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theminecraftbox · 2 years

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do you think c!Dream ever physically lashed out at c!techno while they were in prison together? I mean like if he got too close, would he swing at him as a reflex? I’d imagine c!techno would either take a single punch like a champ as c!Dream’s already weak or like,,catch his arm before his fist makes contact. The later would probably lead trigger only more trauma responses from Dream. How do you think Techno would handle it?

/dsmp /rp

Yeah. And on top of what you’re saying, I think Dream probably lashed out at him intentionally, too, in addition to unintentionally.

Reasons:

Dream hasn’t been able to fight back against someone without terrible consequences for a long time. He misses fighting, the physicality of an even playing ground.

Dream doesn’t want Techno to think he’s weak, or soft—he wants Techno to believe he’s capable of violence. He’s strong. This place hasn’t broken him.

Dream is angry at Techno for being trapped here, and for seeing him like this, and for messing up the plan. He knows this anger is mostly irrational—in fact, it’s really Dream’s fault, he knows, he’s the one who was weak enough to write the damn letter, but that just makes him madder. (Hell, the first thing he did when Techno arrived was punch him.)

Dream is used to playing into everyone’s worst assumptions about him. Techno dares to think he’ll be reasonable? Well, he’s got another thing coming.

Techno’s irreverence and minimizations, while typically the type of optimistic sarcasm Dream can understand and see through, sometimes really sting in ways Dream isn’t prepared for. Sometimes Techno saying, “come on, this place isn’t that bad, cheer up, roomie, quit complaining!” sounds too similar to what Sam tells him, how Quackity mocks him, what Sapnap clearly thought of him. Sometimes it hurts to hear that he’s whining for no reason (even though Techno’s right; things are so much better now.) Sometimes it feels too much like he’s just being ordered to keep sucking it up when all he wants to do is scream.

Dream’s been forcing himself to be rational and controlled for so long. He can’t afford to lose control with his abusers. He can afford to lose it at Techno.

Dream’s privacy in one of the most stressful and vulnerable times of his entire life just went from limited to NONE. There’s nowhere for Techno to go; they can’t get out of each other’s hair. If Dream cries, Techno sees it. If Dream gets furious, Techno sees it.

Sam and Quackity and Tommy, and even Bad and Sapnap, have all treated him like he’s a wild animal, one that bites. He doesn’t really feel very human right now.

The last time Dream had a sincere fight was with Tommy and that ended… not well. That was also an example of Dream lashing out physically against someone he thought he could hurt safely, but it was also a lot more sour than with Techno, obviously. I’m not sure Dream is able to articulate to himself the reasons he killed Tommy.

It’s not like he actually wants to kill Techno, or even hurt Techno. He likes Techno, likes him even when he’s getting on his last nerve. Techno’s kind to him. Techno’s funny. Techno’s entertaining. Techno tells him to eat. Techno tells him he’ll protect him from Quackity, that they’ll fight together. (Techno’s arrival made the torture stop.) Not to mention that Techno is an invaluable ally and his only (maybe, maybe, maybe) ticket out of here.

I think Techno would usually handle it with good grace. He’d try to divert Dream’s attention to less destructive outlets. He’d take a punch and laugh it off, and the lack of reaction would sometimes be enough to defuse the whole thing. The fact that Dream obviously isn’t a threat and is obviously posturing is, well, both kinda funny and kinda sad. Dream can tell, which sometimes just makes him angrier: he doesn’t want to be treated with kid gloves.

But the cell is wearing on Techno, too. Sometimes he’s not in the mood to deal with Dream’s bullshit just like Dream doesn’t want to deal with his. Sue him, sometimes a dude just doesn’t want to be punched for no reason. I don’t think he’d hit Dream back, but I could see him overpowering Dream, pinning him or twisting his arm to make him stop—and it would be easy, way too easy. Dream would freeze and go very quiet, and Techno would quickly back off, let him go and try to shrug it all off, and feel awful when Dream retreats to his corner and doesn’t speak for hours. (And feel annoyed that he’s feeling awful for defending himself, but—hey. That’s what this cell does to people, he guesses. He’s not gonna lie, it’s pretty messed up.)

#c!dream and c!techno #pandora’s vault #c!dream and trauma

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straighttohellbuddy · 2 years

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but i want it too much {c!Dream}

Summary: Yandere!Dream. You've become the object of Dream's affections, whether you like it or not. He's fully prepared for resistance, to have to give you time, and possibly even resort to some less than pleasant measures if at first you don't feel the same, at least until you understand that all he wants is to keep you safe, to give you the world. What he wasn't expecting was for you to go willingingly.

Because yes, he wants you, but more than anything, you want to be wanted.

Need to Know: They/Them. Yandere!Dream / Enabler!Reader. The inciting incident/conversation.

A/N: 2859 words. written on my phone, and my first time writing a yandere au, so ah, i think it might be a bit soft compared to a lot i've read, but also ive a few more ideas for this situation or something like it, yanno? im building to something. im establishing the dynamic, you know? anyways, please heed the warnings and let me know what you think. just something i smashed out in a night in between stints writing longer fics.

Warnings: Romanticisation/Rationalisation of Yandere Behaviour; stalking, manipulation, threats of social & physical isolation, obsession, slight objectification of reader.

Citrus Scale: 🧡 ORANGE 🧡

{ yandere!dsmp masterpost }

He'd been called paranoid for keeping as close an eye on you as he had been, which he resents. You were trying to live your life peacefully in wartime, which he had great respect for. This war felt cruel and unnecessary; why violence was being perpetuated simply because Tommy and Wilbur decided to start their own nation in the middle of one that already existed, Dream could only chalk up to a selfish, contrarian desire on their parts.

The point is, you, a pacifist through and through, was always willing to lend a hand and keep the peace. Some may call it treason, when one day you're listening to Wilbur complain endlessly about Dream one day, knowing full qell you have plans to go exploring with Dream himself the following day, but Dream can't bring himself to chastise you for having a heart. That, and the fact that you're surprisingly discrete with your friendships. Nobody would suspect you. Nobody's been watching half as close as Dream.

Well, okay, he doesn't chastise you, he doesn't even let you know that he knows, but it doesn't mean he likes it. Something angry and jealous flares up in his chest when he thinks about it, when he thinks about the citizens of L'manburg taking refuge in your kitchen, emotional labour without compensation. But he doesn't act. Yet.

Jealousy's just an emotion, it's normal, he won't feel guilty for feeling it, especially not when your kindness is being wasted by his rivals, his enemies. You he doesn't begrudge, though he sometimes thinks you're a bit naïve. The way those L'manburg traitors talk, however, makes it clear they have no idea that your kind heart doesn't hold the same allegiances. He watches to gather intel, and to make sure you don't slip and reveal your friendship with anyone who could use it against you; he watches to make sure nothing happens to you.

All he's ever wanted is to make sure you're safe, though that's getting harder and harder with the war.

And he wants to tell you he knows, he sees how hard you're working, how you're trying to be a place of love and serenity in this shit show. But it's hard to do without showing his hand, without potentially scaring you off. He wants to give you the things he knows you need without explaining how exactly he knows you need them, or even asking why he thinks you deserve them.

But you smile at him, and a white-hot surge of jealousy flashes through him at the idea of anyone else seeing you smile so bright. His resolve is crumbling. He's wearing the label of villain on behalf of everyone else, on behalf of the greater good; his stomach turns to consider doing anything that would make you think less of him, but to him there's no greater good than you. In time, you would forgive him. It's a necessary evil, he reasons; he'd use whatever means necessary to get you to the sanctuary he'd created, and once you're safe he'll put the work in to help you see the why, the love behind it all.

He dons the mantle of a villain and goes expecting a fight, expecting resistance; friend to all forced into isolation for their safety? He doesn't expect you to be happy about it.

But still, you open the door with a smile.

"Dream," his appearance, in this moment, is a pleasant surprise. You are alone, as he knew you would be, "you look tense, are you okay?" Anyone else, Dream muses, would have asked if something happened, especially in wartime, would have focused on the situation. Your heart is too gentle for you to be so unguarded.

"We need to talk," his gaze darts behind him, "we should do this inside." If words alone aren't enough to convince you, he doesn't want to make a scene. Bemused, you gesture for him to come through, offering refreshments. He knows your favourite drink pitcher is broken, he's had a replacement sitting shamefully in the bottom of one of his chests, alongside a veritable collection of things he's been wary give you. Once he's gotten you to the sanctuary he'll give it to you, he'll make sure you have everything you rightly deserve.

He declines your offer.

"I know Fundy was here yesterday," he says, settling himself at your kitchen table. At the fridge, you freeze. He desperately wishes he could see your face, your expression.

"That's a strange thing to know," you say, voice tight. Why? He hears the distrust; why do you know that? "What would it matter if he was, I've been very clear about my home being politically neutral." Shutting the fridge, you turn to him, gaze cool. There's something cruel in the back of his mind that wants to berate you for mistrusting him; he has to remind himself that you have only a fraction of the information he's working with, that you will see in time.

"And Wilbur comes, and Tommy, and they talk to you for hours; a lot can be said in over one coffee," political motivations are easy to understand, to explain, to accept. The way his fucking chest aches when he thinks about you granting other people time and love and care when they never give anything in return, that's an idea he plans to introduce slowly.

"They complain more than anything else," you cross your arms, "not exactly riveting military discussions," sitting carefully across from him, your gaze flicks to the window, voice going quiet, "they don't know we're friends, Dream, I don't see the issue." Your shoulders are set in a tense line, if it holds too long it'll start to ache. Mentally, Dream's apologising, vowing to never be the source of your unwanted discomfort once everything smoothed over.

"But if you slipped up, if they did find out -" as he speaks, your jaw clenches, "you think Shoot First Tommy wouldn't immediately jump to the worst possible conclusion?" He leaves you to mull with that for a moment. Your expression wrinkles.

"Its not as if anyone trusts me with important information, everyone knows that," you snapped, unfurling your arm to press your palms flat to the table, looking at them with a surprisingly frustrated intensity, "Tommy wouldn't really see me as a threat, no-one does; I make tea and take my friends through the forest to pick mushrooms and flowers," your lip curls, looking up, finally meeting Dream's gaze, "are you here to kill me for the crime of having friends and being cottagecore?" He wants to take your face in his hands, to smooth the worry lines on your forehead, to tell you that's exactly why he's here, not to kill you, but to keep you and your heart safe from those who may not take as kindly to your good nature, "you really worried about me in all your political bullshit?"

Yes, because if anything happened to you, he's not sure who he'd become in his grief.

"I want to trust you," he says carefully, "but in doing so, you would become..." he let's his words simmer in the air for a moment, "a loose end."

There's a very sudden shift in your expression, from fury to surprise. Perhaps this would go smoother than anticipated.

Then, however, after a moment of consideration, you slump back and huff a long sigh.

"I'm really no strategist, I don't know why I got so worked up about no-one trusting me with information," with an apologetic little smile, you meet his gaze, almost sheepish; the mood, however, has lifted considerably, "I probably wouldn't be able to figure out what is and isn't important and blab things I shouldn't know about," you admitted, "so it's actually pretty good I'm not trusted with info like that, and having info would also feel like picking a side, it's a whole hassle -"

"This war is really more effort than it's worth," Dream says. When you, however, tip your head to the side and make a vague noise of disagreement, his hands clench into fists reflexively; they've been poisoning you against him, even if you don't fully realise it. He amends before you can voice any contradiction; "for you," he says quickly, "everyone complaining to you and expecting you to just soak it up when it's not even your war." Reaching out across the table, he carefully rests his hand on yours.

"Its important to you, of course I'll listen," earnest despite your surprise at his words, something grateful about your expression when you meet his gaze. There's something tired in your eyes that he's sure you'd been making an effort to mask only a minute ago.

"You shouldn't have to worry," he leaves it open, because you may not worry about politics, or even your own wellbeing, but you worry about people, and that's where your mind jumps immediately.

"Its a war," you say slowly, your hand moving beneath his, turning. Palm to palm now, his brain stalls for a second as your fingers delicately brush his pulse point, "its bigger than me," you tell him carefully, "no-one wants to worry, but you know it's in my nature." Its a well established fact, everyone knows it, but that's not how you chose to word it; there's triumph in his chest understand that no-one else has taken the time to have this conversation with you. But the triumph loops back to anger, to rage, as he considers the emotional labour you've never been afforded in kind by the people you consider friends.

"I want to worry about you." As if he doesn't already; perhaps he'd overthought this, perhaps you'd actually appreciate the truth.

"What?" How is this a genuine surprise? How are you not getting it yet?

"I do worry about you," he amends, finger grasping your wrist, "and I'm taking you somewhere where I... won't."

"Won't worry?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, looking at his hand. He can feel your heartbeat racing. Fuck, he's scaring you, isn't he?

"When I don't have to worry, I'll be able to trust you," he takes a deep breath, remembering the resolve he'd had this morning; he'd be able to spend the rest of your lives apologising for being a villain this once.

"Why?"

That response he'd anticipated. Not even slightly. He blinks, the faintest frown of confusion creasing his brow.

"Why go to all this effort to make sure I'm not a loose end?" It's not accusatory, it's genuinely curious. Your hand shifts in his grip, as if trying to get free, for a moment, while he thinks, and he's reluctant to let go, "we both know how easy it would be for you to kill me."

He lets go of you finally, expecting you to draw your arm back, out of his reach. Instead, you both watch as you lace your fingers with his. It's trust on the back of your loaded question, if he twisted the right way, he knows he could snap several bones in your wrist, and you know this too. The silence demanded an answer.

"Because it's you," he says, finally, the words spilling from him honest and half-thought, "because you don't deserve to die for being kind enough to be as vulnerable as you are."

"Not because someone else turned down this offer?" You said carefully, "not- not because you're worried about me being a political pawn or a traitor?"

"Well you wouldn't do that to me," he doesn't even have to think about his answer, not when everything about you, about why you act the way you do, has suddenly clicked into place. He can hear it loud and clear; do you want me for me?

"That's very presumptuous," you tell him like you're unaware of your own subtext, but you're almost smiling, "I think all of you are underestimating me and my capabilities."

"I'm not arguing that, but I think turning traitor is too much like picking a side for you to consider it," he says like its the most obvious thing in the world, and your mouth drops open with surprise.

"And agreeing to go with you? That's not?"

"The war wouldn't be a concern anymore, no sides, just us."

"Us?" There's that surprised, grateful tone again, the one that melts his heart a little to hear. Which was good considering he hadn't even registered what he'd said until your response, and his mind was spinning out trying to understand your response, "just us?"

"Its for your own protection," he says quickly, still clinging to his last shreds of a story before he knows he'll inevitably blurt out the truth. As each moment passes, however, he finds himself understanding more and more that that's exactly what you're desperate to hear.

"Not even your allies?" There's a smile slowly making its way onto your face. He'd considered it; once the relationship was secure, once he knew nothing could threaten it, perhaps his own trusted friends could be blessed with your kind friendship, so long as they never took it for granted. But that was the future.

"Not until the war is done; people are fickle, and," he gave a fond smile, "you're too sweet for your own good."

"You'd deprive the world of my goodness?" But your tone is teasing; there's a correct answer to this question.

"They've already taken more than they deserve."

"What they deserve?" You turn the words over in your mind, expression a little bemused as you consider, "I don't think goodness is something anyone is entitled to-"

"Is that what you tell yourself?" He fires off, tired of hearing you downplay your importance in your own life. Your eyes go wide.

"I-"

"To justify why you're always so kind and putting in the effort to listen and understand people, that is. Goodness isn't something anyone's entitled to, so you give it freely and pretend like you don't want one fucking person to care," his free hand comes down on the table with a bang, the fury radiating from him in waves.

"Dream -" you're shrinking back, looking almost ashamed.

"And I do, okay, I'm here and I fucking care, and I want to keep you safe from everyone who didn't bother to properly know you and wouldn't feel remorse for turning on you if it suited them -"

"Don't I get a say?" You ask weakly, a hail-Mary pass at pretending like you're not considering it, but you haven't let go of his hand.

"Say whatever you want, but I know you-" Dream fires off, his grip on your hand almost painfully tight; you don't complain, "you'll put up a show of protesting, now that I've started yelling, now that I've ripped the curtain back and you have to acknowledge that your friends are selfish and shallow. But we both know that you haven't once voiced your wants, because everyone's valid to want, to take kindness and make you worry, to ask for favours they'll know you'll never cash in, because wanting is valid unless it's you, right?"

"If it's so easy, what do you want? To take me away from harm because you're selfless, and I'm too good for this world?" Your lip curls, defensive, lashing out when confronted with someone finally seeing the painful truth you live by. Dream gives a sharp, humourless laugh.

"Oh no, I'm done pretending like its not selfish," he detangles his fingers from yours, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest, "the idea of you wasting your time on anyone who takes you for granted, yeah, sure it boils my fucking blood, but the idea of you smiling that- that fucking smile of yours at anyone else?" He huffed, shaking head, "so yeah, I'll be selfish; I want you for you, not for any political bullshit reason, and I don't intend to share." Leaning over the table, he finds himself breathing hard after his explosive admission. The silence rings in his ears; he looks up, and something about how carefully neutral your expression is feels like a victory. He can't help but smirk, "which is exactly what you wanted to hear, isn't it?"

"We were just friends before this morning," you say softly, actively fighting back a smile.

"You were naïve and I was a coward before this morning," he corrected, you duck your head to hide your smile.

"You mean it? You- you- how long? Can I ask how long?" You babble, fingers dancing along the table. It's longer than he'd like to admit, but you actually giggle, sounding rather flattered, "you've been looking out for me all that time?"

Not paranoid, not stalker, not creep; looking out for. He loves you, is it too early to say that? He loves the way your mind works. You understood him perfectly.

He's aware your rush of affection is from how desperately you've been craving someone else to want you, to put in effort for you, but you agree to go with him without a fight. Between the initial affection, and the fact that you were, in fact, friends before, all he needs to develop this into something that will last is time.

#dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #yandere!dream #dream imagine #dreamwastaken imagine #dream #dreamwastaken #yandere!dream x reader #yandere!dream imagine #yandere!dsmp #be the thing that buries me #shut ur pretty mouth #Spotify

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stellocchia · 3 years

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Since I really enjoyed yesterday's stream I decided to do one of my overly long analysis on it

So, here's my analysis of (DSMP LORE) Healthy Competition

Dialogues will be color-coded as usual, so here's what I used: Phil, Wilbur, Ranboo

As always I am incapable of brevity, so everything's under the cut

The stream starts with a conversation between Phil and Wilbur in which Wilbur admits that he hasn't been to visit Phil in a while, which makes Phil's later threat about throwing him out feel that much more ridiculous since Wilbur clearly doesn't really live with him either way...

"Alright, it's got one for Phil, one for Ranboo, and one for Techno. Is that all that live here? Just you three?" "Yep, just us three, just chilling"

The only reason why I'm singling this out is that it was right after the mention of Techno's birthday and Wilbur was pointing at the seats occupied by the 4 members of the Syndicate so it feels slightly weird that Niki wasn't mentioned at all. But also it's technically not a lie, she doesn't live there and she only comes around for the Syndicate meetings.

Another thing to add is that Wilbur did notice the chest Ranboo left for him and consciously decided to ignore it.

"I must admit I've come to you with a bit of a- a bit of a proposition. You're into propositions Phil? Are you a bit of a 'propositions' kinda guy?" "Oh, depends, depends. You- you've had some pretty... let- let's just say, uh- not- not a great track record on propositions that you've had in the past" "Alright... I mean, I'm trying to move past that"

I wonder what exactly Phil is referring to here. Because, like, Wilbur did bad things, don't get me wrong, but what's his track record with "propositions" in particular? Because he isn't talking about "Tommy, let's be the bad guys" here since he doesn't know about that. Is he talking about Wilbur founding L'Manburg? But then again, I don't think Wilbur interpreted it that way. I think that, from Wilbur's reaction, he clearly interpreted it as a jab at him exploding L'Manburg (which is the one thing he's trying to move past) which would be extremely hypocritical from Phil since he did the exact same thing but worse.

Also, I really do think that Wilbur is trying to move forward. He's lonely and he has the lowest possible opinion of himself so it doesn't feel weird that he'd want to move on. He isn't putting the work in it right now and he hasn't really changed, but he does seem to want to (though I think he may not know how).

"He [Quackity] didn't seem afraid of me, which is cool. Not many people- I mean you don't seem afraid of me. You aren't afraid of me, are you Phil?" (little look into Wilbur's mind and his fear of isolation once again. And this is fear of isolation, he's worried that other people are afraid of him and therefore are only waiting for him to step out of line so that all their fears would be confirmed)

"'Cause I'm not afraid of you [Phil]" (bold words for someone who spent who knows how long lying to his dad because of a crippling fear of disappointment...)

"Technoblade spent his entire time taking down the establishments, what he left is, as predicted, a power vacuum for a new establishment to come in" (in case it wasn't obvious, Wilbur is not the biggest fan of anarchy. And he actually got this one criticism spot on, indeed all taking down L'Manburg did was getting 4 new governmental-like structures to sprout in its place)

"Phil, I want to make a burger van" *Phil sighs and walks away* (I'm more sure now that Phil really meant "creating L'Manburg" as Wilbur's bad track record with propositions)

Wilbur repeating 4 times that he has no ulterior motive with the burger van managed to make me think the exact opposite. That said that ulterior motive may just be to create a safe little home for himself and Tommy for all we know honestly. Also, the whole thing with Phil trying to convince his grown-ass kid to go play with the neighbor kid and Wilbur throwing a tantrum in response was hilarious...

"If he's [Ranboo] shit you gotta come help me okay? If he's shit you've gotta come be burger boy with me, okay?" (he still is mistrustful to an extreme and pretty childish admittedly)

"Why is he [Phil] treating me like a kid?! Why is he treating me like a little baby?" (remembering how Wilbur treated Fundy I think it may be a family problem)

Another interesting thing to point out is that Wilbur was openly scared of the spider attacking him here, and fights it off, but he doesn't move away from the explosion later on and he didn't move away from the exploding creepers last stream. Other people already made this connection, but I do think it may be a sort of way to punish himself. Specifically, it's brought up later on that he thinks he got off easy for what he did, so he's using what he hurt others with (explosions) to hurt himself now as a sort of punishment for that. Which is another indication of just how much his stay in Limbo didn't help with his mental health.

"Am I being- is this [Ranboo having both cows and wheat] a setup?" (the paranoia never left)

"Ranboo I'm gonna go out on a limb here: do- do you wanna be friends?" "Su-sure yeah, I don't see why not" (I think that at this point it was still just Wilbur following along with what his dad told him to do and trying to find out more about Ranboo. That does seem to change later down the line)

"And then we decided that it [the 'cookie' outpost] was too much trouble so we kinda just left it" (So we have confirmation that the cookie outpost was abandoned)

"We're not gonna annoy Quackity" "That's good" "We can't annoy- we can't annoy him because we're simply put- we're simply put gonna be making...- I got the real estate! He's giving me the area and we're gonna be making a competing business"

Wilbur says this as if he wasn't perfectly aware that this would annoy the sh*t out of Quackity. As if the point of it wasn't exactly to annoy Quackity. Or well, annoying him isn't the end goal, it's just the means to an end. We don't know the actual end goal (though I think Wilbur still wants to either be let into Las Nevadas or actually instate a rivalry between them as he said, one of the two).

"We [he and Quackity] were a part of the same cabinet during New L'Manburg or whatever" "Cabinet?" "Yeah a cabinet is like-" "Was this- was this with Tubbo?" "Yeah yeah" (...) "So you were part of the old L'Manburg? I didn't know that actually, I thought you were a bit of an independent"

Once again: Wilbur is missing A LOT of knowledge. He wasn't aware that New L'Manburg had a cabinet and he wasn't aware that Ranboo was ever part of the country either. He has a lot of misconceptions about what happened during the time he was dead so it really shouldn't be a surprise to anyone that his views on a lot of things are as warped as they are. Wilbur is getting to his conclusions with an incomplete and sometimes wrong set of data.

"Do you dislike anyone Ranboo?" "Not too much I don't think. I mean there are other people I don't, like, agree with what they've done of course, but I think that everyone is just a product of what they've gone through and everything so if you understand that then you understand the person!"

There is nothing inherently wrong with Ranboo's reasoning here. It's true that most people are a result of their environment and, once you understand what they've been through you can understand them better as a person. It's also fine that he personally doesn't want to hold grudges. But that way of thinking isn't applicable to those who have been hurt by others, sure they can reach an understanding, but an understanding of a person doesn't justify shit and doesn't change shit unless that person works towards repairing old broken relationships. It just all sounds like a nice way of thinking about things in theory, but in practice, it just takes away responsibility from those who have wronged others to fix things and moves it to those who have been wronged. (Ranboo isn't advocating for everyone to think that way though, but I know the fandom will).

Either way, they arrive in Las Nevadas and Wilbur talks about how their place doesn't benefit the consumer and puts down 3 signs.

"I've been trying to think of a name for it [his and Tommy's area], I'm thinking about 'Paradise'"

There are two possible reasons for the name that I can think of:

1) It's in reference to Las Nevadas itself and how Las Nevadas is based on Las Vegas, the famous city of sin

2) It could be a reference to Tommy insistently calling Las Nevadas Paradise in the last stream and Wilbur trying to convince him that their place is the true Paradise

Wilbur does decide to make the Burger Van right at the border which really feels like a very obvious provocation. The other thing is that he makes it clear that he wants the van to be red and white which could be a random choice, but really feels like a reference to Tommy (since they are famously his colors) or an imitation of their opposition. Or both considering how much Tommy liked the restaurant of the opposition and the fact that Wilbur is still trying to convince him to stay.

"I'm not very fond of blue" (at this point it's obvious that Wilbur has quite a bit of pent-up animosity against Ghostbur. I wonder if it is because it still feels like people liked the ghost more than him...)

"Like, the Cookie Shop, I don't even know if it was a cookie shop, to begin with, because it was a little... fortified if I'm entirely honest, I realize that now" "Really?" "Yeah did you not see- oh wait- that giant stone structure?" (Ranboo really did fail to realize that the cookie shop was actually a military outpost, huh?)

"See, I like Tubbo. He's strong-headed, he doesn't let people push him around, you know?" (this is both an interesting change in what he thinks of Tubbo if he actually thinks that and further confirmation that Wilbur isn't a fan of people he considers to be 'followers')

"Why do you claim that you're so 'peaceful' and 'neutral' and yet somehow appear in almost every conflict this server's had since I died?" (since I saw people claiming this is manipulation already, just know that it isn't. He's just confused because, admittedly, Ranboo is a confusing guy and Wilbur doesn't really know him at all)

"Ranboo, why did you come to help me?" (...) "And then also I just think, you know... you can, you know- I think- I think you're an alright person, you know? So I wanna- I did kinda wanna get off on a better foot with you then what happened-" "Why?" "Just because I don't really like having the thought that people don't really like me" "Nonononono not the bit about the right foot, the 'why don't you think I'm a bad person'" "Well I mean, I think that you did bad things, but like, I think that you also went through things that made you that way and then I also think that you've changed now (...) but I think that now you've- apparently you've been away long enough that I think that if anyone goes away for that long eventually they'll have a thought about their morality and everything and maybe become a better person because of it"

I know this quote was absurdly long, but it is one of the most interesting conversations of the whole stream and it is really important and it tells us quite a bit as well. For one thing Wilbur was left quite emotional from someone simply admitting that he's an "alright person" and that they think he's capable of changing and this does bring him to open up to Ranboo right after. What Ranboo says to be exact is that anyone would have changed after going through what Wilbur went through and that change could be positive and while I completely disagree with it, it's clearly something that Wilbur needed to hear.

Now as to why I disagree with the notion that 13 years of semi-complete isolation could change anyone for the better should be rather obvious. But if it isn't, well, that's torture to put it simply. Psychological torture. Just like abuse it's one of those things that only cause trauma and a worsening mental health state and we see this with Wilbur because he didn't change, he only became more self-deprecating. Hurting someone doesn't make them become a better person all of a sudden, that's really not how it works. Hurting someone makes them become more traumatized.

"I think I scare people" ( as I said, immediately opening up about his insecurities)

"I think that a lot of people share your idea, but they share your idea in trying to- trying to keep me from hurting them" (for a bit here Wilbur talks about how he feels like everyone else is just waiting for him to step a foot out of line, which does really show that he's still interpreting all his interactions with people through the lens of his paranoia and self-deprecation, because no one is really interacting with him with that objective in mind)

"Dream's had his comeuppance and I've not" (this seems to be the crux of Wilbur's insecurity. This idea that he got off scot-free for his crimes, the idea that the only difference between him and Dream is the punishment that's been bestowed upon them which, of course, is wrong, but he doesn't know this, because he doesn't actually know why Dream's in prison)

"I've been investing into the wrong areas Ranboo, I've been investing into the wrong people" (This is either a reference to Tommy, to Phil, to Quackity, or to all of them)

"We're kindred man, we get each other" (the reason why he thinks that is because he seems to think that Ranboo has a similar type of paranoia to what Wilbur experience himself and he's not entirely wrong. Ranboo is deathly afraid of conflict and of being disliked so much so that he never stands up for anything in fear of angering others)

Little definition of "neuroticism" for you all since Wilbur kept mentioning it: neuroticism, one of the Big 5 personality traits, is typically defined as a tendency toward anxiety, depression, self-doubt, and other negative feelings.

I'd say it's quite fitting for both characters...

"I feel like life dealt us the same cards and the difference is that you built your trust by showing people your cards whilst I- I keep them close to my chest and I feel like that may be the big difference" (I felt like this was interesting. Especially knowing how much Ranboo actually doesn't share and how much he actually also keeps close to his chest)

They talk about tubbo in general for a bit and about what's been going on the server in general. Ranboo also that he's part of both Snowchester and the arctic commune (mostly the latter though).

"This has been chill, this has been good, I'm excited to show Tommy. What's your opinion on Tommy?" "Oh, he's- he's great. Tommy's awesome" "I agree I agree" "Definitely gone through a lot but I think that it's made him a good person" "Well you seem to think that everyone going through something at least gives them some merit you said" "I mean, yeah. I mean if- if no one- the only really bad people are the ones who are just evil because- just because and they don't have any reason why"

Included the whole thing here because if I stopped at Ranboo saying that Tommy going through trauma is what made him a good person it would have sounded really bad. As things are I think that that was just poor wording on his part and that this mostly goes back to the mentality he expressed before about how people sometimes do bad things because of the environment they're in pushing them and this idea he seems to have that actual hardships (like 13 years in Limbo or whatever he knows about what Tommy has been through) can encourage people to be better which is... sort of naive honestly. Again, trauma isn't a catalyst for the betterment of a person, and any improvement Tommy has made came from his self-reflection, not what he's been through.

After they're done with the van Wilbur brings Ranboo to their competing establishment and asks him to smash the windows, which Ranboo does with no hesitation whatsoever. After that Wilbur proceeds to place down one single block of TNT in a corner and Ranboo starts being a little more hesitant.

"You trust me right?" (I feel like that was a trick question considering how their common paranoia is the thing that Wilbur praised in Ranboo before)

Wilbur hands Ranboo the flint and steel to detonate the piece of TNT which Ranboo does, albeit with some hesitation.

"You passed the test, good job man, you go back to the van (...) Ranboo- Ranboo... I'm proud of you man. You've taken a side, you've proven that you can choose a side"

Quite a few people have already pointed out how similar this scene was to the time Wilbur tested Tommy in season 1 to decide if he was fit to be his right-hand man. In both situations, Wilbur gave someone a chance to cause some destruction against someone on the opposite side. Tommy passed the test by refusing to do so and showing that he was willing to uphold his morals and what he believed in. Ranboo passed the test by doing the exact opposite, by showing that, as much as he talks about how he chooses people and not sides, he's not willing to prove that even when all he would need to do to do so is doing nothing.

And it's an interesting scene to analyze as a parallel to that, but it's also interesting to note that Wilbur knows about Ranboo and Tommy griefing George together. He knows that Tommy was the only one to face any consequences for it (not that exile was actually the consequence for the griefing, but this is from Wilbur's point of view). Now putting this in the context of Wilbur seeing himself in Ranboo and thinking that he himself got off scot-free explains this next part perfectly in my opinion.

It explains why he made sure to leave this sign:

To me at least. This is only a theory honestly, we don't have an actual full explanation. But I do think that Wilbur may feel like the both of them never got the comeuppance they deserved, which is why he did something that's sure to get a reaction from one of the most powerful people on the server. Though considering that he also left 2 diamonds as retribution + a chest with all the materials he picked up it could have also been Wilbur's idea of a bonding moment and he could actually really be proud of Ranboo.

#long post #dream smp #wilbur soot #philza #ranboo #c!wilbur #c!ranboo #dream smp analysis #character analysis #stream analysis #tw self-harm #tw self-deprecation #tw torture mention #tw abuse mention #I'm sure there are plenty of things I missed #but this was all for now

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blufox234isadumbname · 3 years

Note

Why does no one ever talk about the abuse C!Tommy did to Dream? Tommy ruined everything C!Dream worked for when he first entered the world. He found it funny to break the rules and to drive C!Dream down a dark path. And then he hated it when c!Dream finally did something back. C!Tommy also murdered Dream twice. With every intention to kill him the third and final time… c!Dream isn’t perfect but c!Tommy practically caused his downfall but it doesn’t get talked about.

ok imma just- roll up my c!tommy apologist sleeves *ahem*

here's my response to this:

(All mention of members of the Dream SMP are characters, not the actual content creators behind them unless stated otherwise with the cc! tag, this is all within Minecraft roleplay and not reflective of the actual people

This also mentions the Exile Arc, which has themes of suicide and abusive relationships. If the subject is of discomfort, please scroll away)

I'm assuming that the first part is in reference to the early stages of the Dream SMP era, like in the same-ish month-long period when cc!Tommy joined (and officially when Tommy emerged to be a part of the slowly forming story at that point). This era of the Dream SMP is a little hard to gauge in terms of morals since the distinction of what's canon and non-canon just don't exist. At this point, it was before fully fleshed out characters were introduced, just the CCs as themselves messing around in a Minecraft server. Hence, a lot of the aspects, such as violence and psychological effects, of current DSMP lore aren't seen in the same serious regard during this era. It is still a part of lore but it's not to be really seen as "serious" - not unimportant but not exactly the most grounded in logic. Though, the word "abuse" is incredibly harsh to describe the early stages of the Dream SMP. It just implies Tommy deliberately causing trouble out of pure malice. The things that Tommy was at fault for don't refelct that kind of intention, most were the result of the first Disc War - which was instigated by Dream stealing the discs first. Other things were harmless pranks, not really meant to break someone's psyche. There was the conflict that occurred reflect the burning of Ponk's lemon tree but again no actual mind-breaking stuff happened on either Dream's end, just annoyance

Later on in the L'manburg era, again no sort of malice is shown. Dream was the one insistent on starting a war over L'Manburg's independence, Tommy has just pulled along and stood with Wilbur during the confrontations. The most consistent thing in the early eras of Dream SMP lore and early L'manburg is that Dream is seen to be the bad guy, though not as the malevolent force in more recent Dream SMP lore. He was more like a bully if anything, starting conflict to get what he needs and keep things under his control. Post-War and such had Dream be less of a threat and more of that one begrudging chaperone that hates a certain group of kids, also known as the L'manburgians. Dream was more cartoon villain than the careless monster he is presented during the more recent storylines.

So to say Tommy to be the reason for Dream's turn into a genuine and serious threat is false. If anything, Dream's own downfall through the storyline was mostly his own doing rather than someone else's. Again, the Disc War was started by Dream himself stealing the discs and holding them as leverage and the war for L'manburg's independence was caused by Dream's own insistence otherwise. No other force beckoned him to do so, just his own want to control the happenings on the SMP. Around Manburg's and Pogtopia's formation, Dream was acting out of interest of the SMP that he has power over, which included siding for the act of chaos and subsequent power that comes from it. Again, all out of his own volition, not a single person convinced him to not chase the promise of control. He could've just declined the Revival Book from Schlatt yet he accepted the bribe anyway. Same with letting Wilbur having the TNT and dethroning Eret.

It's already established during Tommy's Exile arc that Dream was already becoming a vile person, pushing away any close alliance aside from hiring Punz - even then, it was only a business relationship rather than one forged in close bond. All the things that led to Dream's descent into a more immoral person were his own choice. That included deliberately secluding and messing with Tommy during his exile. The entire arc was about the growing abusive relationship with Dream as the manipulator and Tommy as the victim. From destroying any armour and items Tommy had in order to prevent any way for retaliation, feigning friendliness to gain Tommy's trust and cutting off Tommy from any other source of support, Dream made the entirety of Exile a traumatic experience filled with conflicting feelings and depression. Even near the beginning, with the scene of Tommy looking down at lava in the Nether, Tommy already showed signs of decline in mental health. That was only further proven by the scene where Tommy attempted to jump off the dirt pillar.

Tommy had gone through hell yet managed to pull through, realised what he had experienced was abuse and headed off towards Technoblade's home in search of a better place of shelter. His leave from exile was healthy but doesn't diminish the sense of anger he had towards Dream. Even when his stance on Dream at the time was conflicting, still regressing back to the same belief Dream was his friend, he still held a hatred for Dream. That was further strengthened when he was able to overcome fears that stemmed from Exile, such as heights and Logstedshire itself. The finale to the Disc War began and Tommy was back to being played around by Dream, being threatened and forced to give up his items all over again. All the build-up then leads to almost everyone on the server entering through the Nether portal and Tommy finally getting revenge.

The scene where Dream was being killed until his last and final life wasn't just Tommy getting revenge, everyone else was backing him up. Most people on the server were fed up with Dream's doings, they all wanted Dream gone. It was only because Dream held something of importance, the Revival Book, that they wanted to spare him. Tommy's want to kill his abuser and enemy wasn't out of his own desire, it was fueled by everyone else's anger towards Dream too - which was further reinforced by the wall of important attachments that Dream intended to use against everyone else.

Moral ethics of whether death is justified in a Minecraft roleplay aside, Dream's death was simply akin to the downfall of any other villain. He was made within the story of that season to be unempathetic, with the lack of a perspective to see his side of things. It was a quality that made Dream a good villain in the first place, a villain you couldn't understand. A villain whose inner machinations were a mystery and thus made him much less like a pitiful human. To say that it was Tommy's fault that he became a villain is undercutting the purpose of Dream as a villain during that storyline of the season. It undervalues why he is a villain and genuine fear amongst others in the SMP. Additionally, saying Tommy was wrong for wanting to kill Dream undermines what he went through in exile. Disregarding the most important arc of the character just leaves an incomplete hole in him.

Hence, the reason that no one talks about Tommy being the downfall to Dream in becoming a villain is that it is untrue and completely devaluing to either character of what made them what they are in the story.

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frombeyondtheblackhole · 3 years

Text

Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 9.1

[TW: Blood, violence, severe injury, bone related gore and zombie/undead related body horror. Please take care of yourself and stay safe. Warnings bracket the worst of the potentially triggering content and a summary is provided if you feel the need to skip that part. Some violence and minor injuries are outside the brackets. If there is a specific TW that you would like me to include in the future feel free to let me know and I will do my best to add it.]

Quackity, Purpled and Charlie, spent over an hour searching through the woods and the land around Las Nevadas, well mostly just Quackity and Purpled while Charlie hovered around asking annoying questions. Neither The Zombie nor Foolish were anywhere to be found.

Quackity told Purpled and Charlie to Head back to Las Nevadas and look there while he did one more check around the perimeter for any clues as to what happened. Quackity took his time. Now that he was by himself he was able to think more clearly. He shoved his hands in his pockets and frowned.

Quackity wasn’t exactly sure what he had witnessed. He’d never seen something exactly like it, one minute Foolish was standing in front of him and the next he was gone and this zombie lady was in his place. He might argue with the other Las Navadas recruits, and they might not have the best opinion of him, but one thing was certain, if anyone messed with them, especially on Las Navadas property, They were messing with him and he wasn’t about to let anyone push him around, not anymore, never again.

Quackity looked up as he rounded a sand dune, the walls of Tubbo’s “cookie” outpost looming up on the edge of Las Nevadas land. Quackity Scowled. One problem after another. The whole conflict about the walls hadn’t really been resolved, Tubbo was being stubborn, unreasonable. But that wasn’t a priority at the moment, he would deal with that latter, right now, he had bigger problems.

Quackity followed along the wall and stopped short on the road in front of the Las Nevadas toll tunnel. Ranboo and Tubbo stood on the road coming from the other direction.

They stared at each other, neither side moving. Then Quackity broke into a smile “Hey there, Fancy running into you two here. You seem to hang around here a lot, have either of you seen Foolish or a strange looking Zombie by chance?”

Ranboo fidgeted and looked away but he was always fidgeting and he was never one for eye contact so that wasn’t exactly a tell.

Tubbo on the other hand, Quackity had been in the same cabinet with him during Schlatt’s presidency, and in the cabinet during Tubbo’s presidency, he knew what the kid looked like when he lied.

“A Zombie you say? What makes you think we would have anything to do with that?” Tubbo shrugged.

Quackity didn’t drop the smile. “Don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly what I am talking about.”

“Honest big man, there are no Zombies here, that's why we built the walls.” Tubbo insisted.

Ok so the kid was getting better at lying. Quackity frowned but the smile returned a moment later. “That's all good. Just be careful, she did something to Foolish, he’s gone missing, I’m worried that if she is allowed to roam free and do whatever she wants then she might do what she did to Foolish to someone else. You understand. I would hate to hear that one of you two went missing.”

Tubbo and Ranboo looked at each other. They definitely knew something they weren’t telling him.

“Thanks for the warning big man, we’ll let you know if we see anything,” Tubbo smiled tightly before grabbing Ranboo’s arm and pulled him aside to whisper in his ear.

Called it. Quackity smiled, his sharp gold tooth glinting in the sunlight. He turned on his heel and headed back down the tunnel towards Las Nevadas.

---

Cleo looked down at the dark water lapping against the stone pier where she sat, her legs dangling over the edge. The air smelled of salt, cold stung her lungs. She wasn’t shivering despite the fact that a crop top and shorts was chronically under dressed for the weather. She didn’t really notice.

Her heel bounced against the wall of the peer as she stared out to sea. Snowchester was secluded, nice and peaceful, but it also felt vacant. There were houses but no one lived in them. Not that that was anything all too strange, Hermits built empty houses all the time, but these felt different. The empty houses the Hermits built were intended just for show, or to conceal functional builds. These houses once housed people, and now were abandoned.

Cleo looked up at the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow and the clunk of boots against the wood at the beginning of the peer. Tubbo and Ranboo stood looking back at her. Tubbo had his hands in the front pockets of his coat and Ranboo stared at her over Tubboo’s shoulder. He never seemed to blink, it was a bit unnerving.

Cleo pursed her lips “Um, thanks for letting me stay here kids, but-”

“You can’t stay here anymore,” Tubbo blurted out.

Cleo blinked.

Ranboo flinched “Sorry about all this, it’s just…”

“Don’t worry about it kid,” Cleo said, getting to her feet, “I was going to leave anyway,” She shrugged.

“Oh really,” Ranboo sighed.

Tubbo frowned “Why? What changed?”

Cleo chuckled hollowly, “I could ask you the same thing.”

Tubbo pursed his lips but didn’t push the issue.

Cleo walked past the two of them and started up the path.

“Wait,” Ranboo called

Cleo stopped.

“Where are you going to stay now?” Ranboo asked. Tubbo just glared at her.

Cleo shrugged and smiled a bit to cheerily “I’m sure I’ll find a nice cave somewhere, after all I am a Hermit,”

“Um,” Ranboo looked off to the side, tapping his fingers together. “If you need it there’s a hotel in the Greater Dream SMP. It’s big and red, hard to miss.”

Cleo chuckled, “I’ll be alright, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Tubbo was still glaring at her. She turned to leave again.

“Just know that if you try and mess with us we can and will defend ourselves,” Tubbo said.

Cleo didn’t turn around “Oh, I know,” She smirked as she walked away. This Tubbo kid had guts, she could respect that.

---

Quackity taped his fingers against his arm impatiently as he waited in the ditch on the Greater DSMP side of the speed tunnel to Snowchester. After talking to Tubbo and Ranboo he had watched from a distance and followed them here.

The splash of oars cutting through the water reached Quackity’s ears as a boat made its way towards his hiding spot. Quackity took a steadying breath, stealing himself as he listened carefully. The boat scraped against the shore and there was a crunch of sand as someone got out of the boat. Only one person.

Quackity stood up and moved into view. The Zombie jumped, summoning her sword as she spun around to face him, teeth bared.

Quackity held up his empty hands and took several steps back. “Woe, woe woe. Hold on. I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“You think?” She scoffed. She didn’t attack but she still had her guard up.

“Just tell me what you did to my friend and maybe we can resolve this peacefully,” He smiled tightly.

“I didn’t do anything! And even if I did, why would I tell you? You already tried to kill me once?” She said. Then her expression changed, as if just remembering something. She lowered her sword and straightened. “What do you know about perma-death?” She asked calmly.

Quackity sucked in his breath and took a step back. Was this a threat or a legitimate question? He looked at the determination in her eyes… It was both.

He fought the urge to summon his axe.

“Do you really think you can kill a Zombie? I’m already dead. The rules don’t apply to me!” She strode forward and pointed her sword at him. Quackity staggered back looking up at her standing over him on the edge of the pit framed by the crystal clear sky behind her.

Was she bluffing?

Fuck.

She spun on her heel and ran the other direction, across the field.

The trance was broken.

[TW: Blood, violence, body horror. Skip to the next bolded text to avoid the worst of it]

“Shit, Get back here!” Quackity scrambled up the bank, summoning his crossbow and letting loose the bolt. It struck her in the leg, but she didn’t even seem to slow down. Had she even felt it? An ender pearl replaced the crossbow and a moment later he felt a sudden rush as he flew through the air, switching to his axe mid-flight. He crashed into her back, embedding his axe between her shoulder blades.

Quackity pulled his axe out of her back and staggered backwards. She wasn’t dead. She hadn’t despawned yet. Maybe she had been telling the truth about being unable to die. Oh wait, she was moving.

She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees coughing up dark sickened blood. She staggered to her feet and turned around to face him again, fire and determination in her eyes.

How was she still standing? That last hit had to have broken several ribs. Quackity glanced at the exposed ribs poking out from under her crop top, edged with decayed flesh. Those had been that way before. Maybe broken bones didn’t matter?

[TW End: Summery: Quackity chases after Cleo, she tanks a bunch of damage but is able to keep fighting despite severe injuries]

Why were his knees shaking? She hadn’t even scratched him this time, and she wasn’t as good at combat as Dream or Techno. Yet she refused to die?

He clenched his teeth and scowled, “I’ll give you one more chance. Tell me what you did with Foolish?” He demanded. Now he was bluffing.

“I. Don’t. Know!” She yelled as she lunged at him, summoning her sword mid swing as she brought it down on him.

He didn’t have time to block. Instead he moved back and swung the axe up. The blunt side of the head struck her in the chin as he felt her sword cut into his shoulder and graze his chest.

She staggered back and switched her sword out for a gapple.

Oh no you don’t. Quackity raised his axe about to lung when he felt someone jump on him from behind. Arms wrapping around his neck in a choke hold. The axe returned to his inventory as he grabbed at the arms around his neck. They were invisible, his attacker was invisible.

“Cleo, Run!” the invisible man shouted.

She froze, the gapple halfway to her mouth “Etho?”

“I said run!”

She turned on her heel and started running, only pausing for a moment to eat the gapple and keep going.

Quackity clawed at the arm around his neck. This Etho guy was invisible. That ment he wasn’t wearing armor. Quackity summoned a sword in reverse grip and stabbed behind him. He heard Etho hiss as the sword grazed him. His grip loosened and Quackity was able to wrestle free. Summoning another pearl he threw it, getting away and landing near some trees. He staggered against one of the trees, coughing and rubbing his neck. He gritted his teeth, his face twisting into and ugly snarl. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She got away. And she had an accomplice.

They made him look like an idiot. He quickly rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. He had promised never to let himself feel helpless again. Never to let other people control him. Yet he had let himself get pushed around by some random Zombie and one guy with an invis pot. Fuck this. He needed to do something about this. He couldn’t let this stand.

#hermitcraft dsmp swap au #dsmp #dream smp #hermitcraft #dsmp au #hc x dsmp au #dream smp au #hermitcraft au #quackity #tubbo #ranboo #zombie cleo #etho

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pinkseas · 2 years

Text

the ladybug miraculous. creation and luck.

we see that this role is best filled by someone with the capacity for leadership, confidence, and quick thinking- someone kind who will not be stepped over, assertive without undermining others, someone who is able to give and appreciate good in the world because they've seen plenty of bad. all traits we see in tubbo throughout the dsmp but especially in his earlier character. when tubbo was forced into a leadership role he suffered greatly for it, but he was a FANTASTIC strategist, planner, and leader overall, putting the people he cares for first every time. the only reason we see that so thoroughly crushed is becase of the impossible position he was put in in canon.

he has a natural affinity not only for creation but for figuring things out that would make the lucky charm simple to use, he’s great at chess and thinks so quickly about threats with the bigger picture always in mind, perfect for strategizing against any bigger enemy to protect the civilians in each fight. id argue that his character has very bad luck overall, not the greatest amount of confidence in himself, and incredible leadership skills with no healthy or good situation to display them. all things which would balance out as the ladybug, allowing him to build that confidence, use his strategic thinking, and grab a little big of extra luck. there’s a very good blend of traits he already embodies and traits that would be brought out and thrive. as a ladybug, he would flourish.

(i do believe that tubbo, as a ladybug ALONE or with the wrong teammates, would fall. the pedestal and idolization would consume him, he would repress and sort his feelings away while handling the weight of protecting the city on his own, become logical and cold and do whatever it took to keep people safe. atlas crushed by the world on his shoulders. it’s very necessary that he have a more understanding black cat or any other teammate to share the burden with, to keep him connected with his own emotion and humanity early on, to remind him that he’s protecting himself from danger as much as he is any civilian.)

also, as the ladybug, tubbo gets to not only keep all the insect connotations but have a real canon elytra. that’s a win for him i think. #girlboss

#dsmp #miraculous ladybug #c!tubbo #added that last line now thinking about a design where he DOES have wings as ladybug but ones that function like minecraft elytra do #not quite flight but gliding #and gliding made VERY fast with the momentum of the yoyo #in theory his weapon could change too just because like i KNOW we see the ancient wielders keep the same weapons just diff outfit designs bu #but *#i like to think the weapons could be tweaked from person to person #yoyo definitely versatile enough that tubbo could come up with a MILLION ways to use it though #he suits the ladybug so well i swear

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thespoonisvictory · 3 years

Note

Hamilton Hot Take: A Hamilton that kept in the deleted songs and workshop versions tell a superior story (So Broadway vs Off-Broadway version). And, no, I’m not just talking about Congratulations (although that one should’ve also been kept).

A significant part of Hamilton’s narrative focuses on the relationship between Burr and Hamilton. From the beginning, their ideologies and the way they get ahead are completely different. Burr keeps his true opinions and thoughts close to his chest. He never reveals anymore than what will make him most agreeable to others. His persona is one of inoffensively likable. Hamilton is quite the opposite. He is never indecisive, always shooting off his own opinions. He takes risks in order to grab at better opportunities, but often this leads him to gathering more enemies. And despite these differences, Hamilton and Burr remain good friends who have a lot of mutual respect (and envy) of one another.

Until the second act that is. And the second act is also unfortunately where things start getting cut and rewritten.

As the dsmp fandom would put it, Broadway A. Hamilton is made “smooth” compared to his original counterpart. He’s much calmer and more reasonable. He’s pride and short temper have been stripped away. And Burr, in comparison, is stripped of much of his more sympathetic traits. Aside from Dear Theodosisa (Reprise) and really any mention of his family being entirely cut, he’s made to be far more malicious and villainous in other songs, compared to their original lyrics.

Take for example, Schuyler Defeated. Both versions start on Eliza and Philip finding out about Eliza’s father being challenged for his seat in the senate. In the Broadway version, Eliza is very unconcerned with this development and she and Philip leave the song as quickly as they entered, happy to go and meet the new senator. The original, in contrast, starts out with a panicked Eliza, desperate to find Alexander because she knows exactly how he’ll take this. Hamilton’s characterization also vastly changes depending on the version. Broadway Hamilton is very calm, innocently asking about Burr’s change in party affiliation. Meanwhile, og Hamilton comes out swinging, already furious, he demands to know when Burr changed parties. Hamilton is far more personally offended in this version, framing Burr running against Schuyler as an attempt to “make a fool of [him],” compared to to the Broadway version where he seems more offended on behalf of his father-in-law. The only thing that stops Hamilton from doing anything stupid for what is essentially just running for senate AND not the personal attack Hamilton views it as, is Eliza and, later in the deleted song “Let It Go,” Washington talking him down from it.

Another example is the Broadway vs original versions of “Your Obedient Servant.” The Broadway version is undoubtedly framed in a deeply negative light. He is furious, unable to understand Hamilton’s support of Jefferson, viewing it as an attempt to keep him from winning, as something done to spite Burr specifically. Meanwhile, the original Burr is more calm in level headed in explaining his feelings. In both versions, Burd makes accusations towards Hamilton. In the original, he backs up his claims with a source in the form of a private letter sent in confidant, while Broadway Burr makes accusations of Hamilton calling him “amoral [and] a dangerous disgrace,” which is never said by Hamilton anywhere and has no basis. This combined with Burr already suggestion they can name a time and place I’d they have a disagreement, makes Burr come across as far more petty and eager to start a fight. Faced with accusation with no basis, Broadway Hamilton responds fairly reasonably, saying he would need to sight a specific source for him to be able to disavow those words, and provides his own list of disagreements with. Original Hamilton, however, is very flippant of the accusations, being incredibly petulant in denying Burr’s accusations, mocking the wording of them. And yes, while both Burr’s escalate the conversations to threats, the Hamilton’s responses show just how different these versions. Broadway Hamilton stands by what he says and defending himself by saying that everything he said is true and that Burr stands for nothing. Which is completely true, so Burr then challenging Hamilton to a duel makes Burr seem unreasonable and angry that Hamilton pointed out how his own ideology screwed him over. While original Hamilton makes the whole disagreement incredibly personal, for no reason, bringing up Burr’s dead wife to mock him. It’s only then that Burr challenges Hamilton to a duel, to which Hamilton agrees to almost immediately, showing how rash the original Hamilton is, compared to the Broadway version who thinks the challenge over for a few seconds before agreeing.

And finally, “Ten Things, One Things,” really shows how far their friendship and understanding of each other has fallen off. Burr’s perspective shows how much he wants Hamilton to apologize and back down from the duel, only realizing at the 8th count that this is a serious duel, and Hamilton won’t be backing down. Meanwhile Hamilton goes into the duel considering the possibility they might die, but as the counting continues he becomes more and more convinced he and Burr will survive. He is specifically is assured of this by realizing it’s not in Burr’s political interests to kill him. While Hamilton scrutizes the area, Burr’s own fear and paranoia takes hold, convinced Hamilton will shoot, Burr resolves to kill Hamilton first, so his daughter will not orphaned. All the while, is so assured of his safety that he starts to think about going to back to his house to see Eliza awaken. Neither one of them are able to fathom the possibility of the other outside of the image they’ve created of each other. Hamilton cannot see a Burr that wouldn’t wait, and Burr cannot see a Hamilton who would throw away his shot.

Far more emphasize is placed on Hamilton’s violent anger in the original, while in the Broadway version this is lost and Burr is pained more as the unreasonable instigator in their deteriorating friendship, when the original makes it so much more complicated than that. Broadway is so much more Black and White in the story it tells, where the villain Burr shoots our hero Hamilton, rather than the far more interesting story of a friendship between two men based on mutual respect, admiration, and envy and how that friendship ultimately changed both until they could no longer understand each other and how that inability to see how the other had changed, led to their ultimate falling out in the form of final duel.

I’m not saying the workshop versions of songs are better musically (I know jack shit about music) but they make Hamilton’s characterization and relationship with Burr so much richer and that’s why the story they tell is so much better to me.

TLDR; Hamilton is less of bitch in the Broadway version and it makes me >:(

I hope this makes sense, I started to ramble

^^^

god damn this is so good idk what to do with this other than nod and tell you to run my blog for me

also- this reminds me of what happened to off broadway orpheus vs live broadway orpheos, bc ob!orpheus is a self confident bitch who was charismatic and funny and I like him so much, and b!orpheus is a awkward little rat creature who doesn't make as much sense both as a character and in the narrative. he got smoothed

#asks #spoon talks musicals #I could talk a lot about the orpheus comparison

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crash-hawk · 3 years

Text

Crash, crash, burn, let it all burn, this hurricane’s chasing us all underground...

Since I recently re-released Three to read in its entirety on Tumblr, I thought I would do the same for the first chapter of the follow-up fic Hurricane: a series of short stories set in the Passerine-inspired Kaleidoscope AU, focusing on the intersections and parallels between the series’ Hermit cast and their DSMP neighbors. Chapter 1 is a direct follow-up to Three, taking place literally hours later, so it’s recommended that you read that one first!

Hurricane is a work in progress, with three chapters completed so far. The rest can be read on Archive of Our Own HERE.

(For a look at what’s going down in this AU’s version of Third Life, check out @lunarblazes‘ devastating Give Me Back My Heart, You Wingless Thing and @exactlymypoint‘s stellar To Stars and Void He Will Return.)

The morning after’s always a bitch.

crash, crash, burn

No matter how many times that you told me you wanted to leave

No matter how many breaths that you took, you still couldn’t breathe

No matter how many nights that you’d lie wide awake to the sound of the poison rain

Where did you go? Where did you go? Where did you go...?

- Thirty Seconds to Mars, “Hurricane”

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A strange hush falls over the island in the hours just before dawn. The moon sinks into the water, unnaturally bright against stars that seem pale and faded and unreal, and seems to take all sound and life with it; the ocean is a vast expanse of smooth glass that barely seems to lap at the shore.

The Queen of the Hunt notices, and it disturbs her.

She does not live with the others in the main village. She makes her home in a vast cavern on the far side of the island, beneath a quaint red-roofed house that’s more decoy than domicile. The house is for the young ones and the new ones, who don’t need to know what she truly is (although every once and again one will come seeking her specifically, usually one who’s seen her in the Starborn’s tournaments, and if they show promise and she has nothing better to do she will take them on.)

She does not live with the others, but she’s aware of the visitors who’d come to their shore the day before. She knows them well, one of them most of all. Her own dark mirror; sometimes her twin and sometimes a stranger, sometimes an ally and more often an enemy. His presence here, in this place meant specifically to keep him out, infuriates her, because she knows it for what it is: both an implicit threat and a deliberate insult on the part of the one who’d brought him along. The thought of marching into the village and demanding that the interlopers state their intent was tempting, the thought of demanding that they leave even more so. But she and her shadow have always been flint and steel, and with each hour that passes the island feels more and more like dry kindling. The Huntress tells herself that no matter what happens, she will not be the one to strike the spark.

She wanders along the northern shoreline, not knowing why, not knowing where she’s going or what she’s looking for. It feels like she’s waiting for something, some coin to drop, some axe to fall.

And then it does.

The land around her has grown sere and scrubby, gnarled oaks making way for the flat-crowned acacia trees local to the northwestern point of the island. A huge mountain, ridged and buttressed like a castle, bulks to the sky, black against the dim, faded stars. She can see lights glowing softly from the windows of the homes her friends have built there.

A scream suddenly bursts from one of the windows.

It shatters the night into a thousand fragments, echoing from stone and tree and water, freezing the Huntress down to the bone because she recognizes it, would know the voice anywhere. That’s Etho screaming, screaming and screaming in terror and agony and something else, something that sounds dangerously close to madness--the Huntress has heard enough screams in her life to know.

She’s running before she’s even aware of it, her bow materializing in her hand from thin air, as dawn crawls over the eastern horizon behind her in a silent white line.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something’s wrong.

It pulses through Pearl’s mind in an insistent feedback loop, crowding out thought as they make their way back down the shore toward the village. George rambles on at her side, the most he’s spoken since she can remember, the most he’s spoken in millennia, she thinks, ever since the old forests were a new thing too huge with potential for her to govern alone. There are other siblings, of course, other gods of life and change and growth, but he is one of the youngest, and the most sensitive. So she smiles and tries her best to listen as he talks and talks and talks, about his woods and his dreams and his nightmares and waking up choking on ash, about his animal friends and the valley he made bloom in honor of one that he lost, about the unlikely friendships she still doesn’t understand, treasure hunts and near misses and the universe saying I’m going to be the best thing that ever happened to you.

“Granted, they’re both idiots, Sapnap especially,” he says, smiling. “But…”

“But they’re your idiots,” Pearl finishes with an answering smile. She can’t help it, she’s all too familiar with the phenomenon. And yet the maddening refrain continues: something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong.

To the east, dawn paints the sky in fragile seashell colors, washing out stars already strangely faint. They’re close, now; Pearl can see the massive, irregular shadow of Scar’s ore pile and the dim violet glow from Grian’s observatory. There are few lights lit, and even though she knows that logically everyone’s probably still asleep, it still sits wrongly. Even at this distance, the village feels shuttered, empty, dead.

“It’s so quiet,” George murmurs. Pearl turns to him, seeing anxiety in his eyes, in the way his arms wrap around himself. He feels it too.

“Some of them should be up by now,” Pearl says absently. “Bdubs at least, he’s staying at Impulse’s house this week and he’s always up and out with the sun, I don’t--”

“I think they’re all still there,” George interrupts, pointing down the beach, to where the the last embers of the campfire still glow dully in the early morning gloom. “It looks like they all fell asleep there.”

Pearl looks, and fear washes over her like ice water.

They’re arranged around the campfire in a ring, the way they gather almost every night if the weather permits. Twenty-some people, it looks like, almost the entire village. Some are still mostly upright, slumped against each other or against the logs of driftwood. Others lie sprawled awkwardly in the sand or curled up tight against the wind. Only one remains alert, prodding idly at the embers as they roast something on a stick.

Footsteps crunch in the sand behind them, making her jump, but she doesn’t turn around. They don’t look like they’re sleeping. Their poses are too awkward, too uncomfortable, as if they’d all been struck by the same bolt of lightning and simply lay as they fell. They look--

“There you are,” complains the approaching voice, all smoke and grit. “I’ve been looking for you all godsdamned night.”

“Sapnap--”

Pearl breaks into a run.

George shouts something after her, but she doesn’t hear it. She runs for the campfire, her cloak and hood flying out behind her, heart pounding in her head and chest and throat.

The one still awake looks up as she skids to a halt in the sand, smiling. “Morning,” he greets. “Breakfast? There’s fish enough for four.”

Pearl ignores him. Up close, she can see that the younger ones do seem to be asleep, piled up on each other in awkward configurations and snoring quietly, but the others...the others…

“What have you done,” she gasps, before she’s even aware of what she means to say.

“What do you mean, what have I done,” Dream asks, blinking. His voice and expression are the picture of bafflement, but his eyes are amused, glittering jade in the light of the rising sun. “I was making breakfast. They’re asleep.”

Impulse still sits next to Dream, slumped over the half-finished clock in his lap, head bowed. Beside him, Bdubs is face down in the sand. She can’t tell if they’re breathing or not. Across the campfire Scar lies curled on his side, arms crossed loosely in front of his face as if to ward off a blow. And beside him--

“Grian!”

For a terrible, terrible moment, Pearl is certain that he’s dead. He lies sprawled on his back, limbs bent awkwardly, boneless and loose as if he’d fallen out of the sky. His wings are invisible, still cloaked, and that’s wrong, Grian can’t hide his wings unless he’s conscious enough to think about it--

She drops to her knees beside him, laying one hand on his chest, the other cupping his cheek. She feels him draw in a breath and sobs, vision blurring with relief. So slow, though, a full minute going by before he draws another, and he’s so cold. Grian isn’t supposed to be cold. Grian is quicksilver and solar flares and lightning in a bottle, rambling speech and manic laughter and too-warm hugs. His fire is gone, his wings are gone. Grian is gone. What lies on the beach beneath her hands is nothing more than a placeholder. A shell. And she knows as certain as moonrise that if she were to go to the others, to lay her hands on their hearts, she would feel the same.

“What have you done?!” she repeats, pale eyes returning to Dream’s.

Dream simply looks back at her, impassive, the unnerving smile still on his face. “Nothing they didn’t ask for.”

“They would never ask for this,” she hisses, standing slowly. She can feel rage beginning to gather in her core, flowing down into her limbs like white fire.

“Dream?” she hears George ask from behind her, quick footsteps shuffling through the sand. “What happened?”

For a heartbeat, she sees the Green God’s expression flicker, a split second of something that might have been surprise or nerves or fear. She doesn’t know, and doesn’t care. Her rage is an incandescent, living thing, as though she’d swallowed a piece of the sun.

“I told her,” he says. “They’re asleep. Dreaming. They asked for a story, and I told one. I might’ve...gotten a bit carried away, but they haven’t been harmed, George. At all. They’ll wake soon enough--”

“They are not asleep!” Pearl cries, and suddenly there’s a spear in her hand, the curved head glittering silver in the misty sunlight. “Do you take me for an idiot? You’ve left their bodies here scattered like so many empty seashells, thinking I couldn’t tell the difference. They’re not here! What have you done to them, you lying bastard?”

In the space between heartbeats a white-cloaked shadow suddenly appears at her side, obsidian blade leveled inches from her neck. “Put it down,” the War God snarls. “Now.”

“No,” she says, not even bothering to look at him.

“You’d break guest right?” Dream asks, still smiling congenially, stepping forward so Pearl’s spearhead rests just below his collarbone. “Your little commune holds that sacred, doesn’t it? You’d run me through in the sight of the sun, in front of your ‘brother’? Well, go on, then. I’m right here. I won’t even dodge. Your place, your rule.”

“Pearl, Sapnap, stop,” she hears George cry, dismayed. “Dream, what the hell’s gotten into you??”

Pearl’s hands tighten around the polished ashwood haft of the spear. The rage in her is burning agony. And yet she can’t move.

The Green God smiles, his eyes the color of acid and chlorine and radiation. “I know you,” he whispers. “I’ve known you since you were formed. You’re not cut out for this role. You don’t have it in you.”

There’s a sudden ‘twang’ and a puff of sand as an arrow strikes deeply into the beach a bare millimeter from Dream’s ankle. Another grazes Sapnap’s cheekbone a second later, drawing a thin line of blood.

“You’re no guests of mine,” a woman’s voice calls from a point above and behind them. “And I do.”

The War God’s sword jerks away from her neck, and Pearl’s paralysis breaks. She whirls, her spear falling from shaking, nerveless fingers, to see False, Lady of War, Queen of the Hunt, standing atop a wave-beaten spar of rock, longbow nocked and drawn. Nor is she alone: beside her stand Iskall of the Mountains, his stone sword carved with runes and shimmering with enchantment, and Wels, Guardian of the Gates of Hell, in full dark armor and wielding a battleaxe the color of smoke.

“You,” Sapnap spits, black eyes narrowed and full of venom.

“Me,” False agrees.

“What the hell,” Iskall thunders, fire glinting in his eye, “did you do to Etho.”

Dream rolls his eyes. “Stars, Void, and In-Between, how many of you are there?”

“More than you’d believe,” Wels answers. “This is our place. Our home. And I think it’s high time you returned to yours.”

“You’ve outstayed your welcome,” the Huntress states flatly, her normally blue eyes as black as Sapnap’s as they drill into Dream. “I suggest that you and both of your friends get in your boat and leave. Right now.”

“Mm,” Dream looks up at the sky for a moment, as if thinking. “And if I don’t care to leave just yet? I never got to read the ending to that story I was telling last night, and your student body was so excited to hear it.” He glances over at the sleeping apprentices, and Pearl feels a stomach-clenching rush of fear and revulsion at the implicit threat. “Besides. You know you can’t kill me. You know it better than probably anyone else here.”

False laughs.

Dream’s forehead furrows, and Pearl is gratified to see that awful smile slip just a notch. “Care to share the punchline?”

“Oh, that’s true enough,” False admits. “You’re right, it won’t be my arrow that brings you down, though I must admit I’d greatly enjoy the trying. It’s just funny to me, how confident you are, considering where you stand.” She smiles, a tight, icy little smile that makes Pearl shiver in spite of herself, as she glances back at the village.

No, Pearl realizes, not at the village: at the rickety, towering sculpture in the center of it...and the yawning sinkhole beneath.

Dream’s smile falls off of his face so quickly Pearl can almost hear it thump into the sand. George stands beside him, looking confused and utterly miserable, hands twisting together. Pearl hates Dream almost as much for putting that expression back on his face as she does for the motionless bodies at her feet.

“What in the hell are you talking about,” Sapnap snarls, scowling in confusion.

“Shall I call him, Dream?” False continues softly, still smiling. “How about it? We’ve all got time, after all, while we wait for our friends to wake. I’m sure he’d be very interested in your stories. He’s a much more courteous guest than you are.”

“He won’t come,” Dream protests, but he doesn’t sound so confident anymore. “He’s busy, and lazy, and thousands of leagues away besides. He’s got a new playmate, and they’re enjoying themselves too much with their little empire down in the Southern snows to bother with you.” The smile returns to Dream’s face as if it never left, but there’s no mistaking the undercurrent of fear in his voice, the obvious way he’s trying to convince himself of what he’s saying. “And why should he answer to you at all, hiding away with your own little playmates on your nowhere island? You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” the Huntress asks, dark eyes glittering.

A tense silence settles over the beach. No one moves. Even the waves seem to hold their breath, waiting to see which way the scales will dip.

“Why?” Pearl finally asks, her voice breaking. “What did we ever do to you?”

“Like I told you, they’ll be awake soon,” Dream says with a shrug. “Ask them.”

“Leave,” False reiterates, her smile gone, her voice cold. “All three of you. And don’t come back.”

“Very well, as my Queen commands,” Dream answers, sketching a mocking bow. “George, Sapnap, let’s go.” He turns to Pearl with a smile, green fire dancing in his eyes. "Until next time, my dear." And with that, he walks away, moving off towards the docks.

Pearl recoils, skin crawling with loathing and a creeping, nameless dread. “George, wait,” she entreats, sorrow and desperation thick in her voice. “You don’t have to go with them.”

George looks back and forth, from her, to False and Wels and Iskall with their weapons drawn, to his two friends, and then back to Pearl. “They’re my friends,” he murmurs helplessly.

He turns, walking off down the beach after Dream. A sob escapes Pearl’s throat.

Of the three of them, Sapnap lingers the longest, staring up at the three on the rocks with his sword still drawn.

“He’ll betray you, you know,” False says quietly.

“Stop talking about things you haven’t the least idea about,” Sapnap grits.

“He will, though. He’ll betray you the way the scorpion betrays the frog in the old tales, because it’s his nature. And because you have something he doesn’t, a capacity he doesn’t understand and never will, no matter how badly he wants it. I know, because you and I are the same. You’ve already begun to discover that capacity, as bumbling and resistant and stupid as you are. When you finally figure out the rest, he won’t be able to stand it. He’ll turn on you, and he’ll hurt you.”

“Whatever you say,” he mutters dismissively, but he sounds unsure of himself. At last, he sheaths his sword, stalking off after the others. Pearl wonders if either of them will remember this incident two days from now, if they'll be allowed to remember it.

When they’re finally gone, their boat nothing more than a hazy speck on the water, Pearl collapses to the sand. She pulls Grian into her lap and holds him, not letting go even as Impulse comes to with a strangled scream, clutching at his abdomen and hurling the half-finished clock into the waves with a cry; as Bdubs scrambles wild-eyed to the water after it, his legs shaking like those of a newborn colt; as Scar begins to cough and gasp and struggle to fill lungs that don’t seem to remember how to breathe; as the apprentices stir, looking around with dazed and uncomprehending eyes.

It’s only when Grian finally wakes, silent and gasping and threatening to shake himself to pieces in her arms, his pupils shrunk to the size of pinpricks, that Pearl finally, finally allows herself to cry.

#Hermitcraft #Hermitcraft Season 8 #Third Life SMP #Dream SMP #Passerine #Fanfiction #PearlescentMoon #c!Dream #GeorgeNotFound #Sapnap #FalseSymmetry #Iskall #Welsknight #Grian #GoodTimesWithScar #ImpulseSV #BDoubleO100 #Kaleidoscope AU

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