#ooooh the Phil and Ghostbur one I’m excited about that
Text
Tommy sighs, and some of his anger is blown out through his nose and into the salty breeze. He’s quiet for about a minute before he says, “Do you want me to go in with you?”
~~~
Ghostbur stares at the list, and then looks up. He can see structures at the end of the path, behind some leafy trees. Wooden structures. Houses. A little village.
Ghostbur doesn't visit many villages—he doesn't remember any from Alivebur, either—mostly because they tend to be far away from the main parts of a server, and it takes a while to get to them.
~~~
Even so, Tommy’s heart pulses in his head, and his feathers are raised all over him, and he feels cold instead of hot even though his hair feels sticky.
~~~
When Philza saw Ghostbur for the first time, he gasped.
~~~
Wilbur wonders if Techno ever feels like this, around Tommy. This warm bursting inside his chest, like his heart is expanding past his ribs and slowly tearing through his skin. This explosion in slow-motion, a cacophony of colors and heatwaves and emotions, collecting in a storm cloud inside Wilbur’s brain. This feeling that’s so loud, and yet so quiet at the same time.
~~~
Wilbur loves her.
~~~
Tommy exhales softly. "Why aren't you saying much? You're all closed-off and stuff. That's bad, y'know. It represses trauma and locks up all your thoughts with a teeny tiny key and throws it out the window. Stuff like that." He waits. "Puffy says that's bad for you. Did she tell you that? About repressing things? Wil?"
~~~
Tommy presses his lips together. “Hey, if you- if you’re tired or anything, we can sit down. We don’t have to keep walking if you’re feeling bad.”
~~~
He wonders now, as he holds a tiny glass in both hands, walking from the kitchen to the den. It's the smallest glass he owns, he's sure; he'd spent way too much time looking for it earlier, opening cupboards and peering behind dishes and even checking underneath the sink. It's the only glass that'll fit the contents made for it—which, of course, is a flower. A very small, very tattered, very weak blue flower, all but one petal torn off.
~~~
Techno flicks his eyes to Ghostbur’s face, watching the ghost’s nostrils flare gently every time he breathes. Blanket covered chest rising up and down. Ghostbur doesn’t look like he’s in pain. That’s good.
Even so, Techno drops one hand from his chin and lets one elbow slide off his knee, reaching his arm forwards in order to lay his palm across Ghostbur’s forehead. A bit cold.
#THE SECOND ONE IS FOR THE RESTLESS REVERIES MULTI-CHAPTER THING!!!!!!!!#GOSH I WANT TO START WORKING ON THAT ONE AGAIN#I’ve actually been thinking—the reason I haven’t posted the Restless Reveries thing is because I wanted to work on a lot more chapters befor#before I actually put it up#(I usually don’t like posting multi-chapter stories when I haven’t written out all the chapters)#but I might actually make it a SERIES instead of a single long story#that way all the fics can still be connected but I won’t have to wait much longer until I post :D#because I really do wanna post what I’ve written for it :’(#ANYWAY#ooooh the Phil and Ghostbur one I’m excited about that#hopefully I’ll finish it alshakvsksgsjs#I like how all the words sound in that next one! explosion in slow motion especially… just sounds neat to my ears :D#OOOOH#OH THE ROMANTIC FIC#OH THAT HAS BEEN STRANGE TO WRITE#HAHA#WILBUR IS IN LOVEEEEEEEEE HE IS SO DESPERATELY IN LOVE AND HE’S ALSO NOT VERY OKAY#and he’s taking care of a literal baby so that is Also A Thing alsgakgsksgs#it’s been fun though!!#last two are from a Techno-centric fic I’m writing!!#I NEVER HEKKIN WRITE ABOUT TECHNO#HE IS QUITE DIFFICULT FOR ME TO WRITE#BUT I STILL WANT TO!!! it’s been really interesting so far :0#and also Ghostbur is not doing well :’( but Techno’s watching out for him and Ghostbur will get better :)#ask#ask game answers#Pinestripe tag#story snippet
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I know you're finishing up the last of these and you've probably technically already answered all of them but time got away from me and I meant to send an ask. So only if you feel like answering:
🌀❄️🌤️🌧️💧☔🌪️
No worries! If I have an ask game pinned, that means I’m still doing it (and it was pinned when you sent this) :D
Post the fic summary for a fic you haven't written/published yet. It can be hypothetical or something you really plan on releasing...
OOOOOOH! HMM.
This is gonna be a short summary because it’s a very new idea lol, but basically, it’s a modern AU! Tommy has just run away from an abusive situation, and he’s waiting for a train in an underground train station. He’s got a friend in the area that he’s trying to get to, hoping that friend will let him stay at his house for a bit :’0
While waiting… well, long story short, Tommy discovers that a ghost haunts the train station! But he’s actually a quite friendly—and very weird—ghost! He and Tommy become friends :)
The ghost is Ghostbur, by the way. Kinda obvious lol
Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing
Wilbur feels really stupid right now—which, he supposes, makes sense. Anyone would feel stupid standing in a…
Well… maybe not everyone would feel stupid? Some people, at least, wouldn’t. Some people do things like this, come to places like this, all the time. Or at least once a week. It’s once a week, right? Something like that.
Wilbur huffs out a breath, hands in the pockets of his long brown coat and smudged glasses sat atop his nose. People usually dress nicer when they go to a church, don’t they? They wear suits, and ties, and shiny black shoes.
Wilbur glances down at his own worn footwear, gently lifting one leg. Dirt falls onto the floor, carried by the soles of his shoe from outside.
Wilbur sighs, setting it back down. He is not fit to be in a church right now. He is most definitely not fit to be in a church right now.
Hence, the reason he’s feeling stupid. One of the reasons, at least.
Wilbur slowly lifts his head, dragging his eyes up the purple carpet and onto the stained glass set behind a wooden podium. He can’t really tell what the glass depicts; too many colors and shapes for that. He thinks that someone is kneeling, though. Bent down, head lowered.
Should I be doing that?
Wilbur clears his throat. The sound seems to echo throughout the (quite small) building, bouncing around the white walls and black pews and all the other stained glass windows that stretch to the ceiling. It makes Wilbur feel small—smaller than the church.
Which makes sense, he thinks with slightly furrowed brows. He is smaller than the church. Obviously. Obviously, he’s smaller than the church.
But still.
Wilbur closes his eyes, taking a very deep and very long breath. He feels his chest expand, his body rising ever so slightly taller, before the air is let out and his chest gets small and his body goes back to its usual height. He opens his eyes.
Wilbur feels really stupid right now.
And he’s about to feel a little more stupid.
“Hello.” The sound of his voice swims around the building, just like his cleared throat from earlier—except this time, the sound is louder. Almost startling, if Wilbur hadn’t known that it was his very own voice and not a stranger’s.
But Wilbur does know. He does know that it’s his own voice. So it’s not startling.
Wilbur swallows. “I um… wanted…”
Wanted? That’s not very true, is it? No. No, he never wanted to come here. He was told to come here.
Wilbur swallows again. “I came here, because… I think… it’ll help?”
Help. Help with what?
“Y’know, just… it’ll help me get better, or something.” Wilbur says this with an almost-smile, gently bending forward before straightening. “I was told it would, at least. Help me. By um… someone.”
He clears his throat again, and wonders how many times someone can clear their throat before it starts hurting, or causes damage.
He flicks his eyes to the podium. “Do you ever come inside this place, and listen? Or do you just…” He makes a gesture with one hand, pulling it out of his coat pocket. “Stay up there, all the time? Or wherever you reside.”
Silence is his answer.
Wilbur looks away, nodding his head and clucking his tongue. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say. That’s what I thought.”
He blinks. You’re probably being too blunt. Too on the nose.
“I’m- gosh, what am I even doing?” Wilbur takes a tiny step backwards, looking around. “I don’t- y’know, I haven’t been in a building like this in ages. Not since I was a kid, I don’t think.
“Oh.” Wilbur’s eyes brighten, slightly, and he turns back to the stained glass at the front. “I should talk about that, probably. I probably should. My history, with places like these, I mean.”
~~~
Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP
“Yes!” The man answered eagerly, nodding. “Yesterday! Yesterday was a very eventful day for me—for everyone, judging by the massive hole in L’manburg and how sad everyone looks.”
He said that with a happy lilt in his voice, like he was discussing a new pet.
Phil began to notice how the man’s voice sounded; high-pitched and scratchy. Not smooth and deep-toned.
The icy burn in Phil’s chest flickered again. “It, uh… eventful. Yes. It was… it was very eventful. That’s one word for it.”
The man brightened, opening his mouth and beginning to chatter about something Phil had no interest in listening to.
All Phil heard was high-pitched, scratchy.
All he heard was the sound of something wrong.
All he heard was someone who didn’t sound like his son.
And yet:
“Wil?” Phil said it in a whisper, in a breath, the words leaving his chest and taking with it his supply of oxygen. His throat tightened.
The man went quiet, the smile finally leaving his face in a soft drop, like a curtain closing. He tilted his head slightly. “Hello. Philza, I am very dead.”
The bluntness was enough to shock some air back into Phil’s lungs, and he gulped shakily. “W-what?”
“I’m dead!” The man repeated, tinged with something bright and sharp and almost searing. “You killed me yesterday, remember? That was why- that was why I said yesterday was eventful! That was why!” In a bubbly chuckle, he’d added, “It’s not everyday that someone dies—in this server, I mean. I’m not sure about other servers. Phil, you’ve been to other servers, haven’t you? Do lots of people die in those servers?”
“You- you’re-“
The man—dead man, not alive, not alive. Not alive?—watched with wide eyes as Phil stuttered, licked his lips, tried to speak. “You’re… you said you… died?”
“Oh yes! I died, and now I’m dead but still here, but I think I sound different and everyone looks at me like I did something horrible and some of them look like they hate me.” The man blinked, putting on a smile at once. “I’m a ghost!”
And that was when Phil realized; the voice, the skin, the sweater, the smile. The way the man—ghost—stood just a little taller than Phil, and Phil didn’t have to turn his head up to make eye contact. Phil could just turn his eyes up, and not his head.
That wasn’t right. His son was much taller than this.
Phil swallowed, and the icy burn in his chest went out in a horrible painless snuff. “What’s your name?”
The dead man stared at him, and he smiled again. “My name is Ghostbur!”
Phil should not have let himself hope.
~~~
Share something angsty from your WIP
"You just shot a tree instead of the target, Tommy!" Wilbur's voice turns sharp like saltwater, and Tommy shuts his mouth.
Wilbur takes a deep breath through his nose—it's loud, and that's how Tommy can tell it's from his nose and not from his mouth—and comes to a stop. He's right in front of Tommy, several feet away, and the wind is blowing at his coat and making his hair dance a little bit, across his forehead. "You're not good with a bow. That's the simple truth, Tommy. You're not."
Wilbur's voice isn't saltwater anymore; it's back to being river water, all smooth and cold and filled with weird things like wet leaves and mud. Tommy prefers this to the saltwater, but he thinks that Wilbur's voice used to be different, still. Maybe not like water at all. Maybe just like Wilbur, and nothing else.
Tommy realizes he’s been standing still for several seconds, so he shifts his feet, sniffing. “Well. What do you want me to do about it?”
Wilbur blinks, eyes narrowed just a little bit. “Get better. That’s what I’m helping you with. Now,” Wilbur takes a few backwards steps, back to where he’d been standing before Tommy shot an arrow into a tree. “Try again.”
~~~
Share something romantic/hot from your WIP, or just something sweet if it's gen
I'll do you one better and share both >:)
~~~
When he steps forward and presses his lips to hers, the sun shines directly into his eyes, and he closes them. He wants to stay like this forever. Even if he can't see.
Like Eurydice and Orpheus, he thinks.
When Sally pulls away, Wilbur feels a weight in his arms. When he looks down, he sees Fundy settled in them. The baby is nearly asleep, limp with eyes mostly-closed. He's wearing a light blue onesie. He's adorable.
When Wilbur looks back up, Sally has taken several steps back. He opens his mouth to call her back, but closes it.
Sally shakes her head, smiling through tears. "If I stay any longer, I'll never leave."
If you stay any longer, I won't let you.
Wilbur doesn't say that. He merely presses his lips together and tries to smile. Fundy is feather-light in his arms.
~~~
Ghostbur begins to hum, quietly, as he works on bandaging Tommy’s arm. Tommy can’t tell what song Ghostbur is humming, but it sounds nice; soft and gentle and all that. Maybe Ghostbur made it up.
“Tommy?”
Tommy takes a breath, straightening his back a little bit (it’s starting to get sore). “Yeah?”
“How did you hurt yourself?”
“I already told you, Ghostbur.”
Ghostbur is quiet for a few moments.
Tommy turns his head, just a little bit, so he can see his friend. “You forgot?”
“Don’t- don’t look.” Ghostbur quickly pulls one hand away from the bandage, pushing it into Tommy’s face and forcing his head away. “I don’t want you to look.”
“Fine, fine.” Tommy breathes in, deep. “I fell.”
“Fell from what?” Ghostbur’s voice is friendly, conversational. Not a bit of malice or that wrinkled-lip-ness that sometimes makes it’s way through voices.
Come to think of it, Tommy doesn’t think that Ghostbur has ever sounded like that. Mean, that is.
“A little, y’know. A tower.”
“Oh.” Ghostbur’s fingers prod along Tommy’s arm, but it’s gentle, so Tommy doesn’t yelp or anything. “Why did you jump off a tower?”
At this, Tommy feels his face burn. “I was… I was trying to do something.”
“Trying to do what?”
“Quit asking so many questions, man! Jeez! You’re proper annoying me right now.”
“Were you trying to do a water bucket clutch?”
Tommy opens and closes his mouth. He doesn’t say anything—can’t say anything, really. How did he-
“Tommy, that was not a very smart thing to do.”
“Oh, shut up! You’re just saying that because-“
“Hold still.”
Tommy grumbles, holding himself steady even though he desperately wants to stand up and smack Ghostbur on the face.
~~~
Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?
Mmm… I’d really want to write a super long one-shot about Wilbur and Phil, and how they slowly and painstakingly heal after Wilbur is revived… but that’s a very Big Project, and I’m not sure if I’ll get around to it :’(
But I do have ideas for a few scenes!!
Sum up a WIP with a few fic tropes/Ao3 tags
I’ll go with my chicken au (I will not elaborate)
(I messed up on one of the tags lol)
#THE FIRST SNIPPET AAAAAAAAAAH I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT IT#ATHEIST ATTEMPTS TO HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH GOD MORE AT 11#AAAAAAAAAAAH#SO *FREAKING* EXCITED#OH MY GOODNESS#I absolutely don’t headcanon Wilbur as religious aksgaksgajg BUT it’s still a super interesting idea to explore#because everyone has SOME sort of relationship with religion y’know?#it’s been fun for me to try and figure out what Wilbur’s would look like :)#ooooh I’m also excited about the second snippet#Phil and Ghostbur’s relationship is a darn interesting one#good angst material#like here you have a man that killed his son and regrets it every single second of every single day#here you have a man who watches his son’s ghost and the ghost is ALMOST Wilbur but he’s NOT WILBUR#he’s so clearly not Wilbur#and Phil wants Wilbur. he doesn’t want a ghost#he just wants his kid back—his real kid#oughhhhh#and also delving into Ghostbur’s unsettling/kinda creepy side has been fun lol#I actually wasn’t going to share the next snippet about Wilbur and water :0#but I thought you’d like it :)#GAH A RARE ROMANCE FIC WRITTEN BY ME#I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’M DOING LOL#BEEN FUN THOUGH#Wilbur is young and so desperately madly stupidly in love my goodness#ask#ask game answers#story snippet#my story ideas
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