writing recs under ( # ♡ - pom’s likes and recs )
interactions tagged under ( # just some rambles )
watch my descents into madness under ( # pom is going wild on alt again oh no ) and reblogs from main for the sake of preservation under ( # rb from main )
venting is under ( # pom is doing some venting ) i don’t tw so tread carefully, maybe block that tag
no format bc lazy, will be reposting this to my writing blog later
In Tommy's apartment, all that could be heard was laughter. You, along with Tommyinnit, were celebrating Christmas together. His other two roommates, Rue and Ash, had gone to their own homes for Christmas. Tommyinnit's parents were sick along with yours living in another country (even though he offered to buy you a ticket to fly back to them), so you two were stuck with each other. Not that you minded, you loved your boyfriend. But you missed your family. The shitty Christmas tree you two put together was haphazardly draped in tinsel and blinking lights and was leaning drunkenly against the wall, but you decorated it together, and that's what made it the most beautiful Christmas tree ever. Under the tree was its skirt, wrinkled and folded over itself. On top of that was ripped wrapping paper, discarded boxes, and bunched up tissue paper. You got him a nice hoodie as well as a fluffy blanket that he was currently wrapped in. He got you a stuffed bear wearing his signature shirt (he swore that it came like that), and some of your favorite snacks. The last gift he got you was a small box. He grinned cheekily as you opened it, and that's how you knew it was the best one. In it was a handmade bracelet with your initials and his in beads, along with a piece of paper with a…youtube link scribbled on it? You raised an eyebrow. "Are you seriously expecting me to type this entire thing out by hand?" Tommy laughed. "It's more romantic that way!" you rolled your eyes and sighed, but smiled nonetheless. You typed the link into the search bar while Tommy fidgeted with his fingers. Would you like it? After a few mistypings, you entered in the link the right way and it brought you to a video of Tommyinnit's, a private one. His usual introduction was replaced with a greeting, seeing as this video is just for you. You looked at him, and he looked back, a smile showing on his face, albeit a nervous one. The video went on to show clips of you two, as well as Tommy himself recounting your relationship developing and blooming into what it was today. It was almost like a video essay on the entire timeline of your friendship and eventual relationship, but so much more personal. You got teary, hands clasped over your mouth. He put so much passion into this one video that you couldn't help it. Your face hurt from smiling, eyes wide with disbelief at just how much effort he put into it. Looking at your smile, Tommy's eyes would appear brighter than any Christmas lights. He was so proud of this video he made he was nervous about how you'd react. But you loved it, and you loved him. And he loved you. More than anything in the world, even though you'd only been dating for a few months. "Tommy," you whisper, "thank you." He wrapped his arms around you. "Merry Christmas, y/n." "Merry Christmas Tommy." and you two just sat there for a while, holding each other.
THE BEAR HE GIFTED ‘S VERY CUTE VERY ME I WOULD LOVE STUFFED ANIMALS FOR GIFTS
i love the idea of him making a video and putting so much effort into it ohh come on that’s so sweet :(( that’s so cute :(( video essays are also my thing everything’s on brand for me rn
— SUMMARY: As the rift between the two brothers is at its height, (Y/N) is finally fed up with how long it's been since she last saw Wilbur and takes matters into her own hands. In the coming winter, two people grow closer, while two people grow further apart.
— AUTHOR’S NOTE: First of all big thanks to a lot of the people who helped me. I bounced ideas off of caroline (@pebblebrainlovejoy) and just generally put her through so much emotional distress and it's not over yet :). Also! The really really really amazing paragraph about the walls (you'll know it when you read it) was for the most part written by flore (@harbingerofheartbreak)!!!! The song that's used throughout this chapter is Sailor's Boots by Frank Turner, there's that video of Wil covering it and it just made me lose my mind. Enjoy!
PREVIOUS: chapter one, chapter two, 2.5 drabble, YOU'RE HERE
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
It was dark.
The night had been no different than any other before it. Like always, when his father returned to the cozy little house in the village that they called home, they danced all evening to the upbeat music of his guitar while waiting for the food to finish, then huddled around the candle-lit table and ate their warm food, fresh bread dipped in warm, hearty soup and warm apple cider. Wilbur- a child full of life and energy- was rambling about his day, about what he’d done in the town with other children of the village- climbed trees, raced through the streets, about some of the random questions and ideas he had thought up throughout the day. He was always like that- asking questions, wondering, challenging. It was hard to get him to listen. He rambled on and on through dinner until the baby started fussing and their mother stood to walk him around the room- that always seemed to calm him.
“Why’s Tommy always crying?”
“Wil, he’s just a little baby.” Their mother spoke up. “There are a lot of things that bother him. That’s why we have to take such good care of him.”
“I don’t wanna.”
His parents smiled bittersweet smiles at each other, knowing the boy still held some jealousy against the new baby from having to share the attention now. With a hint of sadness, a tension that the child didn’t notice, his father spoke. “You’ll have to take care of him, Wil. He’s your little brother.”
“Would you like to hold him?”
Silently, Wilbur held out his arms to the small boy. The second the little bundle was in his embrace, he felt just how small and helpless this baby was. He looked into his baby brother’s face- rosy cheeks and hair fine and blond as their father’s, and wide, blue eyes stared back up at him, full of innocence. He was a big brother. Tommy was his little brother. And he decided, he’d do his best to protect him. He’d keep all the secrets Tommy didn’t want to tell their parents, he’d help him with their schoolwork, and he’d protect him from any mean kids in the village. He’d be there for him, always.
It was a night like any other. Yes.
The young boy didn’t notice the tension in the room. Looking back, it would haunt him, the silence of his parents, the glancing back and forth between them and the constantly glances out the door. He didn’t know what they were dreading. He didn’t know they knew it was coming to an end. He didn’t know.
He didn’t know it’d be the last time they were together.
Wilbur shot out of bed, cold sweat dripping down his back and forehead.
Not again.
He pushed his hair off his forehead, wiping at it with the back of his hand, all the while gasping for breath. It seemed as if this terror wasn’t going to leave him alone any time soon. He wasn’t sure what brought them back, these memories that he tried so hard to push out of his mind, but recently they seemed to plague him night and day. He swung his long legs out of bed, still trembling when his feet hit the floor, and glanced over to the bed beside him. Tommy, Tommy, where’s Tommy? Where is he? What time is it? With his dread growing with every passing second, he jumped towards the bedroom door and out into their cottage.
Empty.
“Tommy. Tommy!”
There weren’t many places the boy could be, so he tore through the room and out the front door in a frenzy, shouting his name. Not even the cat seemed to be nearby, and he would never leave their house. Not without Tommy, that is. It was barely morning out, the morning dew and the subtle dusting of fog from the nearby river hadn’t cleared yet, and Wilbur couldn’t think of a single reason Tommy would be out. The boy hadn’t been speaking to Wilbur much since the argument they had- now many weeks past- and the elder boy tried his best to understand why. He shouldn’t have shouted, he knew that, but he was only trying to protect him, couldn’t he see that? Everything he did, was for their safety. He had apologized countless times for yelling, and each time, Tommy had responded with nothing but a simple okay. It was driving Wilbur mad, the way his brother had withdrawn so far into himself. It was nothing like the energetic kid he knew a few weeks ago. He shouted again, desperate to find the boy.
“What?”
Wilbur looked up to find Tommy sitting high up in a nearby tree, Mr. Fuckhead in his lap, blond head peaking out of the scarce late-autumn leaves, writing something in that little notepad he carried around. The man pushed down the part of him that wanted to yell, wanted to scold his brother for making him worry so much, wanted to ask if he was trying to get a rise out of him, and instead took a deep breath to calm himself.
“What are you doing up there? It’s early.”
“I was awake.”
That doesn’t answer my question, Wilbur wanted to say, Why are you up there? But instead, he continued.
“I’m going into town, today.” He had hoped this would excite Tommy at least a little bit like it always used to, but instead, at his words all the boy did was scowl. Wilbur knew what he was thinking, town, he’s going to steal. Shame sifted through his body like a snake, eating him whole as he choked out his next words, hoping they would persuade the boy that he didn’t have any criminal motives. “Would you like to come with?” He bit back his fear in the words, the fear of having someone recognize him with Tommy and tear them apart, and offered the invitation as a peace treaty, an olive branch to the boy.
Tommy stayed in his place. “No thanks.”
His words threw the olive branch onto the ground by Wilbur’s feet, smashing any hope for reconnection. At least for now.
“Okay.” Wilbur felt defeated, more broken down than ever before. What could he do to get Tommy to speak to him again? Why had this caused such a big mess? Why did he always fuck everything up? He turned to leave, planning to head into town like he said to get away from this tension, but before he could even take a step, his brotherly instinct overtook his frustration, and he turned to look back up. “Stay safe, Toms.”
Wilbur turned to walk away then and didn’t get the chance to see the sad eyes of the young boy watching his big brother leave him.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Across the village and up the steep slopes of the mountain, deep within the halls of the castle, (Y/N)’s fingers graced delicately across the black and white keys of the piano, filling her perfect, pristine room with song.
Her many, many years of lessons with her governess had brought her up to be quite the musician, always poised with great gentleness and care like a lady should, always playing delicate runs and melodies that made people smile. Usually, she was so perfect, even sightreading, but today, in the much-too-harsh light of her drawing room, with no company other than Rose, she was fumbling.
She was stuttering along her third try in the song until her fingers landed on a horribly sour note and she stumbled to a stop- again- with a groan.
“Why must this be so difficult!”
“Your Highness,” Her devoted maid spoke up from across the room, where she sat with her needlework, pressing gentle stitches through her embroidery. “Is something the matter?”
“Do you not hear?”
“Oh, Princess…” Immediately, the girl regretted her snappiness when she heard Rose’s tone of voice. “There is something else troubling you, I can tell. Is it…” she lowered her voice. “Your boy?”
Your boy. (Y/N) ran the words over and over in her head. “I apologize, Rose.” She hadn’t meant to snap at the woman like that, but the days were slowly eating away at her. She missed Wilbur. It had been nearly a month now since they sat in the library, whispering between them, eating cookies, and listening to Wilbur strum on his guitar. She had been going to their meeting place- that little bend in the forest path, the little spot by the river- nearly every day on her morning horse rides, but still, she hadn’t seen him. He had promised to see her there, they had been meeting there for months before. In the back of her head, she wondered if she’d scared him away if she had been too bold in bringing him to the castle. Of course, you did, she thought to herself, why did you even bring him here? He probably thought you were bragging, showing off. Of course, he doesn’t want to see you again. You’re so stupid. “Yes, it is about him. How did you know?”
“Mhm.” The woman hummed for a moment, looking out the grand windows to the bright day outside. “You have that… far away look in your eyes. Like you miss somebody.”
(Y/N) looked towards the door, hoping nobody would walk in. God forbid her mother heard what she was talking about, her secret conversations with her maid. “I do miss him. It feels like it’s been ages since we last saw each other.” She was quiet for a bit after that, and (Y/N)’s mind began to wander. Her maid knew so much about her, she had been here, caring for the castle and her brothers since before the princess had even been born, yet they knew so little about her. She wondered, often, what Rose’s childhood and young adulthood had been like. Did she have a life before the castle? Surely she did. Did she have a family, a home, a favorite book, or dreams? Did she dream of romance and adventure and running away? Did she have a young love? Love? No, no, no, (Y/N). You do not love Wilbur… right? She shook the thought away, though his smile plague her mind. “Rose, have you ever… missed somebody, like this?”
“Oh, yes, my dear.” She sighed, an exasperated breath of a laugh leaving her lips. Again, (Y/N) saw her look out the windows absentmindedly. Is that the far-away look you say I have?
“Did you… dream of things? Like… romance?” (Y/N) was almost nervous asking, and her voice dropped to a whisper, fearful of someone else coming in and hearing what Her Highness was gossiping about. A princess? Dreaming of true love? What a joke, they would think.
Still, Rose showed no judgment, and instead smiled tenderly at the young woman, like she knew a secret. She did. “I think every young girl has, at least in passing. Us ladies, we’re brought up among books of romance, daring escapes, and forbidden love, and at some point, we’re taught to forget that. Because we’re born into this world and raised for one thing, and it’s not love.” She said the words with scorn in her voice, a silent frustration behind her eyes, and her needlework became angrier as she jabbed the needle over and over into her embroidery. Before (Y/N) could ask more questions, and pry further into the woman’s past, she looked over from her work. “Enough about me. Your boy…?” She hesitated, waiting for a name.
“Wilbur.”
“Ah, Wilbur. You said it’s been some time since you saw each other. Have you gone to visit him? Since he was here?”
“I tried. He never showed up to the place where we used to… rendezvous.”
A small smile played on Rose’s lips for a moment. “I would help you, do you know that? I understand why you like him so much.” She was pointedly silent again as if wanting (Y/N) to understand and fill in the blanks. When the princess just stared back blankly, confused, with patiently furrowed brows, she continued. “Love, my dear.”
No, what? It’s not love. He’s just… he’s just my friend. “I- I, why, Rose, no! Certainly not. He’s just a good friend. That is all.” Ah, yes. Another voice, in the back of her head spoke up. A friend that you dream about running away with. A friend you spend every one of your waking moments wishing to be with and spend every other moment in dreamland with, kissing and holding and smiling. Ah, yes, quite a friend, he is.
The elder woman smiled as if to say okay, we’ll see. “Even so, I would help you. Do you know anywhere else one might find him?”
Before (Y/N) could shake her head “no”, a little memory popped up in her head. Months ago, on the cobblestone street corner, a tall, lanky man was singing his heart out to the group of children dancing around him. A bold, firey song, his palm slapping a heavy beat on the guitar between strums, making her heart jump in rhythm. It wasn’t only in the woods that she ever saw him. He had another regular spot. With a genuine smile finally growing on her face, the princess shot up out of her seat.
“I might.”
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
The sound of the horse’s hooves and the heavy wheels of the carriage cut through the quiet air as Rose and (Y/N)- in Rose’s own, less ornate carriage, in order for (Y/N) to go undetected as the princess- clattered down the cobblestone path towards the village.
It was a bright day, sunny and considerably warm for near winter, and the creek was babbling just beyond the sparse treeline. The creek that she and Wilbur spent many of their days over the summer- their little rendezvous- dipping their feet into the waters and sharing quiet conversations. All summer together, tucked between the castle and the village. As they continued on their journey, (Y/N) fell into a dreamland of quiet memories of each tree they passed on the dusty road, every spot she’d spent time with Wilbur in the past few months since early spring.
The air was filled with heavy footsteps and breathless giggles, as the princess and the criminal ran through the alleyways and backstreets of the village, hand-in-hand.
What were they running from?
As they’d quickly come to realize, (Y/N) hadn’t been sneaky enough in her mission leaving the castle this morning, and the royal guards had been sent down to find her. They were standing in front of the bakery, the scent of fresh bread and cakes filled the air, and Wilbur was playing songs for the children like he always did, but it ended quickly when the clatter of horse-drawn carriages rolled in and the bright royal-blue upholstery was spotted.
They were coming to look for her.
“Oh, I am so dead when I return home tonight.”
“Come.”
Wilbur had taken her hand immediately and pulled her behind a building and ducked into the tiniest hidden pathways that he seemed to know by the back of his hand. Despite her worries about being caught, it was an exhilarating change of pace for the young princess, who’d grown up under strict rules and under careful watch. For Wilbur, it was eerily familiar, though the smile on the woman’s face made up for the bad feeling creeping up in his gut. He knew they had to hide. Even though (Y/N) had put effort into trying to blend in with the commoners, it was still quite noticeable that she was the princess- at least in his eyes. Her skin was much too perfect, her hair not dirty enough, her fingers smooth and free of any hard manual labor in her life. If they were caught, he would be done for. He had practically kidnapped the princess, and he would meet the same fate his parents did all those years ago, and then Tommy would be alone.
Not that he wasn’t right now, too.
They had escaped the village by now, and Wilbur slowed their pace to a walk, looking back to assure himself that they weren’t being followed.
“Where are we headed to, Wil?”
“We need to get off this path, they could come down it any minute.” He thought for a moment. If they kept walking, he knew they’d be close to his and Tommy’s home, and he knew he didn’t want to run into the boy. Not with (Y/N) by his side. He wasn’t even sure if that was to keep Tommy a secret from (Y/N) or to keep (Y/N) a secret from Tommy. Then, a place flashed through his mind. “Oh, come. This way.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Wilbur smiled. Even knowing the princess wasn’t as uptight as he originally thought her to be, she still had some type of privileged air to her. Nobody had ever told her ‘No’. “We’re going to a place that means a lot to me.” He grabbed her hand again and pulled her off the path and into the trees, looking back when he felt her tugging him back in protest. She was watching with a look that Wilbur immediately recognized as embarrassment- though it was uncommon to see her like that- and pointing at the muddy mess that was the ground.
“I can’t- I can’t walk through that in these.”
Wilbur looked down at her feet and sure enough, she had chosen to wear her pretty, perfect slippers she wore in the castle. He laughed. “Oh, Princess, of course, you chose the worst days to dress all royal-like. Come here.” He teased and held out his arms, and she looked at him incredulously, as if he’d suggested they jump from a cliff.
“What?”
“I’m going to carry you, of course.”
And he did. He held his arms around her back and below her knees and lifted her to his chest, letting her secure her own hands around his neck. She said nothing while he carried her through the mud and down a little slope, her face too warm, her voice likely to fail her should she decide to speak, and waited until he set her down on a dry surface near the rocky shore of a babbling stream.
“This is a lovely spot.”
Wilbur smiled and motioned for her to take a seat on a rather chair-like rock before sitting himself on another and taking off his boots to dip his feet in the waters. “It’s where I come when I need to think. It’s very calm. Tucked away from everything. Or when I want to play music, for myself.”
“Oh.” So this place is like my drawing room? She wondered. This is where he comes when he needs to be alone and practice his music. That means it’s an honor to be here with him. “Would you play me something, please?”
He was already setting his guitar in his lap when she said that, and soon, the sounds of the running water lapping at the shoreline, the birds chirping in the trees, and the wind rustling the few leaves that were left, were joined by a new sound, a lovely melody, soft and slow strums of the strings of his guitar. She had expected only that, although, after a few measures of gentle music, his voice joined in, quiet and shy, as if embarrassed, the sound more lovely than anything (Y/N) had ever heard before. “If I had been born two hundred years ago, I would’ve been a sailor, and sailing I would go…” He strummed more on the guitar, his eyes slipping shut and letting his muscle memory kick in. “I’d sail around the Capes and across the seven seas and then back home…” They sat there, unbothered and unworried for minutes, the sound of his masterpiece mingling with the birds overhead and the pure sounds of nature that surrounded them almost lulling her to sleep, yet still enrapturing her with how beautiful it was. She slipped her own slippers off to dip he toes into the creek, and for a moment, nothing in the world existed- no expectations, no marriage, no callers waiting to wed her, no royal duty preventing her from being with him- nothing except for the two of them, and love. “If I had been born two-hundred years ago…”
His voice faded off uncertainly at the end, although it sounded like there should have been another verse
“How does it end?”
He sighed, still strumming absentminded chords on the guitar, the song’s melody long lost to the wind. “That’s it. It’s not finished yet.”
“Ah.” She smiled. “Unfinished. Well, I want to be the first to hear, when you do finish it, okay?”
“Of course, (Y/N).”
(Y/N), smiling at the memory, suddenly snapped back into the present to see they had entered the village by now. The village was quite lovely around this time of year, though usually, she only saw it from a distance up in her library window. Although somewhat gloomy- as the leaves died and fell away from their trees, letting the late autumn sun cut through the air and bounce off the cold cobblestone buildings and streets- it still had a comfortable familiarity, with the narrow streets and the tall houses tucked next to little shops where people made their livings. It was quaint, it was comfortable. The citizens were busy at work, preparing for the long winter ahead of them- as days grew colder and darker, they knew it would soon be too late in the year for fresh crops, and they were hurriedly preparing to stock up on what they had. Suddenly, they passed by a familiar bakery, where she and Wilbur shared a snack on occasion, and then the modiste on the street corner where she had first seen him all those months ago. She exclaimed and leaned out the window to shout to her maid. “Rose, this will be a good place to stop!”
The woman pulled the horses to a stop and, before the wheels had even stopped moving, (Y/N)’s boots were on the ground.
With the rattling or the carriage now gone, the air was quiet, save for the hustle of people carrying stacks of wheat and crops between homes. There was no music. There was no man standing on the street corner. There were no children dancing around him. Where is he? He’s supposed to be here? Why isn’t he here? Will I ever see him again? Has something happened to him?
“Oh, Rose, he’s not here. He’s always here. Oh, I’m never going to see him again!”
“Oh, deary. Don’t give up so soon! Surely he must be here somewhere.”
Maybe it was the desperation to find him- to find her boy- or maybe it was the scent of a freshly baked cake wafting from the window that reminded her of the times she spent on this very street corner with him, but something drove (Y/N) towards the little bakery that sat tucked between a quaint little brick house and the modiste shop. Moments later, she was standing inside, taking in the sweet scent and glancing around to see if the man she was looking for was in any hidden corners of the empty shop.
“Hello? Can I help you find something?”
A soft and kind voice pulled the princess from her mission, and she looked up to see a young woman around her age, with hair as light as the sun and an apron covered in flour- the shop owner. She smiled sweetly, but something seemed to strike her instantly when (Y/N) looked up, and her smile quickly morphed into a surprised ‘oh’. “O-Oh! Your Highness.”
“Shh!” (Y/N) put her hands out to stop her before the woman could drop into a curtsey. “No, please, pretend I’m not me. Do I honestly stand out that much?” The woman looked up, surprised, but nodded with an amused expression. “Please, just treat me like anyone else. Or as if I’m a friend. My name is just (Y/N). Your’s?”
The smile returned to her face, slightly unsure about the whole situation. “My name is Niki.”
“Nice to meet you, Niki!”
“It’s an honor, (Y/N)!” She smiled again, as if they had a little secret now, and returned to behind the counter, where she was working on some freshly made cakes. “Can I help you find anything in particular?”
“Well…” She pointed to an arrangement of treats behind the counter, thinking of the words she could use to phrase this. This was silly, would she even know who she was talking about? As the girl turned back to the counter to arrange her items for her, she decided to speak up. “You might be able to help me find a person. Do you know the man that plays guitar, outside?”
She looked up as if surprised to be making small talk with a royal right now but smiled kindly nonetheless. “Oh, I hardly know him, no.” She shook her head. “But children come in every day, talking on and on about him. The guitar man. They enjoy him very much.”
“Do you know where he plays? He used to be right out front, here. But he’s not today.”
“Hmm.” She wiped her hands on her apron and leaned onto the counter, as if she and (Y/N) were two old friends who gossiped with each other over fancy cups of tea and miniatures every other morning, reading the latest scandals. (Y/N) loved it, she’d never really had much of a friend, and having someone treat her so normally was refreshing. Maybe she’d come back here again. “I think he’s still playing, but in a different part of town.” Niki continued. “The children came in earlier today talking about him. A little way down the main road, past the town square…” She drew out subtle directions with her finger against the counter, in the flour that had settled there. “I think it’s near the market, from what I hear them say.”
“Oh, oh, thank you so much!” (Y/N) dug around in her pockets for her pouch of coins, and, rather than counting out the correct amount, handed over the entire contents.
The blonde woman seemed shocked at the gesture and waved her hands in front of her. “Oh, there’s honestly no need, your Highness, I’m honored to have helped you-”
“Please, Niki.” (Y/N) smiled and urged the coins into the other woman’s hands. “No need for formalities. We are friends, yes? I am so very grateful to you. You have no idea how helpful you have been today. If you ever need anything, for your shop or for yourself or your family, send me a letter straight away, and I’ll see it through, alright? I am in your debt, forever.”
“Of course, (Y/N)! I do wish you luck in finding him!”
With one more startled look and thankful smile from her, (Y/N) waved her new friend goodbye and rushed outside to make her way across town where, hopefully, she would find her man.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Wilbur Soot could still remember the time everything changed for them.
He didn’t remember much of anything from the rest of that first night, or the days that followed, but he did remember the morning they showed up at the Village’s Home for Boys. If ‘home’ was only a place with walls and a roof, it lived up to its name. But in any other way, it was the furthest thing from home that Wil knew. He remembered the night the elder woman found the two of them, sitting at the side of the road and begging for coins.
“Oh, you poor things, are you all on your own? You’re taking care of this baby all by yourself.”
Wilbur nodded quietly, cautious of the stranger but desperate for a place to stay or even just a bite to eat. It had been days now since he watched their parents die, and Tommy had been crying in his arms almost constantly.
“I can help you. I know a place you can stay.”
He remembers being scared, so, so scared, but being desperate enough to push aside the fear and follow the unknown woman, the woman who had taken Tommy from his arms. She walked with them for what seemed like ages, all the way across the village in the rain, until they landed in front of a cold, brick building. It seemed the walls were higher than any building Wilbur had ever seen before, and nothing decorated the outside of the gray, drab stone, save for small windows that ran along the length of each level. ‘Is this home now?’ he couldn’t help but wonder, as he hesitated at the bottom of the staircase and stared upwards in the rain. There was no light in the windows, and it looked as if no one was inside, and for a moment, Wilbur remembers wondering where they were being taken. Was this a trick?
“Come on, son. It’s warm inside.”
‘Don’t call me ‘son’’ Wilbur bit his tongue, and finally followed her inside, where his and Tommy’s fates would be changed forever.
It was dark inside, the walls the same grim, gray stone as the outside, and they were led through long corridors by only the light of a candle to finally settle down in a small bed.
These walls were home now.
And if these dirty, stained walls could talk, they'd tell stories of the way the young boy would leave a goodnight kiss on his baby brother’s forehead each night, ignoring the snickers of the other children who taunted him with names and teased him for how he always cared for the baby. They would speak of the way he dragged his feet back to his room with the older boys, the way they looked at him in contempt for something that Wilbur didn’t even understand yet, the way he'd stare at the ceiling, listening to the leaking water drip into a bucket and dreaming of the ocean his father had once spoken of, thousands upon thousands of miles of sea, endless, unimaginable for someone like him- oh, what he’d give to see the sea, one day. Yes, if the ancient house could speak, it'd tell you of the way that Wilbur, without complaint, would take upon his little brother's chores- the workload was much too heavy for a toddler- and gave him his food no matter how hungry he was. They'd tell you how every night Wilbur went to bed with a grumbling stomach that kept him awake all night, just so he was certain Tommy had enough to eat. They'd tell you how Wilbur was consistently on bad terms with the warden, facing harsh and cruel punishments of isolation and starvation, but the boy pushed through without regret because he had only gotten into fights with boys because they were picking on Tommy. They'd tell you how he patched up his own injuries at night, in fear of going to the harsh nurse and withstanding the pain of his budding infections.
The warden may tell you Wilbur was a troubled boy, the product of his household, but the walls would tell you that Wilbur was just a boy. A boy thrust into unfortunate and tragic circumstances, and they would tell you how every night he spoke to them, wishing upon his lucky star that Tommy would one day have a better life than he ever did.
Yes, these walls were their home for the next four, long, painful years.
Wilbur still dreamt of the ocean.
In fact, he sang of the ocean, he put his dreams in words, he set those words to a melody, and he wrote songs about seeing the ocean and falling into the endless waters with open arms. He wrote them down, condemning them to live forever, long after he was gone and long after the tongue he spoke died out, and long after anyone could read and decipher the words he spoke. But they would still always love the sea. The sea would always be there.
He picked up his guitar near the market, and seemingly a swarm of children had already appeared, ready to hear him play like always. It was nearing winter, which Wilbur despised. Winter only meant finding Tommy a new coat because he had grown out of last year’s. Winter meant they could no longer grow even the slightest bit of their own crops or steal from what was growing on the outskirts of the village, so everything had to be stolen. Winter, for Wil, meant it was time to step up his game, because it was either rob, or starve, or freeze to death. And he wasn’t going to let that happen to Tommy. He knew he was being risky, playing so near to so many shops he had stolen from in the past, and that he would soon steal from again, but it had been long enough, he was smart, and he had let time and tension settle down before showing his face again. They wouldn’t even remember him.
“Hello!” He always greeted the children with a smile, and they smiled back up at him. Oh, how he’d missed that same innocence in his own little brother’s demeanor. Where had he gone? “What would you like to hear today?” Each child shouted out different ideas of things they wanted to hear sung into a song, but Wilbur had something else on his mind. “Do you know much about the ocean?”
“Papa says it's like a really big lake!”
“Oh,” Wilbur smiled, crouching down to the kids' levels. “It is much more than simply a big lake. It’s endless. Have you ever seen something that’s endless? That goes on forever?” The children gasped and shook their heads, looking up at him with wide eyes, as if he was the wisest man they’d ever spoken to. He laughed, stood back to his full height, and began the song. He watched the children dance around in joy at his music, and laughed through the words. It made him so happy, to see all these children enjoying his music. Maybe, just maybe, he was making a new name for himself. “And I would know the waters, and the waters would know me. And I would cut across the waves and be as happy as can be. I'd be landless, I'd be loveless, I'd be flight and fancy-free. And I would know the waters, and the waters would know me.”
Across the cobblestone street, stood the princess, trying her best to stay out of sight and watching ever so carefully as the man she had been looking for for weeks stood right in front of her in an old linen shirt, suspenders, and a long, tattered winter coat, bouncing his foot to the beat along with the handful of children dancing around his legs. He really was the music man like they said, wasn’t he? (Y/N) was filled with a wave of unexplainable anger, though it was the last thing she wanted to feel when seeing him. He was okay. He wasn’t ill, he wasn’t hurt, he was simply singing music in the village square, so why hadn’t he come to see her even once?
“When I think about the time and place where I was born, oh, I wonder if the hands of fate had slipped and placed me wrong. Because there are ships I could have sailed and sailor's boots I could have worn… When I think about the time and place–”
“Wilbur.”
The song came to an abrupt, jolting end as his hands froze up and stumbled, and the children groaned and shouted their disapproval, while Wilbur simply looked up, shocked, to see her there. He hesitated for a few moments before the children all seemed to get bored and leave, and (Y/N) approached him.
“You could not have allowed me to finish the song?”
“I thought you had promised to show me before anyone else?” She pulled a faux hurt expression but truly, it did hurt. Deep in her heart, where she wished he might have thought of her. What happened to your promise, Wil?
Wil ducked his head in apology. In all truthfulness, he had also missed his time spent with (Y/N). Those days had been a beam of light in the gloomy, overcast darkness that was his life, but in the aftermath of what happened between he and Tommy, he couldn’t bring himself to leave the house and come to visit her. He had been filled with regret, anger, and frustration at himself for letting things with Tommy get so out of control. For snapping as he had. And every time he thought of visiting the princess, he wanted to kick himself. His brother was struggling with figuring out the truth about everything, and he couldn’t bring himself to run away during all of this. As much as he was angry, he wanted to stay and try to fix things. He tried so, so hard, but Tommy didn’t care. Maybe, Wilbur thought, maybe it’s time I give up too. “I’m really sorry, from the bottom of my heart. Something… came up. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to visit.”
He expected the woman in front of him to frown, to yell and tell him how she never wanted to see him again, how she was so angry at him for what he’d done- even if she didn’t know- but instead, after a few moments of contemplating him, she launched herself toward and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Oh, Wilbur, I’ve missed you so dearly.”
Wilbur was paralyzed for a moment, wondering whether placing his hands on the small of her back would offend her, would make the people around them stare, but before he could do anything, she pulled back. “Princess, you wouldn’t want people spreading rumors of you hugging strange men, do you?”
“Shh!” She brought a stern finger to her lips, though her smile gave her away. “People don’t recognize me, and I would like to keep it that way.”
Again, she reached out and touched his arm, and Wilbur swore he felt pins pricking through his skin.
“Wilbur, please spend the day with me.”
How can I say no?
Not even an hour later they found themselves in the same little spot that had been the setting of so many of their past rendevouz, eating the cake Niki had been so kind to give (Y/N) earlier that day. They made fun small talk, making jokes and laughing with each other, and Wilbur tried his best to steer (Y/N) in the direction of talking about her own life’s happenings, in a desperate measure to avoid talking about the all-too-present change in his own demeanor.
“My mother is intent on marrying me off this coming spring.”
Wilbur’s face looked stricken at the thought. “Aren’t you the princess? Surely you have some say in this.”
She scoffed at him. “If I had a say, I would have been spending more time with you. I wouldn’t be stuck in my drawing room all day being presented to men like a piece of meat and watching them boast their riches and accomplishments to me just so that I will marry them!” The man beside her felt anger simmering up inside of him at the thought of (Y/N) being married off like that. “Mother is throwing a ball for me in the coming week. I used to love them.” Her eyes darted upward with a kind of wistful gaze as she reminisced. “But now all I may do is stand and simmer and look pretty so that the men can observe and decide if they want my body or not. It… disgusts me.” Wilbur’s blood boiled, listening to her story. Why do I feel this way? Surely it is just normal to be upset about your friend being married. She obviously doesn’t look forward to it, and I am just upset for her. Right? “I hate it. But of course, that’s just what I’m meant to do, isn’t it? I’m nothing but a pawn used in my father’s political game, I’m a key resource to strengthening allyships, to uniting two kingdoms. I am meant to marry for the well-being of the kingdom, and bear children to carry on the hierarchy. Oh, Wilbur, you are so lucky to be free-”
Wilbur reached out to grab her hand in his. He had noticed, today, that she no longer wore those white, silken gloves when she was with him, but still, he found himself growing less and less worried about dirtying her with his presence. She made him feel… clean. Fresh. With her hand cupped in his, he interrupted her rambling with a whisper. “You are more than a pawn, my dear.” (Y/N)’s face softened at the term of endearment that had slipped through the man’s lips, but he pushed through, biting back an apology. “You are much more than that, and you deserve to feel so. You mustn’t let them force you into something you despise so.”
“Oh, Wil.” She gave his hand a light squeeze that did not go unnoticed by him. “I wish it were so simple.”
“Do you ever…” Do you ever wish we could run away? But the words fell silent on his lips and he forced them back down his throat. That sounds absurd. Of course, she doesn’t.
“Wilbur, what ails you?”
“Ails me?”
“There’s something on your mind. What’s the reason for your disappearance as of late?” Wilbur fell silent at that. He wanted so bad to open his mouth and tell her everything. Everything that had ever happened to him, every mistake he’d made and every moment he was proud of, everything little thing he loved and hated about Tommy and what he did to fuck up their relationship. He wanted to say everything, but after so many years of bottling everything in, he didn’t know where to start. But then, (Y/N) leaned over onto his shoulder, looking up at him with bright eyes, and whispered “You know you can tell me anything…”, and he was done.
“I have a little brother.” He hesitated.
“Oh?”
When she said nothing else but smiled at him patiently, he continued. “We are… so incredibly close. We’ve had to be. But he’s been upset with me for weeks, because… well… I’ve been… hiding things from him. I did something, but it’s for his own safety. It was for his own good, but he found out, and he got so, so angry at me. He barely speaks to me now. I’m afraid I’ve ruined everything between us. I’m worried I’ve lost him.” Wilbur wasn’t quite aware of how he sounded to (Y/N). What she saw before her was a man with his head ducked, thumbs toying at the straps of his suspenders under his tattered coat, trying to convince himself he’d done the right thing. She didn’t know what he did, and she might not ever know, but whatever it was, it sounded like he regretted it.
“Wilbur, whatever you’ve been hiding from him sounds serious.”
“I- well, yes, I suppose it is, but he is still young. There are some cruel truths about this world that he’s far too young to need to know.”
“If he found out… you cannot keep him sheltered forever, Wil. I’ve been locked in a castle for all my life, and now look at me.” Wilbur finally lifted his head to look at her- she was smiling sweetly at him, with no trace of judgment or contempt on her expression. And Wilbur suddenly found himself feeling the same way he did when she had shown him the castle. Wow. “I’m sneaking out to meet up with a stranger. My parents would certainly not be happy with this.”
“We’re not strangers, though.” Wilbur pointed out. “Not anymore.”
(Y/N)’s smile lifted even more, into a gleaming, lovely grin. "No, we’re not.”
Wilbur smiled, and the two fell back into a comfortable silence, (Y/N)’s head still resting on his shoulder, their toes still swishing around in the creek.
Friends. We’re friends. Don’t let your mind wander beyond that.
“Well?”
“Pardon me?”
“I interrupted you earlier, at the market. Will you show me how your song ends?”
Wilbur smiled then, overcome with a feeling of pride- his heart swelling at the met thought that (Y/N) wanted to hear. She cared. “Anything for you, Princess.”
He picked up his guitar and began to strum, getting his fingers loose and comfortable before falling into the steady rhythm of the song. (Y/N) lay back against the ground, the only thing separating her from the dirt being Wilbur’s coat he had laid out for her to sit on. He forced his eyes to focus on his fingers at the strings of his guitar because he knew if he met her gentle gaze, he’d be done for. He couldn’t concentrate under the soft, warm pressure in his heart that accompanied her eyes on him. Even just the thought of her in his mind was making him flustered and shy, and his voice felt raw and awkward as he fumbled through the beginning of the song, but in the best way possible, because she was still smiling.“But the ocean is still out there, magnificent and wide. She's got open arms to hold me, and endless space to hide, and the only things that hold me back are things I hold inside. The ocean is still out there, magnificent and wide…” He dared himself to open his eyes for just a moment and saw (Y/N)’s own eyes had slipped shut in bliss, a sweet smile on her face and her hair haloing around her head like an angel. It was then that he closed his eyes again and made up his mind. “Sailing I should go…”
He was falling in love.
When the song had finished, after a short break of “ooh”s and “ahh”s, he let out a soft chuckle, at the realization that he just made, and the pleasure of finishing a song he’d been working on for so long now. He finally opened his eyes again, awaiting a response from the woman- he would be happy with anything, but she just sat with a smile on her face, looking at him with an unexplainable emotion in her eyes.
After a few moments, she opened her beautiful lips.
“Wilbur, would you like to come to a ball?”
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
It had been days since Tommy had last opened his mouth to address his brother directly.
After that night, when he finally brought up his discovery and his anger towards his big brother, things just hadn’t been the same. For the first few days, Wilbur had been the one keeping quiet- spending his days alone in his room and never speaking a word to him, and Tommy could tell it was because he was still simmering in anger. But that only made the younger boy angrier. Sure, he had accused his big brother of some horrible things, but wasn’t he right? He was right, and he deserved an explanation, not the cold shoulder from the only person in his life he could talk to. Then, when Wilbur finally started speaking again, Tommy felt petty. Why was it only Wilbur’s say when they got to speak? How did Wilbur think he could control when Tommy got to talk to him? It was unfair. He wondered if his brother had even noticed that he fixed his glasses for him. Did he care? All those hours sitting out the front door, tear in his eyes after being screamed at, bending the warm metal with gentle hands, even wiping them clean of any dust on his shirt, and did Wilbur even acknowledge it? No. So, in retaliation, he held his tongue whenever he was spoken to.
Okay, maybe he was being a child. But, if it was a child Wilbur thought he was, it was a child he would be.
At first, the days seemed endless, with Wilbur sitting in the dark of their bedrooms all day and wallowing in self-pity and anger, but Tommy found his own ways to have fun like he often had to when growing up.
A few days ago, Wilbur had finally begun to return to town, and Tommy wasn’t sure if it was to honestly play music as he had originally claimed, or if he was stealing like he knew he was doing. “I’m doing this for you, Tommy!” The memory of the shouting filled his mind for the thousandth time since it happened. “For you! I have no other choice! I have to!”
The boy’s heart still throbbed hearing those words- even in his head- and a snake of shame slithered through his body and took a vice grip on his throat. It was his fault that Wilbur was forced to do all this. If you weren’t here, taking up space, Wilbur would be fine. That’d be one less person for him to look after. Tommy knew he was a burden- he was still growing, which made it difficult to keep clothes around for a while, no matter how reliable- and every time he went to Wilbur to ask for a new pair of shoes because he had ripped holes in the toes, he could see a little fear jump up in the man’s eyes. Now, he understood why.
He remembers when he made up his mind: he wasn’t going to let Wilbur be the only one putting his life on the line.
He waited until Wilbur was gone for the day- knowing fully well he wouldn’t return until it was dark- before he dressed in the most tattered things he could find, pulled a knit cap down far over his mess of overgrown blonde curls, and with nothing but his bag and his notepad on him, he turned to the door.
“Don’t worry, Fuckhead,” he addressed as the cat stood from his patch of sun on the wooden floor. “I’ll return shortly.” He bit back the feeling creeping up in him that he’d been on the receiving end of that line, and turned to close the door behind him.
A long trek through the woods later, he ducked his head low and walked among the bustling townspeople, doing his best to blend in and not draw attention to himself. He kept his eyes on the cobblestone and walked in time with the crowd, falling into step easily and getting lost in the rhythm of the town, knowing if he didn’t look up, no one would be able to see his face. They wouldn’t know who he was, and that would make it easier to hide. He stopped outside the front of a shop, hesitating only when he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a murky puddle. He pulled his hat tighter over his ear and the bandana around his neck up, casting a shadow over his face, and pulled his jacket as far around him as he could. Okay, this will be easy. He told himself. Just don’t draw any attention. It should be easy. He pushed one last thought out of his mind before pushing the door open quietly.
You really are turning into Wilbur.
Inside was warmer- they must have had a furnace running in the back- and smelled like the irony scent of coins and warm timber. It was empty, not even a shopkeeper was at the desk at the moment, and sitting there, on the countertop, was a stack of coins they must have been counting only moments ago. Shining, glimmering gold and silver and copper in the sunlight, Tommy knew fate must have placed them there just for him. Surely, it couldn’t be this easy, could it? Would the hands of fate treat him so dearly and present what he needed just like that? He may have spent too long contemplating, though, because before he could make a decision whether to take them and run and seal his fate as a criminal like his brother or to turn and leave the shop empty-handed and honest, his thoughts were interrupted.
“Can I help you?” A gruff man walked into the room from a side door, large and burly, and watched the boy behind less-than-pleasant eyes. When the boy still hesitated, staring at the coin, he continued, angrily. “Kid!”
Tommy ignored the man, his heart leaping through his chest. Don’t look up, whatever you do, don’t make eye contact. Don’t let him see you. Take it and run.
“Boy! Look up when you’re spoken to!”
Don’t look don’t look don’t look. Without a second thought, Tommy lunged forward and grabbed the riches, swiping as many as he could into his bag and bursting out the door and into the bustling crowd before the man could cross the room. He could hear him yelling behind him, he could hear him slamming open the shop door and shouting at everyone to stop him, but he still kept his head down.
And then, he ran.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
“(Y/N), are you quite sure this is a good idea?”
She turned back to him, her smile shining in the orange light of the torches set on the walls bordering them. “Oh, Wil, we’ve done it before, why should now be any different?” Her hand squeezed his tight as she pulled him along, down the long, winding corridor towards the castle’s darkest corner. “Come!”
Wilbur smiled at the princess’s antics and followed her blindly, all the nerves draining from his body at just the thought of her smile.
Ever since that day by the river, when she had asked him to accompany her to the ball her family was hosting, they had been meeting every day by the same spot. This afternoon, though, (Y/N) had asked him to come to the castle as they had all those weeks ago, promising to him that they’d keep to the hidden away rooms so that they could avoid being caught, as this time the castle wouldn’t be empty like it had been last time they were this daring.
“Last time, the King and Queen and all the guards were away. Is it safe?”
As they finally reached the heavy wooden door at the end of the corridor, (Y/N) turned to look up at him again, eyes full of mischief and excitement. “I’ve informed Rose of our rendezvous, my parents are always occupied with business things in their offices, and guards rarely patrol near the servants' chambers.” She shot him another sweet, sire-like smile that lured him in dangerously close before creaking the old door open and pulling him in after her.
It was the same as he remembered from last time, with its high, white walls lined with spiraling pillars and gold trimmings and painted portraits of long-dead royals, crystal chandeliers with gleaming candles. It was just as pristine and clean as before and struck up the same uncertain feeling inside of him, something whispered deviously into his ear that he didn’t belong. This time, though, he brushed the noise away and held (Y/N)’s hand, focused on her smile and how happy it was making her that he was here, and before he knew it, that dirty, anxious feeling was gone, and he no longer felt like he couldn’t hold her hand. Maybe, just maybe it was meant to be.
Maybe this could be something more.
(Y/N) led him up a long, grand staircase of white marble. He stood behind for a moment, watching her climb the stairs, sparkling in the crystal light, looking absolutely regal and glorious in that light pink satin dress, her hair piled atop her head except for a few tendrils of curls framing her face before she stopped at the first landing and looked back down at him. “What takes you so long?” She reached a beautiful, bare hand down towards him, a mischievous smirk on her face. “Make haste, lest we be caught.”
He smiled and, like a fool, followed her up.
Rounding the halls of the castle, they finally made it to (Y/N)’s bed chambers. The princess’s room was larger than the entirety of his and Tommy’s home, Wilbur marveled, as she closed the heavy white marble doors behind them, with tall windows that opened up to a view of the village below, closest being the wealthy houses nearest to the castle, and further in the distance, the river wrapped around and Wilbur knew their cottage lay somewhere along the shore, buried in the brambles.
“Would you like to see my dress?”
“Your dress? Princess, what for?”
“Why, for the ball, of course!” She all but bounced to her wardrobe and pulled it open, revealing a long, carefully placed gown of white and gold and lace, as pristine and trimmed as the rest of her castle. “I am so terribly excited to wear it!”
Wilbur’s words caught in his throat. This was real, he was going to be dancing with her- the Princess herself- amongst all the royals, come only a few days. His fingers slid into his pocket, grazing over the slip of paper he had slaved over the night before, folded so neatly to be fit for someone of her grace. “And I- I am terribly excited to see you wear it.”
(Y/N) smiled shyly, ducking her head and running her hand along the lace of the dress. She was excited, less for the opportunity to don such a magnificent dress and more for the opportunity to dance- hand in hand- with Wilbur, in front of so many judgemental eyes. It had been her dream, for years, not to dance for the sake of dancing at all, finding suitors, but to dance in the embrace of the one she truly loved. Before she could reach out for Wil’s arm, a knock was heard at the door.
“Oh, your Highness?”
Wilbur looked panicked, jumping back quickly and eyes darting around. “What shall we do?” He whispered harshly.
“Oh, Wil, don’t fret. It is only Rose, she knows you’re here.”
Before he could even register the words and take a breath to ease the tightness in his chest, (Y/N) was throwing open the doors to the room and allowing in a bustling group of lady’s maids, carrying pieces and pieces of fabric. “Oh, your Highness, we’ve brought the dressings.” The princess gasped and went over to pet graciously at the clothes in their hands.
“Dressings?”
Everyone seemed to look up and remember Wilbur was also in the room, and the ladies huddled around and giggled silently to themselves at his presence. The eldest maid- whom (Y/N) had called Rose- was the one who spoke up. “Your attire, for the ball.”
“M-mine?”
“Why, of course!” Someone else spoke up. “You can’t attend the ball… in this.” He saw her cast a glance at the clothes he was wearing, and a shockwave of insecurity rattled through his bones. Wilbur hadn’t thought about that- the fact that he needed something different to wear, that his dirty linen shirt and faded trousers and tattered boots wouldn’t fit in in the shiny ball room, amongst royals of polished shoes and pristine, ironed clothing. He wouldn’t fit in.
“Come, let us see how it fits.”
Before Wilbur could get another word in, he was pulled away into (Y/N)’s dressing room with the women and pushed to center stage, where they bustled around him, measuring his arms and legs and torso, then left and asked him to undress himself. He was uncertain, and felt anything but right stripping out of his shirt and trousers, leaving them in a nicely folded pile in the corner. Then, he was left to stand there, nearly naked, looking at himself in the lavishly trimmed mirror. His chest tightened as he took in the image of himself- he was near skin and bone, no sign of muscle anywhere on his body, narrow shoulders, lanky limbs, messy hair, skin anything but as clear and soft as (Y/N)’s. She deserves someone much better than this. The voice inside his head whispered, she deserves someone good enough for her. No matter how much you try, you can never escape where you came from. There was a knock at the door, and he let them in, and again they pulled out the measuring tape and took all his measurements, of which his mind glossed over, as all he heard was their whispers about how skinny he was “someone get this boy something to eat”. Finally, they were pulling the clothes onto him- a starchy, uncomfortable button-up and an uncomfortable necktie, trousers that would never fit right on his legs, the hem at his ankles falling much too high, and a tight, buttoned royal blue coat.
Still, he felt no different looking in the mirror. Still, he only saw someone pretending to be someone he was not. He saw gangly limbs shoved into ill-fitting, expensive clothes, filthy hair smoothed into place. And when they removed the glasses from his face, he saw someone who didn’t belong.
No matter how they cleaned him up, he would never be any less dirty than he was.
He could hear them muttering amongst themselves about the changes they’d have to make- lengthen the arms and the legs, tighten the shoulders, tighten the waist, fix the inseam- but he tried his best to ignore them and ignore the way his body stared back at him in the mirror, instead opting to think of (Y/N), right in the other room, probably looking beautiful and sweet and gazing out the window, or paging through a book so graciously. Then, finally, like a miracle, they were undressing him and leaving the room, leaving him standing there again. He hurried to dress himself.
“Wilbur?” A heavenly voice rang in his ears from the other side of the door. Finally. He thought.
“(Y/N).”
“They’ve gone. I think they’re done with you.” There was a hint of a smile in her voice, and the man finally finished dressing and opened the door to see her. Sure enough, she smiled bashfully up at him. “I know they can be a little… intense. I apologize for that. They just mean to make sure you have something to wear.”
He nodded, pushing down all the feelings inside of him. She was smiling at him again. “Of course. I understand.”
She took his hands and pulled him to the center of her room. “Now come, let’s practice.”
“P-practice?”
“Why, of course.” (Y/N) noted the hesitance on Wilbur’s face, the gleam of fear in his eyes. “You have… danced before, no?”
Still, he was quiet, and (Y/N) suddenly realized how her question had sounded. Of course, he had never danced, of course, he had never been to a ball. Not everyone grew up so spoilt, like you. Of course, he didn’t.
“I-I’m sorry… Princess, I’ve never learnt to dance.”
“No, no, it’s quite alright. I’m sorry to have assumed that.”
“I shouldn’t have agreed to come to the ball, really. Someone like myself really has no place there, I-”
“Wilbur, Wilbur, stop.” She took his hands in hers, her thumbs carefully tracing all the scars along the knuckles and his callouses that she’d not noticed before, things she knew she would later ask him of, and squeezed them gently. “I happen to be quite the exceptional teacher, I think.” Again, she smiled, and Wilbur felt himself fall into the ease and comfort he had felt earlier, a feeling that was becoming much, much more frequent in his meetings with her. She let go of his hands and backed away a few steps, reaching one arm out to him lavishly, “It will start like this. ‘May I have this dance, your Highness?’ Of course, you will be the one asking me that when the time comes.”
The man smiled and took her hand. “And you will accept, I hope?”
“Of course, Wil.” She stepped closer to him, mere centimeters from his body, hands still cupped against each other. “In fact, people may begin to gossip if you’re the only name on my dance card. Look, now put your other hand on my waist, yes?”
Hesitantly, Wilbur’s heavy, warm palm, cradled the small of her back and time seemed to stop for both of them. (Y/N) glanced up at him, the way the evening sunlight cutting through her window cast a gold hue in his eyes and highlighted all the peaks of his face. The curve of his nose, and way his ears pointed up at the top, the way his hair curled against the back of his neck, so close to where her hand rested, Her eyes traced all the freckles and beauty marks that speckled across his cheeks and his chin- the prominent ones under his eye, on his chin, right under his bottom lip… the pout in his lips… his tongue darted out to wet them.
Wilbur didn’t seem to notice the way the princess was ogling him, too caught up in his own fantasy, the way she felt, finally cradled against him, his hand on her waist. He swore he could feel her heartbeat, or maybe it was just his own, echoing off the castle walls, and he couldn’t help his eyes from wandering the beautiful landscape of her face, all the slopes of her nose, the roundness of her cheeks, the color of her lips… he wanted so badly to dart down and press his mouth against her own. It felt like a fire was burning inside of him, a flame that could only be extinguished with the feeling of her mouth. Instead, he held back.
“Right, like that… Now we- we… step like this.
Wilbur’s steps fumbled for a few moments, uncertain, questioning himself, but slowly, he began to fall into a steady rhythm with her, a gentle sway back and forth across the room, and they spoke no words but empty smiles and soft giggles. They didn’t have to say anything.
“That- that wasn’t so hard.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Wilbur stumbled and tangled his feet among (Y/N)’s, barely saving himself from faceplanting to the floor. In a real ball, he knew it must be social suicide to embarrass yourself like that in front of so many, but he hadn’t a worry in the world. Because it was just the two of them. “Perhaps I spoke too soon.”
The woman laughed full-heartedly. “I cannot wait for the ball, Wilbur. It is my birthday, and surely Mama is set on trying to marry me off to a suitor that day, so I believe I shall disobey her wishes and spend the whole night with you instead.”
“Are you not worried of people talking?”
“No, not any longer. What they have to say doesn’t bother me. I have you.” Wilbur didn’t respond, but he knew the feeling all too well. The feeling of lightness he felt with her, that perhaps nobody else’s opinions and thoughts about who he was mattered, not when he had someone as amazing as (Y/N) there at his side through it all, believing him and standing up for him and understanding him. Nobody else mattered, not the horrid royals who took his parents, not the bullies in the orphanage years ago, not the people in town who had denied him a job, not even Tommy, who seemed to be fighting against Wilbur’s every move right now. He wanted so badly to tell her, to spill his heart to her about the way she made him feel, but he bit his tongue. Not now, he told himself, remembering the paper floating about in his pocket. Not quite yet.
“When is your birthday, Wil?”
“My birthday?” He paused for a moment, pondering at what should have been an easy question. “I- I really…” It had been years since he’d celebrated his birthday, perhaps not since his parents had passed. “I don’t remember.”
“Oh.” She fell silent, the unasked question hanging in the air. How do you forget your birthday? But she was sure there were many things she didn’t understand about life beyond her very sheltered walls, so she bit her tongue and didn’t say anything more. Instead, she stopped their dance and glanced out the window, where dark clouds were appearing over the sky and casting a gloomy outlook for Wilbur’s eventual walk home. “Shall we head outside before the rain?”
Wilbur smiled and followed her out, but not before dropping his prized little paper onto her bed, hoping she would see it later.
Below the castle walls, out the long, dark corridor, and hidden carefully behind the door, the two continued their precious dance, just craving the touch of the other’s skin on theirs. The sky was beautiful, a soft hue of yellow made out of grays, perfect save for the dark clouds rolling in over the forest that lay beyond them as the sun began to set over the horizon. (Y/N)’s arm went up over his shoulder, practically straining to reach him, and he bent his body down to accommodate, a soft grin on his face as they all but pressed their foreheads together. He couldn’t stop smiling, the feeling of his hands on her waist, her arms over his shoulders, pulling him down, her hands running through the strands of curls laying against the back of his neck, their bodies so close, that fire inside of him raging all the more with every soft giggle she let out so near to his ear. He couldn’t stop smiling at the sight of her smiling up at him, and at the thought of the letter sitting in her room, waiting to be read, waiting for her fingers to trace the ink he had so carefully placed, he had written out the very way his heart beat for her, the way he only ever felt like he belonged when he was with her, how nobody had ever been as kind and as loving as she had, and how nothing in this life could be better than her company.
In the midst of their silent, beautiful dance of romance and tenderness, thunder rumbled overhead, and rain fell from the heavens down onto them, soaking each to the bone after only a few moments. (Y/N) shouted in excitement, and Wilbur- laughing as he did so- pulled her gently back against the doorway, taking refuge under the slight awning above them, hoping that it would shelter her a little bit.
“Oh, (Y/N),” He sighed, dipping to his knees before her. “You must return inside before they wonder where you are.”
“You overestimate the number of people who truly worry about my wellbeing, good sir.”
“I know there is at least one.” He smiled, holding her hand and bringing it to his lips. “I must go now, my dear princess. Go inside now, lest you fall ill before the ball.” He dipped his head then, lips grazing the soft skin on the back of her hand, the pad of his thumb running across her knuckles. Then, her hands found his cheeks, and she delicately urged his face up, letting her lips fall precariously on his forehead, right between his eyes. Her lips were gentle, just as gentle and warm and as soft as he’d imagined, and he smiled, still thumbing her hand with his, and stood to his full height, looking down at her with tender, watery eyes.
“I will miss you, Wil. Even if only a few days pass until we next meet, I will miss you nonetheless.”
“And I, you, my darling.” Finally, his hand dropped her own and returned to his side. “You are, in fact, a wonderful dance instructor, (Y/N). I cannot wait for the ball. With you as my partner, I know I shall be fine.”
Before he could turn and leave, (Y/N) sparked up a new conversation. “You may bring your younger brother. If he so wishes to come, that is. I’m sure it would be fun for--”
“You are stalling.” Wilbur grinned.
“Can you blame me?”
“I suppose not, but you cannot keep me here much longer. I have to return home.” She sighed, dramatic, and the man put a hand to his heart in faux apology. “I apologize for vexing you so.”
“If you must, just promise me I will see you again soon?”
“On my heart, I promise you.” He turned and backed out into the rain, smiling and waving his final goodbyes to the girl, whispering to what perhaps was just the rain:
“Adieu, my love.”
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
Tommy knew there were undeniable consequences to his plan. He knew it wasn’t fool-proof, something bad was bound to happen. He knew he’d have to run, he’d have to hide, he’d have to deal with the guilt digging its claws into him at the shame of falling to the same lengths his brother had. And he was prepared for that.
But he didn’t expect dogs.
With the coins ratting heavily around in his pocket, he had a plan to make a break through the village, duck into back alleys and out the path into the woods, and he thought all would be fine. He could hear the shop owner yelling behind him- “stop that dirty little crook!”- but he was already houses and houses gone. He thought he was free. Maybe I’m even better than Wil, the wicked thought crossed his mind. And then, he heard the viscous sound of dogs barking behind him, and his heart dropped.
He didn’t dare himself to look over his shoulder, but he picked up the pace, running as fast as his legs could carry him until he was into the woods and far beyond the village, and yet the dogs continued to snarl and snap at his heels. By now, he could practically feel their hot breath on his feet, the same as he could feel the dirt and every single branch and pebble he stepped on. He knew, dreadfully, if he stopped running now, he would be done for. He wouldn’t make it home to Wil, and all of his deeds would go unnoticed. Not much longer ‘til we’re home, now. He soothed himself, tears pricking his eyes and making it ever more so difficult to see. We’ll be home, and safe, and we’ll have money, and Wilby will be proud of me, and he’ll want to spend time with me again, and we’ll be like the good old day, we’ll be happy, we’ll hang out-
His thoughts, however, were interrupted when his foot twisted and didn’t reconnect with the solid ground beneath him, and he realized all too late that he was plummeting helplessly towards the dirt.
A sharp pain sizzled through his hands- held out to ease his fall- and his face smashed against the earth. He was sure that even tomorrow morning- if he lived to see the sunrise- his cheeks would still be imprinted with every last pebble and blade of grass he was currently face-to-face with. But the adrenaline that was pumping through his veins overpowered the pain that he was sure he was in, and he pushed himself to his feet just in time to feel a dog sink its teeth into the leg of his trousers.
He tore away, bolted to the nearest tree, and pulled himself up into the branches with blurry vision, kicking away the dogs biting at his toes. His heart was still pounding when it began to thunder and pour down rain from the heavens, and he wrapped his arms tight around the base of the tree as he curled up into himself, listening to the dogs barking and circling his shelter below, hungry for his blood.
His sobs only grew harder to muffle when the voice in his head turned out to be none other than his big brother, and his mind betrayed him by imagining him here with him, giving him a hug, bandaging his bleeding hands and knees, and kissing them better. Why am I always such a burden on him? He must be so sick of me always needing help. Why can’t I just do one thing right to help him? He choked back his tears and closed his eyes, letting the rain wash over him and hoping that the storm would be over sooner rather than later.
It’s okay, Tommy. You’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
After Wilbur had gone for the day, and (Y/N) made the journey back up to her room, she found herself sitting on her balcony in her night dress, gazing out onto the town and wondering at each little light, if any of them were his.
The smile hadn’t yet left her face since the moment he had his hand on her waist and the moment she had her hands in his hair. She was sure he had felt the same sparks she had, the same sparks she’d heard about in her romance books, where they spoke of love and running away and finally being together beyond all means. She made a note to ask Rose what love felt like, as she turned to curl up under the linen sheets and wool covers of her bed.
But there, on her pillow, was a piece of paper, folded delicately in half, placed there deliberately by someone other than herself.
She held it gently in her grip and nudged the candle on her nightstand closer to her, unfolding the paper and revealing the smudged ink.
Immediately, she knew who it was.
“Your Highness, My Princess, My Dearest (Y/N),
I know how you despise formalities, and so I apologize for my initial greeting. Hopefully, you fancy this more. Hopefully, ‘dearest’ is a name you desire to hear more often.
(You must know I am trying with every bone in my body to make this letter as eloquent and as perfect as you, because that is what you deserve, and so much more. Although I must keep this somewhat quick, as my candle is burning low and I know I will not have the confidence to continue writing this come tomorrow morn.)
It has been seven months since we’ve met- I’ve counted them all, and I can assure you, they were certainly not long enough for my liking- and I find myself with a growing feeling from the pit of my stomach that I must tell you how you make me feel. I can no longer contain it, for I may explode. Never in my life have I met someone who has treated me with the kind of gentle tenderness that you possess, never have I felt as accepted and as cared for as when I’m with you, and I’ve found myself smiling much more, even out of your presence, just as the image of you crosses my mind. Truly, (Y/N), I have found myself growing more and more in love with your company. I cannot stand the thought of being apart from you, and every time I must go, must leave you locked up in your prison walls, a part of me breaks off inside and stays with you.
My heart aches for you, Dearest, and I can only hope you feel the same.
My candle is burning much too low to see the paper now, my dear, so I must go now. I hope this finds you well, and I hope you’re thinking of me as much as I of you. Sleep well, lovely (unless you find this in the morning).
– Your Wilbur
Finally, with his words, his voice, still ringing in her ears and the image of his smile bouncing around her head, (Y/N) curled up beneath her covers and clutched the paper against her heart. Wilbur, Wilbur, Wilbur. My Wilbur. He’s my Wilbur, he said it.
In her last few moments before slipping into dreamland, a thought rang through her head, one she hoped would reach him, wherever he was.
Get home safe, my Wil.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
There was a particular skip in Wilbur’s step as he walked home that night.
There must have been something left lingering in the air he was breathing, something caught in his lungs that was making him smile as much as he had been, something that made his heart nearly leap out of his chest at the thought. Perhaps it was something to do with the position of the moon or the changing of the seasons, but he felt ten times lighter than most nights as if he could float away. His fingers still were trembling from the thought of that paper he had snuck so gracefully onto (Y/N)’s pillow, and he prayed to any gods that would listen that she had found it and read it by now. He had poured out his heart and soul into that note, finally allowing everything he had been feeling for the past months to bubble to the surface and erupt onto the page with a splash of ink and signed in his signature. And gods, how he prayed she would smile upon seeing his words.
The next time he would have such an opportunity to see (Y/N) was going to be the ball, the day of her birth, what was supposedly meant to be a royal celebration of the ages, as he’d seen the preparations in the castle today, still many days before the event. He was nervous, but all feelings of anxiety were overwhelmed with the mere thought of seeing her face and her smile again and getting to hold her hand, put a hand on her waist, and dance so close to her like he had tonight. It was intoxicating, the scent of her perfume and the cleanliness and grace about her, the way she held herself so delicately yet so bold, and the way he taunted him and teased him and bullied him about, only to turn around and be so gentle and kind and the most loving woman he had ever met in his life.
The moon was lighting his quiet path home- the rain had since ceased- and all seemed fine until he made it to the final stretch before he would begin to see the roof of their cottage between the trees. From somewhere overhead, he heard rustling softly in the treetops. As he stopped walking and listened more carefully, he began to notice quiet sobbing and shaky breathing.
He looked up, finally certain of which tree the noises were coming from, and saw a blonde head of curls and gangly legs hanging down from a branch not too far up.
“Tommy?”
The noises stopped immediately, and Wilbur saw the mop of hair moving around, even glancing slightly over the edge of the branch the boy was perched on.
“...Wilbur?” The young boy finally spoke up, his words coming out uncertain and fearful. Then, as if finally convinced, the boy let out a strained laugh. “Ha! I’ve tricked you, Wil! Weren’t expecting me to be out here in a tree, were you? Ha!” Before Wilbur could point out how clearly acted out those words were, and the obvious fact that his laughs were of anything but actual humor, the boy swung his legs over the edge of the branch he’d been curled onto and threw himself down to the ground.
Though it wasn’t a far drop, the boy immediately grimaced and staggered on his feet when he hit the ground, stumbling for something to hold onto and trying his best to keep the pressure off of his ankle. Wilbur reacted immediately, reaching out to hold the boy and looking him over for any other noticeable wounds. Tommy had fear in his eyes for a moment, begging his brother not to ask the dreaded question.
Wilbur didn’t ask how it happened.
“Of course, you went and got yourself hurt, you fool.” Wilbur gave the boy a gentle smile, just glad he was finally talking to him again. Then, offering another olive branch, he bent to his knees. “C’mere, climb on my back, I’ll get you home.”
Tommy accepted the olive branch of brotherly affection and climbed onto his tall brother’s back, letting his head rest on the man’s shoulder and finally giving up his act. He couldn’t go any longer without speaking to his brother, and both of them, right there, made up their minds in a silent agreement.
AND WE’RE BACK . half of this was written on oct 4 and finished on nov 18 like damn what a gap 😭 i’m so sorry BUT HERE WE ARE NOW
.
.
me running to read chapter 3 bc that ‘her romeo’ thing got me so bad SO BAD LYSS
“Wilbur- a child full of life and energy- was rambling about his day, about what he’d done in the town with other children of the village- climbed trees, raced through the streets, about some of the random questions and ideas he had thought up throughout the day.”
so this is how we’re starting chapter three??? REMINDING ME OF HIS HAPPY CHILDHOOD
look at him !! INTERACTING WITH OTHER KIDS
NOT BEING AN OUTCAST
SOBS
HIS HAPPY MOTHER AND FATHER AND BABY TOMMY
oh no i just remembered they’re fucking dead
“(“There are a lot of things that bother him. That’s why we have to take such good care of him.”)”
“(“I don’t wanna.”)”
STOP IT DOESNT
STOP
he ends up taking care of him
such good care
im gonna throw myself off mount rushmore
he ends up taking such good care of his baby brother cries
“And he decided, he’d do his best to protect him... He’d be there for him, always.”
“He didn’t know it’d be the last time they were together.”
hey lyss watch how hard i can cry
NO BUT STOP HIS PARENTS
OH NOOO THEY KNEW BUT THEY HAD TO BE NORMAL FOR THEIR BOYS BC THEY LIKE
THEY DONT WANT TO PANIC
THEIR BOYS
IM SAD
so SAD
“Not even the cat seemed to be nearby, and he would never leave their house. Not without Tommy, that is.”
even the cat???
wtf???
mr fuckhead??
lyss are you gonna hurt that cat tell me rn be so srs are you gonna fuck that cat over be so srs rn
“Everything he did, was for their safety. He had apologized countless times for yelling, and each time, Tommy had responded with nothing but a simple okay.”
in tommy’s defense he is an irrational teen
and also i dunno about you man but finding out you were lied to your entire life is kinda like
woah
“Wilbur turned to walk away then and didn’t get the chance to see the sad eyes of the young boy watching his big brother leave him.”
punching the wall
breaks a vase
i wanna be happy
“Her many, many years of lessons with her governess had brought her up to be quite the musician…”
i’m so cool <3
wait omg
omg lets compose a song with wilbur wait
it’s be our little lovers song <3
wait that’s actually be so cute omg wait
“(“There is something else troubling you, I can tell. Is it…” she lowered her voice. “Your boy?”)”
IM SMILING SO MUCH ???$4$3!3?37
HRENEBFURIENEHE
‘YOUR BOY’
AHAHFIEKEBDIDNEKWOEEEEE
that’s so cute stop it
also a month??? omg how are we alive
also months have passed?? what’s the timeline wait :0 like over how much span of time does u.s. take place
pls . this is a genuine question i wanna know the timeline so bad
my toxic trait is examining the timelines in every media i watch
“Did she have a young love? Love? No, no, no, [-]. You do not love Wilbur… right?”
yes dumb idiot
yes you do
dumbass
you do
yes
yes omg
omg rose slap us until we understand
it’s okay i consent
“(“…Because we’re born into this world and raised for one thing, and it’s not love.”)”
see it’s sad bc it was true
i say was bc like
times have probably changed
i would hope
b bb ur like
see it’s sad bc it’s true
“Ah, yes, quite a friend, he is.”
STOP IT THE REALISATION FORMING
STOP IT STOP IT ITS SO CUTE
FUCK
I WANT THEM TO HUG
EMBRACE
HOLD EACH OTHER
COMFORT
CRIES
“With a genuine smile finally growing on her face, the princess shot up out of her seat.”
god i’m so smart
“It was a bright day, sunny and considerably warm for near winter…”
ok we’re near winter im forming a timeline
forming a timeline in my head let’s go boys
“The air was filled with heavy footsteps and breathless giggles, as the princess and the criminal ran through the alleyways and backstreets of the village, hand-in-hand.”
stop it this is so cute
HAND IN HAND???
crying
i love hands
holding hands
playing with someone’s hands
braiding someone’s hair
or running your fingers through their hair
DUDE I WROTE A FUCKING DRABBLE ABOUT HANDS I LOVE THEM SO MUCH
holding hands is such a thing near and dear to my heart you don’t understand
but also the like ???
THEY WAY SHES JUST LIKE ooohhooo i’m so dead when i get home
LIKE ALL SILLY AND GOOFY AND EEE AND HES JUST LIKE ‘come’ AND THEN JUST IMMEDIATELY LEADS US AWAY
FUCK
STPP IT BECAUSE I CAN PICTURE THIS SO CLEARLY TOO AND ITS SO ADORABLE
god they’re so cute i’m so sad they’re gonna dir
“He had practically kidnapped the princess, and he would meet the same fate his parents did all those years ago, and then Tommy would be alone.”
what the fuck lyss
i imagine you writing these cutesy scenes and then laughing to yourself as you write in a sad little bit thinking “they’re gonna cry at this lmao”
also HE CARRIES US???
punches the wall
“This is where he comes when he needs to be alone and practice his music. That means it’s an honor to be here with him.”
yes it do
YES IT DO
ITS SO SPECIAL
ITS SO NICE
SO SWEET
LOVE THAT
YEAH
“She slipped her own slippers off to dip he toes into the creek, and for a moment, nothing in the world existed- no expectations, no marriage, no callers waiting to wed her, no royal duty preventing her from being with him- nothing except for the two of them, and love.”
IVE ALWAYS WANTED TO DO THIS
THIS EXACT SCENE OMG MY DREAM
SO MUCH OF WHAT YOU’VE WRITTEN IS MY DREAM
all my dreams are fantasies that can’t exist and you know what that’s okay
not really but i’m gonna say it is
BUT ALSO ?? LYSS’ OTHER TALENT PULLING THROUGH??
WRITING AND MAKING MUSIC?? HELLO ??? LYSS? LYSS’ INFINITE TALENTS POPPING OFF? PULLING THROUGH?
WOOOOO
HEYO?
also wtf just the entire scene is so beautiful if i could draw i fucking would i would draw this scene so hard HOLY SHIT ITS LIKE
NO BC ITS SO CLEAR IN MY HEAD
I COULD DRAW IT
ah
NO
WHY CANT I DRAW
I WANNA DRAW THIS SCENE SO BAD
“(“Ah.” She smiled. “Unfinished. Well, I want to be the first to hear, when you do finish it, okay?”)”
“(“Of course, [-].”)”
OH MY GOD?? OH MY GOD??? INSERT THEY SAID THE TITLE ALMSOT??? AHH?? OH??? HUH???
.
hi nov18 pom checking in here: is that symphony ever gonna be finished. is that his unfinished symphony for real. are u gonna kill wilbur off and then we sort of finish the song for him. is that what ur doing. but u wouldn’t kill wilbur … YOU WOULDNT KILL WILBUR WOULD YOU???
“A soft and kind voice pulled the princess from her mission, and she looked up to see a young woman around her age, with hair as light as the sun and an apron covered in flour- the shop owner.”
shaky voice
shaky hands
omg …
n .. ni …
niki … ?? niki ?? my … niki my favourite ?? the pretty nice niki ?? niki nihachu @ twitchcon ??
“The smile returned to her face, slightly unsure about the whole situation. “My name is Niki.”)”
THROWS UP VIOLENTLY
NIKI :D
“[-] loved it, she’d never really had much of a friend, and having someone treat her so normally was refreshing. Maybe she’d come back here again.”
omg lyss
lyss ?? niki and me hang out chapter ?? PLS ??
lyss please i’m on my knees begging and crying i’ll write you the sweetest sickeningly sweet and nice wilbur fic in exchange
“… rushed outside to make her way across town where, hopefully, she would find her man.”
HER MAN
HER MAN
HER MAN
“‘Don’t call me ‘son’’ Wilbur bit his tongue…”
omg hamilton?
“A boy thrust into unfortunate and tragic circumstances, and they would tell you how every night he spoke to them, wishing upon his lucky star that Tommy would one day have a better life than he ever did.”
“Yes, these walls were their home for the next four, long, painful years.”
i’m gonna jump off the roof of your house bc this is personal THIS IS PERSONAL LYSS ALYSSYS LYSSYS
i’m sobbing the entire section
ISOLATION AND STARVATION?? WOOF WDYM??
AND WDYM PEOPLE PICKED ON HIM AND TEASTEDHIM THATS MESSED UP
he just loves his brother so much he takes good care of him he loves him he wants him safe and happy and to have a good life im gonna sob
I MEAN I GET IT I COULD SEE IT HAPPENING IRL BUT
why our wilbur why
“Oh, how he’d missed that same innocence in his own little brother’s demeanor. Where had he gone?”
give me my resolution
lyss please i’m on my knees begging and crying i’ll write you the sweetest sickeningly sweet and nice wilbur fic in exchange
RESOLUTION PLEASE
also wtf noooo the way he’s so gentle and silly and nice with the kids and his brother and
and
crying
out here crying sobbing
“Deep in her heart, where she wished he might have thought of her. What happened to your promise, Wil?”
pissing myself
throwing up
punching the wall
jumping off your roof
“(“Wilbur’s face looked stricken at the thought. “Aren’t you the princess? Surely you have some say in this.”)”
wilbur’s in his denial arc
crying arc
bc the person he loves is gonna GO AWAY
c!tommy core
.
.
that was all oct4 pom, time for nov18 pom and LMAO WHAT DID I MEAN BY C!TOMMYCORR???? DAMN.
“Why do I feel this way? Surely it is just normal to be upset about your friend being married. She obviously doesn’t look forward to it, and I am just upset for her. Right?”
wilbur ur so stupid
god
he so
u are in your denial arc, yes friends do have empathy for each other but this goes beyond empathy, you don’t just feel bad for us you feel bad for yourself bc you’re in love
NOOO AND THE WAY HE’S LIKE: YOU’RE MORE THAN JUST A PAWN LIKE yes yes reassure us wilbur you’re so good
you don’t know it but you’re so good
“But then, [-] leaned over onto his shoulder, looking up at him with bright eyes, and whispered “You know you can tell me anything…”, and he was done.”
his hesitation . he doesn’t know where to start he’s been bottling it up so long
THOSE LINES LYSS
you’re gonna break him
i meant to type “you’re gonna break me” but i think both fits, he seems fragile
LOOK . HE JUST SEEMS FRAGILE OKAY?
also not him caving the second he meets our eyes like he’s so weak, he’s down bad how do you not realise
well he probably knows that guys just in denial which is like basically the same thing
AND THEN HE TELLS US
HE NEVER SAYS ANYTHING TO ANYONE BUT HE TELLS US THATS SO
“(“If he found out… you cannot keep him sheltered forever, Wil. I’ve been locked in a castle for all my life, and now look at me.”)”
is this a parallel 🧍
are we gonna ge “betrayed” too are we gonna get betrayed by wilbur is this a parallel
is this a metaphor omg
“Even just the thought of her in his mind was making him flustered and shy, and his voice felt raw and awkward as he fumbled through the beginning of the song, but in the best way possible, because she was still smiling.”
oh buddy you fell HARD
“He was falling in love.”
“(“Wilbur, would you like to come to a ball?”)”
is this ch4 …
are we gonna play dress up are we gonna dress up wilbur and make him prettier than he already is
royal wilbur era lets goooo
wait what happens at the ball lyss
LYSS WHAT HAPPENS AT THE BALL TO WARRANT THAT CH4 FORESHADOWING TEASER
WHAT HAPPENS AT THE BALL
PLEASE I NEED TO KNOW RN
do we get to dance though . with wilbur… at the ball. that would be like
peak.
no shot if they do dance then that would be the definitive moment where they both are like “ah shit i’m in deep” like no shot they live after the ball and they don’t realise they are fully falling in love with each other
or it could not be tbh there’s a lot of things that could happen
WHATS GONNA HAPPEN AT THE BALL IM SHAKING YOU
“He was right, and he deserved an explanation, not the cold shoulder from the only person in his life he could talk to.”
the family dynamic is breaking someone get philza minecraft back here
or his ghost i guess bc he’s dead ..
“Did he care?”
STOP LYSS
🛑 ✋ STOP RIGHT THERE
YOURE NOT ALLOWED TO INCUR EMOTIONAL DAMAGE TO ME LIKE THIS
STOPP
no and the way tommy fixed his glasses .. and they’re both just . not talking what the hell man and tommy’s just like wtf why do u get to decide when it’s okay to talk again like man what
what
and the way tommy’s like unsure whether wilbur really went out to play music or to steal NOOO
“It was his fault that Wilbur was forced to do all this. If you weren’t here, taking up space, Wilbur would be fine. That’d be one less person for him to look after.”
yes officer this paragraph right here
what the HELL lyss what did i say about emotional damage
please i need my boys to make up this is so depressing
no tommy don’t put the blame all on yourself that’s not right either tommy don’t do that you’re not a burden tommy we swear
noooo THERE WAS A FEAR IN EYES WHEN TOMMY ASKED FOR NEW SHIT HE OUTGREW?
NOOOOOOOO
“He remembers when he made up his mind: he wasn’t going to let Wilbur be the only one putting his life on the line.”
lyss look me in the eyes and tell me you aren’t gonna do something to tommy
lyss look me in the eyes and tell me, promsie me, swear to me,
LYSS @ LYSSYS.TUMBLR.COM SWEAR TO ME
“(“Don’t worry, Fuckhead,” he addressed as the cat stood from his patch of sun on the wooden floor. “I’ll return shortly.”)”
yeah you fucking better otherwise someone’s not gonna have a good day today
that someone is me.
and you.
bc i’m gonna cry in ur inbox lyss, i will do it. don’t you test me.
“…before he could make a decision whether to take them and run and seal his fate as a criminal like his brother or to turn and leave the shop empty-handed and honest, his thoughts were interrupted.”
LOSING MY MIND WHY WASNT THE THOUGHT OF SECURING A JOB A POSSIBILITY?? AS HE SAID, NOBODY KNOWS HIM
HE COULD’VE LOOKED FOR A JOB? LMAO IM SORRY TOMMY WHATS THE THOUGHT PROCESS HERE
tommy. tommy you weirdo. tommy you weird weird kid what was the thought process.
“And then, he ran.”
TOMMY
TOMMY??!? TOMMY NO THIS IS LITERALLY THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF WHAT WILBUR WANTED
also how the fuck can you run so fast, you’re like a 14 year old who never excersises like ever cooped up in a room
WAIT HOW OLD IS TOMMY AGAIN? he’s like 14. right lyss. he’s like 15 or 16 right. RIGHT LYSS.
“Wilbur smiled at the princess’s antics and followed her blindly, all the nerves draining from his body at just the thought of her smile.”
i’m actually gonna end it all i’m gonna end it all this is it. this is it man. this is it. this is everything to me.
it’s so cute
he’s so in love and it’s so pure you don’t understand it’s everything they’re so cute
his nerves just go away STOPPP IT *sobs*
“(“I am so terribly excited to wear it!”)”
“(“And I- I am terribly excited to see you wear it.”)”
STOP IT. STOP IT SO MUCH.
also what’s the paper hmmmm
also bye not the maids just giggling at wilbur when he asks about the dressings that’s so funny for some reason
BUT LETS GOO TOO LADIES BACKING US UP
everyone’s cheering for the two <3
“He wouldn’t fit in.”
“…better than this. The voice inside his head whispered, she deserves someone good enough for her. No matter how much you try, you can never escape where you came from.”
“No matter how they cleaned him up, he would never be any less dirty than he was.”
lyss i’m convinced you enjoy writing nice happy cutesy scenes and then throwing pain in my face
like teehee they’re having fun thinking about the ball and it’s gonna be so fun to be able to be with each other and dance happily without a care in the world
wilbur hates himself. wilbur thinks of himself as the lowest being.
“(“Wilbur, Wilbur, stop.” She took his hands in hers, her thumbs carefully tracing all the scars along the knuckles and his callouses that she’d not noticed before, things she knew she would later ask him of, and squeezed them gently.)”
STOP IT STOP IT SO MUCH THEYRE SO CUTE THEY. THEY REALLY LIKE EACH OTHER AND THEYRE BOTH SUCH KIND PEOPLE WHO JUST WANT THE BEST FOR EACH OTHER LIKE YEAH LOOK AT US COMFORTING HIM LIKE NO YOU ARENT TRASH WILBUR WE WANT YOU THERE YES YOU SHOULD COME YES
AND THE WAY WE JUST TEACH HIM TO DANCE BYE
“Hesitantly, Wilbur’s heavy, warm palm, cradled the small of her back and time seemed to stop for both of them.”
i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: lyss you are a master at describing scenes and just building up an image in the reader’s head.
LIKE WILBUR’S DESCRIPTION??? AUGH COME ON LYSS SPARE SOME TALENT FOR EVERYONE ELSE
your writing is always so good and i love it all, but i feel like when it comes to unfinished symphonies i can really see the passion within the writing and it’s such a joy to read along and imagine the story and i can’t wait to see what happens next
“In a real ball, he knew it must be social suicide to embarrass yourself like that in front of so many, but he hadn’t a worry in the world. Because it was just the two of them.”
jesus christ wilbur is me if i had to dance like that shit would be awful i would probably fall flat on my face
“(“No, not any longer. What they have to say doesn’t bother me. I have you.”)”
sobs sobbing crying on the floor eating grass touching the wall biting your hand
HEWANTSTOTELLUSHEWANTSTOSPILLHISHEART
GO AHEAD WILBUR GO AHEAD AND TELL US EVERYTHING
and nobody else matters *sobs* because it’s just the two of them *sobs* because they have each other
“(“I don’t remember.”)”
“(“Oh.” She fell silent, the unasked question hanging in the air.)”
you enjoy torturing me.
“[-] shouted in excitement, and Wilbur- laughing as he did so- pulled her gently back against the doorway, taking refuge under the slight awning above them, hoping that it would shelter her a little bit.)”
THE “YOU’RE STALLING” AND “CAN YOU BLAME ME” THEYRE SO CUTE and the i’ll miss you’d SOBBING CRYING
ALL I WANT IS FOR THEM TO BE HAPPY TOGETHER ALL I WANT IS FOR EVERYONE TO BE HAPPY
PLEASE THEY DESERVE IT
you searched my mind intentionally to see what would make pom the most happy and make him squeal because you pulled out the “adieu my love”
ADIEU??? ADIEU??? THAT SHIT MAKES ME WEAK FOR LITERALLY NO REASON
AND THE MY LOVE??? FUCKKKKKKKKK
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”
lyss what did i say.
if something happens to tommy i’m knocking on your door for real for serious im flying out to you and im knocking on that door.
“We’ll be home, and safe, and we’ll have money, and Wilby will be proud of me, and he’ll want to spend time with me again, and we’ll be like the good old day, we’ll be happy, we’ll hang out-”
“He was sure that even tomorrow morning- if he lived to see the sunrise- his cheeks would still be imprinted with every last pebble and blade of grass he was currently face-to-face with.”
stop it i want tommy to be happy he deserves it he hasn’t done anything wrong he deserves to grow up happy with his brother and parents and they deserves to be a happy family
also lyss if tommy gets caught i’m coming. im on the website to buy the tickets.
“…and his mind betrayed him by imagining him here with him, giving him a hug, bandaging his bleeding hands and knees, and kissing them better.”
hey. hey lyss? one question: why.
why do you pain me like this. im gonna throw myself off the empire state building, do you want that?
THIS IS BECAUSE OF YOU DONT HURT HIM AT ALL PLEASE THE EMOTIONAL DAMAGE THAT WOULD DO TO ME THE WAY THAT WOULD IMPACT EVERYTHING
FUCK AND THE WAY HE REASSURES HINSELF EVERYTHINFS GONNA BE OKAY
“She made a note to ask Rose what love felt like, as she turned to curl up under the linen sheets and wool covers of her bed.”
“You must know I am trying with every bone in my body to make this letter as eloquent and as perfect as you, because that is what you deserve, and so much more.”
he’s so silly he’s so funny he’s so cute i love him i love us!wilbur he’s such a guy
is this a love confession 🧍 lyss look me in the eyes tell me is this a love confession like officially i’m gonna
ALSOHELL YEAH A TIMELINE KINDA
“…and I find myself with a growing feeling from the pit of my stomach that I must tell you how you make me feel. I can no longer contain it, for I may explode.”
okay romeo pack it up
im gonna throw up in gonna throw myself off the bridge this is so. he’s so. in love i can’t handle it it’s so pure it’s just so… augsbehheifmf eiskd
MY HEART ACHES FOR YOU AND I HOPE YOU FEEL THE SAME?
kill me i’ve passed away dear god oh my GOOODDD
“Wilbur, Wilbur, Wilbur. My Wilbur. He’s my Wilbur, he said it.”
HE SAID IT EVERYBODY CHEER HE SAID ITTTTTTTTTT AHAHHHHHHH
and get home safe my wil…. GET HOME SAFE… MY WIL
sobs
“He looked up, finally certain of which tree the noises were coming from, and saw a blonde head of curls and gangly legs hanging down from a branch not too far up.”
TOMMY??? THEY’VE COME HOME THE BROTHERS ARE HOME
THEYRE BACK
GIVE ME RECONCILIATION PLEASEE.
“(“Of course, you went and got yourself hurt, you fool.” Wilbur gave the boy a gentle smile, just glad he was finally talking to him again. Then, offering another olive branch, he bent to his knees. “C’mere, climb on my back, I’ll get you home.”)”
sobbing
they’re everything. they deserve the world. they’re wonderful im so happy i’m so happy they’re so good im so happy dear god thank you PLEASE LET THE BROTHERS BE HAPPY
“I never want us to fight again.”
GOOD I DONT WANT THEM TO EITHER THANK YOU
RECONCILIACIÓN LETS GOOO BOYSSS
.
.
hey lyss if something happens at the ball im knocking on your door. i’ll be there. knock knock. don’t you do something.
"He took a sip of his morning tea. It was bitter and too hot and burned sliding down his throat.
He was on the roof, where he spent most mornings, and a book was lying gently on his lap, the book (Y/N) had urged him to read many fortnight ago. Romeo and Juliet. A romance. He had struggled and stumbled over the meanings of some of the words, but ultimately, he could understand what it meant. He could understand the story- young lovers, forbidden from being together, aching for each other despite their family's rivalries. He had not yet finished the story- though the pages were stuffed full of his own loose leafs of paper, ink scribblings of poetry and love letters that came to his mind while reading and thinking of her, that he would never send her way- but he could understand it. Before this, (Y/N) had given him a book of fairytales, some stories that he remembered with a faint tint of nostalgia that he ahd heard from his childhood, gentle stories of princesses falling in love and families living happily and knights in shining armor saving the day. Those were easy to finish. This, though, was filled with pain. It was a story of young lovers: naive, starcrossed, fated by the gods and cursed from the beginning. The audience knew, everyone knew, there was no hope for their love. But still, they fought for each other, sacrificed for each other, and that only made it hurt more, knowing how tragic they were destined to end. It was sad. Like a novel discarded on the last page, a painting that never saw the last brush stroke, a symphony that never heard the final bow of the conductor. This was no romance.
me: sits down to finish ch3 of us bc it’s been on my to do list for a while
lyss:
“Like a novel discarded on the last page, a painting that never saw the last brush stroke, a symphony that never heard the final bow of the conductor. This was no romance.”
"He took a sip of his morning tea. It was bitter and too hot and burned sliding down his throat.
He was on the roof, where he spent most mornings, and a book was lying gently on his lap, the book (Y/N) had urged him to read many fortnight ago. Romeo and Juliet. A romance. He had struggled and stumbled over the meanings of some of the words, but ultimately, he could understand what it meant. He could understand the story- young lovers, forbidden from being together, aching for each other despite their family's rivalries. He had not yet finished the story- though the pages were stuffed full of his own loose leafs of paper, ink scribblings of poetry and love letters that came to his mind while reading and thinking of her, that he would never send her way- but he could understand it. Before this, (Y/N) had given him a book of fairytales, some stories that he remembered with a faint tint of nostalgia that he ahd heard from his childhood, gentle stories of princesses falling in love and families living happily and knights in shining armor saving the day. Those were easy to finish. This, though, was filled with pain. It was a story of young lovers: naive, starcrossed, fated by the gods and cursed from the beginning. The audience knew, everyone knew, there was no hope for their love. But still, they fought for each other, sacrificed for each other, and that only made it hurt more, knowing how tragic they were destined to end. It was sad. Like a novel discarded on the last page, a painting that never saw the last brush stroke, a symphony that never heard the final bow of the conductor. This was no romance.
me: sits down to finish ch3 of us bc it’s been on my to do list for a while
lyss:
“Like a novel discarded on the last page, a painting that never saw the last brush stroke, a symphony that never heard the final bow of the conductor. This was no romance.”
Add the letters in your first name using the numbers below =)
- Under 60 points= NOT TOO SEXY
- Between 61-300 points= PRETTY SEXY
- Between 301-599 points= VERY SEXY
- Over 600= THE ULTIMATE SEXIEST
1. FIRST, create a picrew using this maker, and then 2. SECOND take this quiz on how fandom would see you if you were a fictional character. 3 (THIRD) POST YOUR PIC AND YOUR DESCRIPTION IN THE REBLOG!
Bastard (Good)
You’re a bastard. A wet cat, if you will. And we love you for it. You’re a little shit, but in the good way. You are the baddest babygirl. You killed a man, but you looked good doing it. You flirted with the hero and the enemy. All of Tumblr is madly in love with you. Congrats, I guess?
Tagging EVERYONE but especially @magicaltear, @the-beeses-kneeses, @wafflesrisa, @mykingdomforapen, @marbat, @scientistsinistral, @halberdierminister!
You have so, so much fanfiction, either because you’re so shippable, or because you’re hot. Maybe both. Probably both. You definitely flirt with everyone, either way. Tumblr and Twitter love you and showers you with queer headcanons. Reddit keeps a safe distance.
i forgot to do this but i was in class anyways- so a day late. but why this fucking result- of ALL THINGS. it- fits me though. which is why im- mm.
tagging: @shinysora @ethanharli @2uvmio (ya’ll dont have to do it and if you already been tagged no need.)
Bastard (Good)
You’re a bastard. A wet cat, if you will. And we love you for it. You’re a little shit, but in the good way. You are the baddest babygirl. You killed a man, but you looked good doing it. You flirted with the hero and the enemy. All of Tumblr is madly in love with you. Congrats, I guess?
Thanks for the tag love!! This was fun- and I’m also not surprised,,
I’ll tag; @fabricated-misslieness @minkyungseokie @mackjlee9 @killianrenlen @fmrl-wndrlnd @heyheyheyhaikyu don’t have to though <3
Dead/Going To Die
You’re just a little too likable to live. From the moment you were introduced, we all knew you were a goner, not matter how many wanted to keep you. You are the subject of so, so, so many fix-it fics written by crying fans who just want their blorbo back, but you’re still dead in cannon.
Oh, you. No-one can figure you out. Some people love you, some people hate you, some people just don’t care. You’re hot, but also ugly, but also bland. You’re funny, but also serious, but also a kind of weird grey zone. Honestly, keep doing what you’re doing. It’s pretty cool, in my option. Though a lot of my friends would disagree.
I took that little quiz three times to see if I will get different answers. I’m also the bastard bad and the weird one
You’re the baby. The little meow meow. The ultimate cinnamon roll. Everyone loves you, you’d have to be insane not to. All you want is for your friends to be happy, and you will do anything to make that a reality. You truly deserve everything. Anything I can get you, by the way?
The poor little meow meow. The traumatised one. The one that just can’t catch a break. You have a tragic backstory, and it just doesn’t get better from there. You. get beaten up, sacrificed, nearly die, your crush doesn’t like you back, you develop a mental disorder, almost die again… all of tumblr wants to hug you and then write angsty fanfiction about you.
[Is it sad that I’m not surprised to have gotten this result? :’D]
Tags (/np): @aike-pandas @rapid-looser @icarusthefoolish @ anyone else who wants too !
You’re the baby. The little meow meow. The ultimate cinnamon roll. Everyone loves you, you’d have to be insane not to. All you want is for your friends to be happy, and you will do anything to make that a reality. You truly deserve everything. Anything I can get you, by the way?
I am both so mad and so happy I got this one.
I’m tagging moony because yes [@ze-maki-nin get ur gæ a$s in here >:D /nm /nf]
You’re that one character that everyone very impolitely wants dead. You’re a constant cockblock, you try to stop the characters from saving the world, you insult the lovable ones in increasingly creative ways. You’re not the big bad, but the fandom treats you like you are.
not surprised tbh fbvuai
uhuhuhuh tagging @icarusthefoolish @wrenqueenisboss @beautylemons @sardonic-the-writer and anyone esle :D
You have so, so much fanfiction, either because you’re so shippable, or because you’re hot. Maybe both. Probably both. You definitely flirt with everyone, either way. Tumblr and Twitter love you and showers you with queer headcanons. Reddit keeps a safe distance.
YAYYY TY SARD. i couldn’t resist giving myself the. cat ears
Deserves The World
You’re the baby. The little meow meow. The ultimate cinnamon roll. Everyone loves you, you’d have to be insane not to. All you want is for your friends to be happy, and you will do anything to make that a reality. You truly deserve everything. Anything I can get you, by the way?
@wilburofthedumbasses @weewooihavefoundyou @sixofshadowandbone @loversj0y and anybody else
