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#older dnf clips my beloved
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Have any dnf clips? I've watched the stream so many times I need new dnf moments
Does this suffice anon?
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nostalgic-pancakes · 3 years
Text
one day (i know that you will be there)
Summary: Here, have some fluffy transbur :D
Pairings: gen everyone, with a specific focus on crimeboys
Read on AO3
Word count: 2070
Warnings: None? I guess? Tell me if there are any, but I don’t see them
Other notes: Part of @noorahqar‘s BANGER discord server Pride Event!
Please DO NOT send this to the CC’s or even imply that this exists because No, Thank you
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Sometimes, it feels like it's okay. Nothing's wrong at all and in fact, Wilbur is happy.
Other times it feels like he's stuck in his own skin, a place he can't get out of.
Wilbur doesn't really know what's going on with his gender. He's always been cis, it's all he knows we it's his comfort zone. Even while his life was being wholly upended by YouTube, and Twitch and life in general, Wilbur's gender was always a constant- the one thing he never worried about or spent too much time on. It was his gender, and it was just kind of...there.
Sometimes when gender is part of the conversation, people display confusion when Wilbur talks about his gender like something separate from him that was tied on and is just there now, like a bit of hair that can never stay in place, but isn't necessarily a bother, either. But isn't gender like that for everyone?
Well, according to the one and only Tommyinnit, no.
"Well… for me, my gender is pretty malleable. It's more of a fucking... fucking abstract concept than a feeling? I'm a little detached from mine, but not as much as that, Wilbs."
"Then what is your gender like?" Wilbur asks. It's late on a Friday night, and Wilbur had ended up visiting Tommy's flat out of mostly impulse, living just under a kilometre away from his sibling these days. They're in the living room, splayed out on the floor talking about anything and everything in the dark, too quiet to wake Tubbo and Ranboo.
Wilbur’s not agender- he has a gender that he keeps around, even if it stays reasonably sectioned away from the rest of him.
Tommy hums, an older tune that Wilbur can't place as he fiddles around with some wool scraps ("Cabbages!" Tommy insists indignantly) leftover from the cardigan they had just finished when Wilbur walked in. It's a burgundy colour that's probably going to be matched with one of Tommy's longer cream skirts to University Monday morning.
"My gender is a… a kind of vibe? I guess? To me it feels like skirts doing that cool swoosh thing in the wind around you while you walk or eating Tubbo's chicken soup and that feeling I always got after a Dream SMP stream. It's weird, but that's my gender I guess." And that is weird. It's weird as fuck, but Tommy's gender sounds really fucking cool so Wilbur tries anyways. Tries to imagine what his gender, the amorphous entity that it is, feels like to him.
It's hard, at first, but then Wilbur starts humming. He's always done better with auditory concepts than visual or tactile ones, strumming tunes together that tie in with his latest hyperfixation.
So Wilbur hums. He starts with 'White Wine in a Wetherspoons' and then 'Cause for Concern' with a little bit of 'Your new Boyfriend' thrown in for posterity as it all starts to come together. Tommy starts tapping his finger on the plywood floor, creating a small beat.
His gender feels nice, actually, and not just the neutral burden that the universe has him carry around. It begins to feel like the warmth in Wilbur's chest when someone says "Hey, don't stop. Tell me more, this is interesting" to even the most niche fixations that Wilbur has ever had, like the different types of bricks or the historical fashion one he had at the same time as Tommy and they made dozens of Pinterest boards together (1830’s hairstyles his beloved). It feels like Phil calling him 'Son' in that chamomile accent, like everything will be fine. It feels like the tipsy laughs he and Niki share when getting drunk together and it sounds like the quick, comforting 'bzzt bzzt bzzt' of Tommy's sewing machine running on the other side of the flat while Wilbur makes them breakfast because they and his flatmates are fundamentally incapable of looking after themselves.
It's really a pretty nice gender, actually. So when Wilbur closes its metaphorical pouch and clips it back onto his metaphorical backpack, he feels lighter, warmer inside than before. Is this how Tommy feels sometimes?
The tapping stops and Wilbur realises that Tommy's fallen asleep, surrounded by scraps of cabbage on a fairly cold plywood floor. This will not do. Thankfully, Wilbur has gained enough arm strength to reasonably carry the nineteen-year-old to his bedroom, carefully avoiding sewing pins that Tommy will clean up frantically in the morning. Tubbo and Ranboo are asleep as before, in the same place, huddled together on the lowest bunk covered in blankets, with just enough room for another person.
Tommy fits in perfectly, head on Ranboo's shoulder and the rest of him swathed in blankets to protect from the cold. It's started to show fairly heavily outside so going home is not possible. Therefore, Wilbur stays.
The guest room still has some of his shit from the last time he stayed over, around a week ago. Piling a thick-ish duvet on top of himself, Wilbur sleeps, more at peace than he's ever been.
-
Monday morning, Wilbur tries out pronouns. He was spending the weekend in a bit of a haze of filming and social interaction and talking to Elodie, his editor, in order to have most of this week free.
He's back at home with pronoun dressing rooms loaded on Firefox, a Geoguessur stream finished and a free day with spoons to spare. It is time.
First- she/her.
This is Wilbur, the site reads, She's 27 years old with a penchant for making songs. She also really likes hanging out with her sibling, Tommy and her best friends on the Dream SMP. She still ships DNF.
Oh. Oh wow. She/Her works pretty well actually. Wilbur likes that for herself.
Next- they/them. This is not as nice, but it's also not bad, necessarily.
Fae/Faer- this one is pleasant enough.
Everything else is okay, Wilbur supposes. She figures that just knowing that he/him isn't the only answer is good enough for herself.
The first person she tells is Tommy, on a phone call during one of his frees.
“Okay, so he, she and fae, right?” they ask, rolling the pronouns around like the colorful hard candies sold in packets of two hundred each, muttering small sentences, barely audible to the phone mic amongst the dozens of student voices around him, pitter-pattering like sleet on cars heard from a cozy living room.
“Yeah. pronouns change by the day. Please don’t interchange them.” Wilbur confirms, short and soft.
“Oh that’s really fucking cool. What are they today? Does anyone else know? Do you have names you want to be called instead?” Tommy asks, orange-sweet in his kind concern and slowed down questions as to not deflate the souffle in Wilbur’s brain.
“Uh, she/her, and no, not yet on the knowing and the name thing. I’m going to tell Phil and Niki, then Dream, probably. Wish me luck.” Wilbur answers, the ‘wish me luck’ thrown in more as a formality than anything, but she’s still nervous, thoughts spinning in popcorn-crunch circles, pop pop pop about how it could go wrong and even if Tommy and Ranboo were accepted, perhaps that courtesy won’t be extended to her. Tommy, the absolute fucking legend as always seems to have figured that much out.
“Wil. Wilbur. Wilby. Big Dubs- It’s going to be fucking fine, you’re popcorn-popping again and while that’s one of your idiosyncrasies and I fucking love those, you are also freaking the fuck out. Everything will be fine, alright?”
“Idiosyncrasies? Where did you learn that? Is ‘The Tommyinnit’ learning new big words?” Wilbur teases, to mask her affection just a little bit, even as it seeps out of her voice like honey in a sopapilla, warm and sticky and sweet.
“Don’t fucking patronize me.” Tommy retorts, instinctive as it’s been for the past few years now, no bite behind their words. “I’ve got South Asian Lit now- call us in the evening?” he asks, because Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo are a single unit in the evening. Do not attempt separation till after midnight. Wilbur laughs, a small thing only audible to her sibling over the phone.
“Course. You can tell them yourself, if you want.”
“Okay. Now I need to walk like, three buildings or some shit, so I’m hanging the fuck up. See you later?” Tommy’s voice is softer towards the end, cotton candy and Wilbur melts, just a little bit.
“Okay, bye Tommy.”
“Bye Wil. Good luck.” Tommy hangs up a few seconds later, the last thing on the line that Wilbur can hear being Ranboo’s steadily louder voice as end catches up to Tommy, and Wilbur keeps the phone to her ear for a few seconds more, before putting it on charge and loading up Discord, to find Phil and Dream on VC 3 together, Tubbo and Purpled occupying the beloved VC 2.
Wilbur joins the call, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, and taking a sip of lukewarm tea. Earl Grey, probably taken from the tea box Phil gifted her on Christmas and prepares herself.
“Ay, H’lo, son.”
“Hey, Wilbur!” Dream’s voice, chirpy and crisp as a freshly-picked apple registers first, just before Phil’s comforting chamomile and Wilbur is at ease very quickly, because it’s Dream and Phil. It is literally impossible for things to go wrong.
“Hi! I just came on here to tell you something.” Wilbur starts. After hearing noises of agreement, like popping candy, Wilbur starts.
“Um, so on Friday, Tommy and I did some soul-searching. Well, I did most of the searching. And uh, I figured out that I’m technically genderfluid, but my gender is a series of abstracts and I use he, she and fae pronouns.” It’s quiet for a second, before Phil responds.
“Hey, that’s pogchamp, mate. What pronouns are you using right now? Are they interchangeable?” Dream makes a noise in agreement, in questioning.
“Thanks, and uh, she/her, and no. not interchangeable. I use certain pronouns until I don’t.”
“Oh, that’s cool! Should I update your pronoun role in the Discord to ‘ask for pronouns’?” Dream finally says, and in typical Dream fashion, it’s by getting straight to business. It’s ridiculously endearing, even five years on, knowing everyone’s little quirks and idiosyncrasies (thanks Tommy for reminding her that the word exists) that it’s still possible to be endeared by them, and that they’re all still endeared to her.
“Yes please, Dream. Thank you. I’ll make a small announcement on the server myself, but thanks.”
“No problem, Wilbur! We’re glad you’re happy.”
“What the green-bitch said, mate.” Phil responds, and Dream turns on his camera for that only, just to show that he isn’t actually wearing green- he’s wearing a blue T-shirt, blonde hair mussed about enough to show that he did not comb it when he woke up. His face still has some sleep leftovers, but he’s awake enough to pay attention, and he’s smiling at Wilbur, mouse clicking very fast to change her discord role, and it shows up a few seconds later with a purple dot. ‘ask for my pronouns’. Wilbur is smiling like an idiot, and she turns on her camera, Phil following suit as she starts laughing a little wetly and all of this sinks in.
Wilbur is gender-fluid. She loves herself, her family and the little pouch still strapped to her backpack. Phil is whispering things into the mic soothingly and Dream is grinning at her, and it just feels so good. The bad feeling in Wilbur’s skin just isn’t here today, and it feels like it won’t be around for a while yet.
With slightly blurry eyes trying to see through her glasses, Wilbur makes an announcement with the @everyone turned on.
Bitchbur (she/her today): @everyone I’m here to announce that I’m genderfluid! You can either ask me my pronouns or I’ll just change my nick. The name’s still Wilbur. That’s about it.
Replies start coming in, nothing but messages of support and thumbs-up emoticons, and Wilber closes her eyes, leaning back in her chair, laughing a bit more. She’s so happy that she managed to accept herself, and find acceptance in everyone else on this server. She probably won’t come out to the internet for a while, or even to some of her real-life friends but that’s okay.
She’s got everything she needs right here.
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