh how badly he wanted Sophist to tell him, yet he gave a reassuring sympathetic look instead of conveying it. He would never force his boyfriend to confess something he wasn’t ready to. (..Right?)

“I don’t know it was just,” He struggled to find the right word. He looked a bit more directly at Brent—at least he was making an effort. His eyes were never allowed to hold eye contact with his boyfriend for longer than a split second. “-It was just something. I don’t think I can explain it.” 

Brent hummed for a second before remembering he should actually say something, finally shifting his gaze to give a simple smile at Sophist as he spoke, “It’s ok, you can tell me whenever you’re ready.”

Both slipped back into the makeshift routine they so quickly fell into this position, neither truly wanting this moment to end, but both wanted something slightly more. 

Brent let the moment linger for a bit longer before readying himself. He let his hands slip out of Sophist hair—he so badly didn’t want to— and leaned back a bit, using his now free hands to brace himself. Sophist finally looked at Brent for longer than a few moments, trying to read what was on his mind. 

Brent finally spoke up, “Look listen we don’t have to if you don’t want to, but do you want to go outside, just for like, 15 minutes? Just me and you in the castle garden.” Sophist definitely wasn’t expecting that. His eyes immediately looked to the sheets surrounding him, this time tightening his grip on his wrist. 

The words came out of his mouth before he could tell them to not, “Um sure.” Fuck what was he getting himself into? Welp he was in too deep now. “But only for the 15 minutes.” 

Brent immediately perked up, his eyes scanning over Sophist’s face, surprised this stubborn ass man was actually agreeing to it. “Wait really?”

“Eh fuck it really don’t care right now,” Sophsit sat up as he tried to act not terrified. He stood up grabbing his hat and cap he hung at Brent’s chair when he first came in. “Now stop just sitting there before I take it back,” fake confidence was covering the statement, he just hoped Brent wouldn’t notice. Brent took the hint and, seemingly in a rush, jumped out of his bed to grab his own cape, joining Sophist by his side as the two walked outside. 

---------------------------------------------------

Exiting the castle grounds,

Photographs

word count: 410 | Ship: Polycrashers

Click!

The camera shuttered, and soon enough an image printed out in front of it. Vernias grabbed the little slip of paper and shook it in the air as the film developed. Slowly, and what felt like forever, the picture fully cleared up. He smiled warmly at the image, even if it was mere moments ago. It was just a simple photo, him, Nick, Sophist and Brent just standing next to each other. They met up again and at the last minute decided to go to a convention nearby. Nothing crazy, just some local smash tournament, but they did have some free time. Vernias continued to study the photo, immediately noticing some imperfections in the print job, but more focusing on the others. He saw the stupid grin Sophist always had, how slightly award Brent was, how smug Nick looked. Vernias found it endearing, their stupid little characters shown in their own little way. He almost didn’t notice the slight blush on his face.

“Hey let me see it!” Nick’s voice immediately snapped Vernias back to reality. He let the camera fall, only to be held up by his slash, and stuck out the photo to Nick. He studied it too, though not to the extent Vernias did, instead simply nodded before running to catch up to Brent and Sophist, who apparently already ran off. 

Vern quickly realised the others left, and quickly—though with care to not crumple it too much—placed the photo in his pocket. “Wait for me!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Click!

“Why’d you take a backshot of us, bro.” Vernias just sighed as he reached in front of the camera to grab the printed image. The other two had their usual set of complaints to Brent’s joke, though neither took their eyes off the screen. Vernias once again carefully put the photo in his pocket and let the camera fall to his side, joining Brent in between the other two playing. 

It was an open console type thing, and even if it wasn’t Nick and Sophist didn’t seem to care. More than anything the two seemed to be fucking around, neither of which played on their main, just instead fucking around with bottom tier characters. As soon as Vernias realised good content wasn’t going to be found, he took the more recent of the photos out of his pocket to study it. Even with its poor quality—it was some cheap instant camera, but it was good enough for what he wanted—

“I need you”

word count: 428 | BrentxEevee | weight of the crown inspired AU.

Brent was already pacing around the room. His cape and crown long discarded as he stared at the ground, arms crossed and pleading, “I did everything I could, you heard how the council men acted. I tried to make a case for you but-” 

“Well what am I meant to do now? Just go to trial? Get convicted? Be sent to die?” Sophist chose to sit on the edge of the bed. He had taken his hat long ago and set it on one of the bed’s posts. He didn’t even bother to bring his mask. 

“No, obviously not. I’ll just have to think of something to say.”

“Oh, like that worked last time.”

“No offense Eevee but you aren’t the most likeable person in the kingdom right now. Half of the citizens and nearly all of the nobles want you dead. It’s not easy for-”

“Well what should I do? Seriously? I don’t need a king or a noble. I need you. I need my friend,” the final word came out like poison to both. “I need you more,” Sophist paused, but at this point it was all over anyway, “ I need you more than a friend.” 

The silence that filled the room was deafening. Brent failed to find any words to convey his understanding, and Sophist just wanted to leave. 

“But if you don’t want that, then it's fine.” Sophist turned around, grabbing whatever hat he left lying around before making his way to the door. “I’ll just handle it on my own.” 

With the final words Sophist opened and closed the door before Brent could get the words out. He rushed to chase after him, to try and fix everything like he should’ve done the first time. He ran to the door, twisted the nob and desperately looked for him. Yet he was nowhere to be found. Either side of the corridor, which both stretched out to near infinity, didn’t hold Sophist nor any trace of him. 

All Brent could do is stand in the corridor. He felt the slightest breeze and prayed to whatever he would turn to see him, yet it was still an empty hallway. He felt his chest tighten with a pain he never understood before.