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veenus777 · 7 months

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◜Dadbur Headcanons◞

┊ ᝰ﹕Fluff, SFW, mention of divorce

┊ ᝰ﹕Part Two of Dadbur, send me suggestions and asks for the next ones <3

♧ ok, imagine a mini wilbur with curly hair and a snub nose, well that's your son.

♤ At first Will would be absolutely terrified, he didn't have the best parents in the world so he was afraid of being the same for his son.

♧ This man tries so hard! he didn't want to fall into that stereotype where only mothers really take care of their children, so he'll be there to change their diapers and give them bottles, waking up in the middle of the night to get them back to sleep. He knows how stressful and tiring this is for you, so he does everything in his power to make it easier.

♤ Lullabies but not children's ones, he would play Bowie like Starman and Space Oddity, Beutiful boy would definitely be in the repertoire and he would change the gender if it was a girl.

♧ He would spoil his son a lot, with clothes and toys, and he often buys things that are definitely not for his son's age but always ends up saying "he will use them in the future".

♤ He wouldn't post photos of his child, just one or two that don't show his face, he doesn't like this type of exposure on the Internet, especially with his son.

♧ When the child grew up and had some kind of interest in appearing, he would agree, but nothing excessive, just a few appearances on streams or things like that.

♤ As soon as he reaches a certain age, Will would like him to be at his shows even if it's with ear protection headphones.

♧ If he won a prize he would promptly dedicate it to you and your son.

♤ Possibly the baby would appear in some Lovejoy music videos (when he was old enough).

♧ Would you create a family day that happens every week, where you both take time off from work just to spend time with your child outdoors having picnics, trips to the beach, going to amusement parks and things like that.

♤ You would also have a game night, with a good pizza and board games or video games, sometimes you also invite your friends to participate.

♧ Another family tradition is to always have dinner together and talk about your day and plans for the next one, you also like to cook dinner together it's always a lot of fun.

♤ You also always travel on vacation to different countries, you want your child to get to know different cultures and experiences.

♧ Trips to Disney with Uncle Tommy are definitely your child's favorite.

♤ Once a week Phil and Krist babysit for a romantic parental date.

♧ Will would definitely cry on the first day of school, I see this man coming home and checking his watch every 5 minutes to see what time he will have his son back.

♤ As a first-time father he would also despair at any slightest sign that his child is falling ill.

♧ I can easily see Will, Tommy and Charlie dressed up like princesses and made up for tea time, and they would absolutely love that.

♤ He goes to put the baby to sleep and ends up sleeping in his place>>>>

♧ I think during pregnancy with his first child he would be extremely nervous but after that he would definitely want more children.

♤ I think he would like two or three, nothing too big but not small.

♧ He would be in favor of positive and non-aggressive parenting with his children, he would also be a great supporter of all of his children's choices.

♤ He would also be in favor of teaching his children to be independent with things like handling money, knowing how to cook, having responsibilities and things like that.

♧ When he was on tour with Lovejoy I feel like they would have two options, the first is that if your children are young and not studying yet he would try to convince you to go along with him, but if the children are not so young anymore he you would just feel really bad about leaving them and wonder if you are being a bad father.

♤ In the second option he would make a point of calling all the time, at least two calls a day, he would also buy gifts and things from every country or city he visited, collectibles like postcards or key chains.

♧ He would have lots of photos of his children, some funny ones with just them sleeping, and his lock screen would be a photo of his loved one next to his children.

♤ Even if you separated he would be a good father, he would try to solve all your problems so that it doesn't affect the children and they have a good co-parenting.

.˚｡ 💋 .˚｡ 💌

#dsmp #imagine #qsmp #lovejoy #qsmp wilbur #sorry boys #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #wilbur fanart #headcanons #dsmp wilbur

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megastrangeskeleton · 1 month

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Lovejoy have officially posted a statement regarding the cancellation of their upcoming shows via email due to “Wilbur’s mental health”. They also posted a statement along the same lines on their Instagram story but changed it to “personal reasons”.

I’m sorry??? Personal reasons??? We all know what this is about, their whining little bitch boy of a lead singer has been found to be a serial domestic abuser, so why are they trying to downplay it on their Instagram story? Why the change in language?

Their silence is damming.

Support Shelby.

Support Alice.

Support victims.

Fuck Ash Kabosu.

Fuck Mark Boardman.

Fuck Joe Goldsmith.

But most importantly,

#william gold #fuck you wilbur soot #fuck wilbur soot #wilbur situation #wilbursoot #wilbur soot #wilbur #ash kabosu #mark boardman #joe goldsmith #lovejoy #charlie’s posts #shelby support #support victims #i hope they all explode

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sootwilb · 3 months

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#wilbur soot #lovejoy #op

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thatsugs · 5 months

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Wine stream ooc

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot fanart #fanart #lovejoy #lovejoy fanart #wine stream #quackity #art #animation

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sootical · 5 months

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Permanence

->Wilbur Soot x Reader (hinted but never explicitly stated) ->No use of Y/n ->I tried to be as gender neutral as possible.

*Hurt, minimal comfort, hopeful ending TW: Su*cidal ideation, Self destructive thoughts and actions, SH mentions/references, depression, lots and lots of depression. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK Summary: You are stuck in a multi-month long depressive episode, and it's gotten so much worse. You're on your last leg, and you need someone to help you. Good thing best friend(?) Wilbur and his band are there to help :] Word Count - 2.4k

Wilbur Soot. Twitch streamer turned famous musician, heartthrob—you get it. He’s everything anyone could want in a partner. Trust me, I would know. He’s been my best friend since form. And since then, he’s only ever been kind and considerate and just overall an amazing person. What a guy right? With his stupid brown hair that covers one of his eyes when it’s outgrown. Stupid brown eyes that have just the right amount of dark and light brown in them. It’s stupid of me really, to ever hope for a future with him that involves us being more than friends. I can only hope though, right? He’s up there, in the states, singing his heart out on a stage. While I’m stuck, on the other side of paradise–more like purgatory–lamenting on how many people adore him. I’m feeling sorry for myself, rotting away in bed at 2 in the morning. It’s not like I have to work in three hours–whaaaat nooooo… A knot develops in my stomach at the mere thought of leaving my bed. Maybe losing my job isn’t so bad. Wilbur has told me time and time again he’d pay me to edit for him. But I could never make him do that. Never would I take advantage of him like that. I’d feel like more of a burden than I already do. The thought of him having to support me financially makes me want to vomit. It makes my skin crawl, so it’s okay if I waste away. If I end up rotting away in my bed. It’s fine. At least then I wouldn’t be able to consume too much of Wilbur’s time. Taking up too much of his time has always been my biggest fear. To me, it came true a long time ago and I’m finally reaping what I sowed. It sucks really, how I thought I'd have a shot. Just for it all to blow up in my face. Now he’s somewhere in America–having the time of his life. Good for him. Bad for me.

Reaching over, I grab my phone. My coworkers probably hate me. I keep asking them to cover my shifts so I can rot in bed for another day. It’s been like this since–September? It started off just once every few weeks. Now, it being almost December, I’ve not gone to work in over two weeks. What’s the point anymore anyways? I can’t do this. I can’t do anything. Deep down, when I started doing things for myself–I knew I wouldn’t be able to do this. That was two years ago. I guess I’m finally breaking.

Pulling the duvet over my head, I try not to think about how my breath smells, and the uncomfortable way the oil sticks to my face. I shove my head into the pillow. Trying to block out the sounds of people existing below my apartment. It’s so much easier to rot away when people don’t rely on you. When you have no reason for existence. I don’t want to die. But at the same time I don’t want to live. I’m too much of a coward to do anything about it, so I lay and wait. I wait for some omnipotent being to strike me down and judge me for how I’ve managed to mess up any and all relationships I’ve ever had with anyone. Me and Nikki haven’t spoken in almost a year. Me and Wilbur haven’t even seen each other in months My family doesn’t talk to me.

I wish I could say “The world is fucked and everyone hates me.” But that’s not the truth. The truth is I am my own undoing. I have destroyed everything I’ve worked for. Any relationships–platonic and romantic–have fallen through because of my own emotions and insecurities getting in the way. It’s not fair for anyone. Well, anyone except for me. I brought this upon myself. My phone is the only thing lighting up my face. I looked at the time. Suddenly it’s six in the morning, and I’m late for work. The thought makes me want to cry, but I can’t. I can’t tell if it’s apathy—or dehydration.

I call my boss. She answers. “Where are you?! I haven’t seen you in weeks! I’m worried about you hun, do you need me to call someone?” She opens, sounding both relieved and shocked I even called. I clear my throat the best I can, swallowing saliva feels like eating sandpaper. “I uh..I was calling to let you know I won’t be coming back. I’m quitting. And I’m sorry for not putting in my two weeks. It’s not–” Something foreign is bubbling up in my throat, I force myself to swallow it down. “-It’s not fair to you. And I’m sorry.” I whisper, hanging up shortly after.

I feel terrible for worrying her. I feel terrible for upsetting her. I feel terrible. I am terrible. I’m a parasite. I always have been. Mooching off of others in order to help myself get by. My thoughts fall back to Wilbur. I’ve been mooching off of him for however long we’ve been friends. I want him to be happy. I don’t want him to feel like he needs to be my friend to keep me alive. But at the same time–I can’t do this anymore. I can’t look myself in the mirror and tell myself it’s me. I can’t. I’m not the person I thought I’d become. I’m not the person I thought I was. I’m useless. My phone rings again. I go to decline it, I can’t.

Wilbur’s face greets me. His contact photo, the two of us at the amusement park I helped them film for Tommy’s vlog channel. We’re smiling. His arm over my shoulder, and my head on his arm. I remember that day. Wilbur held me for a bit while Tommy and Phil were off filming a different part of the vlog with Russ. I was overwhelmed and so was he, so we took the time to chill by the snack stands. He got tommy cotton candy, and we split popcorn even though he couldn’t really taste it. We spent a good time just taking funny pictures with each other. I remember that day, it was a great one.

Tears breach my eyes before I can stop them. A sob ripping through me, I force my face into the pillow to muffle it. The ringing stops. My tears don’t, and that makes me feel so much worse. My chest convulses as my sobs reverberate through the room. I’m a mess. I’m laying in my bed, rotting. Wasting away and feeling sorry for myself. Everything is terrifying, every breath I take reminds me of how I’m alive. Reminds me of how I can’t escape the feeling of impending doom that washes over me. I’m going to die here. I’m going to die. I was never permanent.

I knew I couldn’t do this. I’ve been lying to myself, little lies, white lies. To convince myself everything was okay. That it was fine for me to fall in love, it was fine for me to believe I wasn’t just taking up space. That I wasn’t slowly getting tired.

Contemplating whether or not cut myself some slack–but ending up just cutting myself loose. I lift the duvet from my head, staring at the ceiling. My eyes flick to the ground, clothes and food everywhere. Some of it’s moldy. It makes me feel worse about myself. Turning my head, I look to my PC. I should sell it. Someone else would be much happier with it. I haven’t used it in a while anyways. I can’t take care of any of the stuff I have can I?

My phone rings again, this time I do answer.

“Oh my god–” I hear multiple people take a sharp breath in. I can’t stop myself from making a small noise of confusion. “Hey..Your boss–called us.” I recognize the voice to be Joe. I lift the phone, checking the caller ID. It was Wilbur again. “Wil—?” It hurts so bad to talk, I haven’t used my voice this much since the end of October. I hear a choked noise and whispers. “We’re gonna—come over there okay? The tour ended last night, no gigs for a while. Wil’s been missing you y’know.” I can’t tell who said that, “I–no. Sorry.” I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know why I hung up either.

Maybe deep down I did want them to help, I do want their help. But logically–It’s for the best.

I swing my legs over the side of my bed, cringing at how my clothes hang off of me. My back hurts something awful. I’m so tired.

Yet I stand on two feet and walk to my bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t recognize them. My hair–too long and too oily for it to be mine. My skin is pale and the bags under my eyes are so dark they could rival a racoon.

It’s then that my legs decide to give out. I can feel my knees split as I hit the tile. I’m so tired. I look down at the sweater I’m wearing. It’s one of Wil’s. I can’t remember when I put it on. I can’t remember a lot of things recently. Like when this got so bad. Or when my arms started to sting. My eyes are heavy, I can barely keep them open. Maybe a nap wouldn’t be so bad.

When I wake up it’s to voices around me. I’m laying on something warm–It’s moving. I can’t find it in myself to open my eyes. My breathing picks up, and I hear an intake of air accompanied by a hand on my forehead. My eyes are shooting open in fear before I’m trembling. He’s above me, looking down at me like I could break.

I look around, there's two other people. I can barely make them out. Joe and Ash. It’s hard to think. It’s so hard to think.

“There you are..” Wilbur whispers, his pointer finger gently stroking my cheekbone. “What happened to you love?” I can’t tell if it’s his tone, or the fact he looks so broken. But I can’t stop my eyes from watering and my body from turning into him, hiding myself away. Embarrassment filled me, they’d seen it all. The moldy food, the dirty clothes. They probably saw the abundance of mail I'd gotten as well. People are walking out the room. Not Wilbur, he stays. He stays and makes me look at him. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, I’m gonna help you shower, and they’re going to clean and get you food. Okay?” My eyes widened. I shake my head so quickly it hurts. His face falls, he looks down at what I’m wearing. His face falls even more. “Love…” He whispers. “I don’t–I can’t. Don’t make me.” I whisper. Wilbur wipes away my tears and shakes his head. “No. You’re going to get clean, eat, and then you will sleep for however long you need to.” He lifts me like I’m nothing.

He sets me on the toilet, turning to the tub and turning on the faucet. He waits for it to get warm before he’s plugging the drain and helping me get undressed. He brushes the hair from my face, he frowns at the sight of the back of my head. He looks down at my arms before I can see him clenching his jaw. “We’ll work on the matts too.” He picks me up again, placing me in the tub and going to shut the door. He grabs a towel from the cabinet, as well as a washcloth. He swipes the comb from the counter.

“I’m sorry.” I can’t help but whisper. He sighs. “I know. But it’s alright. We were worried about you.” Was all he said before he’s dousing my hair in water. He keeps a hand on my forehead, stopping the water from getting into my eyes. And with that, he applies conditioner and starts to de-matt my hair. An hour and countless tub refills later, my hair is de-matted and I’m clean. Feeling slightly better too. Wilbur gave me the crewneck he was wearing for comfort, before planting a kiss on my forehead and leaving the room to grab other clothes. The sounds from the outside are a lot less foggy now. I can hear the boys outside bickering and talking. “Are they okay Wil?” “What happened?” “From your face, I can tell it wasn’t good.”

I can’t help but stand weakly, the towel wrapped around me. I look in the mirror. I look a little more like myself. I touch my face, I look pale. I am pale. My hair is a bit longer now. I don’t smell bad anymore. I do feel better, but I can’t help but think I’m making Wilbur do this.

Wilbur reappears, he looks at me and smiles. He hands me the clothing he picked out before leaving the room once again, though he stands just outside the door.

I dress quickly. Slipping on Wilbur’s crewneck once I have my shirt on. I walk out, giving Wilbur a small smile. “You uh–You didn’t have to do this.” He takes my hand and leads me through my now clean apartment. “I did. Because if I didn’t–If we didn’t, you’d be dead right now, or you’d have killed yourself soon.” He says, sitting me down at the table that’s been cleared off. “Now, be honest. When is the last time you remember eating something?” He asks.

My face drops. That’s the thing–I can’t. “Uh–Tuesday?” I say, like I even know what day it is, his face falls. “It’s Friday.” He deadpans before going into the kitchen, he comes back with Ash, Mark, and Joe. They each have both in their hands. Wilbur has two.

“It’s just soup. Easy on the stomach.” Joe pipes up before sitting on my right, Wilbur sits on my left, and Ash and Mark sit across from me. “We don’t need to talk about things right now, no one is going to make you. But you need to talk to someone soon. Maybe not us, but someone.” Wilbur said, putting his hand on my knee. “Yeah. I think I can do that.” They smile, I eat my soup, and for the first time since September–I feel permanent.

#wilbur soot #fluff #wilbur mcyt #wilbur #angst #x reader #wilbur soot x reader #Wilbur Soot x Reader angst #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #heavy angst #hurt/comfort #Minimal comfort #lovejoy

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wilbursoot-updates · 1 year

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CMWYL surprise of the day! Call Me What You Like will be out at midnight depending on your timezone!

#wilbur soot #lovejoy #cmwyl

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fallow-grove · 1 year

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#top ten reactions to tragedy: lovejoy blinkies. i guess #blinkies #blinkie cafe #lovejoy #lvjy #call me what you like #flashing colors #gif #eyestrain #ask to tag

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poraphia · 9 months

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"I see you standing on the sidelines."

pairing • lvjy!enemies!wilbur x singer!enemies!reader 1063 words • 8.6.23 containing • lowkey enemies, cursing, cheeky insults my masterlist ~! ღ Soot's Pretty Princess ღ on Tumblr

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What do I think about Wilbur?

It's funny you should ask. To put it quite plainly,

He's a total dickhead.

The best way to describe him is like a mosquito buzzing around your head, and everytime you take a swab of smacking it away you end up just completely missing. You're so annoyed that it would serve your reputation best to just stop attempting any form of defense and let it happen.

Wilbur and I have been in a "battle-of-the-bands" heat for as long as our music careers started. However, years before, we were great friends, a perfect pair even, that is until some.. Complications.. Between us occurred.

"You look like you're about to piss yourself." Wilbur snorted.

I rolled my eyes, taking a swig from my water bottle. Every relentless mock, eye-rolling boast, and shit-eating grin felt like nails to a chalkboard. "You never learn when to piss off, do you?" I groaned. He quirked an eyebrow before scooting his metal chair closer, scraping it against the worn wooden planks.

"Not really." He smirked. I looked at him to the side of me, my head not turning to face him. His legs straddled the back of his chair as his arms draped alongside the frame. His lips were pressed flatly, but curled at the ends topped with those signature dimples and squinty eyes.

I inhaled a sharp breath before averting my gaze.

"Lovejoy is on in ten minutes!" A man with a clipboard waved an arm around as various crew members attended to their duties. Will's head perked up to catch a glimpse of the preparation. I looked around as well, that is until his eyes trailed back onto me.

"You gonna come out and watch me play, darling?" He nudged. I properly turned my head to face him now with my ankle resting on top of my opposite knee. I scoffed, pointing at him with my half drunken water bottle.

"Watch you?" I remarked, shaking my bottle as I talked. "I should be looking for some earmuffs right about now, really. God forbid I listen to what trash you've written up since the last festival." I sat back, continuing my rant. "Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if you bitched about another one of your failed rela–"

I was cut off as he held the end of my bottle. I paused, looking at him strangely. His eyes, deep pools of chocolate, stared into mine, shooting a fluttering system in my veins. Stubborn to not express my bashfulness, I grit my teeth and stared at him right back, unfazed.

"Y'know," he started. His grip on the bottle depleted. His fingers now trailing to my hand, gently tracing patterns onto my skin. His face brushed past mine with lips leaning close to my ear. Softly, he whispered. "You should listen closer to the lyrics... You may learn something."

Before I could process what words he uttered, his band members called for him to grab his instrument. He retreated his grasp and then walked past me, instinctively making me turn around to watch the man approach his fellow band members. The scent of his cologne breezing my face.

At first, I rolled my eyes. Was this just some cheap trick to get my attention? And what is there to learn when it comes to listening to the lyrics? I've heard enough of his shitty music to know it's about how much he missed his failed attempt at a girlfriend.

Or rather-- crush he ultimately rejected me for.

Through loud blaring speakers, the stage crew introduced Lovejoy and soon enough the harmony of the bass and guitar echoed throughout the stadium, following the steady heartbeat of Mark's drums.

Truly, I tried my best to ignore it. However, every single time, without fail, I find myself wandering to the offside of the stage, hidden behind the black curtains to not be seen by the thousands of people, but close enough where I can see the glistens of sweat shining on Wilbur's skin.

He was in the midst of singing Portrait of A Blank Slate, the featured song of his latest EP. The crowd jumped and screamed the lyrics back at him. At least, those who knew the lyrics anyway. My arms crossed as I watched the lanky man let his guitar dangle by the strap. He caressed the microphone stand with one hand, another gripping at the handle.

His eyes glanced to the side, before returning back to the crowd, only for his eyes to flash back at me again. What once was a straight, concentrated look on his face turned into an expression of eagerness, as if his want for attention has been satisfied. He took his hand off the microphone stand and started tracing his chest, opening more of his already unbuttoned collar.

I stood there, shell-shocked. The excitement of fans blared somewhat louder than the booming sound devices, but his eyes kept on me. He continued his theatrics, having to almost peel his own gaze off of me to continue performing for the crowd. His hands moved gracefully in juxtaposition with the erratic tune.

His eyes fluttered close, back to concentrating on what strings to press, what lyrics to sing, and what queues to initiate. But my mind was flooded with questions the more I listened to what words he spoke into that microphone. The pleas of wanting to stay with someone, the idea of being perfect for each other, the bitter taste of someone breaking the subject down.

Soon enough, the song came to an end with its final chords and strums. The crowd erupted in a loud cheer, but Wilbur—

Oh, Wilbur.

With one sneaky, watchful glance, he drank in my searching eyes, looking for some sort of answer. My face, dusted in a flustered pink to highlight my cheeks. My mouth was open ajar, but no words could sound out of my throat. With a satisfied smile, he turned back to the audience.

I had to give him the win on this one.

That fucking bastard.

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a / n ~ hihi this is my first official fanfic on tumblr hope u likey

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot oneshots #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur hc #lovejoy #will gold #lvjy #wilbur x reader #fanfic #lovejoy concert #mcyt headcanons wilbur #poraphiafanfics

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