listenheresweaty - Tumblr blog

listenheresweaty · 2 days

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hm apparently my first revivebur fic i ever posted on tumblr was exactly one year before the allegations came out

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listenheresweaty · 8 days

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BEFORE WE START

let’s do a little DND-ish character selection for the reader character.

CHOOSE YOUR BACKGROUND: (be aware that the reader is a thief trying to steal from the Las Nevadas casino. Mind the skills that you will need, and mind that you can die in this ‘game’. All Character stats start with a base of ten (not including the boosts), and can change depending on the routes you pick. Stat boosts are not based solely on the character species, but its backstory as well (ex: Kenku are naturally stealthier and that’s why they have that boost— but the ‘charisma’ boost for the human has to do with the character itself and not the species).

Character 1 (Kenku): This character is part human, part Kenku— a flightless, raven-like avian with a knack for scheming and shiny things. In this plotline, your ever-increasing success with risky heists have made you confident enough to take a crack at one of the most closely-guarded pockets of wealth in the region— the Las Nevadas casino. You gain nothing from stealing: just the pride that comes with being able to concoct and successfully pull off an elaborate scheme.

Intuition: +1

Stealth: +2

Speed: +1

Strength: -1

Charisma: +0

Special ability: Voice Mimicry

Character 2 (Human): You are done being unlucky. After what happened the year prior, you’ve donned your best clothes and left your inhibitions at the door of the casino you instead to scam and drain dry. With a couple martinis in hand— what do you have to lose?

Intuition: -1

Stealth: +0

Speed: +1

Strength: +1

Charisma: +2

Special Ability: Card Counting.

Character 3 (hellborn): You’ve come from a community in the nether to visit some friends near the casino. They promised the outing would have been fun, and you took their word for it. However, you know a lot of people in your village that would like some of those gold trinkets lying around. And surely nicking one or two wouldn’t hurt?

Intuition: +1

Stealth: -1

Speed: +1

Strength: +2

Charisma: +0

Special Ability: Sword. That’s it. You can fight.

#sweaty “writes”#sweaty is NOT talking about c!wilbur #c!quackity x reader #quackity x reader #interactive storyline #Dragon!quackity

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listenheresweaty · 13 days

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Damn I forgot about this post

but yeah it’ll be interactive!!

yay new things!!

BIG QUESTION

I’ve received a request for a dragon!c!Quackity and thief!reader. I have some pretty big ideas down, but am looking for ways to string it together.

It would basically be a regular multi-part fic, but there would be a decision at the end of each chapter where YOU, the audience, get to vote in a poll and change the story’s outcome!

I feel that it would be very fun to try out. Then again, I might not do the interactive format for THIS fic regardless of poll results, but it would definitely encourage me to do something similar in the future.

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listenheresweaty · 23 days

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Essentially, with shubble people are upset because she said something similar to if you've abused your platform, a platform that is mainly teenagers and kids, that you claim you're sorry and you're going to work on yourself that you shouldn't get that platform back. That if it was true, then you wouldn't even want that platform back.

There is also a clip going around twitter, where people are claiming is ableist, but in it all she says is that depression isn't an excuse to abuse somebody which she's right.

She has not been using psychotic or narcissistic in a derogatory way, as far as I'm aware she hasn't used them it all.

Most people who are claiming that Shubble's being ableist that I've seen are doing it in bad faith to try and discredit her claims.

tw: suicide mention

Yeah, figured. Definitely agree with her statement of mental illness not being an excuse. And I personally do not believe Wilbur is sorry or has changed (and no one he has hurt should need to believe this, either).

As for not wanting/getting the platform back.. idk? I think that someone can feel genuinely sorry and still pursue the platform they once had, I just think it’s too risky and shouldn’t be done.

As long as Wilbur continues pursuing his platform, we will never know if he feels genuinely sorry or if he’s just faking it to maintain popularity. Both could be true. People can change. But I don’t think the risk is worth it, honestly.

Most of the other criticisms against Shelby I’ve seen are based on the fact that some of her supporters have doxxed and harassed some of Wilbur’s supporters to suicide. I’ve seen screenshots of tweets but do not have access to twitter rn (long story) and cannot verify this. People are mad that she’s spoken out against the doxxing/threats but hasn’t mentioned the deaths have possibly occurred. Shubble has allegedly also liked some tweets of people saying ableist things/harassing others <- again, I’ve seen no proof of this.

(if anyone has that clip or further info, though, feel free to send it in!)

#Claiming that mental illness is a valid excuse for abuse and saying that shit like‘narcissistic abuse’ is real are 2 sides of the same coin.#Both are ableism #Also to be clear just CALLING an abuser “narcissistic/psychotic” is considered derogatory/ableist.#Brcause mental illness is not an excuse for abuse #it should not be related to abuse in this manner. Disorders do. Not. Cause. Abuse #Is the abuser conceited or self-absorbed? Yes? Then just call them that. Do not use the word narcissist.#Even if they have NPD (and there’s nothing suggesting that Wilbur is). Their narcissism is not related to the abuse.#Fuck Wilbur soot #shubble situation #wilbur situation

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listenheresweaty · 23 days

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I'm not the best with words, and I think a few people are already saying these things and doing so better than I could, but I wanted to try to add some of my own points in light of everything happening in the mcyt and generally just cc space. First what I've seen other people are saying: - stop with the "all men bad" rhetoric stuff. point blank. Anyone can be an abuser, anyone can be a victim. Men can be victims, women can be abusers, it doesn't work one way. Not all abusers are men. - on the same note, stop with the TERF ideologies. I know it can be hard to notice, but please think over your words before making a big post that will get all these notes and views. Next point, I know "narcissistic abuse" is a thing people talk about, but it is not a real thing. Phycological or emotional abuse are far better terms, equally valid. Please stop throwing the word "narcissist" around. I know a lot of victims want to describe their abusers as narcissist but this is really vilifying people with NPD and Cluster B disorders. If the person doesn't meet the NPD criteria, or isn't diagnosed, don't call them a narcissist. And remember NOT ALL PEOPLE WITH NPD ARE EVIL AND ABUSERS. - people are rightfully trying to give advice to victims and people hoping they can stop them from going through what they went through, but saying things like "Here's how you defeat a narcissist" or even just "narcissists hate x" is contributing to the stigma that all people with NPD, and also people with Cluster B disorders, are evil, bad, and abusers. Please look for alternative terms. Don't let yourself become part of the problem. Don't let yourself become a reason a victim won't or doesn't feel safe coming out. Listen to victims, and remember not all victims are the same, don't expect victims to act one way. If you think I have said anything wrong please feel free to correct me, also please add on if you have any additional points.

#God the ableism with the Wilbur situation is SO bad #esp. since he played a character who struggled with mental illness on the DSMP #”haha of course Wilbur played the psychotic characters!!!” <- guillotine. Now.#let me be clear. I hate that guy #fuck Wilbur soot #but holy shit there are SO many ways to denounce a creator that isn’t BIGOTRY

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listenheresweaty · 23 days

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more on the Shubble situation

Tw: ableism, terrible writing I didn’t have time to proofread sorry :((

I want to be clear: I will never ever ever EVER support Cc!Wilbur. What he did was abuse, plain and simple. If any of this stuff on Shubble is true, my stance on him won’t change. Abuse is abuse.

So, apparently some people are saying that Shubble has made ableist remarks or something? Does anyone have any sources?

I have noticed a very ableist approach to the Shubble situation in general. People saying stuff like “of course Wilbur would always pick the psychotic characters to roleplay 😝” or “he’s so narcissistic omgg” are EVERYWHERE on twitter/youtube and surprisingly common on tumblr. I don’t think I have to explain how relating people with psychosis or NPD with abuse is ableist. However, as far as I know, this behavior has been from FANS, not from Shubble. It would be cool if she addressed this (since they’ve already told people to stop sending death threats/harassing others), but I understand if she’d want to take her time after… everything.

If SHE has been throwing around terms such as “psychotic” or “narcissistic” in a derogatory manner.. please let me know. I’m currently looking for sources.

****I know that some people were offput by how she criticized Wilbur for “living in filth” and having an “ant infestation” in her original VOD. And yes, shaming someone who likely struggles with mental illness for subpar living conditions is ableist, regardless of who they are—- HOWEVER,,,,,,,, I do not think Shubble was pointing this out to criticize the living conditions, but rather to give her audiences hints as to who her abuser was. Remember, Wilbur was known to have had ant infestations in the past. So I do not consider this sufficient evidence of ableism.

I want to be clear: I will never ever ever EVER support Cc!Wilbur. What he did was abuse, plain and simple. If any of this stuff on Shubble is true, my stance on him won’t change. Abuse is abuse.

#If the shubble stuff is true I will. Idk.#I’ll still support her callout of Wilbur because speaking out against an abuser is INCREDIBLY brave regardless of who you are #But I will not support her as a person. Does that make sense?#Similar to how I acted before the Alex Kister allegations were proven false: I didn’t support Alex (bc I hadn’t read the doc properly sorry #but I also didn’t support the victims because they had said some wildly transphobic and ableist stuff.#shubble situation #wilbur situation #fuck wilbur soot

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listenheresweaty · 24 days

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so…. I was rewatching Doctor Who lately and couldn’t stop thinking about one certain scene with crimeboys…….

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listenheresweaty · 25 days

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🏵 DSMP Catching Their S/O Singing 🏵

Warnings: None

Characters: Jschlatt | Villain wilbur | Philza

| Philza |

He was coming back home for some more supplies, sprucing up their new meeting room took way more supplies than expected

Seeing at it was pretty early in the morning he slipped into the house as quietly as possible, expecting you to be asleep

What he wasn't expecting was to hear a soft humming from the enchanting room

Curiously he climbs up the ladder as silently as possible and listens intently to you

"I want you too know that I'm never leaving, Cause I'm Mrs. Snow till death we'll be freezing-"

"I didn't know you could sing, Angel"

"AHH"

Honestly you almost kicked him in the face

Hes willing to take that risk though

Heavily encourages you to sing after that, gets techno in on it too

Eventually you cave and one night while the two of you are cooking you start singing again

It becomes a tradition between you two, very wholesome

| Jschlatt |

The man had come home plastered, which unfortunately wasn't a rare occurrence

You held him gently in your arms, having already bed for a few hours at this point you didn't have the energy to properly help the man

Mumbling how much he loves you and appreciates you and are scared of losing you, it warmed your heart truly, if you were properly lucid you would have told him you loved him too

That being said you werent, and he took your silence poorly tears streaming down his face as he held onto you like you would disappear if he let go

"Please don't leave me, pleasepleaseplease pleaaase"

Running your hands through his messy hair you're mind reverts back to when you had to babysit fundy

You used to sing to him when he cried, maybe you could do that here?

"Little bird, Little bird fly through my window, Little bird Little bird fly through my window, find molasses candy"

Rocking the man back and forth it didnt take long until he was asleep

You make sure to take note of the songs that he likes after that

| Villain! Wilbur |

The two of you were sitting around the small fire in pogtopia

The day had been stressful to say the least and you wanted some down time

Neither of you said anything, you didnt have to

Wilbur strummed the strings of his guitar, often switching between songs to keep himself from getting bored

Some of them you recognized as his own or as others, some seemed like he was just experimenting, either way it was good background music

As you watch the fire reach further up the logs you perk up a bit as a few familiar chords reached your ears

"I heard there was a special place, where men can go and emancipate-"

You started singing before you knew what you were singing too

Settling comfortable as wilbur joined you

"The brutality and the tyranny of their rulers, this place is real you needn't fret"

His voice breaks and you don't have the heart to continue, pulling him closer to yourself you wrap your arms around him "we'll be back soon Wilbur, we'll be back"

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listenheresweaty · 25 days

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Hey, ☂️ anon here! I was wondering if maybe you could write something fluffy with Vilbur?

🏵 Your Tea Is Ready 🏵

Warnings: None

Genre: fluff

| Hair Cut |

"Wilbur sit up straight "

"This is straight "

" If this is straight then I'm the king of England, come on!" You whine, pulling his hair so his head would fall over the back rest of the chair. Warm honey eyes met your own as you cupped his pale cheeks. "I know you dont like it but just for me? " you plead, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. His breath fanned across your face as he sighed, rolling his head forward and sitting up a bit. "Only for you, my rose" he hummed a small smile pulling at his bitten lips. Smiling yourself you take the scissors from the side table. "Of course, my Beloved."

Though quite sarcastic the pet name steed deep in the tired man's chest. It might have been the sleep deprivation but he wouldn't put it passed himself to only fall deeper in love with you. 'Beloved ' he had heard you say that you loved him so many times before, but some how this was different. Your conversation stilled as you got back to work carefully cutting his curly locks, though his heart ached for those words to leave your mouth again.

"My Rose?"

"Yes, 'bur?"

"Tell me you love me?"

"I love you, Wilbur Soot"

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listenheresweaty · 25 days

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can you do headcanons for a relationship with vilbur! <3

🏵 Your Tea Is Ready 🏵

Warnings: Slight Nsfw , mentions of violence

Genre: Fluff

| Vilbur Relationship Headcannons |

If you're dating Vilbur expect to have alot of alone time

Not only had the man been exiled hes also insanely busy

That being said he will absolutely sneak Into lmanburg just to snuggle up with you in bed

Getting murdered is absolutely worth seeing your smile when he gives you a surprise visit

Lots of stolen gifts

Hes already an outlaw, so why respect the laws of a country hes an exile from?

He spends most of his time planning and fighting and grinding so when he spends time with you he wants nothing other then to be held by you

Or to rail you hes down for either

Will rant to you about Tommy and techno all the time

"He doesn't trust me! We've fought and we killed for this nation and he doesn't even trust me!"

"Wilbur you did eat his lunch"

"But I was the first one he accused!"

Even you cant control his wild temper, so expect for him to punch a few walls

His intense outbursts has scared you on more then one occasion, not to mention him trashing your home

The incident that really opened his eyes is when in a fit of rage he smashed a mug, you tried to grab him to get him to stop and, while not paying attention, turned around to quick and struck you

He remembers your tears like yesterday, he remembers almost throwing up out of pure fear

He remember collapsing to his knees pleading for your forgiveness

He knows full well he didn't deserve it, fuck he didn't deserve you

But hes a selfish man, and hes never letting you go

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listenheresweaty · 25 days

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Ok hear me out-

The song "Masochism Tango" by Tom Lehrer with Revivedbur, BUT the reader is the complete opposite of what the song is about

Like...c!Wilbur doesn't fear death anymore and you can't tell me that he wouldn't be a little bit of a masochist. The reader being an absolute pacifist and not wanting to do harm to anyone-

Just imagining a crazed and obsessed Revivedbur trying to get reader's heart/love back does something to me lmfao

🏵 Your Tea Is Ready 🏵

Warnings: Mentions of violence/injury

Genre: fluff

| Bandaids and Bouquets |

" There, all done " you hum clicking the safety pin in place around your lovers bandaged hand. Raising his hand to your lips you press a chaste kiss to each one of his bruised knuckles, a sigh coming from your lover making you tense with worry.

"Sorry! Did I hurt you?" You whimper, pulling away from him much to his dismay. Wilbur shook his head, groaning slightly as he sat up in the bed, the bandages around his chest hindering his movement slightly. That or it was the burns. "No, no not at all my flower" he assured, closing in with a bit of your help, your hand on his waist, guiding him into a soft kiss. Pulling away he pecked your nose. "You could never hurt me" he whispered against your skin, making you smile at the ticklish feeling.

"You say that, but you always end up hurt, I don't remember you being this reckless before we were dating" You tease, helping him stand with a huff of effort. The man laughed dryly, his voice hoarse from smoke. Stretching his arms above his head he regained his composure. "I've always been a thrill seeker" He dismissed, limping across the room to retrieve his sweater and jacket.

Shaking your head you wandered over to the bouquet he had nearly killed himself getting for you. Twirling a singed leaf in your hands your turned back to him. "But going all the way to the nether for some flowers-?" "You're favourite flowers" He correct, pulling the wool sweater over his head. "We're already dating, Wilbur. You don't have to impress me" you explain, taking one of the flowers from the bouquet before returning to your lovers side.

"When you have valuables, do you put a lock on them or do you leave them out in the open" He questioned, though you gave no answer. Resting a hand on his chest you place the flower in his jacket pocket. "You never have to worry about your valuables being stolen" you breath out, your gaze softening at your lover.

"Because of the lock-"

"Because I love you, you ass"

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listenheresweaty · 25 days

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okay okay okay, so I grew up in Oregon, and I love it here it's so pretty, so like imagine the reader dragging revivebur back to the forest they grew up in for fall (think the gravity falls forest but grey and damp cuz it's fall) and takes him mushroom foraging!

Djfbdhdjdb

I want this so bad. Also could you make it somewhere between platonic and romantic, like, best friends but with a ridiculous amount of cuddles and they live together

(I imagine them living out of a school bus converted into a tiny house. Idk it just seems so sweet)

-a very lonely 🧇

🏵 Your Tea Is Ready 🏵

Warnings: mentions of violence/injury

Genre: fluff

| Everything but You |

Pale, boney fingers traced over the haphazard etchings into rotting wood. Although a silly one, it was a Tradition of yours to have each if your friends carve their names into your bed frame, so you would never be far from them. As much as he bullied you for being cliche and a little sappy, he couldn't deny the way he marveled at how many names had been added since he saw it last.

' puffy <3 '

' Tommy was here '

' TubBo '

' Phil :) '

' Blood for the blood god '

' Wilbur Soot 11/11 '

A small scowl made it's way to his face as his eyes landed on the last, only a week before the second worst decision of his life. At the time he was so sure, so confident, little doubt- fuck it, no doubt clouded his mind. He wanted to say he was derranged, as phil had. But for once, ever since the election, for once his mind was clear, clear as the tears too many wept over his corpse. However, it was easier to say you were insane then to admit that you had become worse then the people you thought so little of. To think you killed less in a war then in your own suicide. To have left such a scar on such a fragile world—

"I've never seen someone so interested in their own name"

Your voice pulled the brunette back to reality, warm honey eyes flickered toward where you leaned against the door way, a weaved basket hanging from your finger tips. "How long have you been there?" He questioned, though it was meant to be harmless it sounded far more suspicious then intended.

"Couple of minuets" you hum, a sweet and playful tone to your voice.

"You watched me look at wood for a couple of minuets?"

"You were the one looking and fucking wood" you retort, you're face scrunching up ever so slightly, the way it did when you got riled up. Just like when Quackity vested you in a game of uno, and when he holds things above you're head so you can't get them.

Chuckling slowly he pushed himself off the bed, "what's the basket for?" Although he knew you were going to drag him mushroom picking, as you had every time he came over, and no as well. "I think you know where this is going" you laugh, taking his bandaged hand into your own, gentle as though he were made of glass, just barely ghosting your skin over his own. He couldn't help the frown that fell onto his face, instead taking initiative and interlocking his fingers with your own, holding you as tight as he could. He craved to wrap his arms around you as you walked, to keep you close enough to hear your heart beat as tor conversations fell into comfortable quiet. He wanted to map and memorize every inch of your perfect skin. But as he were before, he fell short on his dreams. His pleas for love and comfort dying on his tongue. 13 years was long enough to realize his cowardice, yet bot enough to over come it.

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listenheresweaty · 25 days

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just recovered from a big ol breakdown 😀 (I'm ok haha) and was wondering if you could write wilbur x fem!reader where he finds her sobbing and comforts her please? <3

🏵 Your Tea Is Ready 🏵

Warnings: mentions of mental breakdowns, PTSD, war

Genre: hurt comfort

| A rose for your Troubles |

The revolution was hard on both of you, wilbur was left leading a war on his own, you had to watch the man you love shift into a cold but needed president. The war were darker days for you both, left you both with scars you'd rather not speak of any longer, but with the countries freedom secured you wouldn't need to fight for your life anymore, you didn't need to sleep with a sword or keep a apparently dagger in your boot. But you did. You never stopped.

You never stopped grinding arrows or patrolling your house looking for traps or tnt, you slept with one eye open if you slept at all, and wilbur... he wasn't there. You can't blame him, you wouldn't, he had a country to run with so few citizens it was hard on him, and you watched him break as much as you did. Buy you couldn't help the bitter resentment as you watched your lover be praised and glorified for his war efforts, for all he sacrificed. Yet you, who had lost not one but two lives to the cause, you had lost everything by the hands of a traitor, who had been burned alive, was merely given a pat on the back. Slowly you watched your lover slip away, and your friends move on to a brighter life time, while you were stuck with the scent of gunpowder and blood staining your hands.

Wilbur was alot of things, but he wasn't a fool. Despite the two of you living separately, he noticed the symptoms of sleep deprivation, the few times he did see you. Despite the beautiful nation you too built you lived a life of seclusion, rarely seeing anyone let alone him. Guilt it him like waves whenever he passed your house while doing community service, the curtains always drawn, and the lamps lit dimly. He built this country for you, for you to be safe and loved and free from tyranny, and yet you never stepped foot outside the confines of your home. As the days turned into weeks between visits he began to worry, had he scorned you? Was L'manburg not enough for you? Cause he would take more, he would fight for more, he'd take the whole smp for you. It took Fundy a few months before he fully adjusted to the freedoms the country offered, so maybe you just needed adjusting too. Maybe, he could help.

It was a lazy sunny after noon when he stopped by your house, a bouquet of roses in hand, thorns plucked from each one, in hand. Dressed in his finest suit he knocked on your door, nothing. He waited a few minuets before pulling the key from his pocket, with a bit of effort and some trouble seeing over the bouquet he managed to open the door, the smell of blown out candles immediately hitting him. You must have taken a nap, he reasoned, he was tempted to leave your sleep, heaven knows you needed it. But something, felt wrong, a churning feeling in his gut told him to push forward, and so he did. Quietly closing the door behind him he silently made his way up the stair, in case you were asleep he'd curse himself for waking you. He hadn't made it to the fourth step before the cool of metal was pushed against his throat.

"What are you doing in my house."

He knew that voice, he knew the blade was yours, and yet the words couldn't resonate with him. It didn't sound like you, you were always so warm and friendly, but the words were cooler then the blade resting against his neck.

"Y/n, it's me, you're safe-"

"Oh god"

The sword clattered to the floor as he heard you take a few steps back. "I'm so sorry, I-I didn't know it was you I thought-" he turned in time to see you stumble against the wall, your hands held up to your face and your red eyes filled with fear and disgust. You had been crying for what looked like hours based on the state of your eyes. Wilbur felt his stomach drop, he felt bile rising to his throat but swallowed thickly. You needed more more time to adjust.

"Y/n it's alright, you didn't know it was me anyone would have done it" he reasoned, carefully making his way towards you, God forbid he scare you anymore then you were. "I could have hurt you Wil," you sob crumbling to the floor, "what if I hurt you?" Wilbur kneeled in front of you, abandoning the roses to take your face in his hands. "Then I wouldn forgive you, because I love you Y/N" he soothed, however his words fell on deaf ears as tears continued to spill from your puffy eyes. "I love you y/n, you know that right, I'd do anything for you" he promised, his brown hues desperate to meet your own, to no avail. "I.. I was so close to-" "that doesn't matter anymore, okay? I'm fine, but you aren't and you need to tell me what's wrong my Rose" he pleaded, wiping tears from your cheeks with his thumbs. "Everything's wrong Wil" you cry, holding onto his arms for stability, something to ground yourself with. "I-I can't sleep, I'm- I have nightmares every night about you, an-and Tommy and Eret, I'm just so so tired" you cry, your voice breaking with abuse. "This place is awful this land is cursed I'm being haunted Wil- I'm being haunted and I'm scared, Im so scared and tired and alone" you cry, falling against your lovers chest as he froze in shock.

He sat with you a long time, listening to your worries and fear, taking note of everything his frazzled mind could. It wasn't long before you moved to the living room, him letting you rest as you two took a break from, whatever this was. He had wandered into the kitchen, fetching a glass of water for you. He had barely filled the glass half full before you spoke up, "thank you for the roses" he jumped, nearly dropping the glass as he turned to you, he forgot how sneaky you were, intentional or not. "W-what?" He stammered, one of the few words he managed out since your outburst. You held up the bouquet, to be honest he forgot he had even brought that, "thank you for the roses" you sniffle, bringing them over to a basin full off water and dropping them into it. Wilbur let out a dry chuckle, "I uh, you're welcome" he snorted awkwardly, watching as a pained smile came to your face. "I'm also sorry for today, it's been-" "you've been through alot Y/n, more then I ever thought, you shouldn't apologize for being honest" he cut you off, finally topping off the glass. You don't speak but not solemnly reaching absent mindedly to pluck a rose from its place amongst the others, hissing as a sharp pain met your thumb, dropping the rose to the floor you brought your now bleeding appendage to your mouth. Wilbur was swift to meet your side, placing the glass on the counter as he glanced down at the rose, it's stem lay a single Thorn, one he must've missed. Seems he had gotten into the habit of missing things recently.

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listenheresweaty · 25 days

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I can't believe your asks are empty!!

can i just ask for wilbur fluff?? take it any direction you want! (although I do quite like the idea of napping together)

🏵 Your Tea Is Ready 🏵

Warnings: Burn out

Genre: Fluff

| Both ends of the Candle |

Cold hands cradled the back of your head as you slowly came to, eyes fluttering open to the sight of your bedroom wall, where you definitely hadn't slept last night. The smell of smoke and dust clouded your senses as you struggled to shake the sleep from your mind, pushing against the chest below you. "Up already?" A gravely voice cooed, the tone could be mistaken as mocking if you didn't know know person who it belonged to. "I didn't know I was even asleep " you groan, sitting up to straddle the man's waist, his unnaturally frigid hands sliding down your sides to sit on your waist.

"I figured, you fell asleep at your desk" he hummed, cool grey eyes meeting your own, everything about the man was cold, his skin, his eyes, he felt like a winters day in June, never quite fitting in anywhere, always just a little unnatural. "At my desk?" You were only given a nod, as you yawned, blinking away the drowsiness that begged for you to crawl back into him. "I probably didn't finish anything last night" you sighed rubbing your eyes with a groan. "You made quite the dent" he assured, but his words only deepened your anxieties. You didn't finish last night, quackity was going to have your head-

A gasp escaped you as once gently hands pulled you back down. "You're getting that look again" he sighed, running his hand through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. "What look?" You huff, putting your arms down on his chest to create some distance between your lover and yourself. "That look you get when you're stressed" he explained, rubbing comforting circles on your back, trying to lull you back to sleep. "Because I have to work, Wil-" "You're ahead right now, I checked the schedule" he admitted, his hand once in your hair coming to rest on your cheek, "I trust you, I love you darling, but I have no trust that you know your limits, so take a break with me and tell me I'm wrong" he pleaded. You knew well your lover would never stop worrying for you, never stop checking the schedule or coercing you into bed. But you also knew Wilbur would hold to his promise, if only for a few days. So with a defeated sigh you fell against his chest, a relieved sigh passing his lips. "Good, good" he muttered, barely a whisper as he planted kiss after kiss on your forehead his arms tightening a bit as you got comfortable. "Sleep well darling," he hummed, you could practically hear him smiling and for once you were happy you fell asleep a your desk, you could deal with the pain in your back later, but for now all you cared about was your arms around you.

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listenheresweaty · 25 days

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Can you do something soft with Wilbur? Like him and the reader are having a sappy and soft moment really really late at night and the only light is the moon from the window?

🏵 Your Tea Is Ready 🏵

Warnings: mentions of scars/death

Genre: Fluff twinge of hurt/comfort

| Water under the Bridge |

"I thought you liked parties,"

A scowl reached your face as you turned to face the man who you had believed had stood you up hours before, only to find he had been hiding from you the entire time. "I thought you liked me" you snap back, swinging your once dangling legs over to the other side of the bridge, wanting to give him your full attention as you chewed him out.

"I never said I didn't," he reasoned joining your side, the pale moonlight casting a silver glow on Wilburs scarred face. If you weren't upset with him you'd be absolutely enchanted by him in this lighting.

"You didn't have too," you started, he looked like he was about to cut you off when a stern glare from you shut him up. "Hiding from your date isn't exactly romantic now is it, Wilbur" you chide. You wanted to relesh in the pained look in his honey eyes, but you couldn't bring yourself too. Admittedly you cared quite a bit for him, which is why it hurt so much to catch him sharing drinks with Quackity while you bit back tears.

For once the brunette was quiet as he settled next to you, letting his arms rest crossed on the railing as he stared at the water. Damn him for being beautiful, it almost made you want to apologize, almost.

"I suppose it isn't," he said with a sigh, pushing himself away from the railing he extended his hand to you, fixing his suit a bit. "How about I make it up to you, care to dance?" You took his hand I your own, letting him pull you from the edge and pull you close. He never was quiet for long was he? "Care to explain yourself?" You hum as he began to lead you into a simple waltz, his touch gentle enough to be a graze, as he spun you around the cobble stone bridge. "Not many people enjoy waltzing with a ghost,"

With raised brows you began to question him before he continued, his tone unusually sheepish. "Thought I'd spare you the embarrassment."

"You're not a ghost wilbur, not anymore"

"If you think people don't see a corpse when they look at me, a rotten husk of a man, then you must be blind" he slowed to a stop as his eyes caught interest in everything but your own.

You sigh, "You are a rotten man, not for your scars," you take his face in your own, gently tracing his scar with your thumb. "Or you're hair" your hands travels up to comb through his white streaked locks, to grab a hold of his roots and pull him close to your face. "But because you believe leaving your date is less of an embarrassment then being seen with you" you hiss in his ear, pulling away as you slide your hands to his shoulders.

"The only thing sour about you, wilbur, is your judgement" you scold, a small smile coming to your face to match the grin on his own.

"I doubt that, it seems I have fairly good taste in dates" he cooed, leaning forward to capture your lips in his.

His lips were cold, like his hands that for the first time held you like he was really there, like he was more then the ghost he believed himself to be, but they felt alive, they made you feel alive as he dipped you into the moonlight, his arms cradling your waist as he kissed you like you were his dying wish, and you were.

He pulled away with a soft smile, before diving in to pepper your face in kisses, leaving your face flushed at his touch. "Let's get out of here, just you and me, hmm?" He practically pleaded against your skin, finally pulling you upright and closer to his chest as he stepped back to lean against the railing. "Maybe," you whisper, your breath finally coming back to you. "Im still mad at you" you regain your voice a bit as you wrap your arms around his neck.

He laughed, hearty and true as he kissed your fore head. "Give me the night to make it up to you then, I promise I'll make it up to you." Nodding you step away, interlocking your fingers with his. "Better hurry then, moons set to rise in a few hours"

"Don't worry song bird, I'll only need two."

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listenheresweaty · 25 days

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Hello! Can i please get angst to fluff with wilbur where reader thinks wil likes someone else- friends to lovers stuff. Also can i pls be 🖍️ Anon? If not its ok, Bye!

🏵 Your Tea Is Ready 🏵

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

| Place your Bets |

" I don't know, should I just go for it?" you huff, fiddling with the cards in your hands. Your eyes heavily favouring the man in front of you rather then the game at hand, you always won anyways.

"I never figured you the type to sit and wait," He murmured, his honey brown eyes getting increasingly focused on the cards in his hands. Finally after a few breaths he slowly placed a three of hearts card. "You've always gone for it before, why wait for.. whoever your crushing on now." The words seemed oddly bitter from your usually soft spoken friend.

you shifted in your chair, was he getting bored of this? Were you being boring? You were tempted to change the topic but the other would notice your sudden change in conversation. What usually came as a silent communication between the two seemed more a threat then ever as his eyes finally flickered up from his cards.

"It's more then a crush!" You spit just trying to say something before he caught on. "I really, really like spending time with him, he makes me feel happy and like, over think things-"

"You shouldn't be scared around the person you're supposed to be in love with" Wilbur said with a slight furrow to his brows.

"I'm not scared of him," You trace the curve of the cards in your hand, clutching to them like a life line. "He's lovely, he's only ever been kind to me... He's very sweet." You defend the man, although unknowingly from himself, and finally gain enough courage to once more meet his gaze. You've seen those eyes a thousand times, but every time brings a weakness to your knees that nothing else ever has. Gods above he's beautiful.

"He sounds dangerous,"

"He is, but he's nice."

"How would you know. "

"We are very close."

"close? Closer then us?"

"No, no one could ever be as close as us you know that Wilbur-"

"Sounds like he is, to you at least."

"For gods sake Wilbur it's you, the man is you!" You shout, slamming your cards on the table in frustration. The look of shock on his face had barely registered in your head before your hands flew to your face. Suddenly it clicked, Wilbur always did this sort of thing, he knew you had a short fuse and always wound you up to get something he wanted out of you. You let him do this to you, you told him everything and suddenly what you have been working towards for years had spill out of you like a broken dam. You wanted to cry, and by the feeling of wetness on your cheeks you figured you had already started.

"Oh." Was all he said, his eyes wider then anything before as he stared forward at nothing in particular.

"I should go, I should really go." You whispered, wiping at the tears that stained your cheeks. "Y/N, Y/N wait no, hold on, please I-" He stood up, grabbing your arm as you attempted to flee from him, your cheeks warming as you stare down at your feet.

"I love you too." he took you by both arms and with a firm grip gave you a gentle shake to bring your attention back to him, however his words were all you needed. You opened your mouth to question him, to accuse the man who's never once lied to you of lying in one of the most important moment of your lives but he beat you to the punch. "God I love you, I love you, I love you so god damn much." He praised you with words that comforted you like honey when your ill.

"You love me?"

"With everything I have," He let out a slight chuckle and wrapped his arms tight around you, pulling you in close and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

You let out a pained laugh, blinking away your tears as you rested your head against his shoulder, taking deep breathes of his scent as he encompassed your whole world.

"Really must not be a lot then"

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listenheresweaty · 25 days

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Hello

could we have some short fluffy Drabble or headcanons about a sick revivebur? I mean, after escaping limbo, this man’s hypochondria must be ten times as bad. And after he gets sick, the reader (who he is in a relationship with, although it’s been cold and distant since his revival) starts acting very concerned and motherly— just starts pampering him. imagine cooling off one’s hands (with ice pack maybe) purely for the reason of holding it to a sick person’s overheating forehead. And etc.

just petting the whiny, skrunkly, sick rat of a man.

🏵 Your Tea Is Ready🏵

Warnings: mentions of sickness and death

Genre: hurt comfort (?)

| Honey makes the medicine go down Easy |

You press the back of your hand to feverish, sweaty skin, his dark curls tickling you as he attempts to turn away.

"You've got an awful fever." You fret, trying to turn his flushed face towards you.

"Yet I'm fucking freezing." He curses, finally relenting and letting you guise his face towards yours.

"How long have you been sick? Why didn't you call?" You push the hair that had begun to stick to his forehead back, he relaxes into your touch, fluid and maluable like wet clay. He smelled a bit like dirt too.

"I didn't want to bother. What good would it do anyway?" He blinks, his golden eyes reaching yours. It hurts, a sting, a cut to your already breaking heart by you swallow your pride. You swallow your anger.

"I'm here now, so let me help you, you look like you've got one foot in the grave-" He laughs, bitter but still a laugh. Maybe his fever was worse then you thought.

"That wasn't a joke, you look awful."

"What ever man wishes to hear from their partner."

Now it was your time to laugh. "Alright, settle down, I'll get you some water." You raise from the bed and leave the room, missing as just behind you he reaches for your arm, though never manages to get to you.

You return swiftly with a cup of warm sweetened tea and a cool wet cloth, by now he had abandoned all blankets from the bed, fanning himself.

"You don't have the fire going, do you?"

"No, not yet." You settle beside him, he turns his head lazily towards you, his hair looking particularly more wild then it did before you left.

"Here," you reach to place the wet cloth on his head, he flinches slightly, but eases as the cool water touches him. "Better?"

"A bit." He hummed, adjusting the rag further up his head. "It's going to soak the bed." He grumbled, a droplet of water already spilling down his cheek.

"You'll live." You tease, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Will I? you seem to be quite worried."

"It's my job to be worried."

"What a horrible job."

"It's not, not for you."

You smile, your hand coming to cup his cheek, you hesitate, but he does not. Pressing he face to your palm and kissing your wrist with all the affection his fever addled brain could manage.

"You spoil me." He sighs, his hand coming up to inter lock with yours.

"I treat you as you deserve. As anyone, deserves." You hum, squeezing his hand before bringing the tea cup to his lips.

"What is it?"

"Tea, it will help you sleep."

"Well isn't that ominous."

You roll your eyes, but after giving it a curious sniff, he takes a sip, then gulps the rest down.

"Can't be too ominous then?" You Muse, putting the tea cup aside. You can hear the smile in his voice as he replies.

"If ominimity tastes that good you must be pure horror."

You tilt your head. "I can't quite tell if that was a compliment." This time, he squeezes your hand.

"I can't either."

You press your fore head to his, before leaning away. "Get some sleep, poet, you're starting to sound like a mad man." He smiles, blinking slowly.

"Perhaps I am." His breathing slows.

"Perhaps you are." His eyes flutter closed.

"You'll stay?" His grip tightens, like a frightened child on their mothers skirt.

"Of course, I'll stay."

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