#cw: self-hatred (comedic)

[cozza-frenzy]

(Volume Warning and other warnings below)

reposting this iconic video for the 4th of july

[symphonicsunsets]

INTRODUCTORY POST

Hi! This is a Pogtopia era c!Wilbur RP ask blog, run by @sootburz / @vilburmeow . Main that I follow and like from is @lunarticking

The gimmick of this blog is that the asks are the "audience" Wilbur is talking to/performing for in the narrative. He's convinced his world is a stage, and that he has to play a part, and this is his interactions with the audience.

PLEASE send asks! It keeps the blog alive!

This will be both a comedy AND an angst blog. No set plot yet. Maybe not ever!

PSA:

This will sometimes be a heavy blog, as it's Pogtopia c!Wilbur. Topics of suicide, self harm, intense self hatred, unreality, and mental illness will be rampant. Please blocklist the tags with [cw unreality] or [unreality cw]. Keep yourself safe.

Wilbur experiences psychosis and extreme depression.

Wilbur is just now beginning to question his gender and sexuality.

Wilbur is a raven avian with fucked up wings.

Wilbur does not have a good relationship with Phil.

AS OF RIGHT NOW, THIS IS A STAND ALONE BLOG. I DON'T HAVE ANY EXISTING PLANS TO BEGIN A ROLEPLAY GROUP, THOUGH THAT MIGHT CHANGE. FOR THE TIME BEING, PLEASE REFRAIN FROM TRYING TO DO EXTENDED RPS IF WE'RE STRANGERS.

tag list under the cut ! more tags may be added as this blog progresses , such as character/event tags

#quoth the raven : in character speaking

#ooc : out of character speaking

#screams the symphony : asks

#anonymous audience member : asks that are on anon

#audience member [] : asks with usernames attached

#is this a dagger which i see before me / the handle toward my hand? : heavy topics and posts

#the comfort of a laugh track : funny/comedical posts

#i think we need more post-coital / and less post-rock : suggestive

#i write down good reasons to freeze to death / in my spiral ring notebook : in character reblogs

[angstyaches]

I’ve Been Away Pt. 1

CW: angst, crying, nausea/indigestion caused by stress, anxiety. (But there’s a bit of banter at the end to round it out.)

Felix waited across the street in a rented car, waiting for Elliott to leave the house.

He and Ryan usually went out to sharpen their combat skills (at least, that was how they phrased “trying to beat the crap out of one another”) on Sunday evenings, and knowing Elliott, he wouldn’t want Ryan to see how Felix’s absence was affecting him. If it was affecting him, Felix corrected himself, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. Maybe Elliott was doing fine without him. Maybe he was better off. It didn’t really bear thinking about.

Felix gasped as the front door opened and Ryan walked out, heading straight for her car. Elliott followed, his steps a lot slower and more deliberate than usual. Felix folded his arms across the top of the steering wheel and ducked his head almost the whole way behind them, a sinking feeling in his belly. He’d bought a hoodie to cover up his mint hair, abandoned his own car at the hotel in favour of a less-recognisable one, and had even doused himself in cheap cologne on the off-chance that Elliott or Ryan would smell him from across the street.

He needn’t have worried, it seemed, since neither of them even glanced in his direction. Felix realised with a pang of despair that he was disappointed. If Elliott had been AWOL, Felix was sure he’d be glancing up and down every street and around every corner in the hopes of sighting him. He should have been happy that his plans to remain incognito had been successful, yet he wanted to cry.

Come on, Felix, don’t be a baby, he told himself. He’d come here for a reason, and things were going better than expected. He got out of the car as soon as Ryan’s disappeared from the street, taking Elliott away with it. Felix tried to ignore the pain in his heart.

He crossed the street, he realised afterwards, without even looking both ways first. His hands trembled as he took out his keys and let himself inside, the smell of lavender and floor cleaner scooping him up. This had been the first house that had ever really felt like home, but now it seemed to greet him with a glare, a side-eye. He shuddered and hurried upstairs, anxious to get in and out as quickly as possible.

Elliott had always thought Felix was crazy for having a safe in their bedroom wardrobe, complete with a code. Elliott thought a lot of things Felix did were crazy. Maybe I am crazy, Felix thought as he twisted the dial to input the code – the date of the day he’d run away from home; the first time. After all, he’d put all of his old IDs in here for a reason, and now here he was, dragging it all out.

A burning pain made itself known in the pit of his stomach as he dragged out the papers, his old passport, a small pile of newspaper clippings he had always meant to glue into a scrapbook but hadn’t. A watch slid out, landing on the wooden floor. Felix hadn’t seen in almost a decade. He swallowed a bitter mouthful of spit and shoved the watch back inside, not really concerned about scratch it in the process.

He eyed Elliott’s bedside locker as he stood up after locking the safe, clutching his documents to his chest. If he’d been in a rom-com, he would have left a little note to indicate to Elliott that he’d been there, and that he still loved him and just needed a little time. But this was real life, and Elliott would find precisely nothing romantic or comedic in a gesture like that.

So instead, Felix bolted back to the car.

He was shaking as he sank back into the driver’s seat of the car, resting his pile of papers in his lap. His old passport lay on top, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it. He wasn’t even sure if he would need any of this stuff, but if he was going to take this leap, he was going to be prepared for whatever they might want from him. He might have to fight to identify himself.

He might have to fight to make her remember.

He quickly dropped everything into the empty glove compartment, wrinkling his nose at the fresh wave of not-new-but-perfumed-to-seem-new car smell that came wafting out. A belch gurgled up his chest and he covered his mouth as it escaped. The last thing he’d eaten had been a sad sandwich from a petrol station, plus a tiny bit of the blood he’d been rationing himself, and the stress had made sure it hadn’t gone anywhere yet.

Maybe he should have picked up more blood when he’d been inside, but there was no way he could think about that without feeling like it would be stealing.

He felt sick. He was tired.

And the last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts, especially with such a long drive ahead of him.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he whispered to himself, watching the door of the townhouse swing open across the street. He hadn’t thought about Shayne, who must have only gotten back from Charlie’s a few days ago. Felix whipped up his hood and sank a bit in his seat, thinking he wouldn’t be seen, but from peering out over the steering wheel, he got the feeling that Shayne already knew it was him.

“What the fuck, man?”

“Crap,” Felix hissed, scrambling to get the key in the ignition. He jumped in his seat as Shayne slammed both hands down on the front of the car.

“Stop, it’s a rental!” Felix squealed.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Look, I know it looks bad –”

“Get out of the car!”

Felix inhaled deeply, staring down the hollow brown eyes that pinned him from outside the windshield. He slowly started to shake his head, even though his stomach felt like it was about to crawl up his throat.

“N-no.”

“Do you know what this is doing to Elliott?”

“No!” Felix yelled, covering his face with both hands. “No, I don’t, Shayne, but you don’t need to tell me, because I already hate myself enough! Whatever it is, it couldn’t be worse than the way it is in my head…”

He felt like he was being choked. His forehead made the horn honk gently as he let it fall against the wheel. His chest hurt, it hurt so fucking bad, it felt like whatever was left in there was rotten and crumbling and turned black with self-hatred. He’d known things were bad - he’d cried himself to sleep every night since he’d left - but right then, it felt like death itself was pressing in around him.

He jumped, the pain sharpening in his chest, at the sound of the passenger side door opening. The car bounced on its axis with the force of Shayne climbing in.

“I’m sorry!” Felix sobbed, not sure what he was actually expecting Shayne to do to him. “I didn’t – I didn’t mean for it to be like this, I just… there’s some stuff I have to do. It’s really, really important…”

“Is it?” Shayne asked sharply.

“Yes.”

Felix jumped again as Shayne pulled the door shut, hard.

“Alright.” Shayne shrugged, reaching for the seatbelt for the passenger seat. “You’re going to have to buy me more clothes if this takes longer than a day.”

Felix’s jaw dropped, the tears sliding down his face even as the sobs relented. “Wh-what?”

“Oh, and absolutely no singing.”

“That just seems… unreasonable,” Felix mumbled.

“And!” Shayne reached across to lightly slap Felix’s arm with the back of his hand. “We’re calling Elliott later. Both of us. Alright?”

Felix licked his lips, feeling both intimidated and energised by the glare he was receiving from his cousin. “Okay… sure.”

Shayne sank a bit lower in his seat and propped his head against the door. Felix took a deep breath, focusing on the full feeling in his lungs for a moment before letting himself deflate again. His hands felt a bit steadier when he started the ignition this time. The knot in his chest was still there but it felt a little lighter, and the sting of the indigestion didn’t creep quite so high.

“And the ‘no singing’ rule,” he said, “is that absolutely locked-in, or is there a bit of wiggle room on that…?”

“You break that rule, and I’m grabbing the steering wheel and wiggling us into oncoming traffic.”