↳❝ [wilbur soot & friends' very happy oneshots] ¡!❞

‼️ election ‼️

words; 1,935
TWs; none
a/n; fancy writing oooeeee
i know this is my millionth time writing Wilbur but you can't stop me

The sky was dark, despite it being midday, the sun buried away in clouds. It was certainly to be a rainy day, though as for now the sky sent nothing but empty threats. Mr. Soot's black military boots wore heavy on the wood path, posture straight with his hands firm behind his back. Fascination and infatuation with the man from people surrounding him only fed his already massive ego, a smug smirk on his face as he determinedly made his way down the path. Either vague whispers of rumors or shouts of encouragement or hatred filled the air, and Wilbur took all of it in with pride.
Wilbur approached the gates that guarded the area, closing the gates behind himself like a respectable man. He briefly removed a hand from his back to adjust his deep blue coat, rather aggressively pulling the edge of it out and straightened it. He huffed out an excited breath, making his way down the wooden steps of the grandiose prime path. A path adored by many, that had stood for many years, endured the rain, the snow, the hardships, and the victories. One both he and his right hand man took much pride in.
Such an exciting day, wasn't it? Wilbur had just recently set up the election, in the first stages mainly only looking for candidates— or rather, putting up the front that they were looking for candidates. Reality was that Wilbur just wanted the illusion that it was fair game. Who could even begin to fathom the idea of running up against Wilbur Soot? A revolutionary, a veteran, a man of many talents, a man of many strings. He could pacify a man so quickly the man wouldn't even notice, he could sweep both men and women off their feet, intimidate a man beyond belief, a sweet talker, at that. Who would want to run against that?

Making his way down the steps, Wilbur entered the great blackstone walls that towered over the nation, sunlight seeping in through the stained glass windows of the walls. A beautiful sight it was, even the sun seemed to be clearer from here. Even the clouds had stepped out of Soot's way, didn't they?
Wilbur pridefully made his way to the caravan, heavy military boots now hitting the grass, taller strands brushing against his pants. The breeze was light, blowing Wilbur's chocolate brown hair from his face, allowing him to see a little better. The world was his red carpet, and he was making the most of it.
Suddenly, a voice interrupted Wilbur's pride, one that stuck out beyond the ones Wilbur had heard prior. One filled with confidence, yet challenging simultaneously. "Aye!" The voice shouted, making Wilbur's head turn to where it came from, "Wilbur Soot, is it?"
Upon his sight stood a rather short man, black hair that fell over his face and a deep blue beanie, matching that of Wilbur's coat. The man wore a white dress shirt, black dress pants, and black boots that reached up to just a couple inches below his knees. A feature that Wilbur most notably noticed was the beautiful golden wings that rested behind him, low and droopy. The man's chest puffed out, wings tensing to rise up pridefully, one hand on his hip and the other pointed to Wilbur. Rude gesture, isn't it? Wilbur stared to the man for a moment, as the man had waited for a confirmation of Wilbur's attention. Wilbur glanced back to his destination, being the caravan, before deciding to give the man an opportunity. Wilbur closed his eyes and nodded his head, opening his eyes again and approaching the man, standing just a foot or so away from the man.
The man clearly hadn't expected to get this far, he'd expected much more of a challenge than this, evident by the light shock on his face. He lowered the hand that was pointing, wings momentarily drooping back down before they were quick to tense back up, feathers puffing out as he quickly tried to readjust himself, "Wasn't expecting that—" He mumbled under his breath. Wilbur finally asked the question that lingered in his head, bending down a bit, almost as a taunt to the man's height, "And to whom do I owe the pleasure to?" The opposing man seemed to shrink as Wilbur's figure loomed over him, giving Wilbur such a power boost as the man stepped back, his prideful and challenging stance seemed to falter. The man shook it off, straightening his posture and puffing out his chest, trying to stand up to Wilbur's height. Nobody warned him how utterly scary this man could be. Not in the knife to the throat sort of way, but in the way Wilbur would look him up and down, leaving the poor man wondering what motives the president had. "Quackity HQ, it is to you." Quackity replied with a slight nod of his head, Wilbur straightening out his posture so he wasn't bending down over Quackity. Quackity let out a sigh of relief as the taunt was taken back, "And I'd presume I know the great and mighty presidents name. Wilbur Soot, is it not?" Wilbur nodded in confirmation, firmly shaking the hand that Quackity had extended out for him. "What are you in search of, prideful bird?" Wilbur asked, pulling back his hand as he began looking Quackity up and down again, unsettling Quackity. Quackity cleared his throat, "The election." He clarified, which made Wilbur raise an eyebrow to the shorter man. "May I have this 'dance', then?" Wilbur jokingly asked, holding out his unreachable hand as he started to walk away. Quackity rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in response, following closely beside Wilbur. Wilbur was quick to retract his hand, returning to rest behind his back, clasped tightly in his other hand. "What are your inquiries as to it, then?" Wilbur questioned, curiosity peaked on Quackity's subject. "I'd assume the big bad president would have been notified of such?" Quackity laughed, coming off as almost cruel to Wilbur, a tease or poke at him. Testing the limits, Quackity simply continued, "I'm running against you."
Wilbur choked on air, stopping his steps and covering his mouth. Quackity raised an eyebrow as he watched the president lose his composure, coughing violently. Seems as though he hadn't expected this, someone dare stand up to his reign? Challenge him in such a way?
Wilbur slowly regained himself, clearing his throat and wiping his face off. The only one who ever even dared seemed to challenge him was the glorified Dream Team. Prime, how Wilbur hated their guts. Sometimes he'd daydream, as the idiots rambled on, Wilbur's only thoughts described in brutal detail how nice it would be to finally just take his sword an— "Mr. Soot, I struggle to believe this is much of a shocker to you, you are the one holding the election." Rats.
Wilbur shook his head, avoiding the gaze of the winged man, "Shocker, it is not." Wilbur clarified, starting to walk again, leading them down to the creek that had slashed across the heart of L'Manberg, water flowing down it excitedly. "What makes you think a fool such as yourself can simply—" Wilbur began, before he was promptly cut off by a familiar voice on the distance. "Wilbur!" The british voice shouted, heavy boots against the grass rapidly approaching. Wilbur wanted to groan loudly, or just run off entirely. Taking a sharp breath through his teeth, he turned to the voice, seeing a familiar blonde boy sprinting towards them. "Oh! You met Big Q, eh?" Wilbur was about to go off on a tangent from the child's sentence alone, "This was your doing?" He asked, with such a tone where Tommy knew something was wrong. Not in the 'someone-just-died' way, but in a 'I'm-really-disappointed-in-you' way, which admittedly was a tone Tommy was used to by now. "What's happened?" Tommy asked, looking between the two, who had palpable tension. "Quackity here is running up... Against us.... For president." Wilbur's tone was laced with bitterness, even Tommy was worried. Tommy turned to Quackity, who just nodded his head in confirmation, and gave a small laugh at Wilbur's defeat. "Wha-What do you mean, Big Q?!" Tommy shouted, a hand on Wilbur's shoulder, who was clearly wanting to shout his head off. "I figured the democracy is," Quackity snapped his fingers a few times, trying to think of the word, "Unjust, if you're just running up against yourself."
He raised a damming point. But Tommy was a good arguer. "Well— Big Q, you were our friend! Our pal! Our mate!" He said the words in different tones, expressive with his hands as he fumbled about with them. Quackity watched with intrigue, though he kept an unimpressed expression on his face. "I don't see why this has to stop that."
"You're running against us!" Tommy was quick to snap back, trying to get Quackity to step down. "I'm just saying! Quackity, please, you don't have to do all this." Wilbur looked disappointed as he stood back from the conversation, hand over his mouth as he spaced out in thought. Quackity rolled his eyes— the audacity of these guys. "Well, there's another party, pal!" He said with a laugh in his tone, almost forcing Wilbur back into the conversation. Quackity pointed to Wilbur, "I am going to run against you, Wilbur, and I don't care if you think I shouldn't! It's only fair." Tommy was quick to intervene, but he was caught off guard so he only ended up stuttering. "Wh- Big Q! You can't just- you can't- no! Big Q, come on!" Quackity shrugged smugly, slowly backing away. Wilbur wanted to punch the stupid smug smile off Quackity's pretty face, but he held back and avoided looking at Quackity for now. Tommy looked to Wilbur for direction, as Wilbur just shook his head. "Let him run with his tail between his legs! He's not gonna win anyway. Him? No, I don't think so." Wilbur scoffed, starting to walk towards the caravan, heavy boots squishing grass beneath it. Tommy quickly followed despite wanting to chase after Quackity. "How can you be so calm?!" He asked in disbelief, as he watched Wilbur quietly sit down at the front seat of the caravan, looking out the window. "This is our land. Our nation. That WE built. We'll get what's rightfully ours, Tommy. Just let him have his 5 seconds of fame. His fire will burn out faster than a lit match."
Tommy groaned as he listened, walking to the wall beside the door to the caravan, gently hitting his head against it. "You better fuckin' be right." He mumbled, groaning in frustration.
"I always am, Tommy, don't worry. I always am."
As off put and annoyed as Wilbur was, he admitted, he felt a little excited. A little on edge. This man certainly didn't seem like any other basic candidate that had quickly stepped down at just the sight of Wilbur. He had this flare, this fire, one that Wilbur was excited to ignite. He did enjoy a challenge, even if it was an easy one. He would take what he could get. Finally, something to stimulate him. Challenge him. Wilbur was almost appreciative to him, playing a children's sword game with him. How kind of his pity.
"Let the Icarus run. Let him put on a show for the rest of us a he burns in the sun. His pathetic excuses for wings held by his pride will ultimately be the death of him."