hey friends!

it’s been a joy but i don’t support abusers. i won’t delete the fics that are already up for now (i may in the future).

as of right now, i’m unsure what to do with this account moving forward. i may rebrand and continue to write other content, or i may abandon this account and leave it as is.

either way, wilbur soot is a piece of garbage and i’m sorry i ever, EVER supported anyone capable of such acts.

take care of yourselves. all my love <3

-seven

like a god

wilbur soot x g/n reader

tw!: talk of religion?? kinda?? fluff. not proofread.

A/N: i’m rlly scared this is offensive to religious individuals pls tell me if it is cause i will immediately delete but heyyyy sorry for being gone for so long here is a blurb as apology. it’s bad. im sorry.

word count: 478 words

“i used to pray for you every night” you confessed to wilbur one evening. both of you were cuddled up on the couch, hardly watching the movie on the TV. you were far too focused on playing with wilbur’s fingers, and wilbur was far too focused on you. he raised an eyebrow at your confession. “prayed?” he asks, humourlessly. you laugh slightly, shaking your head. “it sounds silly. i didn’t pray to any god or anything. i guess, i just… spoke to the universe” you shrugged, cheeks turning red as you continue to play with wil’s fingers.

wil nods, “i prayed for you, too” he confesses.

you smile at his confession, meeting his eyes as he smiles back.

“except, i did pray to a god” he continues, smirking slightly, “i prayed to them all. every single one of them. including greek.”

you chuckle, “you prayed to the greek gods?” you asked with a laugh.

“of course i did!” he exclaims, “i had to make sure they all equally knew how badly i needed you.”

you laugh again, “must’ve worked, then” you say, a slight hint of sarcasm in your tone. wilbur nodded, smiling widely now. he grips your hand a little tighter while bringing it up to his lips to plant a kiss on your knuckles.

“it did” he breathes, “and i worship you. gosh, y/n, do i worship you.”

your face heats up again as he continues; “every single thing you do, i worship. every word you say, i memorize like a prayer.” wilbur reaches a hand up to cup your cheek, running his thumb over your cheekbone.

“sometimes” he starts, “i swear you were handcrafted by some otherworldly, unexplainable thing and placed on this earth just for me. i mean…” he sits up straighter, turning his body more towards you, “you are so perfectly… perfect i just- gosh, sometimes i can’t even believe you’re real!” he laughs out, you giggle too.

“wil…” you smile, knowing your face is redder than any tomato ever seen. wilbur leans in and plants a small, soft kiss on your nose.

“i thank each god every night for giving me you” he whispers out, “and every time i say your name, i say it like it’s holy.”

you lean in to kiss him, breathing him in. after a beat, you both smile into the kiss. he leans back, meeting his forehead into yours.

“i love you” he whispers, “i would run out of breath trying to recite all the things i love about you.”

you giggle, shaking your head, “i love you, too” you laugh, “you, wil gold, are the sappiest man to ever live” you chuckle out, shaking your head into his.

he giggles, shrugging his shoulders, “sue me.” he says, before leaning back in to place another kiss on your lips.

hey folks. i adore each and every one of you. i’m sorry i’ve been gone. recovery is very hard physically and mentally. i’ll be back when im able to be, but im not ready yet.

take care of yourselves.

now that i’ve had top surgery i feel like i can stop waiting to do things lmao. it’s always been “after top surgery.” i literally have no excuses. i have to do things now. should fuck around and start streaming on twitch again lmaoooo

anyways i’ve been sleeping for 20 hours everyday like a damn lizard.

me breaking my promise hahahahaha. i’m sorry. i have just been sliced open and have been sleeping a lot. hopefully during my healing i’ll find some energy to write.

i am getting surgery tomorrow which has me kinda frazzled and running around like a crazy person to get everything ready FJDHDHD AHHHHHHH

Your pfp makes my heart race HELP WILBUR LOOKS SO PRETTY!😍

wilbur often has that effect on me as well. bros gorgeous and he knows it

i need 1 more follower to get to 200 who’s gonna be the lucky winner!!! there is no prize!! just my love and appreciation.

sorry for lack of posts or fics. i’m getting a surgery in a week and have never felt more stressed and anxious in my life :D hopefully once that’s over and done with i’ll have more brain space.

how is everyone tho!? my asks are always open, even just to say hi or ask a question or say something silly.

take care of yourselves!

i wanna do a halloween event so bad

Please Reblog is Your Blog is Safe for Non-Binary People.

If my mutuals can’t rb this then we can’t be mutuals

imposter syndrome gang 😎💪

hey so quick /gen here-- anyone have suggestions on being able to write and post authentically (or at all) on their account bc-

i wanna write and post but it just- I do not feel welcome doing so lol

any suggestions would be great- thank u!

mutuals of mine: PLS TAG ME IN ALL OF UR FICS SO I READ THEM AND REPOST THEM BC I WANT TO SO BAD BUT I NEVER SEE THEM CAUSE I DONT FREQUENT THIS APP ENOUGH AND WHEN I DO IT ISNT TO SCROLL THANK U ILY MWAH

hey yall! how very fitting of me to post a fic and disappear without a trace. anyways life update:

i got a new job and i’m seeing noah kahan in concert. and that’s it! that’s all that is new. okay bye!

and we hold onto this (for whatever reason)

wilbur soot x gn!reader

tw!: angst, breakups, food mention, crying, other than that it’s fluffy and sweet. not proofread

word count: 1,248

a/n: literally wrote this in 10 minutes and didn’t read it over so i’m sorry if it makes literally 0 sense lmaoooo. i hope y’all like it!! (also this picture of wil is so cute hes so-)

there’s a stale feeling in the air as you’re surrounded by your friends. a large table, a potluck dinner, laughter and 5 different conversations, all while brown eyes with your same sadness across and to the left of you attempts to impossibly avoid your gaze.

wilbur joins in one of the conversations, you can hear his laughter and smooth voice. it’s all that seems to reach your ears as you play with the food on your plate. you missed the sound of his carefree and light voice, his laugh sweeter than nectar. a pang of sadness hits your chest like a tidal wave. a feeling you’ve invited to the dinner table often these past few weeks, but having him here in front of you, hearing his voice and laugh in the room and not in your head, has made the sadness hurt even more. it hits your chest, knocks the wind out of you, makes you feel like you’ve been thrown backwards.

“y/n? did you hear me?” a voice comes from your right, causing you to flinch and drop the fork in your hand. the sound is loud, it makes you physically cringe as you hear the conversations die down and feel multiple eyes on you. you lean down to grab the fork,

“no, sorry. what were you saying?” you respond quietly, looking over at your friend and placing the fork down beside your plate.

“i asked if you were okay. you seem like you’re in space” they say, voice quiet and full of compassion. you nod, forcing a smile on your face. how weird is it to be seen, studied, known. your friends see through you. you wonder if wilbur does too.

“yeah” you whisper, “i’m okay. sorry. didn’t get much sleep last night” you let out a light laugh. they smile back at you, a half-crooked, sad smile. a hand reaches up to squeeze your shoulder - as if to say ‘i know you’re lying, but we don’t have to talk about it’, before they turn back around to continue their conversation. you finally look around as conversations have sparked back to life, scanning the table before reaching wilbur’s spot. he’s looking at you. his mouth slightly agape, his eyes sad. you hold his gaze for a beat, before grabbing your fork and standing.

“m’gonna go wash this” you mumble for no one in particular to hear, as you scurry to the kitchen. you sigh as you reach the room, running your hands through your hair and leaning down onto the counter. the wound of yours and wilbur’s breakup is still so fresh, still so new, still prone to infection. seeing him is harder than expected, but this get together had been planned for too long for either of you to cancel.

with another sigh, you grab your fork and turn on the tap, beginning to wash it. your mind wanders as you grab the dish soap and sponge - you planned a future with wilbur. you thought he was the one. your parents loved him. god, you loved him. you wanted all the stupid, gross, lovey-dovey shit with him. a big wedding, a small family, a white house with a fenced in backyard, cats and dogs, growing old together. you would’ve done it all with wilbur.

“i think it’s clean” a familiar voice cuts through your thoughts. you flinch, dropping the fork into the sink. your head whips over to the voice, seeing wilbur standing there, looking at you. you hadn’t noticed the tears streaming down your cheeks until he brought you back to reality, causing you to quickly wipe them with your sleeve. you sniff, “well, yaknow, just had to be sure” you chuckle, though it comes out sad and strained.

there’s a silence, the air feels heavy, as you both just look at one another.

“y/n…” wilbur starts. you shake your head. “don’t. it’s okay” you reassure, breaking your gaze from him to look down at the fork in the sink. you grab it, walking over to the dish towels hung over the oven handle.

“i’m sorry” wilbur whispers.

“i said dont, wilbur” you sigh, looking back up to him. he looks just as broken and disheveled as you do.

he nods his head. a silence washes over the room.

“i miss you” his voice cracks, his eyes gather tears but he quickly wipes them away.

“wil-“

“i know we agreed it was best to part ways but it’s killing me, y/n” wilbur cuts you off, his voice is quiet but filled with emotion. you stay quiet, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you take shaky breaths.

“i-its so hard. so fucking hard to pretend im okay with this. that im fine. t-that i really believe it’s for the best” wilbur chokes out, he gulps before continuing, “because i don’t. i don’t think it is.”

you close your eyes to avoid the tears forming. you shake your head.

“wil, please stop” you beg “we both have other things to focus on. i mean, you have the band and-“

“oh, fuck the band!” wilbur shouts. your eyes shoot open to look at him as he brings his fingers up to pinch his nose bridge. he looks at you “fuck the band. fuck streaming. fuck everything, y/n. if it means i lose you, i don’t want any of it.” wilbur’s voice calms, it’s quieter.

you sigh and shake your head, “i would never ask that of you. you know that” you whisper “you love that band. and you love touring. and you love making music. and i love watching you do it, wil, i love seeing you happy but i-“ your voice breaks as a tear falls down your cheek, “but i cant sit there and wait for you to make time for me anymore. you were busy and you were happy and i waited and it’s fine but i- i couldn’t wait anymore. a-and all your promises, all the missed dates, all the times i spent sleeping alone, i just- it was too hard.”

wilbur takes a step towards you, searching your face for a reaction. when you don’t react, he walks over to you, standing in front of you. hesitantly, he reaches his hands to cup your face, wiping your tears with his thumb as his own tears fall from his eyes. he leans down and rests his forward against yours. a shaky sigh escapes your lips as you breathe in his scent.

“then i’ll wait for you this time” he whispers, “whenever you’re ready for me, i’ll be here. ready to change, to do whatever it takes, to show you the love you deserve.”

a wet laugh escapes your lips as you sniff, reaching up to hold his forearms as you close your eyes.

“i love you, y/n” he whispers, “i don’t think i’m capable of not loving you.”

you nod. “me neither” you agree.

his forehead leaves yours, being replaced by his lips. a lingering kiss on your forehead. he steps back, grabbing hold of your hands as you both look into each others teary eyes.

“whenever you’re ready” wilbur whispers. you nod - “okay” you whisper back. he smiles, as do you, before he walks out of the room.

you look down at the fork on the counter. a forgotten task. you smile, leaning over to pick it up. inspecting it in your hands. a breath, a sniff, a final wipe of your eyes.

whenever i’m ready, you think.

i love these lil thingies do it do it do it

I’m Bored and Anxious So I Slapped Together a List of Fan Fic Writer Asks

1. Share a song that makes you think of [fic title] 2. Do you read/reread your own fics? 3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written? 4. How many WIPs do you have right now? 5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write? 6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time? 7. How many ideas for fics do you have right now? 8. What project(s) are you currently working on? 9. Do you write every day? If you wrote today, share a sentence of what you’ve written! 10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting? 11. Do you have specific playlists for writing fics? 12. Do you have a playlist for your current WIP(s)? Share it! 13. How much planning do you do before writing? 14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick? 15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters? 16. At what point in the process do you come up with titles? 17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic? 18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic? 19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs. 20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written? 21. Have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? If so, why? 22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing? 23. How do you choose where to end a chapter (if you have multi-chapter works)? 24. Share a moodboard for (one of) your current WIP(s). 25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing? 26. Is there something you’ve written that you would never want your family to see? 27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why? 28. Have you ever tagged a fic “Dead Dove: Do Not Eat”? 29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.) 30. Ask anything!

i (somehow) just realized that y’all don’t know what i look like and now i feel rlly cool and mysterious.

based on my posts tho, what do y’all think i look like? i’m so very curious to know how u picture me

literally hugging u so tight rn ur so nice to me oh em gee AHHHHHH.

THANK U CONNOR.

i am writing more simply per connor’s request bc i’m his biggest fan

i didn’t know it (at fifteen)

hs! wilbur soot x gn! reader

tw!: talks of eating and food (this story is not ED coded, i promise. pls eat and drink water and take ur meds and take care of urself and ur body). high school au. fluff?. cocky wilbur. implied mute! reader. so incredibly unoriginal.

word count: 663 words

a/n: this has been sitting in drafts literally since i made this account. if this is liked, i’ll turn it into a lil series. i have ideas for more of this story if y’all like it! if not tho, i’ll literally throw it out the window never to be seen again.

there is a boy in the cafeteria who silently hands you a bright red apple everyday at lunch.

he wears wired framed glasses and a knit sweater, his tall frame walks with a slight hunch in his back, he never makes eye contact with you and you’ve never heard his voice.

he always walks past you afterwards - making his way over to a table crowded with people and taking a seat while placing his white lunch tray in front of him. you watch him as he smiles and talks with each person around that table whilst eating his poorly made and far too expensive school cafeteria lunch.

you aren’t sure why he does this. you’ve never spoken to him before and you don’t share any classes. you don’t know his name and you don’t think he knows yours. and yet, everyday without fail, a bright red apple is placed on the corner of the empty table in the back of the cafeteria where you sit.

sometimes you eat it, sometimes you take a few bites, sometimes you don’t even look at it and throw it out the second the lunch bell rings.

sometimes you study the piece of fruit, most times you study him.

you watch him talk and laugh and smile. you almost envy him - his kindness and seemingly bubbly, outgoing, happy-go-lucky nature.

today is no different.

a hand clutching an apple comes into view as you’re staring down at the table. you don’t look up. you wait the usual 7 seconds it takes for him to reach his table before raising your head.

and once you do, you’re met with wire framed glasses and a knit sweater. you’re not sure how you didn’t notice him take a seat infront of you. he’s looking down at his white tray of food - lasagna with slightly burnt edges, green beans straight from a can, and mashed potatoes that mostly likely were once a powder. he’s silently eating, eyes fixed to his food. you look back down at the apple on the corner of the table. you stare at it, wide-eyed, nervously playing with the sleeves of your sweater.

you’re not sure how much time has passed. “are you gonna eat that?” you look up quickly, startled by the sudden voice. he’s looking at you, one eyebrow raised and a finger pointing down at the untouched fruit. “you really should. you never have a lunch with you. but if you aren’t gonna eat it, i will” he states. you only stare.

he smiles at you kindly, still pointing at the apple as he waits for you to respond.

you shake your head.

“suit yourself” he says, shrugging his shoulders as he reaches over to grab the apple and takes a big bite out of the side.

“i’m wil, by the way” he’s speaking with his mouth full, making his words sound muffled.

you stare for a moment, blinking, before reaching into the backpack behind you and pulling out your notebook. you skip through pages of notes and doodles to find an empty page.

‘y/n’ you write, flipping the notebook so he can read it. he leans forward. “y/n?” he repeats. you nod.

“okay y/n” he says, taking another bite of fruit before speaking again, “why don’t you ever have a lunch?”

you shrug your shoulders, but he remains silent as if waiting for the real answer.

you pull the notebook back towards you - ‘i never have time to pack one’ you write, flipping it towards him again.

he hums in understanding.

“i guess i’ll just have to keep bringing you apples” he states, a cocky smirk adorned on his face.

‘you don’t have to’ you write quickly, making your handwriting appear sloppy and rushed.

“i know” he replies, before the lunch bell blares loudly through the cafeteria and students begin rushing to their next classes.

“see you tomorrow” he smiles, standing up and walking away with his lunch tray in hand.