#c!dream and c!wilbur

[theminecraftbox]

/dsmp rp

Thinking about Sam and Wilbur and the relative performativity of the power they crave: there is something in how Wilbur likes an audience and Sam absolutely hates it.

Wilbur ALWAYS wants an audience (the audience is the point). Everything he does must be witnessed. Every gesture he makes is conscious of the eyes he knows are upon him. Sam would rather no one know, would rather it all be said and done in secrecy and privacy.

The one thing Sam tried to push back against Dream on in Foolish’s stream was admission of his role in the torture. His reaction to his fantasy of Dream’s death is to pull back, to prevent Quackity from killing him and to reaffirm his veneer of respectability—while Wilbur’s reaction to that same fantasy was to pour himself full-throttle into a dramatic and charged power-play… for the benefit of Tommy-as-audience.

The vengeance Wilbur wanted for Tommy, the gesture of taking ~power over Dream~ was done with Tommy in the room. The power Wilbur wants over Dream is enacted in public. The power Sam wants over Dream is enacted in privacy so strict that even we the audience are not privy to most of it.

[a-fandom-enthusiast]

Grant me this respite

[clingyduoapologist]

Honestly bro we don’t talk about how Wilbur thought doomsday was his explosion enough… like bro came back like “damn I really did a number on this place huh 😎” and then no one corrected him because like what would you say in that situation? “Oh hey sorry bro no ur massively important suicide bombing that you’ve defined your entire sense of self around was like fixed on a week. That hole was some other bitches sorry” literally c!tubbo deserves an award for not pushing him into the hole

[space-robinhood]

Symphony's Leitmotif

[voi2ds]

i use my skills for good trust me

[i-dont-know-i-just-like-dragons]

[firexima]

I’ll Make A Man Out Of You is so c!techno training c!crimeboys in pogtopia.

Backstory to this drawing:

I headcannon c!techno as ambidextrous so he shows the two left-handed stances and attacks so that they are more familiar with them and personally know the advantages to each of them and how they can counter them as well as the disadvantages and difficulties to them and how they can exploit them but overall so they are more prepared for every situation— in this case: left-handed opponents. While c!tommy is experienced in pvp (although not as skilled as c!techno), c!wilbur is definitely not as comfortable and trained with combat— let alone left-handed combat.

This was my last drawing of 2023 but I forgot to post it here too— Originally I started this drawing waaaay back in early October because charlie slimecicle sung the song with jaiden in a qsmp karaoke stream and the song got stuck in my head.

[lessonduo]

C U IN UT

[andhyssops]

Your name is Wilbur Soot.

You don't technically have an invitation to this party, but technicalities have never kept you out of Las Nevadas. The air is cool, the night is young, and a hand penned letter is burning a hole in your pocket.

It is not a love letter, but you feel compelled to deliver it in person.

This visual novel contains:

0.5 - 1 hour of gameplay

5 unique endings, based on the course of your conversation

1 psychocompetitive rivalry

0 love letters

[banner art by @cyani07] <3

You can play This Is Not A Love Letter for free here on itch.io!

[iancito0x]

c! wilbur

[420technoblazeit]

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY EVERYONE

[theminecraftbox]

c!Sam 🤝 c!Quackity 🤝 c!Wilbur:

explicitly shown getting a very visceral sense of power both from hurting c!Dream and from successfully commanding him to do what they say.

[killin-kel]

I saw DTIYS by kuolluo on twitter and just knew I NEED to draw it

[bugflies00]

do you ever think about how the wilby scene was the same day as wilbur’s death. “DID YOU JUST CALL ME WILBY?!” “I DID NOT CALL YOU WILBY!!!” “aww are you embarrassed - it’s okay, you can call me wilby, awww” and then he died that day. do you ever think about that

[voi2ds]

brother, if you have the chance to pick me up

[ladyddanger]

thinking about the events of the dsmp hundreds of years later being just a bunch of stories.

In a village nestled between tall pines children play Manberg Vs Pogtopia, the names of nations and reasons for war long forgotten as they hit each other with sticks and tackle their friends to warm summer grass.

When their mothers tuck them in that night they tell them stories of a snowy wasteland, so ancient it still holds the scars of long wars forgotten. They tell them of the wasteland’s inhabitant, the greatest warrior this world has ever seen. His name is lost to history but warriors still pray to him on the eve of battle and tie ravens feathers in their hair in his honor.

If the children misbehaved that day their mothers tell them a different story, one of a masked man who steals bad children and drowns them in the sea.

There’s a crater a few miles east of the village in the middle of the marshlands up by a glittering ocean. The crater is so deep that you can throw rocks off the edge and never hear them hit the bottom. Legend says that once upon a time the goddess of death had a son who walked this earth and when he died in her rage and grief she tore into the city that once stood there with her bare hands and ripped it from the earth leaving nothing but a crater behind.

On long sunny evenings in the inns that dot the coastline bards tell stories of a cursed city of gold and glass buried in the heart of a desert where it snows. They whisper the city is full of riches but nobody who looks for it ever comes back.

On stormy nights the Bards tell a different story, a story of a town that sits over a slumbering god. Strange things happen there. Red vines sport up over night. If you listen closely, the people say you can hear them talk. Everyone there has red eyes and cold cold hands.

If you start at dawn and ride in the opposite direction of the carter you can reach the vault before nightfall. The locals claim it used to hold a faceless god guarded by a king but time has weathered the vault’s defenses and the towns children dare each other inside its walls, running though the tight passages.

An old fairytale says if you follow a small barely visible path from the doors of a vault beyond you’ll reach a forest full of trees so overgrown they block the sun. The fairytale says if you walk to the heart of the forrest there’s a prince sleeping there, nestled in the flowers and weeds. The fairytale says his true love and his knights are long dead. The fairytale says he dreams the whole world in existence. The fairytale says a lot of things but nobody really believes it.