#our wilbur is liter so bad

[theres-no-escaping-us-pal]

GUYSSSS

MY PLAY IS IN TWO DAYS

KILL MEEEEEEE

[loversj0y]

our young nation

wilbur soot x gn! reader (note: pronouns are gn but reader is afab)

TWs: WAR, DEPICTIONS OF WOUNDS, BIRTH, PREGNANCY, ONE LINE ABT PERIODS, TALKS OF ILLNESS, MENTIONS OF DYING, SEMI-REALISTIC APPROACH TO WAR

word count: 10.7k

note: this has not been edited at all. i dont know a lot about war, but i do know hamilton and mockingjay, so. theres that. there's a playlist for this fic as well if you want to listen to what i listened to (also if this formats weirdly lmk and ill post it on ao3). have fun reading :) title is taken from dear theodosia from hamilton fic playlist

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone / @melunnek

Doing new things was never easy. There were always some hiccups, some strifes, some things that just kept new things from working out just as perfectly as you’d hoped. Not all these hiccups were bad per se, but they were there. Occam’s razor be damned, sometimes things are harder than they are easier. 

Those hiccups might be the death of one Wilbur Soot. Mostly because, in this case, the things occurring lean far more toward the “strife” category than the “hiccup” category. 

Literally. 

The newness of his formed country was refreshing, L’Manburg was already growing to become a beautiful nation, just from the camaraderie seen within its walls. But the beauty of their forming country was contrasted by the growing issues of war and hardships afflicting his citizens. 

So yes, war was hard. New things were hard, but they were often necessary and they often brought new, better things. 

And then, of course, there was the flickering candle light in the middle of the destitute tunnel that categorized war: Love. 

You weren’t originally planning to be involved in the war at all. When Wilbur had come to your door, asking about volunteering for the war, you’d politely turned him down. You made it very clear how much you supported the war efforts, and how, though you couldn’t fight, you’d be willing to help out the war efforts in any way you could. 

Wilbur gave you a charming smile and let you know that your support was greatly appreciated. 

Which was how you became his aid. For the leader of the rebellion, he was rather disorganized, in a literal sense, seen in the numerous papers and half-finished rations littering his desk, as well as a figurative sense, with the desk becoming a mirror image of his own mind. You helped clear the scatter, in both senses. When he’d pass out writing his pages and pages on new injustices committed by the Greater SMP, you’d be there to save his place and clear the desk. 

Eventually, you were able to do far more than just clear the desk; you were able to clear his mind. 

It started in conversations, when he’d ask questions aloud to himself without realizing you were in the room. 

“… and the infractions pushed upon us by the members of the Greater SMP have found my people destitute, destroyed, and… deprived? No, not deprived-“

“Disregarded?” You spoke up from your place standing next to him, where you’d been carefully sorting through old unfinished drafts of his own works. 

“Disregarded?” He looked up at you, giving you a flash of a smile, “Do you feel disregarded by the Greater SMP, Y/N?” 

You flushed a bit under his gaze. You hadn’t actually meant to offer the word, but it had slipped out before you could stop it, “Yes.”

His smile underwent a simple change, one you’d noticed after observing his speeches and public appearances. His smile went from congressional — purely political and for show — to harboring a sense of community. It was the smile he used when he asked for volunteers. It was the smile he used when he asked people for their grievances. It was the smile he used when he listened to his citizens. It was a smile that could make you feel safe, make you feel heard. “How so? In what ways do you feel disregarded by the Greater SMP, Y/N?” He asked. It was subtle, the way he tried to say people’s names as often as possible when he spoke to them. There was something in it you recognized; a urge to get the person on your good side and the need to be liked. 

You honestly couldn’t place the words that escaped you next. You had never been particularly political, but there was something about Wilbur Soot that demanded elegance and intelligence, and you felt yourself falling into line with easy compliance. 

“Well, I feel disregarded in the way they command us. They have hurt our people numerous times without giving a second thought, yet they praise kindness and claim to want a peaceful end to this fighting. I feel disregarded in the fact that they claim to understand us, yet they have never spoken to me, let alone the majority of our citizens. I feel disregarded because they don’t even know my name, yet they have burned down my land. I feel disregarded because they refuse to listen to our grievances,” you took a breath as you continued, setting down the pages you’d been shuffling through. “I feel disregarded because even before the war, they did not respect us. I feel disregarded in the ways that they would bring us into their conflicts while they sat there. And most of all, I feel disregarded in the ways they have hurt my people without a care in the world, as if our lives do not matter.”

There was a moment of silence when you’d finished, and you looked back to see the leader of the rebellion giving you a look that you had never seen before upon his face: adoration. His smile fell into something softer, one that you’d seen only in short bursts, reserved for quiet moments Wilbur shared with himself in dark nights alone when he’d finished a piece he was proud of. 

“Well, then,” he smiled at you genuinely, and it was the most gorgeous thing you’d ever seen. “Disregarded, it is.”

From there, you went from being his aid to his advisor, helping him hone his perfectly crafted speeches. You helped clear his mind. His air of regality as leader of the rebellion kept people from feeling comfortable reaching him, yet you shared none of that sense of bravado. You didn’t want to. People came to you, told you about how they felt as citizens, and it was the biggest help to Wilbur, who no longer felt like he was grasping at straws to make sure his citizens were being heard. 

Throughout it all, the best thing you offered Wilbur was not your mind, but rather your company. 

There were a lot of long nights that Wilbur was used to braving alone, and yet now, you were there to provide him companionship and cure the thoughts that plagued his mind about the future of the war. Wilbur loved watching your mind work on these nights. He would throw up a question into the air, something simple and philosophical, and he would watch as you’d chip away at the question and his subsequent arguments to your own positions. In any other case, it’d have been annoying, but for the both of you, it was akin to mental exercises, a game the two of you shared to keep sharp. It made for a kind distraction over the sounds of silence that plagued empty battlefields still wet with blood. 

These nights were also some of the only nights you’d be able to get Wilbur to take care of himself. Usually, it was after a glass of wine softened him up enough for you to convince him to finish his rations. He had a habit of leaving half, just in case someone else needed something, and he’d been hungrier before so he was sure he could brave it. These were the nights when he’d finally let his wounds show. 

Every battle, regardless of how bad off he was, he would hide any wounds that he couldn’t personally classify as fatal. And he would continue hiding them until they faded, though they never fully did. He always cared so much about appearances, how he needed to look pristine and confident to keep morales high. 

But he didn’t care about that with you. With you, he cared about wit and vulnerability, despite the two having always fallen on opposite doorsteps in his persona. So he’d take off his uniform, leaving him in a simple white undershirt and the slightly baggy black pants he wore underneath. It was the biggest form of physical vulnerability he’d allowed himself in years, and you never overstepped. You’d ignore the bruises and scars littering his arms and faintly poking out from the collar of his undershirt. 

But veiled ignorance could only last so long, and your own care for the man overtook any sense of social conventions. 

“Wilbur,” you looked at him abruptly. You’d been sharing a bottle of wine like you often ended up doing these nights that neither of you could sleep. With each sip, you feel your mind grow anxious at what you’d noticed. Right when he’d taken this uniform shirt off, you quickly noticed the slash in his bicep, crusted with blood and dirt. And while you planned to ignore it like usual, usually he’d at least have cleaned the wound before, and you couldn’t ignore how clearly unattended this wound was. “Did you visit the medic after today’s battle?” 

Wilbur snorted into his glass of wine as he took another sip, “No. No, I did not.” 

“Why?” 

“Because,” he started simply, “they had far more pressing matters.” 

You didn’t see the battles. You’d be on the sidelines, with prepared speeches for Wilbur to give in case of any major developments. You always had to be ready, but it came at the consequence of never knowing what truly happened on the battlefield. Wilbur never liked to recount it either, only sharing essential information to save you from hearing about the ways your people were injured. 

But tonight, you wanted to know. His safety was something that concerned you, and if it was so bad that he would threaten his safety, you needed to know. “What was it like today?” You asked quietly, standing as you spoke. 

He watched you as you flitted around the room, pacing the floorboards languidly. “I told you. We lost, but we were able to leave a-“

“No, I know what you told me. ‘The battle was lost, but there were effects put into motion that will be able to help us in the long run.’ I know that. I meant- the- the other stuff, those ‘more pressing matters’ that the nurses had. Stuff like that.” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the word ‘casualties’ so casually, as if it was not one of your neighbor’s lives your were pushing into a single word. 

He frowned, “I don’t- I really don’t think-“

“Tell me, Wilbur. I need to know.” 

Wilbur sighed slowly, nodding, “Everyone was injured. Some of us less so than others. It… it was Eret. Eret betrayed us, so they knew where we were, they knew we’d be unprepared. It’s better that it’s now, so early in the war, that the traitor is gone now, but… it was at a heavy expense. All of my friends, the ones I dragged into this, they- some of them are still there, in the infirmary. Tubbo nearly died. He-“ Wilbur took in a breath, shuddering, “They said he’ll be okay, but if he was hit any higher, they would’ve punctured his rib, and we would’ve lost him. And- I- We almost lost my brother. Tommy, he-“ there were tears in Wilbur’s eyes as he recounted it, “he took a knife straight to the shoulder. For me. He pushed me out of the way. And it was so close, if he’d been a second earlier, it would’ve gone through his heart.” Wilbur was crying now. It was the first time you’d seen him this vulnerable, this affected by what he’d seen. The horrors that plagued his vision every time he’d close his eyes, yet he closes his eyes now, as he speaks, as if he would find some epiphany lying behind them and not the images of his brother and his brother’s best friend clinging to life. 

“I- I couldn’t visit the medic after that. For this?” He gestured to the slash on his arm, “It felt unworthy of their attention when so many had nearly lost it all.” 

He was still crying, his eyes pressed tightly together as if doing so would click some button to erase the memories of what he’d seen on the battlefield. You moved forward, pressing his head into your stomach and wrapping your arms around him gently. He cried against you, soft and shuddering as if his body was still afraid to acknowledge or speak about what he’d seen. 

“I- I watched someone die. Someone on our side, I-“ he sobbed softly, “I held him as his breathing faded. His last words, he-“ Wilbur buried his face further against you, “He told me ‘Wilbur, make it worth it. If this is it for me, do not let it be in vain. Free our country and win.’” Wilbur panted quietly as he let the final words of a fellow solider fade into the quiet of the night. “I just- I can’t let him down. I let a man die for my cause. His blood is on my hands. And Y/N… it doesn’t look good right now. I know I said Eret’s betrayal is good for the future since the traitor is gone, but I- I don’t know what he knows. He could guide them back here tomorrow and slaughter us all in our sleep. So I- I don’t know what to do. I can’t let our people down, they- they didn’t ask for this. I keep- I keep wondering if I just should’ve kept quiet. If we could’ve been happy just living under SMP’s rule.” His admission did not escape him easily, echos of gasping sobs filling the room as he clung onto the fabric of your shirt. Neither of you spoke at first, letting his tears slow to a near stop in order to help him preserve the fragility of his mind. 

“Wilbur,” you spoke softly once you felt the moment was right, “No one was happy before. You cannot fault yourself for giving us a chance. I know you feel responsible for the bloodshed, and I know how it makes you feel like you’re clinging onto some shadow of death that follows you. But if you were the only one who wanted freedom for our country, there would be no rebellion. You’d just be another man standing on the end of a street, searching for someone to listen to you. We support this cause because we not only believe in the importance of our freedom, but because we believe in you, Wilbur. We cannot have our leader be made a martyr because where would that leave us? This cause would fall apart without you. And I know you are afraid, but we are all afraid. You are allowed to be afraid of uncertainty. Your people are putting their lives on the line’s because the believe the end, even their ends, will justify the means. You cannot consider falling back onto your fears now. I’m so sorry for what you saw. I know how horrifying it must’ve been. But that man let you hold him as he died, you brought him comfort in those final moments because you promised a better future for his family, his people. You have inspired people, Wilbur. You inspired me. You took a single thought, an idea, and you turned it into something real, something tangible, a cause that we not only believe in, but one that we fight for, and we will continue to fight for.” You let out a soft sigh, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the crown of his head, “Wilbur, I know you feel like the world is crumbling around you because of how scary everything is right now. But you are not alone. If your world is crumbling, it is crumbling for me too?” you sighed once more, “this is all just a long winded way for me to ask, Wilbur, please, will you let me patch your wound?” 

He didn’t reply to any specific part of your response, just giving a curt nod and lowering his arms. You both knew that you didn’t just mean the wound on his arm, but that you were attempting to reach out and help him patch the rifts in his mind. 

You grabbed the spare first aid kit, returning to your place in front of him as you set down the kit.

“It’s really not that bad,” he sighed, and you rolled your eyes.

“Wilbur, I have always trusted your judgement for everything, but I think we have finally found the exception,” you chuckled softly, gently taking his arm in your hands to inspect the wound. It definitely wasn’t a pretty sight, but it could certainly be worse.

“Really? This marks the exception? Not the hundreds of times I’ve asked you if something sounds right or if people would agree with something I’ve said?”

You nodded, taking a cotton ball and soaking it in alcohol, “Yep, this is it. Uncertainty is not having bad judgement, it’s just the acknowledgement that you can’t do things alone. Which is true, none of us can.” You smiled lightly, pressing the cotton to his arm to clean the wound. 

He hissed softly in pain as you cleaned the wound, speaking only once you’d finished, “I can’t,” he spoke quietly. “I can’t do things alone. I’m very grateful to have you.”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you reached for a salve to spread onto his wound. “I’m grateful as well. You keep me stable with all this craziness going on.” 

He watched as you opened the salve, getting a generous amount onto your fingers to lightly spread over the slash, “I can say the same. I would’ve fallen into disarray by now without you.” 

Your flush darkened, and you started to wrap his arm quietly. You didn’t speak until you’d finished wrapping his arm completely. 

“There,” you spoke softly, tying off the bandage, “Now, you won’t get an infection and fall ill. Goodness knows we don’t have the medicine for preventable illness anyways,” you chuckled, trying to make light of things.

Wilbur smiled as well, but he seemed a bit further in thought. You grabbed the kit once more and went to return it to its place, but Wilbur’s hand wrapped lightly around your wrist and kept you from turning. 

“Wilbur?” you asked softly.

“I-” he had a flush on his cheek, and there was a beat of waiting before he finally looked up at you. He had a look filled with adoration and appreciation. But there was something else in his gaze, something softer. More warm. Something you would come to know as love. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asked softly, his thumb lightly caressing where it rested on your wrist. 

You had to refrain from gaping at him as you processed his question. You had always found the rebel attractive, but you’d never considered the legitimacy of pursuing a relationship with a man who seemed far out of your league. With bated breath you nodded, and he leaned up to pull you into him.

The kiss felt far more gentle than it should have. For all the desperation and wanting that lived within it, the kiss was soft and slow, familiarizing one another with each crack in our lips. It didn’t develop further, there was no rapid increasing of intensity, the kiss remained as gentle as the glow from the candles around the room until you pulled away slowly. 

You both stared at one another for a long moment, attempting to memorize each freckle and blemish that adored war-torn faces. He was the one to speak up first.

“Y/N? Would you stay with me? Just for tonight?” 

You nodded your agreement, and you both shared a mutual understanding in the lie he allowed spill from his lips.

As the war continued, you found yourself making a permanent residence in Wilbur’s bed and home. The war was taking longer than anyone expected, a double-edged sword in the how our troops still lived, yet so did Greater SMP’s. Morale was low for everyone, but you kept your spirits high in fire-warmed rooms in Wilbur’s arms. 

“Do you think our people need something to boost their spirits?” He’d asked one day, your head resting on his chest and a hand loosely playing with your hair.

“Hm,” you thought, looking up at him, “I think it would be good, yeah. What are you thinking? A festival?”

He hummed, and as you inspected his face, you noticed the nerves lining his expression. It wasn’t an uncommon sight these days, his worries about the war leeching into every moment of the day. But usually, the anxiousness was far more faded by this time of night, even if it never fully left his gaze. 

“Not a festival,” he spoke, shifting and reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small black box, speaking softer, “I was thinking a wedding.”

You sat up, gasping softly, “Will-”

“I was going to wait until after the war,” he spoke, sitting up across from you. “But I’m terrified that I won’t get to. I’d rather die knowing you were mine than knowing I never got to at least ask you.”

“Wilbur,” you grabbed onto both of his cheeks, pulling him into a deep and loving kiss. You understood where his fears came from, and you would be lying if you didn’t admit that you shared in the same sentiment. Every day that the troops returned, your heart waited to beat in fear until you saw his face. You didn’t want to wait either. 

You pulled away, wrapping arms tightly around his neck as you rested your forehead against his. 

“Is that a yes, then?” He asked, a grin ghosting over his lips.

You laughed, holding onto him tighter, “Yes, Wilbur, absolutely.” 

He laughed as well, his arms coming to wrap tightly around you. He kissed the side of your head as he spoke, “We- it probably won’t get to be a big wedding because we’re so low on resources, but if you want something big, we can absolutely have a second ceremony after, and-”

“Wilbur, our wedding could be in a mud field in our pajamas with a chicken, and I would still be satisfied. All that matters to me is being able to call you mine forever.”

He gave you a grin like you hung the stars in the sky before pulling you in for a loving kiss and putting a small ring onto your finger.

The wedding planning went over quickly. You weren’t planning anything fancy whatsoever, but it still needed to be enough of an event for your people to have time to relax. Everyone wanted to help out as well. Once you woke up the next morning after Wilbur’s proposal, it seemed as if the whole country knew already, with people coming to congratulate you and Wilbur as you both walked through town. Just the sense of community in everyone’s offering to help out with the wedding seemed to brighten everyone throughout the country. 

You and Wilbur actually had two ceremonies. The first one was for the two of you and your families, a small dinner and ceremony to allow you to have an intimate and private wedding. It was gorgeous, and so incredibly worth it. The second one was the ceremony for the people. It wasn’t a lavish affair, though your wedding attire was some of the most beautiful things either of you had seen in months. It was a subdued wedding, but it was making the most out of what you had. Lots of fresh cut flowers from the countryside, Niki baked a cake, and a real, full meal made for everyone. 

You felt tense in your fancy wedding outfit. Even if it wasn’t the height of luxury, it felt more stiff than anything else you’d worn in months. But there was a point to all of it. It was an event, something for people to care about. Something to get on their minds instead of residual fear about the next battle. You were glad for private affair you’d been able to have the night before, because this felt more like playing the role of the Leader’s Partner rather than actually being his partner. 

“Hey,” you heard softly from behind you, turning as you watched Wilbur sneak in. He paused when he saw you, staring in awe.  “You look so lovely,” he smiled, walking over to you and taking your hands in his.

“I could say the same about you,” you smiled, pulling him forward for a short kiss. “You ready to get betrothed a second time?”

He laughed, holding you a bit closer, “I am. I’d marry you every day if I could.”

You smiled shyly up at him, moving to wrap your arms around him and hug him tightly, “I love you so much.”

He kissed the top of your head, smiling, “I love you too, darling.”

You sighed and relaxed into the hug, letting your eyes slip shut. You moved your hands down to his sides, frowning when you felt a small box in his pocket. 

“Wilbur,” you started, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the small box of cigarettes, “What are you doing with these?”

He frowned, a shameful look on his face, “I haven’t smoked any, don’t worry. I’m just- I’m anxious, so I got them in case.”

You nodded, biting your lip with a frown, “If you’re anxious, you know you can come to me.”

“I know, I know, I just-” he sighed, “I’m anxious about you, is the thing.”

You frowned, setting the cigarettes down on the table behind you, “What do you mean?”

He sighed, sitting down on a small stool across from you, “I’m nervous that when word travels about the marriage, they’ll look down on the legitimacy of our country. I think it’s good, I think they’ll think we’re less concerned than we really are, however… I’m worried I’m placing a target on your back.” 

You nodded softly, “Wilbur, I’ve had a target on my back since I chose to stand with our country,” you moved forward, giving him a gentle kiss, “I understand the concern, and I know the risks. But I’m not letting those risks outweigh the joy of being married to you. If they go for me, I can handle it. I know I’m not much of a fighter, but I can hold my own. Plus, they won’t kill me. If I’m valuable to you, they wouldn’t dare.”

He took your hand in his again, squeezing it gently, “thank you, darling,” he sighed, holding you close. “I won’t let them take you anyways. You’re too precious to me.”

You chuckled softly, lightly pressing your forehead against his. “Let’s go get married, then. The best fuck you we can give them is our love.”

He grinned and chuckled, nodding softly, “Let’s go get married.”

The wedding was a bright affair. The actual marriage part was quick and sweet, vows that you had both prepared together, nothing as genuine as the words spoken the night before. It was sweet regardless, promises of loving each other in the darkest of times that rang true in an audience of war-stricken dreamers. The best part of the wedding was the reception. Everyone was up, dancing and singing along to the music being shared, and the entire tarp over the field was covered in the most beautiful lights and flowers. You had a proper first dance with Wilbur before the dancing became more lively. You spent most of the night sitting with Wilbur and watching your people dance and laugh and drink. 

“It’s gorgeous, don’t you think?” You smiled, looking over at him.

He nodded, “It is. I’m glad to see everyone smiling and happy.” “And drunk.”

He laughed, leaning his head on your shoulder, “Yeah, that too.”

You smiled, holding his hand quietly. You stared at the ring on your finger. It was simple, but it was absolutely gorgeous. A simple gold band with a small chiselled diamond in the centre. The diamond was crafted from a piece that had chipped off of Wilbur’s sword when he taught you the basics of parrying hits. The engagement ring lay below it, a thinner silver ring with a small emerald that you recognized as coming from one of Wilbur’s ventures to a further village. The rings weren’t lavish, but you preferred them more like this. They were far more meaningful like this. Symbols of your love both in their meaning and their crafting. 

“Can I ask you something?” You asked him softly. 

“Of course, darling.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “In our vows, we both mentioned honesty, so I want you to be honest with me right now. I know this isn’t the place to ask, but… what do you think our chances of winning are?” 

He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, “I don’t think it matters how big or small our chances are. I think what matters is that we have a chance. If we didn’t, we would’ve failed a long time ago.”

You nodded softly, “You see it, though? The future where we win?”

He looked over at you, a wide smile on his face, “I see it as clearly as I see you now. I see our fields free from the blood they currently harbor. Instead, they’re filled with flowers that grew up from the bloodshed. Crimson turned crimson. The kids run around, free of fear of an incoming bomb. My brother runs with them, and he no longer acts so grown up; he’s allowed to be a kid again. I see a memorial for those we lost, for all that was sacrificed. I see our citizens in parades, every year for our independence, they sing and dance, just like this. It’s like… the war is the night, the cold and harsh conditions that brutalize us and break us down into nothing more than human. But independence? It’s warm. It’s laying in the sun in a field with you. It’s our flag waving high on a summer day. It’s the laughter of children, it’s the joy of the future. It’s us. Our future. A memory garden adorned with flowers and the knowledge that we will never return to the Great War because we not only survived, but we persisted.”

“It’s daylight,” you smiled, and he gave you a grin so bright it felt like basking in it.

“It’s daylight.”

The weeks after the wedding remained lively for the most part. The morale boost helped the troops improve, and the battles didn’t seem as tough. There was an underlying fear that the SMP troops were holding back for some reason, but for the most part, everything seemed to be going good.

Until one morning.

Winter had begun, and with it, hardships improved. Illness was rampant, and while no one had fallen fatally ill yet, everyone was afraid. 

Wilbur didn’t expect you to be next on the list of ill. 

He was in the living room when you woke up that day. You stood slowly, but as you stood, you were hit with a wave of nausea and vertigo. You nearly collapsed before making it to the trash to throw up the contents of your empty stomach. You leaned over the trash and within moments, Wilbur was at your side, keeping your hair out of your face and rubbing your back.

“Darling? Are you alright?”

You coughed weakly, spitting into the trash, “Do I seem okay, Wilbur?” You huffed, before sighing. “Sorry, I just- I hate throwing up.”

He nodded softly, “It’s alright, I get it, here,” he carefully helped you up back into bed before rushing to grab some water. He handed you the glass, and you drank it quickly, sighing softly. 

“Did something happen?” He asked, moving to your side to wrap an arm around you.

“No, I just stood up and- yeah,” you sighed, leaning your head against him, “You shouldn’t be close, I may be sick.”

He frowned, kissing the top of your head, “I’ll be alright. I’m going to call for the doctor, okay?”

You nodded softly, and he was rushing to get the doctor within seconds. They came back a few minutes later, and the doctor was quick to check over you.

“Your temperature is a bit high,” they hummed, “But other than that and the throwing up, I’m not seeing any other major symptoms. It could be stress. I would take it easy for the next few days, see if it improves. If nothing’s changed in a week, we can check for more, alright?”

You nodded softly, sighing quietly. Wilbur grabbed your hand gently before walking the doctor out, sharing hushed words.

When he returned, he got back into bed next to you, “They don’t think it’s anything serious. They said it’s likely just a mild fever, not like the flu going around out there.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, “I’ll be alright.”

“You will be,” he nodded, kissing the top of your head. “I can’t stay to watch you too much this week, but I can get Niki, if you want.”

“Wilbur, I don’t think I need to be watched,” you chuckled.

“I know you don’t need it,” he hummed, “but I want someone to be here with you. I don’t want you to collapse and have no one be here for you.”

You sighed softly, nodding, “Okay. If you don’t need her for anything this week, then I don’t mind. I like spending time with Niki.”

He smiled, squeezing your hand gently, “Alright. I’ll let her know.”

The same thing happened throughout the week. Wilbur would help you in the morning when the nausea hit, and then Niki would swap out with him when he had to go help out his people. The nausea usually lasted the whole day, but the vertigo and lightheadedness only seemed to last in the morning. You managed to eat small meals, and with Niki’s baking, she brought you a lot of small snacks. 

It was one of these days that you had a theory. The final day of the week, there was a major battle, so Niki would spend the whole day with you while Wilbur went out to fight. It was nerve wracking knowing that he would be out there and you were stuck in your bedroom, but you figured it wasn’t that much different from the other days, you supposed.

“Niki,” you spoke up from your place on the bed. She was sat across from you, working on a small knitting project. The troops had just head out for the battle. 

“Yeah, Y/N?” she asked, looking up at you.

“Did a doctor stay behind? Or did all of them head out?”

She thought for a moment, “There’s two here with us. One for the ill, and one preparing things for when the others return.”

You nodded, staying quiet for a moment, “Could you call one of them here for a moment?”

She frowned, concern lacing her brow, “Yeah, of course, but, why? Are you not feeling well again?”

“It’s not that,” you bit your lip quietly, looking away for a moment, “Can you keep a secret, Niki?”

She nodded, “Of course.”

You fiddled with your fingers for a moment, trying to think of the best way to phrase your next statement, “I… skipped this month.”

She gave you a look of confusion, before her eyes widened as realization hit, “Oh. Oh! Do you think-?”

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t want to get my hopes up yet. And I don’t want to get Wilbur’s hopes up either, just in case. But… I think so.”

She gave you a grin, nodding quickly as she stood, “I’ll go grab one of the doctors, I’ll be right back!”

She rushed out, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment. You were nervous about the implications. You wanted to start a family with Wilbur, of course, but neither of you were planning for it to happen yet. You’d agreed to wait until after the war. War is no place to raise a child.

The doctor came in, and she gave you a gentle smile. Niki waited outside as you spoke with the doctor, and you did a quick exam. 

“Well,” the doctor gave you a soft smile, “I think your theory may be correct, Y/N.”

“You think?”

“Well, I know. You’re correct. You’re pregnant.”

She had a soft grin on her face as she confirmed your theory, as if it was not news that changed the entire trajectory of your future. 

“Thank you, Doctor,” you gave her a soft smile right back, trying to let your worries ease into the back of your mind until Wilbur returned. 

“Of course. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. For the next few months, just try to relax. I know it’ll be tough given our circumstances, but you have the support of the entire country holding you up, alright?”

You nodded silently. 

“I’ll do another exam in a month to make sure everything is going well, and we can arrange for monthly visits. If you have any questions just let me know, and so other than that, congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you smiled softly, and she left soon after. 

Niki returned, a subdued smile on her face, “So?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

She grinned, rushing to your side and taking your hand in hers, “Oh, that’s lovely! Wilbur’s going to be so excited, are you going to tell him tonight?”

“I think so,” you smiled softly, “I imagine it’d be hard to keep it from him.”

It was hard to keep it from him. But not through your own admission, rather because news of the doctor visiting your home traveled quick among those who’d stayed behind. That night, Wilbur rushed in to see you.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” He called out, rushing up to see you and hold you in a tight hug. He looked worse for wear, his hair a ruffled mess and his cheeks stained with dirt. 

“Yes, love, I’m alright, why?” You hugged him back tightly, nerves and knowledge filling your chest.

“I- I heard a doctor came in today,” he pulled away to inspect your face, holding your cheeks gently, “Did something happen?”

“No, no,” you smiled softly, “I’m okay, I’m good, actually. We figured everything out, and I’m going to be okay.”

He let out a breath of relief, pressing his forehead to yours gently, “Darling, you scared me.” 

“I’m sorry,” you chuckled softly, “How was the fight?”

He tensed, and you frowned.

“It was… it wasn’t good,” he sighed, and your heart dropped, “We ambushed them like we planned, but they were stronger. We didn’t get to take out as many of them as we wanted to before they noticed us, so we were outnumbered.”

You nodded softly, “Were you successful in stealing supplies, though?”

He nodded, and the smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Not as much as we wanted to, but enough to make it hurt.”

“That’s good,” you smiled back at him, “Are you injured? Did you see the medic?”

He shook his head, “a few scratches and a burn from a flaming arrow, but it’s not bad. It’s on my shoulder.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, “Go take a bath, and I’ll wrap it. And then, I have something important to talk to you about.”

He tilted his head, “What is it?”

“Nope, not yet. Go clean up first,” you chuckled softly, “That takes priority.”

He rolled his eyes, grin falling on his face easily, “Alright, alright. I’ll be right back.”

You nodded and watched as he went to go clean up. You could have told him then, but it was more for your sake than his that you wanted to wait. You had to get your mind together first, especially now knowing he was okay. 

He returned not long after, face and hands scrubbed clean of dirt and soot. He was wearing a white tank top with his sleep pants, and he had the med kit in his hand as he sat down next to you.

You hissed softly as you saw the burn, gently taking his arm in your hand, “Wilbur, this is worse than you described.”

He waved it off, sighing, “It just got irritated from the water. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

You gave him a look of disbelief as you stared at the burn. It was bright red and angry, skin slightly charred and bubbled. There was a slight cut in the middle of it from where the arrow must’ve passed through. You sighed sofly, grabbing the disinfectant. 

“Hold onto my arm, this is going to sting,” you told him softly, and he did as you said. Once you passed the disinfectant over the burn, he hissed in pain, squeezing your shoulder. You continued cleaning the wound until it was satisfactory, You grabbed the burn cream and delicately spread it over the wound, and slowly, his pained noises lessened. 

“I’m not going to wrap it just yet, it needs to breathe for a while, okay?”

He nodded, sighing and pulling his hand away, “Will I be able to cover it tomorrow?”

You frowned, “You shouldn’t. But I know you will, so I’ll wrap it tomorrow.”

He nodded again, grabbing the med kit and returning it to its space in your bathroom.

“So,” he said, sitting down in front of you, “You said you have something important to share?”

“Yeah, so,” you sighed softly, taking his hand gently, “It’s about the doctor visit. I had the doctor come over today because I wanted to talk to her about us starting a family.”

He nodded, eyebrows furrowing slightly, “Okay. I thought we were planning to wait, though?”

You nodded, “I know, but… would you… be upset if we didn’t?”

He chuckled, “Not at all, darling,” he smiled, “it wouldn’t be ideal, but that’s more due to my own selfishness. I want to be here for every second of it, and I don’t know if I can right now. But I wouldn’t be upset about it. Do you… want to?”

You bit your lip, taking his hand and placing it over your stomach. “Wilbur,” you looked up at him, “I don’t know if we have much of a choice anymore.”

He gave you a concerned look, frowning, “Why not? Did- did something happen? If you’re not able to, we could always look into adoption, or-”

“No, Will,” you chuckled softly, shaking your head, “It’s not like that. It’s, uh, it’s the opposite, actually.” You gave him a soft grin.

He looked confused for a moment longer before a wide grin crossed his face, “Wait. Do you- do you mean?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I had a theory with all the sickness in the morning. So, I talked to the doctor, and… I think our family will be coming a lot sooner than we’d planned for.”

He grinned, tears springing to his eyes, “You’re serious? You’re-”

“Pregnant. Yeah.” You were grinning as well, and finally getting to tell him felt like the first breath of air after diving into the deep end.

“Oh, darling,” he spoke, pulling you into a tight hug, “Oh, I- we’re going to have a kid.”

You nodded, chuckling through the tears of joy that hit your cheeks. “Yeah, we’re going to have a kid.”

He grinned, holding you tightly, “Fundy’s going to have a sibling! Darling, this is amazing. I know we wanted to wait, but I don’t care. I have so much more to fight for now. So much more to come home for.”

You kissed him, holding onto him like a lifeline, “The war’s not done. But this. This is why we fight. As long as you’re home at the end of the day, that’s all that matters to me.”

He grinned at you, “I love you so much. I am so lucky to have you. We’re so lucky, even if it’s just being alive right now. This is all we need.”

You smiled lovingly at him, “We are so fucking lucky. And I am so excited for this. They’re blessed to have you as their father.”

“They’re blessed to have you as well,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

That night, neither of you went to sleep concerned over a failed fight. Instead, you dreamt of the bright future you’d be bringing your child into. 

Family and close friends were the first to know. You told them two days later, during an impromptu family meeting that Wilbur had called. Everyone was incredibly elated, though Tommy’s excitement probably took the cake, as he was practically screaming his congratulations. 

The rest of country learned fairly soon after. About a month later, even though you’d only slightly began showing and could certain continue to hide it for a while, neither of you wanted to. It was a joy to share with the country, and the celebration that followed was bright and lively, a night-long glimpse into a wonderful future. 

It wasn’t always easy, though. Wilbur hated how he couldn’t stay by your side, taking care of your every need. You hated how lonely some nights were, when the battles lasted longer than usual or they had to prepare for a midnight ambush. The worst part of those nights was the fear, overwhelming and keeping you stationary in Wilbur’s office or your bedroom. Not knowing if your husband would return hurt more than anything else in the world. 

You were six months in when he came home exhausted in early morning light. He didn’t speak to you at first, giving you a kiss before going to wash up. You waited anxiously for him to return, and when he did, he returned shirtless with a med kit in hand. He sat down in front of you with a sigh, turning around so you could see the large gash running down his shoulder. 

“Wilbur,” you gasped softly, “this is really long.”

“It’s not that deep. Didn’t even realize it was there until I went to wash up.” He sighed.

You frowned, starting to patch him up quickly. 

He spoke to distract himself, “Do you think we’re going to have a girl or a boy?”

You shrugged softly, “I’m not sure. They could be nonbinary as well.”

“True,” he hummed, “if they do come out as nonbinary, we’ll let them choose their own name. But we do still need to choose a name.”

“That’s true,” you hummed, carefully disinfecting his wound, “We should prepare for both.”

“I agree,” he responded, though his words came out through a clenched jaw. 

“So what are you thinking, then?” 

“Hm, I’m not sure about for a boy. But I do have a name picked out for a girl.”

“Oh, yeah?” you smiled, starting to carefully apply the salve to the wound, “What is it?”

“Tallulah,” he smiled softly, “What do you think?”

“That’s gorgeous. I love it.” You set the rest of the salve down, picking up the bandages. 

“I’ve always loved it. I’m really glad you like it as well.”

You directed him to hold his arm up so you could wrap his wound, “It’s beautiful. What about a boy?”

He hummed, “I’m not sure.”

“We could always do Wilbur Jr.”

He snorted, shaking his head, “God, no. I’d sooner name them after Tommy.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “I mean, Thomas would be a good middle name.”

“It would, actually,” he smiled softly. “For a boy, though… Julius could be nice. Or maybe Cornelius.”

You hummed, “Those have a good ring to it. Julius Thomas Soot. Cornelius Thomas Soot.”

“They do. We can think more about it, I suppose. We have time.”

“We do have time,” you hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of his shoulder as you finished the bandage. 

He turned, wrapping his arms around you and laying his head on your chest, pressing a kiss to the baby bump. You moved a hand to gently play with his hair. 

“It was bad today?” You asked softly.

He sighed, “Bad would be an understatement.” 

You nodded softly, kissing the top of his head.

“Do you think we’re bad people? For bringing a kid into this?” He asked softly.

You frowned, “No. I don’t.”

He nodded, holding you a bit tighter. After a moment, he spoke softly, “I’m really scared for them.”

You brushed through his hair with your hand, “Why?”

“I’m going to be honest, it… it doesn’t look good right now. They keep getting stronger and smarter, and I don’t know how to fight them. I’m scared we’re bringing our child into a failing country, and I’m scared I can’t protect you or them if worse comes to worse.” 

“I understand. I’m scared too. But, love… we can’t really do anything now. We just have to try to give this child the best life we can, no matter the circumstances. Even if they’re the worst case scenario.”

He sighed, nodding, “I know. I just… I feel like I fucked up with Fundy. I was too young at the time, and I don’t want to make the same mistakes. And if I’m focused on fighting a war, I won’t be able to be there for them, the same way I wasn’t there for Fundy. I’m scared of being a bad father again.”

“I don’t think you will be,”  you spoke softly, “and you’re not alone this time. You have me. They won’t be alone if you’re not there. I’ll be here.”

He nodded softly, looking up at you, “Thank you. I’m sorry, I’m just…” He trailed off.

“I get it. I’m scared too. I’ve never done this before. I have no clue what I’m doing. Not to mention I’m terrified of giving birth. But I’m scared of making mistakes because I didn’t know until I met you if I would ever have a kid. I’m glad I am, don’t get me wrong, but I never expected to be ready for something like this. Honestly, I still don’t know if I’m ready. I’m terrified, Wilbur. But I have you. I’m not alone.”

He smiled, leaning up to kiss you gently, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, darling,” you spoke softly, kissing him back gently, “Let’s get some rest, now, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded softly. With how exhausted he was, it didn’t take long before he fell asleep, leaving you alone with thoughts of uncertainty until sleep took over.

As you entered the last month of the pregnancy, things were starting to look up. 

Kind of.

While the recent battles had been lost, Wilbur had a plan.

“Darling, I think I’ve figured it out,” he grinned, standing from his desk and walking to the couch you sat on.

“What is it?” You smiled, looking up at him.

“I’ve figured out how we win. Tubbo’s been spying for us, as you know, and he brought me this document yesterday, and I couldn’t see the significance! I was being an idiot, but I knew it didn’t make sense for them to have an entire document detailing how they make their uniforms.” He grinned, and you tilted your head.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a cypher. Darling, it was a code! And I- I figured it out. I know their plans.” He had a manic look in his eye, and you couldn’t help but perk up at the excitement in his tone.

“Love, have you slept?”

“Barely, I couldn’t sleep much because I kept thinking about this stupid fucking document. But darling, we know everything now. We know exactly where they’re going to be and when. We can win, we- we can do this.”

You grinned, but the anxiety still filled your chest at the idea, “You’re sure about this?”

“I- I mean, I think. I figured out the code, and it all makes sense.”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to think of the most likely possibility. That they knew. That this was a fake document.

“Darling, I thought you’d be more excited,” he frowned, catching onto your anxiety. 

“No, no, I am, just… Wilbur, what if they did it on purpose? What if they let him get a document planted just to feed you incorrect information?”

He nodded, thinking quietly. “I trust in it. And I think it may be a risk we have to take.”

You gaped at him, “Wilbur, you could be marching our troops directly into a trap.”

“I know, I know, but,” he sighed, “I have a good feeling about this, I promise. Honestly, I don’t think we have any other choice. Without this, we have nothing.”

You nodded softly, “... you trust it? That- that this isn’t a plant?”

“Yes.”

“And how certain are you?”

He bit his lip, “Mostly certain. It’s the best chance we’ll have, and we have to move fast, their plans start tomorrow.”

You nodded, pulling him in for a tight hug, “Okay. If-if you’re sure. I trust you.”

He hugged you back tightly, and you tried not to think about the fact that he hugged you like it may be the last time, “I love you so much, darling. Don’t worry, okay? This time tomorrow, we’ll be free people.”

You nodded, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling of his arms around you, “I love you too.” You pulled him in for a loving kiss, sighing softly. 

“Go rally your troops.”

Wilbur did just that. He left shortly and brought the plan to all the generals, all the soldiers, everyone he could. He was buzzing with excitement when he returned that night, holding you close as he lied with you in bed, one hand gently resting over your belly. 

“We’re leaving before the sun is up,” he told you softly.

“Will you be back when I wake up?”

He shook his head, “No. But we’ll be back for dinner for sure.”

You smiled softly, holding him closer, “We’ll have a celebratory dinner. Extra special.”

“Oh?” He chuckled, “Extra special?”

“Absolutely. Because we won’t just be celebrating the win. We’ll be celebrating your new role as President.”

He flushed softly, “You think?”

You nodded, “I’ve heard the people speak. They trust you, Wilbur. And I know you’ll make a great president. You’ll create a great place for our child to grow up in.”

“Thank you,” he smiled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your belly, then your cheek.

“Plus,” you hummed, “President Soot does have a good ring to it.”

He smirked, blushing once more, “Oh? You think so?”

“I know so, Mr. President,” you grinned as he leaned up, lips hovering above yours. 

“That does sound nice. Though I may be biased,” he pecked your lips gently, a smirk still ghosting on his lips.

“How so?”

“Well, I think any words that escape your lips are just as gorgeous as the lips they escape from,” he spoke softly, pulling you into a languid and loving kiss. You kissed him back just as passionately, letting the intensity quell your fears about his return tomorrow. 

Wilbur was gone when you woke up the next morning, which you expected. What you didn’t expect was for lunchtime to have been such a bleak affair. You expected much more liveliness from your people, especially given how much Wilbur believed in the plan. But the streets were quiet. There were only hushed words as you walked through town to find a meal, and it seemed as if many people were directing those hushed words towards you.

“Did something happen?” You asked the merchant after you finished your meal.

She gave you a frown, a tense look appearing on her brow, “You haven’t heard?” You felt your heart sinking as you shook your head. 

She sighed, looking down for a moment before looking back up at you, “I’m sorry, uh…” she took a deep breath before speaking, “one of the generals was supposed to come back to check in at noon. They haven’t returned.”

Your eyes widened slightly, but you nodded quietly, “Well, that- that doesn’t mean anything specific yet. Have we heard anything at all from the battlefield?”

She shook her head solemnly, and you nodded once more.

“Alright, well, ah, thank- thank you,” you stuttered out, before rushing away to find the basecamp quarters. You started feeling a pain as you walked, but you didn’t allow yourself to focus on it as you ripped open the tarp to the camp, finding the entire place… empty. It felt like a ghosttown.

You swallowed down the bile that rose in your throat, rushing back home. The pain continued as you walked, and your legs shook stubbornly as you trekked home. You couldn’t tell if the pain was even real, or if it was a side effect of the desperation and doom that filled your heart. As you reached your home, you collapsed against the front door, holding onto the door frame as a groan of pain escaped you. Before you knew it, the ground was rushing up to meet you.

When you woke, you weren’t on the ground. You found yourself in an uncomfortable cot, pain wracking through your body as you failed to sit up.

“Hey, take it easy, it’s okay, you’re okay,” the doctor spoke, coming to help you sit up. You were sweating, and she carefully placed a cold wet cloth to the top of your forehead. 

“What’s- what’s going on? Where’s Wilbur?” You stifled a groan as you spoke. 

“He’s not back yet, none of the troops are. And you’re okay, you passed out when your water broke. You’re going into labor.”

“Fuck,” you hissed out, panting softly. You noticed now the dressing gown you wore, your original clothes laying folded in a pile in the corner. 

“Take some deep breaths for me, you’re doing great, okay?” She instructed, and you nodded, taking a moment to just focus on your breathing.

“What- what time is it?” You asked in between breaths.

“It’s about to be seven.” She told you, turning as she sorted through medical supplies. 

Wilbur should’ve been back by now. You didn’t know if you could do this without him. 

“Your contractions are coming in about every five minutes, and they’re lasting about a minute. You’re not quite there yet, so you have time, alright?”

You bit your lip and nodded, placing a hand over your belly as you prayed to any god that would listen that your husband would be returning to you in one piece, in time for him to meet his child. You’d never felt so alone at such a worse time. You had no midwife, no friends, no husband, just your doctor to guide you through this. 

It was another hour before it was time. You didn’t want it to be, you wanted Wilbur. 

“You’re dilated,” the doctor informed you, grim as you shared a thought on the lack of troops returning, “I’m sorry, but you’re going to start pushing.”

You shook your head, “No, I- I need to wait, please.”

“I’m sorry, I know.” She took your hand in hers, “We still have time, but you need to start.”

As much as you wanted to argue, you knew you couldn’t.

The sound of you yelling in pain during the next contraction was masked with another sound.

Yelling, first. 

Then, the singing. 

And finally, cheering.

It was only a minute later when heard the sound grow, of your people, cheering and singing in the streets outside. It was two minutes later when a medic rushed in, a smile on their face.

“They’re back!” They announced, before rushing to tell whoever they could.

You fought through another contraction as your heart lifted, panic filling you.

“Wilbur,” you spoke weakly, “Wilbur, please, please, find- find Wilbur.”

The doctor looked at you in concern, biting her lip for a moment. 

“Okay. Okay, yes, hold on, let me- I’ll go try to find him, just hold on.”

You nodded rapidly as the doctor rushed out, going to find Wilbur. You gripped the sides of the cot as you groaned in pain, trying desperately to focus on your breathing. 

When she returned, she was alone, “I-I couldn’t find him, but they’re saying he’s alive, don’t worry, okay?”

You let out a breath of relief, head falling back for a moment as you relaxed just as much as you could. She guided you through a few more contractions before you heard the most beautiful sound. 

“Darling?!” You heard Wilbur yell, and you heard his voice get closer with each word, “Excuse me, please, hold on, Y/N!” He ripped open the door, gasping in relief once he saw you.

“Darling, oh my god,” he rushed in, coming in quickly to hold your hand tightly and place his other hand on your cheek. You leaned into his touch as he turned to the doctor, “How far along are they?”

“Breached,” the doctor informed, “Should be any minute now.”

He nodded, and you looked at him, “Will, I was so- fuck- I was so worried.”

He cooed, brushing your hair back, “It’s okay, I’m alright, I’m here now. Darling,” he grinned, eyes filled with tears as you squeezed his hand and groaned in pain. 

“Darling,” he spoke again once the moment had passed, “We- we did it. We won. We’re free.”

You gasped, pulling him into you, “Oh, my god,” you couldn’t fight the tears that fell from your cheeks, “We won?”

He nodded quickly, kissing the top of your head, “We won.”

You let out a sob of relief and joy, but it was quickly masked by another yell of pain.

“You’ve got this, darling, I’m here, we’re free, you can do this,” he told you, holding you close. 

“It’s a girl,” the doctor spoke softly. Wilbur was with you on the cot now, and you both were exhausted for different reasons, but both with joyous outcomes. She brought your daughter over to you, the newborn swaddled carefully. 

You gasped quietly when you saw her, taking her gently in your arms as you leaned against Wilbur. You looked up at him, tears in both of your eyes. He kissed you gently before looking back down at your daughter.

“Tallulah Soot,” he spoke softly, “Welcome to the free nation of L’Manburg.”

You chuckled, though it was slightly muffled from your tears. “The first citizen to be born under a free rule,” you spoke softly, a finger gently stroking her cheek, “Because we won.”

“We won,” Wilbur parroted, disbelief clouding his voice. 

She woke both of you up early with her cries. You held her in your arms as the early morning light poured in slowly, and as you rocked her, Wilbur sat next to you, an arm around your shoulder. 

Her cries softened, and as her big eyes stared up at you, you decided to tell her a story.

“Now, Ms. Lulah,” you spoke softly, “You won’t know this for a few years. But you were born during a very special time. Your father was amazing, he commanded a whole army of people.”

Wilbur chuckled softly, kissing your head, “You were born to two amazing people. One a commander, and one his political advisor who won his heart with their wit and brevity behind closed doors.”

You chuckled, smiling warmly, “Yes, even though he was a disorganized wreck when I met him. Every year, Ms. Lulah, there will be a parade on your birthday. Do you know why?”

Wilbur smiled fondly, “I don’t think she does.”

“Well, then I’ll tell her,” you hummed softly. You looked up, staring out in an empty field, filled with beautiful red flowers as the morning light softly reflected on dew drops that slept on grass. “Because, you, Ms. Lulah, were born on the day your father and our people fought to ensure your freedom. More importantly, you were born on the day they won.”

She let out a soft giggle – the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard – and you grinned lovingly, staring out at that field once more, that never again, would harbor the same bloodshed. As the sun poured in, you could see in your mind, her running in that field, picking those red flowers, and never once knowing of the same hardships that allowed crimson blood to pour on your land.

All she would know is the daylight.

[anonymous-dentist]

Okay, now let's look at these five now that we know that at least three of them have some kind of deep connection with the Federation.

Briefly, let's recap our Federation Three:

ElQuackity- Federation employee, high-up, seemingly very important. Possible q!Quackity clone. Bad Dude.

q!Foolish- Member of the q!Brown Family/q!Fooligetta Family, aka the Federation's Favorites. Is currently technically a Federation employee as a detective. Has been pursuing Cucurucho for months trying to get a cloud. Wants to be Employee Of The Month. He's got a crazy strong connection with the Capybaras, which are basically confirmed to be Federation employees/creations in some way.

q!Baghera- Former Federation child experiment, escaped. Presumably the reason the French Plane was brought down onto the island. No memories of anything before the plane, including her own torture.

But then let's look at the other two:

q!Etoiles- Federation Anti and Codebreaker. The literal only person out here able to defeat the Codes. Survived multiple assassination attempts. French.

q!Felps- The OG Kidnapped Brazilian. Frozen in ice like the 'new' islanders, was broken out by the Federation's Employee Of The Month, came back with a weird black mark on his arm. Disappeared, reappeared 'frozen' along with the 'new' islanders looking completely different.

So three of these guys have confirmed connections with the Federation, leaving Felps and Etoiles to the side... right?

Well, let's look at Etoiles first. He's one half of the Codebreakers, and he has the Shield that the Codes/maybe the Federation desperately wants. He came onto the island saying he wouldn't get attached to Pomme, but now he's the eggs' number one protector. Only two people have ever managed to murder him, q!Baghera with a Gun and then q!Willy with his mines. He's basically the island's 'Chief of Security'. He's chilling.

So, nothing there that we know of. Like Baghera, he doesn't seem to have a lot of his memories, but none of the French really do. They're like the English and Spanish speakers: none of them really have any memories of anything before the island except for q!Bad and q!Slime, who are hinted towards having unknown connections with the Federation. (See: the og character teasers where Jaiden, Bad, Slime, and Wilbur were all teased. Jaiden is confirmed to have an unknown past as a possible Federation employee, Wilbur is liked enough by the Federation to be able to leave the island basically as he pleases for his tours. Bad and Slime have memories of their lives before the island- Bad knowing about his time loop thing and Slime remembering having a bunch of siblings [including little orphan q!Mike] and terrible parents.)

Now let's look at q!Felps. He drove, and crashed, the Brazilians' cargo ship onto the island. He was the first character to get kidnapped (he's a real trendsetter), and he was frozen in a block of ice for a month as the Federation did... something to him. He was murdered by f!Cell in prison prior to the QSMP. q!Cellbit is his best friend, and he broke Felps out of the Federation through the literal Power of Friendship. Felps came out with a weird mark on his arm and a fear of Cucurucho. He spends his time digging a square, which is just What Felps Does. His skin for a bit was the exact same construction uniform as the Federation's Faceless Workers with the minor addition of pants, but tbh he probably wouldn't wear those either if he had a choice. He's also got a major connection with the capybaras. He disappears for a bit, but nobody questions it because he's. Felps. But, when he comes back, he's in a little icebox of a house near spawn and he's gotten a pretty cool makeover.

Felps is Felps. It's hard to look into his character too seriously because he's Felps. But it stands to reason that, out of all the Brazilians, he's the one most likely to have a previous connection with the Federation. (Let's put aside the Manager's Son!Forever headcanon and the Agent 03!Cellbit headcanon.) On his own, it's easy to think that he's just being Felps. But stick him on a screen with three confirmed Federation People and then Etoiles, and it's pretty clear that he has something to do with the Feds.

My personal theory is that Felps was a laboratory experiment that became sentient and fucking Left. He's an enigma. Only one person understands him, and it's his son. Even his best friend Cellbit can't really get him, mostly because He Is Felps. He's the server's resident cryptid. After he escaped from the Federation, it took them a While to realize, oh, shit, they lost the guy that gets lost all the time. And then he managed to crash his boat onto the island however many years later just as a coincidence and in such a sudden way that even the Federation was like "Bro what the fuck". This could explain why the Federation, who doesn't exactly like random people snooping around their island, never actually got rid of the Brazilians: Felps was back, and they couldn't lose him again, and keeping his friends around is the best way to keep him around.

That leaves Etoiles, who might actually have some kind of connection with the Codes. They might hate him and he might hate them, but they have some sort of weird Homestuck-y connection going on. It's a mutual hatred, and a mutual respect. If the theory that the Codes are renegade Federation employees who were turned into monsters as a punishment for trying to leave, then there's a real possibility that Etoiles is another one of those runaway employees. But, unlike them, he managed to escape. He got away, and they hate him for it even if they can't recognize why through their scrambled little data brains. But they can't help but respect him because he got away. This makes him another potential reason for the French Plane being shot down: the Federation realized that someone got away, and that he was on the same plane as their runaway experiment. He doesn't remember the Codes, but the Codes could remember him.

So let's finish this theorizing off with a brief recap:

TLDR;

ElQuackity and q!Baghera are confirmed Federation employees/experiments. q!Foolish is a new Federation employee, but his weird grey way of dealing with the Feds make him Sus

q!Felps has had a lot of weird Federation shit happen to him since he crashed the Brazilian Boat onto the island, so he could be another escaped experiment. Unlike Baghera, however, he randomly came back, and the Federation couldn't let him or the other Brazilians go because he came back.

q!Etoiles doesn't have an obvious connection with the Federation, but he does seem to have some kind of connection with the Codes. Because of this, it's possible that he has some kind of past with the Federation that has made him and the Codes have some kind of Homestuck-y kismesissitude(?) going on

[showf4lls]

ɞ ― when you said you loved me; wilbur

cw + info! minific, domestic fluff, established relationship, gender neutral reader / implied burnout, fatigue symptoms

prompt! "sorry, i think my brain stopped for a second when you said you loved me”

dedication! @ivyinnit​​

notes! again, super sorry that this is literally A YEAR late, but i’m trying to jump on this scrap of motivation that i have! i hope you guys like it :>

if you were being honest with yourself, it had been… a week. not quite bad but definitely not competing with any sunshine or rainbows. you were more than excited for the date night you and wilbur had planned at the beginning of the week. you wasted no time once you got off of work, heading home only to change into something that was not your work clothes and pack a bag before heading straight to wilbur’s apartment. you guys didn’t do date nights in like this too often, but you had enough prior experience to know that you’d probably fall asleep together on his couch and end up staying the night whether you planned for it or not, so it was pretty worth it to pack a bag. it wasn’t that far, the journey easy on your aching feet, and the route was pleasantly familiar. the sun had just begun to set when you knocked on his door with your overnight bag slung over one shoulder, a pillow pet tucked under the other arm. “hello,” you greeted, tone soft and hazy, when wilbur opened the door for you. the fatigue that hung over you was nearly palpable, almost seeming to come off of you in waves. he could tell immediately by the droop of your tired shoulders the kind of week you had.

“hi, honey,” he greeted gently. set a hand on your shoulder and stepped out of your way. “why don’t you come in? you can go change into your cozies in my room if you’d like. i’m just working on dinner.”

you nodded tiredly, humming in response. your eyes stayed shut just a second too long as you blinked and wilbur gently urged you down the hallway to his room.

“if you don’t come out in ten minutes, i’m coming to check on you!” he called after you, smiling softly as he watched you shuffle along.

“sounds good,” you mumbled in return, stepping into his room, only closing the door behind you most of the way. it was fine; you knew wilbur wasn’t the type to try and sneak a peek. yawning, you pulled your clothes off, not even bothering to fold them. you enthusiastically exchanged them for comfier pajamas – a pair of red plaid pajama pants and a hoodie you’d borrowed from wilbur a few weeks ago. you had originally intended to return it, but right now you couldn’t quite find it in yourself to care that far. that and you knew that he wouldn’t be super likely to have a problem with it. once you were finished, you tucked your backpack and the balled-up pile of your clothes into the corner of his room to take care of later. 

“less than ten minutes,” you announced sleepily as you trudged into his kitchen. “you don’t have to come check on me. see, i’m quite capable of dressing myself, thank you.” it was teasing and light, the most that you had the energy for at the moment. 

“i know you are,” he assured you, something about his tone fond. he stood in front of the stove, stirring a pot of something, a couple jars of sauce sitting on the counter beside him. “i just wanted to make sure you were okay. you seem a little sleepy is all.”

you hummed, crossing your arms over your chest. “thank you, much appreciated.”

a beat as wilbur added a pinch more of salt to the water. “are you sure you can make it through a movie tonight? because i’d be more than happy to read for a little bit if you wanted to sleep after dinner.”

you shook your head, the action much resembling that of a tuckered out toddler. “no, i wanna try. i might fall asleep, but maybe we could just watch a nature documentary instead of something on our list. don’t wanna make you rewatch it later just because i fell asleep.”

wilbur huffed a laugh, light and affectionate. “i wouldn’t mind rewatching anything, you know. as long as you get the rest you need.”

another shake of your head. “nope. i vote nature documentary. something with big cats on the savanna or something like that.”

wilbur gave another laugh, nodding. “alright. nature documentary it is then,” he conceded.

then, silence. it was comfortable. the air was warm, the perfect temperature to help you relax after a long week. your head lolled to the side as you leaned against the doorframe, leaving your cheek to rest against your shoulder. it was so comfortable here. nothing felt more like home than moments like these, watching your boy be all soft and in his element. he hummed a tune to himself - something he’d probably been working on for a new song - as he stirred, occasionally putting his hand up to catch some of the steam rising from the pot. he swayed to the beat, not seeming to mind your fatigued state too much. it helped ease the guilt that you held about not being able to give him a very interesting night. moments like these helped to remind you that you didn’t need to be stellar company all the time, that he was just content to have you around.

“wilbur?” you asked, hugging yourself now.

“yes, love?” he turned to look at you over his shoulder. “do you need something?”

you shook your head lightly. “no, i was just wondering what you were making for dinner. nothin’ crazy.”

wilbur’s expression melted into a smile. “i was just gonna make some pasta with the sauce how you like it. with the tomato sauce, the alfredo, and the spinach. and i got some bread, too. does that sound alright?”

you gave him a small grin, making a sound of approval. “oh, that sounds wonderful. can’t wait.”

“i figured you would,” he said, sounding proud of himself. “it’s easy, it tastes good, and i know for a fact that you like it.”

“i do, i do,” you agreed, padding over to hug him from behind. your arms wrapped gently around his middle and you pressed your face against his back. “thank you, wilbur. i love you so much. i appreciate you tons. this all means a lot.”

wilbur tensed, making a noise of surprise. a beat of silence.

you squeezed his middle, confused at the change in energy. “wilbur, are you alright?”

“i-i-i,” he stammered, brain buffering as he struggled to process your words. “no, yeah! i-i’m fine.” he gave a self deprecating laugh, letting the wooden spoon sit in the pot for just a moment as he turned around in your embrace to face you. “sorry, i think my brain stopped for a second when you said you loved me.”

you blushed at the realization. you hadn’t meant to say it right then, but you didn’t mean it any less. it was true; you loved him, and not just for all the things he did for you. you just wished that the first time you said it to him had been a little bit more intentional than you mumbling it into the back of his tee shirt while you were half asleep.

“hey, hey,” he whispered, pulling you out of your own head. one of his hands moved to cup your cheek. “i love you too, you know. a lot, actually.”

“good.” you grinned, leaning up to press the tips of your noses together, almost a bunny kiss. “because i mean it, soot.”

he hummed, content. “i mean it too.”

you hummed back, happy to rest against him like this forever.

his thumb grazed over your cheek before he pulled away, cheeks red and smile soft. “sorry to ruin the moment, but i’m gonna try and finish this pasta before you fall asleep on me. does that sound alright?”

you nodded, forehead against his back as he turned around to face the stove again. “love you, wil,” you mumbled again, this time through a yawn.

he laughed softly at the admission, his free hand finding one of yours that was still clasped around his middle. he held it, thumb grazing comfortingly over the back of it. “i love you too.”

[firesnap]

hi you don’t have to answer this (of course) but i have no idea what’s happening as ive read a lot of posts about the situation on tumblr (wishing shubble all the best) and watched the vod before it was deleted, but i havent seen anybody actually say why they think shelby and wilbur dated, everybody is just treating it like an objective fact to prelude their other “evidence” when i thought they were just friends. he never would have come to mind when she said “ex” without first seeing all of the posts about him in advance. since you said that you saw a lot of stuff with your updates blog, is this smth that’s true (that they dated)? im not in the wheelhouse of “MY favorite white man would never do such a thing!” bc it can always be all men, but i would like to know if the very foundation of people’s argument that it’s him holds any water since i seem to have missed a memo where everybody knows they dated (??). every “proof” ive seen just states it as fact and doesnt say why they think that. (i also do not have twitter/x so if the relationship confirmation is smth that’s from there then my bad). hope you’re okay

They dated for over a year. They never hid that they dated, they just didn't tell their audiences. As an update account, we saw many things that made it clear they were together but, for their privacy and because it was literally no one's business, we had a pretty strict policy to not post anything that would confirm it. The other update accounts associated with either of them had similar policies.

I regret that it makes it easier for people to be like "they never dated so clearly it wasn't him" because we didn't confirm anything.

But I don't regret feeling like it was none of our business at that time.

[th3-c0ll3ct3r]

Twitter: Wilbur didn't do anything! There's no proof!

Wilbur in his apology:

"this persons feelings are completely vaild"

"These actions caused alot of pain to my ex-girlfriend"

"I have come to realise how much my past behaviour hurt this person"

(Realise Google definition: become fully AWARE of (something) as a fact; understand CLEARLY)

"I understood from our numerous conversation [...] consensual" followed by "while I may have perceived our interactions differently, I recognise that has processed and expressed feeling of hurt"

His "I understood" turns to a very uncertain "I may have perceived" - the additional "may have" making him seem not very confident in what he's saying.

He's confident in the things that make him look better but not confident when it comes to the overall overview of the situation because he saw it different.

He recognised that he had done something bad. This is from his apology himself!

But The Looky why are you taking apart quotes?

Wilbur Soot, on multiple occasions, has stated that he is an English Major (he literally wrote most the dsmp scripts), so why would an English major international use this type of wording.

Because when you take it apart, it makes him seem more confident in himself and pushes that he's not confident in her 'allegations'

His lack of confidence and acknowledgment is a divisive move by Wilbur to capitalise on his vulnerable fans and audience to make them believe in him more. The MEDIA and NEWS do this all the time.

It creates a "if he doesn't know what he's talking about then he didn't do it vibe" or a plain display ignorance, to make him look better.

And he made an apology UNPROMPTED, like when shelby said her ex she didn't say Wilbur.

It could have been an ex before or after him, if it wasn't him then he wouldn't need to apologise and could've been like "Hey that's not me!"

He didn't. He said it was him by making a response. Why apologise for something you didn't do?

You could argue that Shelby was a "terrible partner" or "used him for his clout" but on what basis?

If she was a terrible partner that's make a pair, and there is a bunch of evidence that support the fact that Wilbur behaves the way BOTH HE AND SHE HAVE STATED.

And if she was "using him for clout" then he could have been like, "Hey I don't like you. I don't want to stream with you anymore"

But then he joined Origins Smp and Shelby was there, they were both ghost, he goes out of his way to interact with her.

Your gonna act like if Wilbur told Tommy he was uncomfortable with Shelby being there, Tommy would have said no? Really?

And in the some Wilbur / shelby streams Wilbur was at her house.

Wilbur would have been better of saying his apology was AI generated and to have written a new one with he excuse, "he was in a rush"

[bellelikesmcyt]

im turning anon for this one cuz I feel this is problematic stuff to say

So I don't wanna sound old or anything but

I just wanna say, that in our religion it is written that a criminal or a person with wrong doings will always recieve their punishment one way or the other. Aka ""something like actions have consiquence "" or ""Karma""

Of Wilbur really did do something bad to shubble like (definately not abuse) being toxic etc, then he has already had his punishment, (i still wouldn't call it abuse)

Those 4 months of isolation are enough, wilburs health deteriorated terrible, he probably suffered mentally too. But it's ENOUGH for what he has "done" , if whatever he is alleged to do is true.

Above that wishing death upon him is not necessary, has he been the one to kill shubble literally then the death threats would have mean something.

i agree! death wishes are overkill and unnecessary 99% of the time. i’m not religious myself, but i also believe in karma, or “what goes around comes around”. i don’t think he was a saint at all- but being a dick isn’t abusive. thanks for the message :)

[cupcraft]

You can’t say “I do know things like this take time” and then turn around and criticize Phil for not having made a statement (or addressed it on stream) already, saying that it could make him complicit in abuse. “Do it or you’re a bad person” is pressuring, whether you’re saying it to his face or not. 

Remember when Tubbo saw Wilbur’s “apology” minutes before starting his stream and had to talk about it on the fly without any kind of preparation? It’s good on him, but no one should be obligated to do that. Ranboo literally went on stream to say that some ccs were still processing, and to not expect immediate statements. And they’re right (and they had to, because some fans are throwing out accusations like yours)

I also hope everyone speaks out about it, I really do. When they’re ready to, and not before. Signing off.

Im not pressuring him to make a statement right now. Phil has had past behavior not speaking up about important things and cc behavior. He even said palestine was "too political" for him as just a "mc guy :(". I'm allowed to be wary. Im allowed to be wary and concerned when once again it's been brought to our attention BY VICTIMS that many ppl were silent about abuse over and over and over again.

So yes I hope he speaks up in general. Please stop taking bad faith reads of my posts. O7. Stop being a defender of your fav and instead bolster victim voices. Please call out patterns of behavior that have been brought to our attention again by victims. My critique isn't just about Phil you know it's about patterns of behavior that have caused lack of safety for so many people like lexie like niki like billzo and that group like shubble.

[bonesandthebees]

new file added to au’s I will probably never write but are fun to rotate in the brain microwave:

qsmp pacific rim au

instead of kaiju, you have alien creatures that shift and warp their giant forms and sometimes look like literal binary code to people although no one can agree quite on what one looks like. they just know it when they see it. and you also have the federation running the jaeger program with our good ol friend cucurucho overseeing it all

ft. pilot pairings like

Jaiden and Roier who have always been a great duo until the son they've been coparenting was critically injured in a recent attack

Forever struggling to find someone he’s drift compatible with until a French pilot named Baghera gets transferred to the base

Charlie and Mariana who were a great pilot team until their daughter Juanaflippa was killed in a binary entity attack on the base itself, and the two both went off the rails the next time they tried piloting. long story short they both freaked out and accidentally took out a support beam, killing Tilin and a few other workers. it was deemed to be partly a glitch through the drift system and not entirely their fault, but they were both banned from piloting for the forseeable future

Quackity and Luzu were supposed to be a pilot duo, but Luzu went missing before they could ever get in the jaeger and hasn't been seen in months. Then Quackity's child Tílin was killed unintentionally by Charlie and Mariana's breakdown, and since then he's been deemed too unstable to pilot. Somehow Wilbur, a random computer tech who isn't trained to be a pilot, is the only person they've found that's also drift compatible with Quackity. But again, Quackity isn't allowed to pilot atm, and Wilbur has no interest in getting in the giant robot death machine. He has a daughter to take care of after all.

Phil has been a pilot longer than most and at the moment is piloting with Missa, who is much newer to piloting

Tazercraft are a very well-renowned pilot duo worldwide largely because of how high their drift compatibility is

but there's not just pilots! (also this is getting long so gonna put this under the cut)

cellbit is a biologist that studies the entities, but after he gets transferred to the base he starts getting suspicious of what's going on 'upstairs' with the federation itself

baghera is the only pilot in the french group. the rest of the guys are the engineers for her jaeger

felps, who was a biologist alongside cellbit, also went missing shortly after arriving on the base. people think both he and luzu are deserters but cellbit keeps insisting felps wouldn't just leave like that

maxo is a software engineer who is supposed to focus on the jaeger drift system but he also keeps dabbling with an AI he built himself in secret

bad is kind of like HR/social services for the base, and therefore it's kind of his job to babysit everyone's kids if they're busy with other stuff and will also usher them to a safe room during any attacks

foolish and vegetta are both jaeger engineers who met on the base and very quickly fell for each other. they're like the romcom portion of the whole thing

fit is a geologist trying to figure out where the fuck the entities are coming from

and of course there's the kids

there were a lot of kids made orphans by the initial attacks on major cities. there's an 'educational' program the federation has set up to allow a few kids orphaned through these attacks to live at the shatterdome and learn the ins and outs of jaegers when they're young as unofficial prep for the jaeger academy

because of this many people on the base did not intend to adopt kids they just kind of. bonded and eventually took them in.

for bobby, jaiden and roier were already copilots so when jaiden started bonding with this kid she met in the shatterdome roier soon followed thanks to the drift sharing

juanaflippa thought charlie and mariana were the coolest pilot team around and she just kept following them until charlie was like "is it unethical to teach a child how to shoot a gun? Idc I'm gonna do it anyway" and that sealed the bond

juanaflippa and trump both died in the same entity attack on the shatterdome

phil had wilbur long before the first entity attacks ever started, but during his time at the shatterdome phil quickly took a liking to chayanne and put in a request to adopt him. once he and missa start piloting together, missa gets parental feelings for chayanne seeing him through phil's memories and the two just unintentionally become coparents

part of why wilbur refuses to be a pilot is because he grew up with his dad as a pilot and knows how terrifying it is as a kid. he also never intended on having a kid at least until the entities were defeated because who would want to bring a kid into a world like that, but then he met a shy orphan girl at the shatterdome named tallulah and he was a goner.

people are very surprised when they learn bad and dapper are not biologically related. the two act exactly alike but no, dapper was an orphan bad ended up getting really really close to

when the shatterdome was still trying to find luzu quackity felt very listless since he didn't have a copilot and couldn't do anything. he ended up spending time with tilin, although he was always hesitant to label himself as a father. when tilin died though he was heartbroken

baghera is a more recent transfer to the shatterdome and stumbles across pomme on her first day. the little girl says one thing in french and baghera is like "oh my god she's mine" while the rest of her engineering crew are like "who is this random child why are you carrying her" (but they all end up warming up to her pretty quickly)

okay this ended up being way longer than I meant it to be god why is pacific rim so fun to rotate in the brain microwave

[modelbus]

Hello! Do you think you'd be interested in doing part 2 of the Tommy x male reader and the destiny duck thing? i found it so funny and think it def deserves a part 2

I'd love to! I apologize for vanishing for a few weeks and for how short this is, school has been hectic with AP exams. Check out the first part :)

Pairing: CC!Tommyinnit x Male!Reader

Childhood Friends to Lovers - Soulmate AU Part 2

After reuniting with Tommy, life only seems to keep going up. The two of you click in a way you've never had happen before, conversations flowing better than beer at a frat party. And this time, you had his number. He wouldn't be vanishing on you again.

You learn that he's actually some crazy popular streamer, which only pissed you off a little. Seriously, you could've done one internet search and found him! But no, you had to spend forever wondering if you'd ever see him again.

Although tentative at first, you had become a little more comfortable walking in on his streams if you were in the area. It was rare, but it was amusing to see Twitter become chaos afterward. You certainly didn't give a shit he was a streamer though, simply enjoying Tommy for, well, Tommy. In all his stupidly funny and very chaotic glory.

Tommy had dragged you into a lot of bad ideas already. At the campground after the two of you met, you were both gone for so long that his parents called the cops! That was only the start, too. From spontaneously deciding it'd be fun to swim at night to convincing you to learn how to jet-ski with him, the two of you did everything together.

So, really, you shouldn't be so surprised when he asks you to do a stream with him, but you are. Streaming was certainly a big part of his life, and you'd put his streams on in the background to support him, but that was it. Yet here you are, sitting in a chair in his office, streaming with him.

His office was a cozy place, truly reflecting his personality. You liked it, a lot. The only downside was that you two couldn't cause too much chaos.

"How did I meet him?" Tommy reads off one of his monitors. It's open on the chat, messages rolling in to replace old ones.

"Shit." You laugh. "It all goes back to one fucking campground."

"Yeah, it kind of does. Huh, that's so weird!" Tommy grins, then leans back. "Answer them!"

"What?"

"Are you just going to leave poor chat waiting? Tell them how we met!"

Oh, that asshole.

"Fine." You sigh. "It was a dark and dreary day in December-"

"That's not what happened!" He yells.

You roll your eyes, moving your chair a little closer to his microphone and computer screens.

"We met when we were really young at a campsite, but then lost each other for a long time." You sum up. "We were too dumb as kids to think about having our parents meet each other, so I only had a picture of us to remember him by."

"But!" Tommy jumps in. "We both went to the campsite again and found each other!"

"I wouldn't say we found each other. More like... got chased into each other."

"I'm still convinced those geese-duck birds were sent by mastermind assassins! Like, what are the fucking odds?" Tommy pauses to read the chat for a moment. "Geese?" He reads. "Yeah! These two geese chased us until we literally ran into each other! I thought they were going to fucking kill us!"

"It hasn't happened again, or I'd think we were cursed." You joke.

The little story sends chat flying, and you look away so as to not get a headache. How Tommy did this so often you had no idea, but it was certainly admirable.

"Hang on, what the hell are destiny geese?" He asks. "Soulmate geese? Which is it? Here, you google it."

Tommy pushes his keyboard and mouse toward you, and you take them. Honestly, you aren't even sure which monitor and which tab you're typing in until the search is already complete and he's stolen the mouse back.

"Hey! I was using that!" You protest.

"You snooze you fucking lose. Oh, it's some type of legend! Wilbur would know what this is, his lame ass."

"Old, lame, and somehow still a fucking nerd."

If there is one thing you can hop on, it's bullying Wilbur. You had met him quickly, and according to him you were "perfect for Tommy." Although you and Tommy had spent the hour before that taunting him about Hamilton, so he was clearly biased.

"So what I'm reading is that soulmate geese just chase two soulmates into each other?" You ask, reading the article he had pulled up.

"So what, we're soulmates or some shit?" Tommy wrinkles his nose.

"Absolutely not, no way I'm soulmates with a bitch like you."

"Oi! Says you, dickhead!"

You feign hurt, shoving him to the side, only for him to shove you back.

"Fight me, right here, right now, pussyhead!" He yells, standing up.

Similarly standing up, you raise your fists in front of you instead of adopting the weird crouching position he had going on. You mime throwing a punch and he dramatically collapses to the ground.

"I've been hurt! I've been killed! Abuse! Abuse!"

"And that is why I'm better." You say to the stream.

[guppybubbles]

You wanted prompts so let me hit you with some fake fic titles! No pressure to do them all and you can take as long as you like🥰 will send em separately too!

A Glass half Full

A GLASS HALF FULL

Borrower Wilbur and Borrower Techno are realists. When reality gets too negative, Techno is always there to be Wilbur's optimist.

Word Count: 1,714 words

CONTENT WARNING!!! : mentions of blood, decapitation, and a rat. these are only mentioned once, but a warning is good.

( A/N: i wrote these in between my study sessions for the exams,,,,,,,,, also yayy my first fic in like.. seven years i think? have mercy on me idk what i'm doing. ALSO THIS IS MOSTLY JUST TECHNO AND WILBUR BONDING I JUST LOVE THEM OKAY. also also ty for the fic title beckyu!! )

Wilbur paced back and forth, arms crossed and in deep thought. "How many days do you think our food can last?" 

"About two days— three, if we can portion it out correctly." Techno replied, sitting on their makeshift couch as he opened their very own medical kit, filled with cut up bandages, drops of alcohol, a little roll of tape and other things they've borrowed over the years. 

"And… your arm?" 

Techno unwrapped the bandages and winced at the horrible sight, dried blood and bite marks after they encountered an abnormally big rat yesterday. He handled it better than he expected, but before the injured rat scurried away, it attempted to bite his head head off, which resulted with him blocking with his arm. “S’fine. Nothing too bad.”

Wilbur sighed, and Techno could imagine the exasperated eye-roll behind him. “It really isn’t that bad.”

“Yeah. Nothing too bad my arse.” His twin circled around the couch and took a cotton ball, pouring alcohol and taking hold of his arm. His eyebrows furrowed in a way that meant he was thinking of so many things, his eyes were on Techno’s arm but his mind was elsewhere. Despite being distracted, he was careful. Of course, the alcohol gently cleaning his fresh wounds still hurt and he would wince every time it stung a little too much, but Wilbur knew when to pause and give him a break before continuing. 

Wilbur took a new bandage roll and wrapped it around Techno’s arm. “What’s wrong?”

“What?” Wilbur looked at him, a confused look on his face.

“You’re thinking about something. What are you thinking about?” 

“Oh.” Wilbur avoided his gaze again, biting off the tape and securing his wounds in his newly bandaged arm. “It’s— We just need more food. I’ll go borrow some right now, and don’t come with me, I swear to Prime, you’re injured.”

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Techno still ended up following him.

Wilbur had thought he convinced him to stay behind and rest, he even stayed for TWENTY more minutes trying to get Techno to lay down and not get up. He listed potential things he could do while waiting for him to get back, it wasn’t a very long list, and it only lessened because Techno was injured and what they mostly did was build new furniture or upgrade their equipment. For extra measure, Wilbur took Techno’s borrowing equipment to make sure he doesn’t have anything to use to venture out, forcing his twin into house arrest. It was with good intentions, Wilbur thought, He was literally injured.

“You think I could just let you leave to go borrow so early in the morning?” Techno argued, holding Wilbur’s borrowing equipment. After that, there was nothing else Wilbur could do to convince Techno to go back, because Techno was stupidly stubborn, and held his hand to drag him to the pantry.

His stubbornness irritated Wilbur so much, because it was exactly like him. While having incredibly different interests, they still acted the same, that’s what made them get along after spending their entire life in tandem. Together, they were raised for different jobs in their old colony. Together, they’d switch their looks just so they could avoid the chore they hate. Together, they grew up and left the colony. Everything they did, they did it together. Wilbur guessed simply getting food from the pantry wouldn’t be an exception from that.

They moved in silence, but not one of them needed instructions from the other for the reason that they were also moving in sync. As they gathered food, not a single sound was made, not even when they ruffled through plastic material did it make a noise. “There’s something still bothering you.” Techno noted, almost finished with packing his own bag of food. Not including the stash they had at home, the food bags they were holding could last them for a week or so. Wilbur stayed silent, tying up his pack and slinging it over his shoulder. “I think we got enou—” “Wil.”

Techno cut him off, already knowing his evasion tactics. Wilbur found their surroundings much more interesting than his twin. “If you wanna say something, we got to talk it out. Were you so distracted with your thoughts that you didn’t notice the pantry door isn’t locked? You didn’t even tell me to hide from the doors opening view or anything.” 

“What’s wrong?” Techno asked again. There was a slight shift in his tone, unnoticeable to anyone that wasn’t his twin. He was worried, and Wilbur felt bad that he was hiding his thoughts to his only companion for years. He still wanted to think about it some more, it’s the reason why he made the excuse of leaving so he could have just a little time for himself before speaking with Techno about it.

“I think it’s time we move out.” Wilbur finally looked at the pink-haired borrower for his reaction, only for Techno to make a gesture that told him to go on and elaborate. He took a seat on the floor before he spoke again.

“... The humans are in here too much. The kid’s got this.. Summer break so I don’t think he leaves for school until.. I don’t know how long! You know this, we can’t even go out at night most of the time because his schedule is unpredictable. I mean, one moment, he’s awake the whole day and night and the other he’s just sleeping for how long. Then the dad, his shifts are different too. He goes out early and we don’t know how long we have until he gets back, and even when he leaves, the kid’s still here too! We stay inside most of the time and we barely even have a chance to go and refill when our supply runs out. Not to mention, that fucking rat! Have you seen how huge that thing was?!”

He continued, “No matter how long we wait, one of them will always be wandering around. It’s not safe.”

They stood in silence for Prime knows how long. “But… Why now? You said you loved it here.” Techno asked, leaning against a box of cereals. “Even when they had Christmas break and stayed here almost every day for those long weeks, you never even thought about leaving.”

When Wilbur stayed silent, having that same expression of deep thought, it was Techno’s turn to continue talking. “I think this house is pretty great. Many hiding spots, escape routes, and they always buy a lot of stuff so they never notice when anything goes missing. Even though they stay up late, they’re always too focused on their work so we have enough time to do what we need to before they notice. It’s way better than going to a new home and having to relearn this all over again, right?”

“No. Maybe— I thought maybe I liked it here, but it’s just not safe.”

“It’s safer here than it is out there.” Techno sat next to Wilbur, awkwardly patting his shoulder in a way to show his affection. Wilbur would’ve laughed at his awkwardness, but only shrugged his hand away. “We’re borrowers, Tech. No where is safe for us.”

There was silence again. 

…

“Okay.”

“Hm?” Wilbur hummed, looking at his twin.

“If you think it’s best if we leave. Then, I trust you. We’ll leave.” Techno stood up from where he sat, and hung the bag of food on his shoulder once more. “Besides, I’m 100% sure that there are better houses than this. Maybe we could even land on a cool big house, a mansion.”

“I doubt that we can find a mansion here, but you know what, we never know.” Wilbur shrugs, following after Techno.

“I got to say though, I’ll miss this place. We were the first ones here before they moved in and they have the audacity to kick us out? Granted, we never did pay rent but first come, first serve.” Wilbur laughed at Techno, covering his mouth to muffle his laugh. His giggles were silent and quiet. Together, they began walking to their passageway back home.

“I’ll probably miss the humans too. They are kind of funny sometimes.” Wilbur only hummed. He’ll miss them too. But, they were the reason he thought of leaving in the first place. 

It was just one night. The kid was half-asleep, and Wilbur was in a tipsy state. He accidentally replied to the kid when they were just talking to themself, then it devolved into an hours long conversation until they both drifted asleep. With him hidden safely in the walls, and the kid sleeping on his bed— seemingly just speaking to his wall for an insane amount of time. Wilbur hated it.

He hated that he genuinely enjoyed his time speaking with him. He hated it that he was the one who broke the basic rules of borrowing. He hated being curious about that one drink the dad prevented the younger blond from drinking.

After that incident, Wilbur noticed the kid would occasionally look at the walls longer than normal and his heart would spike whenever he would be close to seeing him. Guilt only ate at him as the habit remained, sending shivers of anxiety through him whenever they would go borrow— he would turn around and expect to find those same blue eyes looking straight at him. Looking straight at Techno.

He can’t afford his own twin flame pay for the mistakes that he made. It’s why they have to leave.

“Let’s go. My arm is starting to ache again.”

“Yeah. That’s what you get for not listening to me.”

Behind him, Techno choked and coughed.

“Tech? What’s wrong, are you si—” Wilbur was interrupted when Techno stood in front of him, dropping his bag of food and instead holding a pin with his good arm. He stared at the pink-haired borrower, noticing the coughing continued, but not from him.

His gaze travelled to the entrance of the pantry. Coughing up a storm, the blond pounded on his chest, attempting to calm himself down. Wilbur noticed the glass of water that he was presumably drinking out of. A human caught them, not just a human, it was the kid.

… Fucking hell. 

[sootwilb]

Can I rant about the LC! and LVJY thing here? (If not, you don't have to post this)

It seems like LC! resents the forced/imaginary bond the fans made up between their band and LoveJoy more than Wil or Lovejoy itself. They seem to want to make it on their own, with their own hard work “We’ve been doing this for such a long time, and we’re legit and worthwhile in own right, so I didnt want to ride on anyone coattails.” as they said. Even though they did profit off the exposer, which they didn’t denied and acknowledged “That streamer did play a huge part in a number of young fans getting into us, and immediately I was aware of the benefits we were seeing from it.” “So we sold a lot of merch off the back of that connection, which during Covid was a real boon for the band.”

Yet they also said they resented it from the start, but decided to profit of the thing they resented anyway?

And is it just me or did some of the text sound or come off as extremely rude? I mean, I understand not wanting to be involved with LVJY or Wil the current drama that surrounds them right now, but it sounds or comes across like they resent him ever being a fan of theirs. They acknowledged that he was a fan of theirs “They covered an LC! song. They would talk about us and wear our merch,” and then still go on to say they resented it from the start. 

I just feel sad for Wilbur to be honest, they are/were his favorite band and he's done nothing wrong but be a fan. And because he's a fan of course he's going to talk about them, his favorite band, wear their merch, makes some covers, and inform others about them. He hasn't done nothing that other fans wouldn't do, it's just because he was a well-known twitch streamer, that's it.

And whats even worse in the quote retweets of the OG post people are saying “they shouted out LVJY before playing KD and mentioned people wearing merch associated with WS during the show.” “l have retweeted photos of Wil and Tom and they have alluded to Wil in a merch post as well as shouted out Wilbur at a gig” so according to tweets they did acknowledge Wil, maybe even reffering to him by name, which would make the following quote a possible lie. “There was this association between ourselves and the streamer that we never did anything to [encourage].” Yet according to these quotes you did even if just a little. Like… I hope Wil never finds out or has someone with him because this is going to hurt him.

You also know the Wilbur and LoveJoy haters/antis are going to be eating this up when they find it.

Literally all he had to say was “i don’t feel comfortable talking about the situation”

He seems to think there was this forced connection between the two bands but all wilbur did was be a fan, it’s not his fault that lovejoy fans picked up on that and discovered LC. If he was so uncomfortable and so resentful from the start he should have just said something back then but instead he profited of wilbur without saying a word.

I feel so bad for Wilbur. They said themselves that they don’t even know him and yet they have such hatred for him all because he was simply a fan. It’s sad.

[mcytblrconfessions-but-bad]

so many sbi-centric fics were samey as hell. there i said it im sorry. like let me run you down on what all of them were:

tommy [list of middle names thats super long because its totes funny] innit: adhd stereotype chaotic gremlin with a hard time seriously opening up but was also sensitive inside. always references things that became outdated by 2023

wilbur soot: lanky artsy guy who makes random lit and music references that reels tommy in but isn't as srs as techno. maybe some broodiness in there. will randomly drop noodle incidents because the author thought it would be funny. stopped being funny after the 13th "phil wont let me bring x in the house after last time"

technoblade: super serious cool guy who is tough and is also nerdy and nonchalant and nonemotional. all of the previously mentioned traits are really ironic if based off his dsmp character bc it means the author completely missed the point

philza: only there to be a dad to them. does not exist outside of the context of being a dad

(optional) tubbo: tommys best friend and ranboos best friend. unlike phil who has a smidgen of a chance of existing outside of his relationships, tubbo will never be expanded on!

(optional) ranboo: tubbos best friend and tommys best friend. might have a chance of growing unlike tubbo. this chance is still best described as non-significant

and everyone but tommy probably only existed to give tommy growth as a character. maybe wilbur too, but never on his own. always crimeboys. never wilbur-centric sbi fics

okay now we have our characters established our plot goes like this. thing inside brackets are options:

it is a [historical|superheroes|mythology|mafia] au. tommy is [abused by his current family|an orphan] (who might live with tubbo & ranboo if they are here). he meets wilbur who is part of a family with *thunder crackles* a secret (that relates to the au). wilbur introduces him to techno or phil. then conversely tommy gets introduced to the other later on. sbi is formed and they barely have any issues with each other and are basically a perfect family already. if tubbo and ranboo are present, they will somehow not notice that tommy has grown distant from them nor do they mind. tommy has most likely run into something related to the secret before meeting [wilbur|phil|techno] but he is not suspicious of them at all. somehow tommy finds out that the secret is related to the super cool awesome family he was talking to! but hes not upset! so he fully becomes part of sbi. the end

and it would be fine if people did something with the formula. but no. literally everything was centered around tommy and his character. people would only ever do anything to add to tommy, to make him grow

i have run out of beers and fucks so im gonna end this confession now. people will inevitably feel bad about this but like that's not my problem

.

[simpleeshea]

On the clock!

C!Wilbur x reader

< previous chapter Next chapter >

Chapter 4.

Go to work, get paid, but not enough.

“It’s Wednesday, my dude!” I burst into the store door, an empty disposable cup of coffee in my hand.

“It is,” Wilbur confirmed, putting his phone down on the counter as he looked up at me. His face contorted into an odd expression before he gave a small smile. “Why does that matter? You religious or something?”

I give him a quick shake of my head. “No, definitely not.” I slide behind the counter and plop myself onto the stool.

“Really?” he muses, “then what’s with the dressy clothes?”

I look down at my attire, it was true that I didn’t normally wear anything this nice to work (not to say that my clothes weren’t nice in the first place.)

I find myself going quiet at his question. Wilbur didn’t mind, he just passively nodded before picking up his phone to check the time. That was something I admired about my and Wilbur’s friendship. We both had shit that went on in our lives, but neither of us ever asked about that. We decided nonverbally to keep our shit lives and our friendships separate. He didn’t know much about my life outside of work and I didn’t know much about his, and that’s how we liked it. So Wilbur didn’t pressure me to tell him how the rent was getting harder and harder to pay or how I had an interview for a second job during my lunch break.

“So,” Wilbur spoke up, “whose turn is it to restock the shelves?”

I looked over at him and groaned. He had a cheeky smile on his face because he knew whose turn it was.

Laughing he pointed over at me, “It’s your turn,” he said in a sickeningly sing-song voice.

“If you don’t shut up, I will literally kill you.”

“Can we get a threat jar too?” he asked looking over to the nearing full swear jars and poking at my head.

I scrunched my nose at him, “I will bite your finger off.”

He chuckled as he stopped poking my head. Wednesdays were Wilbur’s favorite because it meant he got to mock my pain. Wednesdays are the days that I dread.

“Better get to work stocker!” he said sounding far too amused.

I grumbled before standing up from my stool and heading toward the back storage room and grabbing a clipboard with the list of things that were supposed to be put out today. I glanced over the list before grabbing a few boxes and carrying them out of the storage room.

Wilbur was helping a customer whose card kept declining. I cringed and felt bad for the poor woman because she looked really panicked. Eventually, her card worked and with a sigh of relief, she took her drink and cigarettes and walked out the door.

I begrudgingly popped open the box in my hand, setting it down on the floor, and began to take the contents out of it to place on the shelves.

Wilbur propped himself up on his arm, his cheek resting peacefully on his hand. “You look so funny when you’re mad,” he said with a laugh.

“You just look funny.”

Wilbur reared back in faux pain. “I can’t believe you just said that! I mean I’m genuinely hurt.”

I took my middle finger and shoved it in his direction while my other hand dug through the box.

“Twenty-five cents.”

“It was nonverbal.”

“That still counts,” he argued.

I look up at him, completely fed up with his nonsense for the day and I hadn’t even been at work for an hour. “Wilbur… I am going to shove my twenty-five cents down your throat,” I smile passive aggressively.

Wilbur put a hand on his throat for a moment, seeming lost in thought before laughing. “Why can’t you be angry like this all the time?”

“Because then I have to deal with you being all smiley and sh- crap,” I awkwardly caught myself before swearing.

“Would you rather I be grumpy?” he asked with a smile spread wide across his lips.

“That’s how you normally are.” I crossed my arms and pretended to mope, “I’m Wilbur and I’m writing a book where I’m the main character,” I deepened my voice and mocked him.

He began to laugh and fall into a giggle fit, banging his hand on the counter as he laughed.

I shook my head as I tried not to laugh with him. His laughs were so contagious.

“I’m surprised you didn’t take that chance to make a jab at my height,” he said as he gained some form of composure.

“Nah,” I waved him off, “that’s too easy to make fun of.”

He shook his head, smiling. I looked down at the box on the floor; it was empty. I bent over to pick the box up and chunked it toward the trashcan beside the register counter.

“Careful where you're throwing that thing. You might take someone’s head off.”

“That was the goal, I just missed.”

“Loser. Get better aim,” he teased.

“There’s always the next box… and the next, and the next, and the next,” I shrugged as I turned on my heel, walking toward the storage room again.

This nonsense went on for a few hours. Wilbur poking fun at me and me just grumbling about it or threatening him in various ways. Wednesdays were a very different kind of day for Wilbur and I. Tomorrow it would be back to normal, I’d spend the whole day trying to find ways to make him laugh or listen to him talk about his book, or tell me about how he tried to cook some meal for dinner which almost burnt down his kitchen. I would never admit it to Wilbur, but Wednesdays were my favorite because those were the days he smiled the most.

—

“And what do you think makes you the most qualified for this position?”

I folded my hands in my lap, trying to keep my legs from shaking too nervously. “I’m a great fit for this position because you will never find someone as much of a perfectionist as I am. Those coffees will surely be brewed to absolute perfection.”

“Right…” the interviewer woman wrote something down in her notebook. “And do you have any experience making coffee? And not just the kind you brew at home.”

My breath hitched. “Don’t put too much creamer kiddo, you’ll make yourself sick.”

“But it tastes betteerrrrrr!”

“Yeah, I have coffee making experience.”

“Elaborate please.”

“Me and my parents make frappes and stuff at home.” I would have corrected myself and put all of that in the past tense, but in all honesty, I hadn’t made coffee with my parents since I was little. They never had time for that when I got older.

“Well,” the woman whose name I didn’t care to learn stood up, “It was a pleasure to meet you and you should get an email in about two to three weeks regarding whether you were excepted into the position.” She held out her hand. I stood up and firmly took her hand in mine, her skin cold like ice. I shook her hand once before letting go. Her expression gave me the vibe that she was the type of person to immediately go and sanitize her hands after touching anyone.

I exited the small back room and left the café. “That could have gone better,” I sighed as I sat down in my dingey Chevy truck and slammed the door. I put the key in the engine and started the vehicle as it revved to life (much too loud for my liking).

“Well,” I looked at the small stuffed animal I jokingly kept in my passenger seat, “Looks like it’s time to get back to work.” I blinked hard as I realized I was talking to a stuffed animal and pulled out of the parking lot to head back to work.

A/n

If you can’t tell, brain ain’t braining. It’s late at shit and I’m tired. Aslo if you couldn’t tell tehn I have absolutely no retail experience. I’ve never worked at a gas station so this is probably all super inaccurate.

Also I’m trying to keep things lighthearted with a few mild dips into your character’s background.

[rxadkills]

regarding wilbur. (TW: sh, suicide, abuse)

it was all fucking fake.

the personality. the stage persona. the want to support his friends. it was all an act.

it was all some sick, fucking act to hide the fact that wilbur is actually just an fucking lunatic and shitstain excuse for a human who deserves to be locked up and put somewhere way deeper than hell. he never gave a flying fuck about shelby or anyone, just himself.

they had a fucking safeword, and yet this fuckwit weaponized it and BRAGGED about biting her so hard that it made her bruise.

not only that, but he only feels bad now that he got caught, and wrote some half-assed chat gpt "apology" where he doesn't even apologize. a better term for it would be "lame ass excuses for why i put Shelby and so many others through horrible shit."

more of a personal take on this, but literally almost every aspect of my life has been somewhat affected by him before this. he kept me from k*lling myself and he helped me through the worst time of my life when i was dealing with severe self harm. but now even the thought of his name makes me want to throw up.

and hell, i am in NO place to talk. i didn't even know the bastard, so i can only imagine how everyone who had the displeasure of knowing him feels. my heart goes out to shelby, tommy, philza, techno, quackity, leandra, zoe, charlie, tubbo, aimsey, billzo, ranboo, and everyone else who had to put up with wilbur's creepy fucking behavior for way too long.

if you still support that wretched fucking psychopathic god awful manwhore, get the FUCK off my page. you are not welcome here and never will be.

if you're hurt over this shit, you have every right to be. i know most of ya'll loved him. i did too. he was one of the few people i could look to for some kind of comfort. but now, our main priority is making sure this fucking bastard isn't given the fame and support he once leeched off of us for.

however, i would just like to say do NOT dox or threaten wilbur. sure, he's a fucking pathetic piece of shit, but doxxing and threatening to kill him make you no better than him.

shelby probably will not see this post, but i just wanna say i am so proud of you. i was a victim of abuse for some time and it's one of the hardest fucking things to open up about. you are so brave and strong for finally bringing this up and we all are by your side during this. we love you /p, keep your chin up so your crown doesn't fall :)

and to wilbur. william patrick spencer gold. fuck you. you've been putting on this fake ass little persona of being a sweet, caring person for way too long. we don't want anything to do with you anymore. if i were you, i would get your pathetic bitch ass off the internet and never come back.

sure, people can change. if you do manage to better yourself, good for you! congrats on bettering yourself. but nobody's forgiving you. you're still just a sick twisted excuse for a person and you deserve to ROT for everything you put Shelby through.

-Ezra

[griancraft]

Ok as per my last post. This is Long and very much about my feelings so uh don’t read it if you don’t want to. Also I’m aware I sound genujneky crazy for half of this I’m just really really mentally ill in ways I don’t talk about here at all and now I am sharing them and it’s. A little scary but oh well. The system stuff is the stuff I’m most concerned about right now to be honest bc it effects my day to day and if anyone has any kind words or thoughts on what to do I’ll be happy to listen

Please read my previous post if you’re mad /gen I don’t think I say anything bad here but I have really bad morality ocd so like uhm I am scared to post this!!! Prev post

Also I’m very sorry that the prose is terrible to read and my spelling is shit I have dyspraxia which is a coordination thing and it’s worse rn

The maybe I was boring album came on yesterday while I was cleaning and I had to stop what I was doing and turn it off halfway through because I just couldn’t stop hearing an admission. I wasn’t even sad I was just. So done with it. I still am just kinda like. God I hope Shelby is doing ok with all this being public now. I’m glad she was able to heal like she said and I’m glad she made the video dude.

I almost got his lyrics tattooed if that’s testament to how much I loved his early music. It’s not connecting in my brain that this music that’s been apart of my life for like 4 years and helped me through so much was made by an abuser.

But like, in retrospect you can see it. I can’t bear to delete ycgma off my mp3 player bc I related to his songs so much as an abused lonely teenager but I also can’t bare to listen to it. I learned the fall on my guitar as my final exam and I used to repeat his lyrics to myself to cope with abuse and I wish I could still love these songs. I dressed like his dsmp character bc I thought it made me look cool. Which is lame as fuck to admit now lol

Originally I was planning on pirating them and I like, can’t especially after that manipulative ass statement. How much was an act? I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m a bad person because I still kinda do want to listen to that music again. I still want to feel that safe but I know I won’t feel that way anymore.

with dsmp stuff I think I’m going to be still able to look back fondly on it generally and I don’t think I’ll ever stop. The community was what made it and the community is what I loved, and i still do. I don’t think I’m going to reblog art of him specifically but if he’s in it I might. Idk. My policy on dream fanart is if he’s not alone in the art and it’s dsmp or mcc related I reblog so I guess I’ll continue that here. Im sorry if that sounds callous I just. Am not prepared to talk about this so I’m going back and forth

And like. We also have a wilbur factive/fictive and we have for years now and nobody in our system knows how to feel about that. He formed to fill the role of a big brother (I was being heavily emotionally neglected at that point and needed someone to be there for me) and protector from my parents abuse. Obviously, he is entirely separate from his source now bc alters change a lot for me but how we picture him is still wilbur. he’s literally just some guy now but grappling with that connection is fucked up dude it’s weird. He’ll probably further distance himself but it still fucking sucks and I don’t know how to communicate the cognitive dissonance we had to push through bc our brain struggled at first to make sense of how this person who we liked so much that he became the template for a Protector to shield us from the emotional neglect and abuse, essentially, is a terrible person. I’m sorry I know people who aren’t systems, and some who are ngl, will find this fuckibg nuts and I get that but we’re a very very internal person like I just. Kinda am with us as a system a lot and nobody else. It feels like my safe space that I’ve created in my head has been marred. Also. uhm. Our alters speak in distinct voices so it’s bad bad for me rn and we are trying to fix it. I know I know fictives and factives arenttheir source but that doesn’t change that it makes me feel gross. I’m rambling rn I’m sorry. Support Shelby.