Welcome to a bored analysis of C!Wilbur Soot, c!Tommy, the “afterlife” and c!Wilbur cares for c!Tommy or not.
[Note]if I forgot an important detail I apologize, I still need to catch up on recent streams, also this contains a few small theories I have regarding the “afterlife”
Alright so…Wilbur Soot.
When I first saw his revival I honestly was surprised with the way he went about it, but after hearing about his version of his afterlife with the whole train station thing it made sense.
He never really found peace after dying in L’manberg’s second death. Hence why Ghostbur was even a thing in the first place. And I don’t know about you but almost 13 years of isolation with not much company, it could do a lot to a person.
And then we have Tommy danger-Kraken Innit.
The kid who’s been dragged through hell and back kicking and screaming. Who has basically nothing to his name but still fought for so many people, places, and things for far longer than anyone should have.
And what was his personal purgatory?
A void of pure nothingness, he hears things, but he sees nothing but a pitch black abyss.
Now, I believe that the Wilbur in Tommy’s purgatory is still the same Wilbur who was revived. But it’s just that they both saw two different perspectives, but since we don’t exactly know what went on between them I can only assume that they both were under the impression that they thought the other was seeing what they were seeing.
Now I kind of did a little research on dream meanings for this
(And yes I’m well aware of the fact that dreams aren’t the same as Death but just bear with me here)
For Wilbur I researched about train stations and waiting.
Train stations: “…A train station represents a transitional period in your life. You need to take a short break to reassess your situation and determine your path and goals.”
Waiting: “To dream you are waiting is indicative of issues of power/control and feelings of dependence/independence”
Now Wilbur defiantly has some issues to go through about Power and control, and I would say he does have some clear signs of dependence when it comes to characters such as Tommy.
Now for Tommy I researched the void/abyss
The void: “If feared: fear of losing control, loss of identity, fear of failure, meeting those dark fears or worries, we hide in our depths; lack of confidence, we fear death in some form and are afraid of the hugeness of the unconscious”
Tommy was very afraid of the void from when we saw him in purgatory for the first time, and when he was revived you were able to see the fears that were mentioned
Fear of losing control: I’m pretty confident in saying that c!Tommy is one who gets manipulated the most, and at times even being the scapegoat for conflicts.
It feels as though Tommy’s losing power over himself because he’s either being manipulated into doing something that doesn’t really benefit him. Or blamed for a conflict that he was only really apart of and not really starting it only joining in when things get rough.
fear of failure: This mostly pertains a lot with Wilbur, he’s afraid of disappointing one of the few people he still believes in, when Wilbur used the whole “Family dynamic” against Tommy because Tommy didn’t want to get him stone Tommy immediately went on the defensive and in the end just agreed to get the stone.
Worries and lack of confidence: this kind of goes back to the “fear of losing power over himself” Tommy has to worry about his life on a daily basis because he doesn’t want to go through any of the trauma’s he’s been through over again.
Another this bit about what the void could possibly mean is that it’s says that even though Tommy has fought so many wars he doesn’t have anything to show for it other than trauma and the lack of closure he tried to achieve but ended up dying instead.
My theory with the purgatory is that it customizes its self based on the person and what they have failed to accomplish (or what they have yet to accomplish revved duo’s case)
For Wilbur it’s the fact he never thought about the consequences of his actions and struggle to Reevaluate his issues with power and control and his dependent nature on other people.
For Tommy it’s around the fact he never got the closure and had to spend time with his unresolved traumas and issues.
And because of this fact they can’t move on to the afterlife because of what they went through and neither not having the true closure they needed they can’t truly find peace.
Now that I got my purgatory rant out of the way, this being up the next part of this rant…
Does c!Wilbur care about c!Tommy?
I’m under the belief that he does,
but because of the the fact Wilbur’s been doing nothing but thinking about the things he’s done and seeing Tommy accomplish his goals at the end of the disc war.
He feels as though Tommy doesn’t care about Wilbur anymore or at the very least doesn’t need him anymore.
Now I’m not excusing the fact that Wilbur is still manipulating Tommy and it’s still fucked up.
But if you saw a lot of the recent streams between c!Wilbur and c!Tommy, It’s pretty obvious in the way he talks with Ranboo, how he doesn’t want Tommy to join las Nevadas without him, how he seems to fall back into his Pogtopia tactics to keep Tommy by his side.
And Tommy and Wilbur’s interaction in purgatory did not help with Wilbur’s thought process, since Tommy seemed to very much not want to be there with Wilbur while Wilbur seemed to be a bit of the opposite with the cards and “playful” banter.
He feels as though he needs to use his manipulative tactics otherwise Tommy would leave him.
what’s really funny/irritating to me about this situation is that this is literally the opposite of the actual case.
Tommy literally talked with Foolish saying:
“But what this is, it’s gonna be about- not giving him a second chance, isn’t giving him a third chance, it’s not about chances! … it’s about making sure you don’t give up on the people you careabout.”
Tommy does care about Wilbur, and the fact that Wilbur can’t see that due to the years of isolation and unresolved traumas and issues he has, he can’t fully comprehend that “hey maybe I don’t have to manipulate the gremlin child into staying”
And why does Tommy stay with Wilbur?
Well besides his talk with Foolish, I think it goes back to the lack in confidence, Tommy has been manipulated and used as a scapegoat so much he’s basically accepted the fact people’s opinion of him will ever change. So he probably thinks that if he tried talking to Wilbur about it it’s very likely he wouldn’t believe it at all. (Kind of like how it was in Pogtopia with Wilbur doubting Tommy’s loyalty and input) So Tommy’s stuck in this loop of just taking it and just going with what Wilbur says.
Summary:
While Wilbur does indeed care for Tommy but it’s still unhealthy with how Tommy feels as though he needs to follow Wilbur in order to show he cares.
To end off if anyone needs clarification on any part of this analysis brain-dump, or have a theory about the opposite side feel free to comment on it or send a DM, I like formulating ideas and theories.
Description: c!Wilbur x Reader, slight angst to fluff
TW: 1 bit of cursing, otherwise probably none(?). Let me know if there is any and I’ll add it right way.
Word count: 3.2k
Summary: Wilbur challenged you to a love letter writing competition. You have an emotional crisis because you don’t know how to write a candid love letter without confessing your love to him. Little did you two know you are idiots in love both pining for each other.
A/N: As you can see I gave up on the summary and a lot of the dialogue punctuation because I’m genuinely so stupid at both. I promise I will make up for this the next fic. But hey at least I posted something at last.
I want to take this opportunity to give special thanks to my bestie @chaoticene for all the support all the time always, @straighttohellbuddy for writing something so wonderful it finally pushed my ass back to writing, and @allywritesforfun for being an incredibly conscientious editor. And also happy (late) birthday to @sushisoot, this is your present ;)
On your small tea table outside, you had to squint a bit to see the ink being illuminated by the house’s window lights. The sun was slowly setting on the horizon of your quaint little cottage, but in your hands were the words that would ignite the sunrise of a new nation.
The draft of L’manburg Declaration of Independence was currently under keen scrutiny, your eyes searching for any awkward wording or grammar mistakes Wilbur might have made in the haste to jot down his fire for the country.
Contrary to your focused but relaxed composure, the man was pacing back and forth anxiously in your garden. It was easy to see the passion for his “symphony” by how agitated he was when he handed you the draft.
“You spelled ‘separate’ incorrectly, Wilbur. There are two ‘a’s’,” you decided to interrupt his intense expression, “and there should be a comma here, too.”
Wilbur gazed at you in mild disbelief (and a bit of annoyance, maybe) while he came over to check. The lanky bastard had to crouch from behind to see the spot you were pointing at with your thumb.
“Can’t believe I’m so dumb”, he let out a small laugh. “Can you make a note there? I’ll fix it later.”
“You are easily one of the most eloquent people I’ve met, Wilbur”, you scoffed while scrawling on the parchment. “You are practically raising an entire nation with merely your words”, frowning playfully, you shook your head, “Don’t do yourself such a disservice”.
He raised his brows at you. “And yet here I am, seeking once more consultation from your ever-flowing fountain of literary wisdom”. He dropped his poet act, “You have written some of the best things I’ve ever read, Y/N, and I consider myself quite well-read”. There he goes again, complimenting your penmanship while you try to brush it off. What a nice Thursday.
“You are an ass-kisser.”
“And you are a hypocrite”, he retorted. “But really, I think it’s high time you recognize how brilliant your writing really is”.
“What do you mean by that?” you looked at him, confused.
“Maybe a… writing competition?”. There was a glint in his eyes, “To see which one of us is the bigger hypocrite”.
“Fine”, you rolled your eyes, defeated. This prick, always knows how to get what he wants. You were too competitive to say no, especially to him. “What do you want to write?”
“Now, I know you are the best when writing emotional stuff, so maybe that?” he offered, almost as a consolation for having persuaded you into doing this.
“Emotional stuff? Like a love letter?”, you laughed at the ridiculousness of the idea.
“Sure”, Wilbur smirked, accepting the challenge.
Alright, maybe you laughed a little early.
You blinked at the man, eyes wide open as he continued on, completely dismissing your baffled reaction.
“You and I, we each write a love letter, addressed to…”, he held a suspiciously mischievous look, “whoever we want. And in a… fortnight, for poetic reasons, we show each other.”
You held your skeptic stare, very unsure about the decision you’ve just made. A love letter. You knew in an instant who you’ll be writing it to. And you wanted to scold yourself for knowing the answer so fast, so well.
“Whosever letter moves the other person more, wins, and will forever be the better writer of the two of us”, the brunet waved his hands dramatically. “Bragging rights for life if you admit you are the bigger hypocrite”.
“No cheating. You must write to the best of your capabilities”. You were in way too deep now, there’s no backing out. The best you could do is hope his love, most likely for his country, will burn (haha get it? Wilburn. Badum tss. I should go kick myself) brighter than yours.
“You, too”. He extended his hands out, grinning like a corrupted wizard ready to take your heart away the moment you agreed to his shady, too-good-to-be-true deal.
Little did he know, he already had it.
So you shook his hands, firmly, “In a fortnight”.
“In a fortnight”.
**********
A week has passed since the deal was made, and you are thoroughly regretting everything. If you were being honest, you didn’t know why you even went along knowing full well it would expose you.
Several attempts have been made to write, about things other than Wilbur, of course. There are many people, many stuff that you love apart from him. Surely. You love your peaceful, quiet life in the forest, surrounded by fauna and flora as far as one can see. You love the bustling of the nearby towns, where you can smell the baker’s buttery pastries and see the florist’s vibrant flowers every morning. You love the joyful melodies of the seasonal festivals, when people would sing and dance without a worry in the world.
When you and Wilbur first met.
Soon into the process of writing, you realized a lot of the things you love were connected to Wilbur, and composing a love letter about anything else felt… lackluster. Disingenuous, if you had the courage to say it.
So, to the surprise of no one, you crumpled another piece of paper to the trash can. Perhaps taking a few more days away from parchment and ink to contemplate what to write on would give you a surge of the lovey-dovey feeling you need.
**********
Only two more days until you have to show Wilbur your “love letter” whose dedicated subject you still haven’t decided on. Your mind has just been stuck ever since you took on this challenge, and there is not a single thing you can think of that can motivate you to write.
Except…
No. You’ve been there. You’ve decided it was too risky a move to make. No one in their right mind would read whatever it is you would write to him and think it’s just platonic. It would be self-sabotaging in its very definition.
Then again, if you didn’t write anything, or write about something you didn’t truly pour your heart into, he would know. He would know that something wasn’t right, and you would have to live a life even more miserable than right now, constantly teetering the edge between friendship and romantic partnership, questioning if the other felt the same.
“Fuck it”. You sat up right from your bed, walking straight to your desk, “I’ve got nothing to lose”.
It was a pathetic lie you told yourself because, subconsciously, you knew you had everything to lose. But if you didn’t do something and let your fate falls to uncertainty, you would probably go crazier than you already have.
Later that day, in a quaint little cottage shrouded by the forest’s bushy shadows, was a person desperately writing, scribbling the night away, as if their life depended on it, as if this was the first, and last, time they would ever write this way.
**********
Sunlight greeted the SMP once again, the hues of dawn slowly fading, making way for a cloudless sky. It was a picturesque, soundless painting, minus the small shop owners prepping their goods for the day.
The sound of the doorbell shocked Niki for a bit - she was sure the sign still said “Closed”. However, the silhouette of a tall brunet relaxed her mind.
“Good morning, Niki”.
“Morning, Wilbur”, she was focused on frosting her cake, sparing him but a glance. “What got you here so early?”
“I was told to pick up a… letter here? From Y/N?” He quirked an eyebrow, hoping he hadn’t gotten your instructions wrong.
“Oh, yes! I’ve got it right here for you” Niki placed her piping bag down and wiped her hands on the mustard-coloured apron, directing herself to the back room. From his place in front of the counter, Wilbur could see her moving a few things around before returning with an envelope in her hands.
“Here you go”.
He retrieved the brown thing with a thank. Twirling the envelope around, he couldn’t help but admire your handiwork with the wax seal, and even the calligraphy. He was curious to know what you had written that merited such fancy wrappings.
“It’s quite weird. She dropped this off just a while ago, you know. The sun was barely up”, a small chuckle escaped Niki, who wasted no time getting back to her Red Velvet. “She also told me to tell you to read it right away, before you visit her place”.
“Huh…” This captured Wilbur’s attention. Weren’t you guys going to exchange your letters later together? Perhaps this is the reason you asked him to get yours from Niki instead of giving him yourself.
“You know why?”
“No idea. But I guess the answer might be in the envelope.”
So he made his way to one of the mini coffee tables, gently opening the carnation-printed red seal. “May I?” he looked at the baker, gesturing at the wooden chair.
“Of course”. She suddenly jerked her head up, “Actually, I just remember I need to give Y/N some vanilla extract she asked for. Do you mind watching the place for a moment while I go grab it?”
“Yeah, sure”, he answered absentmindedly, too consumed with the parchment in his hand.
“Wilbur dearest,
Smart as I am acclaimed to be, time and time again I have let myself fall victim for your stupid charms. The latest time being agreeing to this little bet, knowing full well it would put my heart on the lifeline. The very first? Catching your gaze in that festival - what seemed like a million springs ago.
I have to admit, being made a fool has never felt so exhilarating.
No, it wasn’t love at first sight, I’ve experienced the overwhelming crash of it to know different. It was not completely a slow-burn romance like in the novels, either. It was something in between. Such the hopeless romantic I am, but that moment was this instant attraction, a sparkly diamond firework of magnetism that erupted, and trailed to this day. I didn’t think much of it then, how prominent you would be in my life. Yet now I know, the extent to which Clytie yearns for Helios day by day.
You bewilder me, Will. All the people I have encountered in this realm, yet none intrigued me like you. The more I learn about you, the more I admire you, and the more I want to know you. I couldn’t imagine there would exist a day when I would be so absolutely smitten with someone, their flaws, their quirks, their ambitions, the almost invisible but still sensible guitar callouses on their hands. Mister President, sir, your words are melodic morning symphonies to my ears. It still surprises me to this day how there is not a single thing I don’t adore about you.
And how you make me feel, I don’t think I can ever fully convey it to words. You set my soul ablaze, surge up the tides of my heart, ground my mind in this chaos of a reality, and ascend my body to the ninth of clouds. Since you, my life has been dusted in rose gold happiness, and I thank you so much for that, Wilbur. You made me a better person and showed me how beautiful I am, how beautiful life can be. I want you to know I am forever grateful to know you.
As infatuated as I am with you, I must ask you to never reciprocate if out of only the guilt of your being. You don’t owe me anything. I don’t want my feelings to burden you. I know your heart reserved room for other things, other people. I have also anticipated that once you have read these lines, our relationship will be awfully different. But can I be selfish with you, for just a bit? Promise me that we will still be friends, that I will still have you in my life. It’s fine if these sentiments are not requited, just don’t address them with me, ever, please. I don’t care for the aches inside my chest if it means you are here with me.
Because, if it’s not painfully clear enough, I love you, Wilbur. So crazily, pathetically, ridiculously much.
Fantasize me a reality where you do, too.
Wholeheartedly yours,
Y/N”
He wasn’t quite sure for how long he had sat there, completely blanked out in the bakery. He wasn’t quite sure how to properly process everything he had just read, either. All the neurons in his brain were failing to form a single thought until…
“Niki! I forgot the vanilla-”
You closed the door to see the shop devoided of a pink-haired figure, only a half-decorated cake behind the counter and Wilbur. Your eyes trailed to his hands, then beside him on the table, just to recognize that it was…
Your letter.
Opened.
Laying right there just inviting him to read through all your vulnerabilities.
Too bad you weren’t a lexicographer because this would be the perfect definition for “bad timing”. Why did he even come so early?
You tried to regain yourself from your angsty thoughts and minimize the awkwardness of the situation.
“Hello, Will!”, what an unmistakably genuine smile. “How are you today?”
“Hey.”
With the distant voice and far-off look, you knew he had already read the whole thing. He was probably trying to find a way to speak to you without breaking your heart.
“You know, I’m feeling quite alright!” You told him with the merriest pitch you could muster, hoping he would catch the message. There was a very high chance this would be the last conversation you two would share as close friends.
Deafening silence remained inside the small space. He hasn’t moved a muscle since you stepped in, chestnut trench coat facing you.
“Are you okay-”
“No. I’m not okay.”
“Wh-”
“I can’t believe I didn’t know this”, he abruptly turned his head, “I can’t believe you’ve felt like this, all this time, and I wasn’t made aware”.
You weren’t sure what to make of his tone. Was he sad? Disappointed? …Angry? The thought of Wilbur being angry at you sent a shudder down your spine.
It took you a second, but you replied cautiously. “What are you saying?”
“Y/N”, he grabbed you by the arms. “You have no idea how much I’ve dreamt of this day.”
“What?”
Wilbur gazed into your eyes with a clarity, a sincerity you’ve never seen before. If your brain wasn’t tricking itself, you could swear sparse hints of relieving ecstasy were also laced in.
“It’s-, I didn’t know-, This thing-” Swallowing an invisible gulp of hesitation, his words finally caught up with his thoughts. “I’ve loved you for a long while, too.”
Now it’s your turn to stand there in the bakery, mouth half-agaped, completely blanking out with no thoughts forming inside your head. He seemed to recognize your shock, so he reached for your letter on the table.
“Everything you’ve written here- Heart-meltingly beautiful, by the way- It’s mutual. It’s all mutual”. He explained to you again, hoping you would see the desperate honesty in voice. “It’s been you, Y/N. It has always and will always be you. I burn for you”.
Safe to say by the expression on your face, you did not expect for this to happen at all. So you short-circuited with a goofy grin, “Did the great Wilbur Soot just fumbled over his words for me?”
Perhaps by now he had realized why none of your past loves have ever worked out, and why none of them you have confessed, least to say having your feelings requited.
Wilbur chuckled at your sentence with a layer of mild confusion behind his eyes. After sharing a hearty moment giggling with each other for the situation to settle in, you blindly crossed the small distance between you two in a bold footstep, and put your hands around his neck.
The gap between you was very narrow now. Scandalously narrow. Yet, after all that display of spontaneous courage, you were still too shy to make the final move.
So he did.
And your lips crashed in iridescent sparks of lovers’ rejoice. It was soft and tender, passionate and longing, all at the same time. It’s mesmerizing. For all this moment feels like a dream, you know it is not one from which you will be cruelly awoken. When you open your eyes, he will still be there, joyful, warm, holding you close; he will not disappear with the sunrise, because even in your wildest fantasy wouldn’t you know his kiss to be so nectarean.
Finally you broke away from the addictive sensation, still remaining itchily close, just taking in the euphoria you have just been through.
“You can’t imagine the happiness I’m feeling right now”, you cried into his shoulders.
“Trust me, I have a clue”, he whispered back contently.
You tightened your grasp around him. Maybe if you do you can also save this memory forever, tuck it away from the greedy, prying hands of time.
The blissful moment lasted only a few more seconds before your half-lidded eyes spotted a mass of pink hair behind the door frame to the back room. Suddenly, you recalled why you were here in the first place. You went to break the tender atmosphere, but luckily Niki saved you from having to cut short your own fleeting minutes of joy.
“I’ve got your vanilla extract, Y/N”. She finally spoke up, but her knowing grin and twinkling eyes were saying something completely different. Like you have guessed, she approved. In fact, if you threaded all the hints she has dropped over the years together, maybe you would have seen that she has been rooting for you guys the whole time.
“Thank you, Niki”. You turned to her, smiling gleefully, not even bothering to address the situation.
Wilbur let go of you and returned to his seat, trying to clean up more of his flustered smirking face than the actual table. Graciously taking the bottle of baking ingredient from Niki, you didn’t forget to also send a mischievous look his way.
“I still have some cleaning up to do, so I’ll see you at my place, Will.” You beamed at him. Everyone in the shop was wearing different smiles, none really pertaining to the words they say, yet all sharing a common source.
“I’ll see you later.” Then, as if remembering something, he added, “Love.”
With that, you walked out of the bakery, chipper and giddy, barely able to contain yourself, skipping half your way home.
The two people left inside the place continued to eye on you with great interest. Then, one resumed her daily schedule with buttercream and piping bags, while the other stared at the empty space ahead of him in dumbfounded wonder.
“Gosh, I was wondering if this was even going to happen,” Niki dropped nonchalantly, continuing adding petals to the rose garment as if her friends’ entire worlds hadn’t just flipped. “Took you two long enough.”
