Work Text:
pas•sion
/ ˈpaSH(ə)n /
a strong and barely controllable emotion.
wilbur and quackity are a explosive duo. sometimes literally, sometimes figuratively.
the pair met recently, during the creation of l’manberg, at the time it was wilbur’s most beloved project. if wilbur was honest, she thought quackity was very hilarious. however he wanted in on her country and she didn’t trust him so maybe it was her fault that at the beginning they didn’t get along. but in her defense, she’d been betrayed before so she had the right to be suspicious. right?
well, it gave their relationship a rocky start. but as soon as quackity began to realize that he fucked himself over by joining schlatt’s side, the two began to “bond” over their mutual hatred for schlatt. though, their relationship was slightly toxic. especially since one moment they were best friends and the next they were screaming at each other.
but then wilbur had convinced her father to kill her.
quackity felt many things at once. if he was honest, schlatt’s death only slightly pained him. but wilbur’s death? her death left quackity confused. a part of him was glad she was gone but the other part of him was sad. it made him realize that maybe, just maybe he had misjudged her.
“ i mean.. the poor woman was killed by her own father. that’s just sad. “ quackity told himself, quite often.
when he met the woman’s ghost,
‘ghostbur’. the sadness was more present than the satisfaction he thought he felt. ghostbur was so sweet, so caring. a side of wilbur he’d never even seen. the wilbur he met was charming, funny, and charismatic. but then she became cold, mean, and moody. ghostbur made quackity not feel so bad about himself. whenever he’d see the lovely ghost, she’d always have a gift for him. which would always be blue dye, and it would always stain his hands.
but then the ghost.. died. and before he new there she was — wilbur. alive, and well. well sort of because he was told that wilbur had came back anemic. but besides that, she looked well. not a single scratch on her skin, it was unsettling how untouched she looked. she was wearing that trenchcoat, and the same black pants. but she had different boots on, instead of worn revolutionary boots, they were black platform boots that looked new. her yellow sweater was gone, only a white button up being visible now.
“ where’s your yellow sweater? “
quackity asked.
“ why don’t you ask tommy? “
wilbur looked at tommy, who was beside her.
“ well- okay, it was an accident! i just wanted to do something nice for you wil. i didn’t mean to burn it! “
tommy replied, and quackity chuckled.
quackity gave them a tour, and he was willing to let tommy in but not wilbur. his reason? well..
“ listen, wilbur, i’m sorry but i just can’t let you in. due to your past, and the things you’ve done, i can’t do that. not until i trust you again. “ quackity stated, firm, he was dead-set on not letting wilbur in until she, one, proved that she was mentally stable and not harmless. or, two, he found a reason where he could trust her again.
however, wilbur responded by throwing a stick of tnt into quackity’s restaurant. when he saw security camera footage of this, he was pissed. rightfully so, he found wilbur, he didn’t give a flying fuck it was raining, and when he found her they argued. they screamed, tears were shed, and wilbur ran off into the rain. he didn’t see her until two months later. he told foolish earlier that if wilbur was spotted, then he wanted someone to escort her out. foolish spotted her and reported it to quackity, whom then went out to the bar she was in. but when he found her was drunk and sitting in a corner of the bar alone crying.
quackity sighed, and he tapped wilbur’s shoulder lightly. she moved her head and looked up at him and quackity somehow felt worse. mascara was running down her cheeks and her eyes, her crimson red eyes were sour. her nose was almost as red as her eyes. she sniffled and sat on her knees.
“ i need you to get up wilbur, you have to leave. “ quackity told wilbur, with a sour expression.
wilbur didn’t reply, but she seemed to understand as she stood up with shaky legs and began to walk away and out of the bar. quackity could only look as she walked away, he couldn’t risk the people of this nation, HIS nation, think he had a weak spot for a former terrorist. absolutely not, and even though there was a part of him that thought he should’ve carried her out and took her to tommy’s house at least. but no, all he did was watch as wilbur walked away.
he felt a tear fall from his face, “
what the fuck?
“, quackity thought. he stormed out of the bar leaving many people confused and puzzled. but fuck those people, fuck his country, and most of all; fuck wilbur. he hated her, and she meant nothing to him.