i think this time i'm dying

| call me ax | in highschool | she/they |

[ax-writes]

pinned post

hello! this is the tertiary blog to @ax-y10. if this the blog that you see before the one mentioned above, i will introduce myself and what i plan to do with this blog below, as well as a few links.

who am i?

i don't like my birthname, as well as the things associated with it and my past mistakes i brought along with it, so what i would like you to call me is ax. please don't call me anything else, it annoys me when my friends do it, so i would rather people on the internet didn't call me "ex" or "axel".

i am in highschool. yes, i am a youngen, but so is a lot of the dsmp/qsmp/wilbur soot community, which is what i associate with and will post about (as well as ycgma, but that is wilbur, so shh).

my pronouns are she/they, but i don't mind what pronouns you use for me, as it doesn't really affect me. However, i feel more comfortable with she/they.

what i will/won't post:

i am part of the dsmp/qsmp and wilbur soot community, so i will definitely be posting about them. i will not be posting nsfw content, but the occasional suggestive joke may be passed around. more detailed info below.

dsmp/qsmp: i will post less about these, because they are discussed more so on my main blog, but the occasional mention will appear on this blog.

wilbur soot community: this blog was created to write a your city gave me asthma fanfiction project that i would like to work on, but i will definitely be discussing this subject more on this blog, but my main blog has much more info on this. i will post about anything wilbur related, like argbur, ghostbur, any bursona essentially, and ycgma/lovejoy, and anything else he relates with

sfw/nsfw: i will not write any outright nsfw, however there will be the occasional suggestive joke between my mutuals and i on here. sfw, on the other hand, will be the primary source of posts, after my ycgma fic.

requesting? here's the info:

again, this blog was created for the sole purpose of writing a your city gave me asthma fic series, but you will be able to request little short blurbs that relate back to the topic of the ycgma fanfiction i'll be writing. any other requests go to my main blog (listed above and below)

rules here: - don't request smut or nsfw, otherwise I'll ignore it. - please respect wilbur's and anyone else's (if you choose to add someone) boundaries when requesting for something - i will only be writing for ycgma and other wilbur related concepts along the ycgma topic - when requesting, please specify who you want to have written (must be wilbur and, if you wish, someone else), what genre you want it to be (angst, fluff, hurt/comfort etc.) and the summary of what you want written

links here:

masterlist wilbur quotes masterlist (@ax-y10)

tags i'll use:

#ax blabbers #ax reblogs (these are the same on my main blog)

accounts:

main blog: @ax-y10 secondary blog: @ax-spams

[ax-writes]

chapter 2

in which- wilbur is acting awfully weird, and his bestfriend, tommy, isn't helping

chapter info- uncertainty, worrying, tommy being a shithead, anxiety, graphic descriptions of clothing /j, bittersweet maybe, nervousness, overthinking, more so thoughts

a/n- lmao, sorry this took so long to come out. i've been hella busy with school and assignments but now i have seven weeks to do whatever so many more cool things are gonna happen

pronouns- you/yours

masterlist-

months had passed since that short meet at the tube, but you’d seen him more at least. you’d gotten to know him better, you got to meet some of his friends, and him meeting some of yours. you knew each other better than you’d ever known anyone and you felt like you were finally getting somewhere in this friendship.

you’d organised with him to meet at his flat, and he’d let you know that his friend, tommy, would be over, so you were expecting a very loud child to run at you when you opened the door. however, that was not the case. instead, all you heard was wilbur and tommy in presumably wilbur’s room talking. very loudly, may i add.

“i feel like they’d murder me, ya know? which is what makes them so… i don’t know, attractive?” wilbur’s voice rang through the apartment, and your heart dropped. why were you suddenly so jealous over an unknown person.

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” tommy laughed, and made his way towards the door, causing wilbur to catch your gaze. his door was slightly ajar and all he felt was fear of what and how much you had heard

“wait wait… tommy don’t go and tell them that!” wilbur begged. God, he was scared of a girl he’d met on the tube line. he’s a fucking mess over someone he’s known for close to two months.

“you literally called them a three course meal plus dessert. you have never talked about anyone like that. not even your ex! you have to tell them!” tommy whisper-shouted, gaining your attention. 

you’re sat on the sofa at this point, having kicked off your shoes and shrugged your jacket off at the door, waiting for the two males to emerge from wilbur’s bedroom. there was banter and chatting and overall just wilbur pleading and tommy forcing him to say something. if you had a say, it was unfair. a boy younger than the man forcing him to go tell you that he has feelings for someone, but him begging to not have to tell you.

‘strange’

but now, you had a very tall man in front of you, a shy smile on his face. he resembled a sad puppy more than he actually resembled a grown man.

‘weird’ 

and a younger blonde boy behind him, grinning widely, poking at the poor man’s back.

‘what is going on’

“get coffee with me tomorrow, 10am, at the cafe down the road” and that’s all that was muttered throughout the night, some marvel movie now playing per tommy’s request. and both you and wilbur couldn’t be bothered paying attention to the movie, too caught up in your own thoughts, which seemed to occupy the other.

‘this feels awfully familiar’

the next morning rolled around. wilbur had texted you and told you what you needed to wear, soothing your anxieties.

you threw on a beige sweater and some random pair of sweatpants, fixed up your bed head, pulled on a pair of worn out converse, and you were out the door, your feet carrying you towards the cosy cafe.

‘fuck’ 

there he was. 

scrolling through his phone, a solemn expression spread across his features. his beat up sweater wrinkled and decorated with ramen stains. his jeans creased and rolled up at the ankles, dotted with specks of dirt. his converse falling apart and fading at the edges, smeared with mud around the soles. and his hair-

‘god, his hair’

his hair flopping in front of his eyes and curling in every direction, the sunlight hitting each curl just right.

and as you were about to make your way towards the door, he held eye contact with you, a slight smirk on his lips.

‘he caught on’

after the coffee, date, hangout, you didn’t know, you were sat back in your boring, plain, expressionless flat, you couldn’t help but have your mind caught up in a tangle.

wilbur was certainly a gentleman, but there was no context on why you had to have that coffee with him at 10am on a saturday morning. there was no closure. what was happening now. was he trying to get your attention, was he trying to progress the friendship, did he want to be more than what you two already were-

‘no, that can’t be possible’

until the next saturday and a weird message from tommy.

<- previous | next ->

[ax-writes]

chapter 1

in which- you get scared that wilbur hasn't talked to you, but your worries get eased

chapter info- crying, tube line, angst if you squint, claustrophobia, nervousness, worrying, overall just fairly angsty with some comfort near the end

a/n- i took forever trying to write this, so sorry.

pronouns- you/yours

masterlist-

after that day on the tube, you couldn’t sit right with yourself. you didn’t know why, or how, or when, but all you could think about is that wilbur guy. he plagues every one of your thoughts. whether you were focusing on cooking dinner, at work, or simply walking down the street, all you could picture was his smile, and your eyes must have looked like hearts if someone else had seen you.

he hadn’t texted you in a bit over a week. you were starting to worry but you aren’t to worry about him or what he’s doing, it would seem too personal to want to help him, care for him, be there with him, to have him as your own-

okay, now you just need sleep. it’s 2am, you have work in the morning and you shouldn’t be picturing him, way too soon. way too soon for your sleepy mind to decipher what’s going on. you can’t be so obsessed with him that you can’t fall asleep. it’s far too soon.

- - - 

another morning, another boring day of work, another long commute to work, another overall shit time. another scene to witness on the tube line, another scene to watch unfold. another scene to watch as the people around you scoff and bury their heads in their phones as another person jumps, falls, stays in the tube line, never returns from the tracks. a frustrated groan sounded from beside you and a thump was felt next to your foot.

looking up, a pair of familiar brown eyes and curly hair, the same features far too high up for you to reach or save for your memory… it’s wilbur.

“wilbur? hello?” god, you hoped this was the right guy, but you were so sure of yourself. So sure it was him, his same features splayed across his face in such a perfect pattern. please let this be him, just this once, hope that he’ll talk to you again that isn’t over a series of text messages late at night.

“y/n? y/n!” you heard him almost shout, so excited to see you, or from what you can sense. warm arms are wrapped around your shoulders so tight, almost too tight, but good enough for your own comfort. wilbur was here, and he wasn’t imagined over a phone screen. your favourite person was here with you, even if it is just this once for the last time. surely it wouldn’t be though, and you couldn’t have been more correct in your statement.

“wilbur!” you yell back, wrapping your arms around his middle in an almost bone-crushing hug, tears pricking and brimming at your eyes, so so glad that you were able to see him again. you genuinely thought he was gone, thought he wasn’t physically gone. you still had him to talk to over a screen, but you thought his physical being was gone.

god, were you silly to think that he was actually gone. of course you were going to see him again, why else wouldn’t you be able to see him. you could have just messaged him with a simple 'hey, do you want to meet up at that cafe down the road?' but no. you couldn’t. of course you couldn’t. you were so bundled up in your own, stupid worries that now you were crying into this man’s jumper at 9am.

“darling, what’s wrong? tell me,” and before you knew it, sobs were wracking though your being. maybe you’ll be okay. maybe he’ll make you feel better. maybe you needed to be there for him just as much as you needed him to be there for you

next ->

[ax-writes]

there's a reason, that london puts barriers on the tube line

jubilee line masterlist

prologue in which- an introduction to the plot

chapter 1 in which- you get scared that wilbur hasn't talked to you, but your worries get eased

chapter 2 in which- wilbur is acting awfully weird, and his bestfriend, tommy, isn't helping

[ax-writes]

take this small snippet from chapter 1 of jubilee line. it's overall a bit horrible so far but eh. it won't be an angsty as it seems, dont worry

[ax-writes]

prologue

in which- an introduction to the plot

chapter info- crying, tube line, mention of a breakup, angst if you squint, claustrophobia, nervousness.

a/n- i completely forgot that covid is a thing in this so... but yeah. sorry this is so late. i have been meaning to post it but school is up my ass

pronouns- you/yours

masterlist-

you’d met wilbur on the tube, one of the far backseats, to be exact, in january of 2020, heading back home to london after the holidays. the only reason you did speak to him was when you were stuck between two people, squishing you against the seat he was situated in.

“hey,” you’d attempted, but you failed to notice the small wire for his headphones.

“hello,” You’d punctuated with a small tap to his shoulder, not much, but enough to startle him. it was quite comical, actually.

“oh, sorry. what’s the matter?” his voice was everything you thought it would have sounded like. it sounded exactly as he had looked. his voice was raspy, and the rims of his eyes were a pinkish hue, evidence from a small cry he must have had before boarding the tube. it was softer than the average man’s voice, one that would fit someone who had a clean shaven face, messy curls sat upon one’s forehead, and a lanky figure wrapped in a jacket, much like how he looked in that moment.

“i feel horrible taking up your space but, do you mind if i sit in the seat next to the window? i hate being crammed into small spaces like this, but I couldn’t help but notice the spare seat next to you”

“oh sure, it doesn’t bother me. i’m just doing something on my phone so I may not be very exciting,” he’d apologised, for no reason at all, there was no reason for it, but it was a nice heads up for now.

you went about your business for a while, before you heard the slight tunes of an acoustic guitar through his headphones due to the close proximity you had next to him. and about ten minutes later, you heard different songs playing through his headphones in small intervals. it was interesting, to say the least. did he write music? was he writing something?

you looked over to his phone when you heard the acoustic tunes again, and he was on garageband. okay, now you needed to know what he does.

you tapped his shoulder again, gaining his attention, and you began to talk.

“i couldn’t help but notice you were on garageband playing around with the acoustic guitar and i heard small parts of songs playing through your headphones. what is that all about?” you asked, simple, one answer in mind, ‘oh, I just think it’s for fun’. but no.

“oh, i'm a musician. i have a few songs out and a few covers. i'm figuring out a new song now. would you like my artist name?” oh. 

“if you wouldn’t mind, that would be lovely. i’m sure you make wonderful music. should we exchange numbers so i can tell you about your music in the future?” you knew that wasn’t the real reason, however, it was one of the reasons, and it was a pretty good one to convince him with.

“oh sure, here you go,” he handed you his phone, contacts open as you typed your phone number in and started typing ‘hi it’s-’ before pausing.

“what’s your name?” a small laugh escaped your lips, as did his.

“wilbur, for now,” a quick smile appeared on his face as you continued to type the message, ‘hi it’s wilbur’ and handed him his phone.

you both sat in silence for the next 20 minutes, you playing games on your phone and texting friends back, wilbur on garageband and listening to more songs. you didn’t look up at him until you heard a shuddered breath from wilbur. his cheeks were slightly pink, there was a small tear track down his face, and his eyes were watery, his phone seemingly being placed face down and shut off.

“hey, what’s wrong?” you spoke up. you wouldn’t expect an answer, which didn’t bother you when he slightly shook his head and hid himself away with his hands. nodding, and patting his shoulder, you turned back to what you were doing on your phone, giving him his space to calm down.

a few minutes later, wilbur held his phone out in front of you, prompting you to take it. did he trust you enough to give you his phone and know you won’t go through it? you took his phone from his hands and smiled at him, silently promising you won’t look through his phone.

“can you hold onto my phone for the time being? something just happened and I don’t really want to read it again. i trust you to not go through it. i’ll tell you what happened later, just don’t try to pry too much. i'm alright, but not at the moment, as you can tell. i'll ask for it back later. thankyou,” he spoke up after you had his phone.

that night, you found out he lived ten minutes away from you, he had a relationship up until the incident on the tube and that he was starting a band with a group of his friends. all promises of his number only being for you telling him about his music were out the window.

and here you are now, sitting with him in his small apartment, his head in your lap, your hands in his hair, and your pyjama pants with two small wet spots from wilbur's tears.

[ax-writes]

masterlist

your city gave me asthma series (i'm not like her)-

jubilee line- talking about london and how he got asthma and the poor people who committed suicide on the line.

saline solution- he's struggled with intense health anxiety for a very long time: health anxiety meaning that he's constantly afraid that he's sick, dying or suffering from some other medical issue he isn't aware of. the lyrics detail his constant grappling with these ideas..

since i saw vienna- visiting austrian capital vienna, while simultaneously experiencing loneliness, companionship, and the urge to keep travelling.

losing face- getting broken up with his partner and being told to wait for them, only for his ex to immediately get a new partner.

your sister was right- this song is about the singer feeling dejected and insecure in himself because he's a bad lover. he treated the girl he loved incredibly poorly despite how he feels for her, and feels guilty because she ignored the warnings from ger sister that he would hurt her.

la jolla- about a man who doesn't feel good enough and has distant dreams if leaving to start fresh somewhere different.

i'm sorry boris- singer becomes torn between leaving the united kingdom when the uk government is struggling to do good for the uk and staying home because his loved ones are there and he doesn't want to leave them behind.

[ax-writes]

you are my favourite feeling

[vibestillax-deactivated20240518]

MY WEAKNESS😫

[ax-writes]

i imagine these being argburs hands because of the cold so bare with me:

argbur had gotten home from the office a little while ago, the creak of the front door 10 minutes ago giving him away. it wasn't long until he had made his way up the stairs to your room, presumably to snuggle up to you.

what wasn't expected, however, was the raised veins littered across his hands and wrists, leaving faint shadows on his hands.

"darling, what happened to your hands? what did you do?" you'd questioned, concern having washed over you.

"it's just cold outside. well, I'm always cold, but because it was so cold tonight, my hands went all veiny," he admitted.

none the less, you thought it was cute, so you spent the rest of the night admiring his hands, and twisting the small rings littered on his fingers.

whenever it gets cold where i live, my hands get really veiny so that's why i headcanon him having veiny hands in the cold.

@vibestillaxxx

[vibestillax-deactivated20240518]

He moaned...I REPEAT. HE.MOANED

[ax-writes]

he sounds like those pig squeaky toys in the shopping centres, does he not?

[vibestillax-deactivated20240518]

I don't know.BUT IS MY HEART POUNDING

[ax-writes]

...

[vibestillax-deactivated20240518]

He moaned...I REPEAT. HE.MOANED

[ax-writes]

he sounds like those pig squeaky toys in the shopping centres, does he not?

[ax-writes]

find joy in the simple things in life - they often hold the most beauty

[ax-writes]

i am a huge believer in the power of being yourself, embracing your quirks and imperfections

[ax-writes]

a villain is just a hero you haven't convinced yet

[ax-writes]

my unfinished symphony, forever unfinished

[ax-writes]

there is so much more to the world you can go explore it it's all yours

[ax-writes]

when you've woken up, you need to not fear the day, the day needs to fear you. you get out of bed and you get straight to work. you take every second and you feast on it. if you haven't drained the day of everything it can give you, then that's not your fault, that's the day's fault, and you need to attack it for it.