Wxson - Tumblr Posts

Me and @act11as were on call and they watched me draw dumb dst stuff. Some of these are from a few AU's we made (specifically a HighSchool AU)

I love them sm

+ some Woodrow x Wilson

I watched them draw these. I laughed an unreasonable amount at Wagstaff. I still giggle every time I look at his dumbass stance.

I drew some shit for @ghost-time-bois and I's higschool au- don't expect anything comprehensive on this ever, so far it lives only in our brains and these shitposts. these are very strangely wxson / woodrow x wilson centered lmao-

Bonus:

KDSJJD aggie

Is an experience!

Here's the full Octolings Image, they're my new Agent 3!

aggie.io doodles of Mr. wilson dont starve, ft. @ghost-time-bois

THIS MOD >>>>>>>>

@act11as is the one playing Wilson in the screenshots

Adding this to the Chronicals of Godroll (ft. @act11as @noodle-persom )

Hello fellow WXson lovers

I want to share with you a WXson fanfiction series that I've been writing. There are five stories in it AND I have two more written in advance and five more planned in total.

Here's the link! Hope you enjoy!

wxson doodles :3 plus some other sillies

first little doodle inspired by @charzboi

made a "lil" wxson doodle based off of the latest installment of my wxson ao3 series, tea and circuits.

by "lil", i mean it took me one and a half hours. hope you enjoy :3

(link to that fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53045644)

awesome

Cuddle Buddies <3

Happy Valentine's Day yall

hi wxson nation i see there's another drought on ao3. but with the power of friendship (and google docs) we can save them

link to part 1 of my fic under the cut. grins

coughs weakly... perhaps some wxson fluff for the requests..........

“AS I SAID, THE ODDS OF US MAKING IT OUT UNSCATHED WERE LESS THAN FIVE PERCENT,” grumbles WX-78, seething from where they lay against the wall of the cave.

“I know, I know, I'm sorry,” Wilson says, fumbling through his backpack for what little first aid he'd brought.

The pair had gone to the Ruins of an old, ancient civilization to get a better look at the broken clockworks that reside there.

Unfortunately, it seemed that the broken clockworks had wanted to do the same.

Wilson pulls out a roll of silk and a healing salve from his backpack.

They continue. “IF YOU JUST WOULD HAVE LISTENED TO ME- ”

“I know!” Shouts Wilson, angrily, but he immediately recoils at his own hostility and takes a deep breath.

“Sorry, sorry. You know how the darkness gets to me,” he mumbles. “It's just.. I know it's my fault that we're in this predicament, but all we can do from this point on is move forward.”

He takes a moment to take a bite out of a cooked green mushroom, placing it back in his backpack to finish later.

“I'll patch you up so we can safely get you back to the surface and have Winona make sure your internals aren't damaged. Alright?”

WX-78 stays silent, still fuming.

They'd had to rush in to save him, as usual, when he didn't see a broken Rook charging his way.

WX-78 had insisted he look from afar, but he didn't listen.

They pointedly avoid Wilson’s gaze as he gives them a once-over. There's a jagged cut through the exterior of their chassis where the damaged Rook had gored them head-on, just below the burn marks left by a projectile shot by a damaged Bishop.

He applies the thick, pastel paste to the wounds, thankful that they're not subject to the same stinging feeling that fleshy bodies are when the salve is applied. 

His stomach drops when he realizes he can see the gears inside of their body turn through the gash in their midsection.

He tries not to think about the fact that he's just seen their organs as he puts away the mortar and pestle.

“That should do it. Is there anything else?”

“...”

“Come on, you have to at least tell me if you're further injured so I can- ”

“MY LEFT ELBOW JOINT IS NOT RESPONDING,” they interrupt, reluctantly, and make a show of trying and failing to move their arm.

From all of the time Wilson had spent living alone in the Constant, he is certainly quite familiar with how to make a sling.

He ties one with practiced ease while WX-78 simply watches.

“Alright, so I'm going to slide it over your head..,” Wilson says quietly, and walks them through the process of properly positioning their arm in the sling.

He sits down next to them against the wall and runs a hand through his hair.

“Based on the lack of light poking through to that bunnyman village over there, I'd say it's still night up on the surface. We'd best wait until day to go back up. It would be unpleasant to be caught unawares,” he says, mostly to himself.

WX-78 shifts next to him, giving a small nod of confirmation.

He reaches into his bag and pulls out a bag of trail mix. He offers some to them, and they swipe the whole bag from his hands.

“THAT'S FOR IGNORING MY ADVICE, FLESHLING,” they spit, voice still laced with irritation. They begin to eat and he just chuckles, grabbing another bag from his backpack.

“WHAT? WHAT'S SO FUNNY?” they ask, leaning forward to get in his face.

“Nothing, nothing. It's just, you get so.. grumpy sometimes, and it's entertaining to watch you fume. It reminds me of an angry kitten,” he says, neutrally, as if he hadn’t just compared them to a defenseless animal. 

“That's all,” he adds, eating his own trail mix and grinning at them smugly.

WX-78 punches him on the arm, hard enough to bruise, and that certainly wipes the look off of his face. He clears his throat and looks off to the side somewhere.

The two eat in silence. Eventually, the exhaustion of the trip falls onto the both of them. 

Wilson yawns, and they scoff at him.

“REALLY? I'M THE CRITICALLY INJURED ONE HERE, AND YOU'RE SLEEPY?”

“‘S’not something I can control, WX,” he says. “I’m going to sleep. You should, too. Maybe it'll help your critical injuries heal faster,” he says mockingly.

They look down to see that the Constant’s magic has already started to seal their wounds. They're not fixed, but they're hardly ‘critically injured’ by this point. 

In all honesty, they'd just wanted Wilson to feel bad about his mistake.

“By the way,” he says, voice groggy, “I got some things for you while you were busy getting pummeled. Catch,” he says humorously, tossing them a cloth sack full of something that he pulled out of seemingly nowhere.

It lands with a clink on their lap, due to their current inability to use their left arm.

They shoot him a death glare, but he's already leaning against the wall of the cave with his eyes closed.

They open the bag, and inside are handfuls of gears, purple gems, and Thulcelite chunks.

They wonder when Wilson had gotten the time to collect these things, considering they were fighting together. Now that they think about it, he'd never stopped to tend to his own injuries. And by the sound of the fight, there’s probably plenty of them. They look up at him.

His nose and right eye are swollen and purple from taking a direct headbutt from a damaged Knight. There's some blood smeared under his nose and upper lip, and if his crooked nose is anything to go by, it's probably broken.

There are plenty of blackened lacerations from the nightmare creatures they'd faced sprawled across his arms. A few bite marks, too, from when he'd gotten too close to a Splumonkey.

They even see a bite mark on his shoulder, shirt torn by the teeth of a Bunnyman who smelled the jerky stashed deep in his backpack.

Huh. All things considered.. They look down at the bag on their lap.

Perhaps they'll go a bit easier on him once they both wake up.

WX-78 leans against the cave wall, but finds themself sagging to the left due to their injured arm. They eventually lean against Wilson’s shoulder. 

Flesh is much more comfortable than a wall, their worn-out processor supplies, and it's not like he cares. He's in a deep enough sleep to be snoring.

When the morning comes and they find themself with an arm wrapped securely around their shoulders, they pretend they're still powered down.

After eight months and nearly 15k words, it is done.

Enjoy.

hai. wxson headcanon question since you obviously ship it: how do you think WX-78 expresses their "tolerance" for wilson?

Something like this! :)

i doodled some wxson but im very VERY shy abt posting ship art publicly (and some of it is suggestive) so it's under the read more for my own sanity

How about Wilson giving WX a kiss on their cheek and then running off to the caves or something, and WX's reaction to him doing that (maybe while they organize chests?)

Love your work and absolutely loved chapter 2 of Noticed!!!! 10/10!!

“Well, we’re heading off soon,” Wilson says, holding a pickaxe on the ground in front of himself.

“YES. YOU ARE,” WX-78 says back to him. They continue to arrange logs inside of a chest in the most space-efficient manner possible. “BYE, THEN.” “Aw, what, I don’t get a goodbye hug?” He asks, opening his arms in a hugging gesture. 

They look up at him and sneer at the shit-eating grin he proudly wears.

“Well, whatever. Maybe I’ll keep any gears I find to myself this time,” he jests, and leans over on his pickaxe to get in their face.

“AND MAYBE YOU CAN SLEEP IN THE BEEFALO PEN ONCE YOU RETURN,” WX-78 says, looking dangerously into his eyes.

“Won’t you be cold?” He asks, returning the look. He inches closer to their face, close enough that they can smell the musk of charcoal and sweat in his hair.

“I HAVE MY HEATING CIRCUIT.” “Well, what if I’m cold? Wouldn’t you feel bad?” Wilson asks, batting his eyelashes childishly.

“YOU HAVE THAT NASTY MOP ATTACHED TO YOUR FACE. YOU WILL BE FINE,” they say, running their fingers through the thick tuft of hair at the bottom of Wilson’s chin.

“Hmph. Fine, I guess I’ll keep the gems to myself, too,” he says, inching backwards away from them.

WX-78 grabs him by his collar and pulls him down to their level, and he’s startled into dropping the pickaxe. They’re so close to each other that they can feel his breath on their face.

“YOU WOULDN’T DARE,” they say.

“Oh yes, I would,” he says, grabbing their chin and tilting it up. He closes his eyes and leans down, his lips nearly grazing their mouth–

“Wilson! Quit flirting with the local robot and getcha’ ass over here! We’re leaving!” Shouts Winona from the camp’s gate, and Wilson flushes toma-root red.

Abruptly, he pulls away from them.

“Um. Gotta go. Bye!” He says, and gives WX-78 a hurried peck on the cheek. He scurries off, nearly forgetting the pickaxe.

WX-78 watches him go. They watch him catch up with Winona and Wolfgang, his flustered explanation and stuttering after she slaps his back, and they watch the three figures get smaller and smaller in the distance.

They go back to arranging the logs, pretending the heat spreading through their faceplate is because of their heating circuit.

[click for better quality]

psst... modern setting wxson fluff (link below the excerpt)

“Oh,” he says. Wilson yawns and mulls it over for a moment. “Well, that’s fine. I don’t have another shift until tomorrow afternoon.. Er, later today, technically. I’ll just finish this last part and come down–”

“NO. YOU ARE GOING TO BED.”

“What? But I’m almost done–”

“I DO NOT CARE. I AM NOT DRIVING YOU TO THE HOSPITAL BECAUSE YOU DECIDED TO ACT BRAINLESS.”

“Why would I go to the hospital?”

“BECAUSE HUMANS NEED SLEEP, YOU IDIOT. IF YOU DO NOT SLEEP, YOUR BODY WILL SHUT ITSELF OFF. AND YOU WILL PROBABLY HIT YOUR BIG HEAD ON SOMETHING ON THE WAY DOWN.”

Wilson scrunches up his nose in annoyance. “That’s not true! I’ve gone at least a week without sleep before.” he says. “Also, my head isn’t that big,” he mumbles.

“THAT IS NOT A GOOD THING,” WX-78 says, and Wilson holds back an eye roll. “NOW, ARE YOU COMING WITH ME WILLINGLY, OR DO I HAVE TO DRAG YOU DOWN THERE MYSELF?”

Link

OBSESSED W YOUR MODERN AU CAN WE GET MORE OMG. maybe of wx & wilson doing weed together…. it’s up to you i just rlly love your modern au

IT TOOK ME . TWO MONTHS. BUT I DID IT.

“We should smoke weed together after your shift tomorrow,” says Wilson, leaning over the checkout counter of the gas station he works at. He’s not currently clocked in, but WX-78 is.

“WHAT? HELL NO. WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I WANT TO DO THAT?”

“Aw, c’mon! It’d be fun,” begs Wilson.

“I REFUSE. NOW GET AWAY FROM ME BEFORE I PRESS THE ‘CALL FOR HELP’ BUTTON.”

“Why not?” he asks, putting on his best pleading face.

“I DO NOT WANT TO,” WX-78 says, and they reach under the counter where Wilson knows the button is.

“Wait! I’ll buy it,” he says, and they pause.

“DO YOU EVEN KNOW ANYONE THAT SELLS WEED?” They ask, and he bites his lip.

“Well, no. I was hoping you would?” He asks, punctuating the statement with a sheepish grin.

“ARE YOU NOT ASTHMATIC?” WX-78 asks, and Wilson wonders how they even got that information, because he indeed is asthmatic.

“BEFORE YOU ASK, IT’S ON YOUR FILE.”

“Oh. Hm, I guess you’re right,” he mutters, looking down, and then he perks up again. “Ooh, we could make brownies!”

WX-78 rolls their eyes, but Wilson is too deep in thought to pay it any mind.

“Oh, or we could make cookies! But my oven doesn’t work,” he mumbles to himself, stroking his chin.

WX-78 sighs loudly, interrupting his thoughts. “YOU’RE JUST GOING TO KEEP ASKING, AREN’T YOU?”

Wilson feels his face heat up. “Well, um.. I-–”

“GIVE ME ENOUGH MONEY FOR THIS, AND TO REPLENISH MY STASH, AND I WILL ALLOW IT.”

Wilson beams. “How much?”

They think for a moment.

“ABOUT TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS.”

Wilson’s jaw drops.

“Seriously? There’s no way it’s that expensive!”

“MARIJUANA IS NOT EASY TO GROW AND IT IS NOT LEGAL TO SELL. OF COURSE IT IS THAT EXPENSIVE.”

Wilson frowns. “Alright, alright. Fine. Do you have PayPal?”

WX-78 gives him a deadpan look.

“I NEED IT IN CASH, WILSON. ARE YOU REALLY THAT STUPID?”

He flushes again. “No, but you could just go to an ATM or something.”

“WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO GO TO AN ATM WHEN I HAVE YOU TO DO IT FOR ME?” They ask, and Wilson scowls.

“Whatever,” he says. “What about the whole smoking thing?”

“UGH. SO PICKY,” WX-78 says. “I SUPPOSE EDIBLES ARE AN OPTION.”

“As I said, my oven doesn’t work. Sorry,” he says, and WX-78 leans onto the counter with both elbows. They place their head in their hands.

“I SWEAR I WILL REGRET THIS..” they mutter. “WE CAN USE MY OVEN–”

Wilson beams. “Great! When can we–”

“BRING ME THE MONEY WHEN YOU CLOCK IN TOMORROW. I WILL HAVE IT BY FRIDAY.”

Wilson falters. Tomorrow? He thinks. I probably won’t get this chance again. Ugh. I think I’ll regret this.

He nods. “Uh.. sure. Yeah. I’ll have it by tomorrow.”

Behind him, Wilson hears someone clear their throat loudly.

He stiffens and then high-tails it out of the store, back to his car, leaving WX-78 to deal with the (presumably) pissed off customer.

Link to the full story:

here's some old Wilson and WX-78 drawings