↳❝ [wilbur soot & friends' very happy oneshots] ¡!❞

💙 cemetery 💙

words; 1,213
TWs; death
a/n; small thing I wrote at 2 a.m. i miss ghostbur :(

Flowers piled onto flowers. How could so many people miss a man who did such terrible actions?
The community had decided to build a cemetery, ever since the most recent death of Wilbur Soot. They felt as though it was only right- despite all the wrongs a man might do, everyone deserves a place to mourn, and everyone deserves a place to rest. Some graves stood taller than others, some burrowed in the ground, basic with a name engraved. Some had more of a cliche look, with the headstone out of the ground. Some were more extravagant, a clear symbol of status. The place was always quiet, and the sky always seemed to dull from the perspective of of the gravesite. The trees were overgrown there, but it was more of a beauty rather than a let down. Leaves and branches overlooked the area, some of them reaching to the ground, tall trees looking down like ominous gods. Most of the trees stood around 15-20 feet, some shorter as 10-15 feet, and other baby ones that were just around 5-10 feet.

There was one grave that seemed to catch everyone's eye, one that was obvious and outshining, without even a smidge of subtlety. It held a statue, one that stood around 8 feet. It was that of an angel, hands cupped together in front of it as though it held something, looking down to the rest of the cemetery, expression unreadable. It seemed demeaning, yet concerned. Manipulative, for sure. Ironically, someone decided to vandalize it and knock one of its wings off completely, not that the bastard had the courage to do much else to it. The man of which this grave belonged to was no angel, and many found it ironic, others finding it more offensive. The grave had many differentiating opinions, as apparently shown. Flowers piled onto it, or out in the open TNT stacked beside it, blue smudges across it, notes or little flags attached to it. Many had unresolved problems left with the man.

Wilbur Soot
???-???
Father, son, brother, president
"It was never meant to be."

Whoever was in charge of his grave most certainly thought more highly of him, the angel, down to the engraving. Yet, what a selfish man. To leave knots tied together, not bothering to untangle the complicated situations he put people in.

What hurt the most was being the ghost that had only small recollections of even doing it, finding that he no longer felt like he was even the person. Being the ghost that had to see it. People mourning his alive self, people having unresolved issues with his alive self. The poor ghost had no clue how to help, his only resolution being to hand out blue. And most people got upset with him for it.

"You weren't a good father." Fundy's voice felt like a stab straight through the ghost's non existent heart, as Ghostbur looked around nervously, avoiding eye contact. "I'm sorry." Was all he could say, which only earned a scoff. Ghostbur made a step closer, opening his hands to the fox boy to give him some blue. "Have some blue!"

"Wilbur wasn't a good man- why should I believe you are?" Usually such an outgoing, optimistic and playful tone turned into one of resentment, even Ghostbur noted it. Quackity, a man who'd been such an outspoken and loud man, now shrunk to a weak, resented voice. "I know alivebur wasn't a good man, but-but.." Ghostbur held out his hands to him, "Have some blue!"

Silence, fear. Ghostburs would forever remember the look she gave him. Niki still saw him in Ghostbur, no matter how kindly she treated him, it was apparent in the way she would look at him. "I know you still think I'm like... Alivebur but-" He held out his hands to her, who's look was softened and remorseful, "Have some blue!"

"Awe, Ghostbur- Wilbur hurt so many people." Tubbo's voice was sympathetic to the ghost, yet weak and tired. The rasp in his voice was apparent, as he refused to look at Ghostbur. "He did, he did. I won't be like him, though!" He held out his hands for him, "Have some blue!"

"I didn't even get to say goodbye." Tommy was avoiding eye contact, avoiding looking in Ghostbur's direction. It hurt too much, and Ghostbur knew that. "Well I hope you get to say goodbye next time!" He held out his hands to the unresponsive Tommy, "Have some blue!"

Looking to the grave that so many both resented and loved, it was painful knowing he was that person. He didn't try to be, he could hardly even remember a lot of what he'd done, but each and every story was awful, and he could never apologize enough. Ghostbur stood up to the grave, looking up to the judging angel that looked down on him, the look alone telling him how awful he was as he placed down a blue flower. He built up the courage to speak, using his raspy, weak (even more so now) voice, "Have some blue! It seemed like you needed it a lot- I know you were really sad, and-and.." Ghostbur tried to speak properly, but emotions began to overwhelm him, and he began to feel burning tears in his eyes, "I know how much you cried. I know all the nightmares. I know all the pains you suffered from hitting the walls. At least- at least that's what I'm told. I think-..." Ghostbur felt the burning pain his cheeks as tears started to spill out, causing every passing second to be filled with agony, "I think you really needed it." Ghostburs looked down to the transparent blob of nothing in his hands, watching as it slowly turned into a dark blue color. "I know- I know you really needed it." His voice began to crack, weak as he was shaking, "You hurt a lot of people." He said, letting his legs rest for once as he fell onto his knees on the grass. He shook violently, shivering, even more so now with the cold breeze. "You weren't all that bad. Tommy likes to uh- talk about.. How you helped him. With his nightmares." Ghostbur wiped away tears yet the burn only seemed to carry on to the rest of his cheeks, "He really appreciated it. He doesnt like to admit it, but he did." Ghostbur watched the blue in his hard start to soak, the blue seeping out from his hands, staining his already stained sleeves. "You weren't a good man." He sniffled, pushing his voice further, "You aren't a good man." He kept his head down, hands shaking and barely able to keep speaking, "Nobody thinks you will be." He watched and felt the blue start to become heavier in his hands which each passing second, soaking like a sponge soaking up too much water. "I know." His voice was just above a whisper as the blue soaked in his hands, falling onto the grass, starting to break away and disintegrate. Steam came off his cheeks from all the crying, as he was unable to stop. All he felt was the excruciating pain of the burn.

"I know you hate yourself for it."