sideblogx3 - Tumblr blog

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We've talked about breaking the fourth wall and acknowledging the audience, but which character is most likely to call out the tech crew?

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School sketch

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The first New Year, Wilbur is shaking. A fresh start in his new country, as president, and he's fulfilling his duties as he shuffles appetizers out to everyone, checks drinks, music. It has to be perfect. Tommy is sticking his fingers in the chocolate fountain. Before he knows it, the countdown is starting, and everyone is chanting. Fireworks are going off as he stands in the center of a crowd, running his fingers through his hair, trying to take it all in, feeling electric. Someone taps him, and he turns around to Niki, dressed in shimmering green. She chastises him for looking so nervous, but there's a smile on her face, glitter on her cheeks. He laughs as she compliments the party, all the little details he hasn't intended for anyone else to notice, still kind of disbelieving he's made it this far. The New Year starts with their hug, his head tucked above hers, a giddy existence.

The second, he's slipping in late nervously, waving hellos to everyone, commenting about how lovely the party was. Yes, he says, he's just gotten away from work now, the grind never stops. He laughs, hoping he doesn't sound too tired. A president can't be weak, after all. As the night approaches the all important hour, he finds himself next to Tubbo, looking as nervous as Wilbur did last year. The seconds count down as Tubbo hands him a noise maker solemnly, in addition to a pair of silly glasses, and they cheer, happy as anything.

The third year, it really, truly sneaks up on him. The paperwork does not stop, it seems, so while his friends and citizens are celebrating, he is bent over a sheet of paper, ink-stained fingers clutching a pen. The hours pass in silence, as he fails to notice the minutes creeping close, not until the opening of a door. Tommy swings in, party hat lazily strapped to his head, singing an upbeat tune. Figured I'd find you here he says, clicking his tongue. They're missing you out there. Ah, he replies, figuring it's a polite lie. Well, I apologize. S'alright, Tommy says. Another year turns as they stare out the window, arms around each other, watching the fireworks together.

The fourth New Year occurs during election season, oddly enough. There is more importance in public appearances now than office work, and he stands in his best suit, hair coiffed to perfection, wondering if he's holding his champagne glass right. Wish there was something stronger in here, he says to Quackity, stood next to him in the corner. He agrees, scoffing. Nervous you'll lose? He says, after a moment, surprisingly earnest. Yes, Wilbur mocks. Kiss me better? It earns him a shove, followed by a snicker. They shout the final moments together, glasses clinking together in cheers. May the best person win, Wilbur says, as confetti rains around them. He almost means it.

He is dead before the fifth New Year.

(he is alive again, for the sixth. A fresh start, he whispers to himself. Whispers it towards the tundra. Towards Snowchester. Towards Tommy's little hole in the wall. Towards Las Nevadas. Into the crater.)

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WHAT TO DO IN THE EVENT OF THE BOMB, A PUBLIC INFORMATION BROADCAST PRODUCED BY THE SNOWCHESTER NUCLEAR INSTITUTE. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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“im new to tumblr from mcyttwt what do i need to do :(”

HERES ALL YOU NEED:

seriously dont fucking crosstag its a whole separate community

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YIPPPEEEE GORETOBER DAY 2: PLANT GROWTH!

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actually Callahan should upload a video with no sound no video just a black screen and title it 'reacting to dream's face reveal'

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im so patient rn in fact if u saw me irl ur first thought would literally be omg she's so patient i bet she's not waiting for any life changing events at all because of how patient she is

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dream will never know a moment of peace these men are going to climb him like a tree

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Made a new ticket! Updated the date! <3

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On the morning of the 20th of January, the SMP prepares to receive the notices of death for two children.

They watch Tommy and Tubbo walk the path, meeting their friends along the way. They are wished the best of luck, they are given gifts and gear, they say their most genuine goodbyes. People line the streets around the Prime Path to see them off.

And then, when they are gone, they return to their houses, to their families, and they await the dreadful news. People have been anticipating this day, ever since reports of Dream's ultimatum spread. Depressingly, people already have it all planned out: the flowers they'll lay outside Tommy's house and in Snowchester and L'Manberg, the bench that'll become a protected monument, and the fact that people have even acquired old flags to display in honour of their legacies.

It's mid-afternoon when the clouds finally blow away, and the city planners by the half-reconstructed Community House turn their faces to the sky, grateful for the warmth on that chilly January day. Their grins are mirrored by those of the two children that burst through the portal, whooping with delight and spreading their arms to the open air as if to hold it all between their arms and wait- no way-

Time stops as the shouts travel the streets. People emerge disbelieving from their houses, crying and cheering the two boys on as they stumble along the path, bloodied and singed and a little worse for wear, but grinning and happy and so incredibly alive. Their voices rise in victory, the funeral flowers are torn into confetti and flags appear at each window and door.

People keep their distance for the most part, choosing instead to seek out and inform loved ones, but there's a select few; members of the original L'Manberg, siblings of Pogtopia, residents of Snowchester that venture closer, never asking questions, but watching and following as Tommy and Tubbo make their way to their bench. They turn to acknowledge them, asking for their privacy, and playing them a disk in return. The grins on their faces rival the sun in the sky, and the notes from the jukebox tell the people everything they need to know: they won.

In an act of glorious catharsis, King Eret of the SMP officially breaks the news. Ecstatic town criers run from the castle to all corners of the land, their voices hoarse within the hour as they relay the news of the triumph of a group of friends and foes alike. The sun emerges from behind the clouds as it begins to slip towards the western horizon, bathing the land in a hazy golden glow. People flood the streets, years of pain and hardship withering away in the afternoon sun, as an entire people experience collective catharsis.

Slowly, Eret makes their way downtown as the sun sets, marvelling at the celebrations. There's men and women and more drinking on the pavements, teenagers racing around them sharing an endless supply of baked goods and sweets with sticky fingers. Children play up and down the highways with toy swords and shields and masks, and no one has to guess who they're imitating, nor who wins each game. There's young people everywhere, those that Eret recognises and those they don't, with flags wrapped around their shoulders like capes, or scrunched in fists waving in the air - three crosses and a heart and a burst of yellow - revelry not unlike when L'Manberg won its independence. Last time, for obvious reasons, Eret was not invited, but this time a kindly young woman runs up to them and offers them a flag. "All hail the king," she says with a smile. "And all hail those that would lose everything for justice."

Overhead, a firework explodes to the tune of a thousand people cheering. Downtown, the bells of Church Prime clamour to be heard over the noise as a cacophony of different songs are traded back and forth between groups gathered on street corners. Eret picks out tales woven to tunes of small glories and unlikely heros; the story of tonight immortalised, an ode to a nation and the men that created it with their bare hands and whispered ideals, the forgotten anthem of a country with all the words garbled and broken up with laughter. From one side of the street they hear 'All hail the King!' and from the other 'Fuck Eret!', but their smile is reflected on both.

However, the closer to their destination they get, the more the groups gather into a raucous chorus, the displaced people of a nation singing as one. L'Manberg was never truly lost on Doomsday: Eret came to know that the night before, when their fortress became the last refuge of the L'Manbergians. Her people have merely been scattered, but they carry their customs far and wide. And right now, their ditty of choice is a drinking song, loudly, defiantly proclaiming: "The world turned upside down!"

"Can you hear them?" Eret asks quietly as they arrive at their destination. "They're singing for you."

The various flags of a deceased nation hang in the boughs of the tree that shelters them, their many colours softly illuminated by the last light of a momentous day. The low tones of an old song crackles from the jukebox, and though they know it was always bigger than the music, Eret reckons those tunes are worth dying for. They chuckle softly at themself and take out the blanket they've been carrying to do what they left the party to do. The two boys - just a couple unlucky, stubborn, determined children - sit on the bench, arms around each other and heads tilted together in slumber. Even in sleep they are smiling, and Eret hopes they can't hear the fireworks downtown, for everyone's sake. They thought of covering them with some of the flags, but those would look too much like death shrouds, and these kids are still very much alive. No, the king bows before them as they wrap them in a blanket and leave them to their rest. God knows they deserve it.

They won.

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Estoy hasta la madre 😠 No pintaron la mía

DJRJKSJFJ DIOS QUE CUTE y lo lamento tanto a veces se gana y otras se pierde, compa 😔

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*Projects violently onto cWilbur*

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wilburs voice getting abmormally high as he’s caught by surprise by something cute