#the dsmp is dead long live the dsmp

[crastledivorce]

I think a lot of DSMP discourse comes from the fact that people literally haven't seen the same story.

Each pov is a story. So is the larger SMP. But the only way to view The Story (of the whole DSMP) is by watching literally everything from everyone's pov. Which is impossible. Even besides some content being lost, most don't have the time or motivation to watch nearly all that.

That's all fine and dandy ofc, the fact that the medium is consumed by piecing chapters (vods) from multiple connected stories (povs) to make something is REALLY COOL!

But everyone's story made of everything they've watched varies as what they've watched varies. What they've watched colors how they interpret things. Even aside from personal bias and stuff it's literally Different Versions/Parts/Stories of the DSMP story.

Idk I think if we realized it it might get a little bit nicer around here.

#mcyt #dsmp #dsmpblr #dsmp fandom #discourse mention #the dsmp is dead long live the dsmp #<-my fandom tag

[bumblebeerror]

C!Techno being afraid to die but equally, if not more afraid of Phil dying hits so hard sometimes. The idea that Dying is the worst thing that could happen to you - except, god forbid, your best friend dying first. The idea that c!Techno’s main fear wasn’t necessarily dying, it was being left alone. So much so that while he was terrified of death, and did everything in his power to prevent his own death, he was willing to risk it over Phil’s life every. Single. Time.

He freaks out over every threat to Phil. Every baby zombie, the house arrest, all of doomsday. And the way Phil acts tells us Techno has always been like this - he takes Techno’s coddling as if he’s long since given up trying to prove to him that he can survive on his own, that he can hold his own in a fight - which Phil proves to us basically every fight he’s in. He takes the totem from Techno and keeps it in his hand because “I didn’t want you to get nervous”, he accepts his task as sideliner and chaos-causer, stays out of the main fray, keeps himself alive and unharmed over starting or winning a fight (with a player, that is.).

Phil isn’t as good at PVP as Techno is. I think we can all agree on that, and that Phil himself would say the same. But he’s not bad. Not even a little! Phil possesses a skill in fighting that I think most people lack - the ability to sense when to hit the bricks. Phil knows when a fight isn’t going his way, and he fucking dips. And he’s usually successful in disengaging from a fight as well - which is also a really important PVP skill. You can know when to leave and still not be able to (hi. Hi. I die in pvp a lot. You’ll never guess why.) Phil is also great with a bow, good with a shield, good with a sword, and for all intents and purposes, very proficient in every new fighting skill that one would need in a PVE setting, which is most of them. He’s worked with TNT, Withers, killed the dragon plenty, etc. he’s well able to fight.

But c!Techno is so, so terrified of being left alone in this world that he protects Phil from every threat he can, and some that he can’t. And C!Phil humors him, because let’s be real, the only other option would be to not be friends with the guy.

C!Techno is so scared to die. And he’s so much more petrified of doing it alone.

#c!techno analysis #dsmp analysis #c!techno #dsmp techno #anyway I’m obsessing over a fear of death #I’ve spent so long in the void between wanting to die and wanting to live that the concept of fearing death is kind of alien #i don’t necessarily want to hasten my own death #but I’m not sure how much of a fight I’d put up to defend my life either #you know? I’ve kinda always been half-dead #so techno’s fucking devotion to not dying is so raw and strange and beautiful to me

[sun-is-a-square]

I want so badly to talk about Wilbur’s finale from a lore perspective. To dissect how heartbreaking c!Tommy’s reaction was, how bittersweet the goodbye was. I want to praise Tommy’s acting and Wilbur’s writing. I want to rant about narrative parallels.

But every time I try to my brain gets stuck on the fact that c!Wilbur is from FUCKING UTAH

#c!wilbur get out of my state challenge #> wilbur finale lore spoilers #wilbur finale #also this raises QUESTIONS #if c!wilbur’s letter to c!eret mentioned UT was he fucking with them bcz he knew they’d be confused? #or is c!eret from utah too?? did they work at the same gas station?? #if c!philza is c!wilbur’s father #is c!philza from utah? or did he at least live there while raising c!wilbur? #does the dsmp take place on planet earth or is it another dimension #does cc!wilbur exist on c!wilbur’s version of utah #does c!wilbur get home only to find out some british dude with his face and name roleplayed the events of his life for the past two years #does c!wilbur live in a version of earth where the content creators of the dsmp just dont exist/dont stream? #WHAT ABOUT C!FUNDY #WAS C!FUNDY BORN AND RAISED IN UTAH OR HE BORN IN THE DSMP #DOES HE KNOW HIS FATHERS’ ORIGINS #OR WAS C!WILBUR IN THE DSMP UNIVERSE LONG ENOUGH TO CONCEIVE & RAISE A CHILD?? #IS C!WILBUR PRESUMED DEAD BY THE FRIENDS AND FAMILY IN HIS VERSION OF UTAH

[paused-waterfall]

I am something of a connoisseur of dead fandoms. I don't have the patience for living ones-- my interest tends to fizzle out when it's fed a normal release schedule. So instead, I binge completed works, then binge their most popular 100 or so fanworks, think of nothing else for a month while practically vibrating with unspoken opinions, and then move on. I've picked over many a corpse this way, broken into many a dwindling house party to steal the forgotten hors d'oeuvres then bounce before anyone could catch me in a long-entrenched argument that I only half understand. This is my default way of consuming media.

So trust me when I say that picking up dsmp in 2023 is bizarre.

This is less like wandering through a failed shopping mall, and more like playing Eldritch Horror. There are so many signs of past conflict; so many scattered bits of discourse that I'm trying not to look too closely at for fear of releasing something I cannot comprehend. Everyone uses a special nomenclature to differentiate the characters from their players, and they stick to it like a goddamn lifeline. Any tumblr mentioning the fandom in their bio also immediately follows that with a declaration as either an anti or an apologist for the guy who runs the server. A given creator could be voiceless, faceless, in Antarctica, or on tumblr standing behind you right now. Every bit of lighthearted fanart is paired with an oblique spoiler hinting that every single character and the land they walk on is doomed.

And then there is the very literal reverence for the dead. It's clear that for so many who followed the server in real time, Techno's death is a heavy weight to bear. At least for this latecomer, the legend of Technoblade can't be overstated. Knowing from the start that he wouldn't be there to see the end of this story has not lessened his impact within it. On the one hand, it's not terribly different from experiencing most of the classics-- I don't mourn for Jonathan Swift when I read A Modest Proposal. But on the other hand I know that I'm walking on an open wound. Perhaps it's best that I leave the topic at that.

Who's to say if this fandom will launch back into full force when the second season kicks off. I should probably be sure I'm outside the blast radius before that happens. But for now I'm grabbing all the potatoes I can carry and eyeing the plate of muffins cause man, there's a lotta delicious shit here.

#dsmp #technoblade #death mention #⏸️

[proudfreakmetarusonniku]

THE TOMMYINNIT DSMP FINALE RECAP!!!

(Fair warning, this stream DOES contain c! and cc!Dream!)

The stream opens up to a black screen, with “It’s All Over But The Crying” playing in the background.

Tommy starts in his house, items left over in a chest for Tubbo. Sadly, he mentions it’s his last hour. He meets up with Tubbo, and after about a minute of Tubbo forgetting to join the call, they have one last walk down the Prime path while talking. He talks about meeting Schlatt, the Duel, and then decides to go to the museum.

Tommy panics a little at the final control room recreations, and looks through a few for the books. Then, he and Tubbo decides to go into the Camaravan to reminisce about their past, when they were young- only sixteen.

Tommy promises after his death the server will be whole again, and after a year of sadness, Tubbo should look back on their time together with a smile. It might not be the happiest day, but they shouldn’t mourn yet. They have a duty, and it’ll be over.

Tubbo feels horrible over killing Tommy, and Tommy reassures him that it’s only pressing a button. And then Tubbo can live for a long time, taking care of Micheal and his loved ones.

Tubbo is in denial, saying that this can’t be it, but Tommy points out all the ways of saving him won’t work. He also makes a Wilby joke, and laughs about the fact that at least they’re not crying anymore. He tells Tubbo to go into his house and read a book once he, Dream and Punz are dead, and looks wistfully at the L'Manberg photo, before handing it to Tubbo, saying it’ll be like that for him once it’s over, except he'll have no wars and new friends.

Tommy asks Tubbo if he’s ready, and Tubbo says no. He asks how the world can be just after this, and Tommy says it isn’t. He asks for the photo of L'Manberg for the road, and allows Tubbo to take the bench instead, and says goodbye. They have a final fist bump.

Tommy takes a deep breath, and reassures himself that it’ll allow everyone to live happily ever after- even the ones he didn’t like- and this is what he has to do. He takes a final breath of fresh air before entering the prison, and says goodbye to the SMP.

Tommy panics about the prison, but wanders through, looking for Dream. He sings “You Spin Me Right Round” to comfort himself.

Tommy engages Dream and Punz and tries to duel him, which makes Dream laugh, and call Tommy a comedian. Tommy starts goading Dream about Spirit, and talks to Punz about exile. He admits he almost killed himself, but Punz says the world doesn’t revolve around Tommy. Punz tries to leave, but Tommy blocks it off.

Dream mentions that he could have revived Tommy anyway, and says that it’s Tommy's fault for exile. Tommy counters by asking why he took the discs, and why he’s obsessed with them (and Tommy), and asks him to explain why he did everything. Dream laughs and says Tommy must have doubts, and asks if he's trying to join.

Dream says nothing matters except for knowing what we are, and he'd sacrifice even himself for that. Tommy responds that they’re people, and asks if that’s enough. Dream says no, and asks what Tommy's going to do- just die? What if he and Tubbo could live forever?

Tommy says that life is about taking it slow and having happy moments, just enjoying it. He says Dream could have had fun with him, and Dream says Tommy destroyed that chance. He says he’s a bitch because Tommy's a pest, and that none of the pain he caused matters. He asks if Tommy would have been okay in Limbo forever if he killed himself.

Tommy takes off his armour, and apologises. He says Dream’s always been after power, and asks how he can handle it. Handle the pain of dying, like it’s nothing? Dream says it doesn’t matter, and kills Tommy.

Tommy sees the beginning of the server in limbo, confused. He begs to be brought back, saying he doesn’t want to be alone. He takes a sudden, deep breath, and is revived. Coughing and wheezing and clearly in pain, Dream calls it nothing while Tommy has a panic attack. The two of them ask Tommy what he saw, as he cries in pain.

Tommy asks Dream how he can live with that, and Dream says it sucks now but once he can live forever with everyone it’ll be worth it. The ends justify the means, right? Even if it sucks for Tommy.

Tommy tells Dream what he saw, about how he was happy before he fell into his obsession. Now, he’s excited at the thrill and adrenaline, but back then, he was just simply happy. He doesn’t even see his friends. He desperately tries to appeal to the good that must still be inside him.

Tommy surmises that Dream just wanted it to be simple, and that’s why Dream hurt him so bad, and he now understands a little, but that this isn’t right. Dream might want friends, and he gets that. Punz, offended, asks if he’s his friend. Tommy desperately tried to empathise with Dream, and tell him to stop, tell him to stop, but Dream says it’s too late.

Tommy asks him to grow old together, and if that isn’t enough? Dream says he doesn’t know, and Tommy begs him to know why not, and Dream says he doesn’t want to be alone, and why can't he let him make it simple again?

Dream asks if it’s not too late, and Tommy says it is, because of the nuke. Tommy apologises, and says it’s too late. The screen goes white, and a ringing noise plays.

Tommy wakes up somewhere else, with Tubbo and Dream, in a completely fresh server. They don’t know who each other are, and offer to work together. The camera fades to black.

c!dream “i will change my whole way of life when the kid i said i hated talks to me for fifteen minutes my philosophy is logical” was taken, everybody.

#dream smp #tommy #dream #punz

[elmhat]

// dsmp rp

So. Quackity and Wilbur.

Their dynamic is fascinating to me because it's all about perception. It's always about perception, with Wilbur. That's his thing throughout L'Manberg: the greatest power is the power to control the narrative. Wilbur learns this early on. He wields this power well, in the ways in which he demonizes his enemies (Dream, Schlatt) and simultaneously glorifies the image, the idea of L'Manberg—and, by extension, the idea of himself. When Wilbur does something, everyone knows about it. You can't ignore him. It's by design.

Quackity, at this stage, barely seems to even qualify for the "enemies he demonizes" category. He's a small player, the little fish in the pond, another pawn on Wilbur's board, and not even a particularly useful one. He's also one of the first people to take a stand against Wilbur. When Quackity condemns Wilbur for his rigged election and runs against him, he is beginning a rivalry that will continue for as long as they live—but they are not yet enemies. Quackity isn't important enough for that.

It's at this point that I think their dynamic is really established as an imbalanced one. From the start, it's pretty much guaranteed that Wilbur is going to win. Everyone knows it. Everyone breathes it. Not only that, but from Quackity's perspective, it seems like no one particularly cares about Wilbur's blatant corruption, not in any way that matters. After all, he won their independence! He's the hero of the people! For Quackity, someone who decided to run in the first place to oppose corruption, it's a huge slap in the face.

From that point, it spirals. Quackity is humiliated during the debates; he's not as well-spoken as Wilbur, not as sure-sounding, and his points about "teaching people to be kind to each other" are brushed off as laughably naive. They talk about it afterwards, and Wilbur tells Quackity that there is no peace without power, and there is no peace without violence. Quackity doesn't believe him yet.

They are not equals. In most interactions they have, Wilbur is talking down to Quackity like he's his subordinate rather than his political rival, and Quackity definitely internalizes it. The humiliation deepens. His own running mate sleeps through the election. The humiliation deepens. His only hope is to make a deal with the devil, and he does so without second thought, for the chance at having something over Wilbur. It works. Then it backfires. Now Quackity is being associated with the cruel regime that Wilbur is condemning as hoardes of followers flock to his side at Pogtopia, and Quackity is still stuck with Schlatt, abandoned and talked over and kicked into the dirt over and over and over again. The humiliation deepens.

I think what Quackity feels towards Wilbur is something like resentment, something like jealousy, and all of it merges with his embarrassment and his self-loathing to become a horrible form of admiration. Wilbur can rig an election, blow up his own fucking country, and still be praised. As Quackity picks up the scraps Wilbur left behind and tries hopelessly to piece them back together, working without glory or recognition, people still speak Wilbur's name like he was a god among men, the only chance they had at freedom, "if only he never went mad."

But Wilbur is dead now, and Quackity is alive. Maybe, finally, it can be his turn. He thinks back on everything that went wrong and he remembers what Wilbur told him about power and violence, and this time he knows it's true because he saw Wilbur succeed. He puts it to the test. He forms a group to bring Techno to justice and he loses a life and he loses an eye. He forces the formation a new nation where his friends can be safe and it's ripped apart before his eyes and his friends abandon him anyway. And this, this, is too much humiliation for one man to handle. Wilbur wasn't wrong, far from it—the problem, as always, lies with Quackity. Clearly, he isn't going far enough.

The way I see it, the beginning of the Las Nevadas arc is the beginning of Quackity's lifelong obsession with burying the past. He doesn't regret anything that happened, because it was all essential to him becoming the newer, better person his is today. He's not naive and he's not weak, not like he was back then. He's not the side character from Wilbur's story. But thinking about that person makes him horribly uncomfortable and ashamed, so he tries not to, and he makes sure other people aren't thinking about it either.

The new identity he crafts for himself is not only modeled on Wilbur, but also on Dream, Schlatt, and everyone else who used their power against him. It's a weird little paradox he creates: all of these players are gone now, but Quackity is bringing them with him, even while he simultaneously refuses to dwell on their history. He rants about how Dream abused the power of attachments to control the server, and in the same conversation, Quackity decides to abuse the power of attachments to control the server. But Wilbur, arguably, left the most impact. Everything Wilbur ever said, everything he ever did—Quackity treats it all as lessons, and he learns fast. If Wilbur says he will have to torture then Quackity will become a torturer. If Wilbur uses manipulation and coercion to draw people in then Quackity will do the same.

It's worth mentioning, though, that their styles of manipulation have some key differences. Wilbur's greatest asset was his charisma, and from this, he was able to craft his perfect illusion for L'Manberg: a nation so peaceful that no armor should be worn within its walls, oppressed under Dream's brutal authoritarian rule. The message was that everyone had to stand together (under Wilbur's leadership, naturally) in order to stand a chance against their shared enemies. Wilbur also had the benefit of being the first person to create a nation independent of the Greater SMP, which couldn't hurt in making his cause more appealing.

Quackity doesn't have any of this. With the server already fractured upon Las Nevadas's creation, he instead focuses on the more individualized elements of his people's citizenship. Wealth, land, personal glory, and a whole lot of other promises he can't keep. The message isn't "join so we can help each other," it's "join so you can help yourself." And Quackity sells this message in very questionable ways! He destroys property; he facilitates murder and threatens it again. Why not, right? Violence is power, and all that. High risk, high reward. He's a gambler at heart. But this mindset sets Las Nevadas apart from L'Manberg in some serious and detrimental ways—namely that the people under Quackity's control are only there because they want to gain something from him. There is no loyalty here, no anthem to sing with fond memories of the good old days. The only thing that binds them to Las Nevadas is a flimsy contract that some people didn't even sign. When Quackity's sweet words run dry, he'll have nothing left to give them. It's a ticking time bomb.

The thing is, I don't think Quackity fully realizes his mistake. I think Las Nevadas is a genuine attempt to mirror Wilbur's L'Manberg, with a failure to understand why L'Manberg worked. That's the difference between them: Wilbur, to some extent, appears to be aware of the web he's weaving, and how difficult it will be for others to break free from it later down the line. Quackity, on the other hand, lives in the moment. He talks obsessively about his legacy, but that legacy is built on the foundations of a series of impulsive decisions, each one creating more and more cracks until eventually the whole thing will collapse.

And then Wilbur comes back. This is bad.

Wilbur, essentially, has stood as the physical embodiment of the past that Quackity is trying to bury. Wilbur is where it all started going wrong. Wilbur's goddamn unfinished symphony. All that shame, resentment, doubt, it was all Wilbur. Wilbur started him down this path, and so Quackity wrote him a letter and left it on his grave and closed that chapter of his life for good. Well, now that letter is in Wilbur's hands, and he's arrived on Quackity's doorstep, back to his usual power plays and demeaning comments like has nothing even changed, like no time has passed at all.

This is where that idea of perception becomes so important—because, in reality, Wilbur and Quackity's power dynamic has completely flipped. Quackity is now the one with a nation of his own, an army at his command, while Wilbur is left with nothing. But neither of them acts like this is the case! If Wilbur's greatest asset was always his charisma then he's sure as hell going to use it here, and he's going to assert himself as someone who is still to be listened to. Saying you're powerful isn't so different from it being true. And as someone who always looked down on Quackity, intentionally or not, I think it's really hard for Wilbur to see Quackity succeeding where he no longer is. Las Nevadas is supposed to be L'Manberg, and he can recognize it immediately. He can't be outdone like this. Not only is it humiliating for his life's work to be so blatantly copied, but it's also an affront to Wilbur's legacy. If new countries can grow when L'Manberg is dead and gone, then why should L'Manberg be remembered? Why should Wilbur be remembered? He has no other choice but to insert himself into the equation. Not to mention, he already knows that Quackity respects him; he told him himself. Wilbur can work with this.

For Quackity, it's also easy to fall back into that old line of thinking. Two things he knows about Wilbur: that he is powerful, and that he is unstable, which instantly flags him as a threat. Being dangerous, being feared, is a kind of power in itself, and Quackity has a lot to be afraid of these days. He stands to lose more than he ever did before. If Wilbur is acting like he has power, then maybe he does, and any time Wilbur has had power in the past has meant that the power is definitively not Quackity's. It's only meant pain for him. And yet, the admiration remains: Wilbur's revival comes at a time when Quackity's life is changing very quickly and very drastically. He's trying to balance the arrivals of the new Las Nevadas members, Slime's mentoring, the casino, the Egg, the prison, Techno, and his relationship with Kinoko, and he will soon also have to deal with the outpost land disputes. He's relatively new to this whole leadership thing, and it's become overwhelming faster than he anticipated. Wilbur has experience with this. He's smart. Quackity can work with this.

But instead of working together, their relationship becomes a constant race to outdo each other, followed by what are frankly pretty pathetic attempts at acting superior and unaffected. This, I would say, it more important for Wilbur than it is for Quackity. Quackity has a life, he has so many better things to be doing, he doesn't need this distraction. But for Wilbur, ruining Quackity's plans for his nation becomes as much an obsession as a psychological necessity. It's as if he's trying to prove to Quackity that he's still powerful, but in doing so, he admits that he needs Quackity's approval. And if Las Nevadas is a reflection of L'Manberg, then Quackity is a reflection of Wilbur—which means that Wilbur is essentially trying to demonstrate his current worth to his younger, more successful self.

And that's the crux of it. At the end of the day, Quackity built his identity on the foundations Wilbur left behind, and now they both have to live with the consequences of that decision. The result is that their personalities are very similar. And sure, Quackity's always had that reluctant respect for Wilbur, but if Wilbur really sees L'Manberg in Las Nevadas, and if he really still values what L'Manberg did for him, then does that not also translate into a reluctant respect for Quackity? They're a mirror, and when they look at each other, they don't like what they see. This is what they've become. They've realized that they're long past the point of return.

#c!quackity #c!wilbur #c!tntduo #dream smp #dsmp analysis #lore thoughts #does this make sense? I hope this makes sense #I didn't really proofread…

[rutadales]

Do you not think cDream is the villain? Sorry this is not at all meant to be agressive or anything, I just have trouble understanding that interpretation. I’m genuinely interested in what you think bc I’m not as well versed in lore as many dsmp fans but from what I’ve seen, cDream is a pretty unequivocally bad person. I think few of the characters aren’t to be fair, but though cDream is more complex than the common interpretations, he doesnt necessarily seem to be morally better? Again, don’t mean to sound rude or anything!! Just kinda trying to understand :)

So this question kinda expands into several branching off points for me, but I'll try to keep it simple and break it down into sections as best I can. this is going to get long

So do I think c!Dream is a villain? Depends on what definition you're using first of all but also in what context, in which storyline, and from whose perspective you're consuming the story from. A strength of SMPs as storytelling devices is that the concrete plot and hard facts of the story are often pretty fluid; what happened when, who was there, who saw what, and who is a villain or a hero is all dependent on which stream you chose to tune into at the time. But as much as this is a strength, it's also a detriment. Entire character beats and motivations can be missed or obfuscated by simply not tuning into a creators stream. A big example of this is how many people missed the Staged Finale reveal, anyone who didn't watch Punz stream will still be operating under the belief that everything Dream did in the disc finale was his true nature, and not an act. Completely changes how to interpret those characters and the entire finale as a scene.

The nature of stream based storytelling is audiences are consuming completely different stories, simultaneously, and there's no hard copy of this story. It's not a book you can go pick up at Barnes and Noble or a movie you can stream on Netflix. To get caught up and engage with the fiction you either have to go back and rewatch hundreds of hours of live content (with dead space and parts that have been completely ret-conned), watch recaps edited by third parties who are at liberty to cut out anything they deem irrelevant to the story, or get it exclusively word of mouth by the audience. A character being more loved by the audience now means that character's narration is given higher value in contrast to other characters. Even supposedly non-biased sources, like the fan wiki, meant to lay out bare bone facts of the story are riddled with un-sourced fan interpretations of the media. Look here

Now, reading a characters unreliable narration as reliable isn't a failing as it is more just engaging with the media as intended. The intent of utilizing unreliable narrators is often to "trick" the audience or to showcase how that character sees the world. Its fine and is used is a lot of different mediums, I'm actually a huge fan. Love me some bitches who just lie. The thing is, due to everything I've laid out above, having a character who is unreliable, like c!Tommy often is, in this medium means fans who only consume the content via world of mouth are getting an unreliable narration without the context that its unreliable. This completely changes entire swaths of the fiction and more, to our point, who is the villain.

A really, kind of neat phenomena in the fandom is how fans bought into c!Wilbur's lies about L'manberg the same way the characters he was manipulating did. Fans became part of the narrative in a strange way. Which is actually a perfect example for how other characters shape the narrative around Dream, both within the fiction and within the fans trying to engage with it.

With that in mind, I don't even read the dsmp as a story with "villains" or "heros", its a story with a lot of different perspectives that clash with each other. Those terms don't really lend themselves to the kind of questions I'm asking about the story.

I think the question you're really asking is "Do you think c!Dream is a good person". You bring up being "unequivocally bad" and moral a couple different times, which to me flags as a question about fictional morality. Because the question of who is a villain in the dream smp is completely dependent on who you watch, which streams you've watched, and whosever narration you decided to subscribe to-- and is why I find the label villain in dsmp analysis fairly mute. It's kinda a pointless exercise to try and determine who earns that label and who doesn't. Not the kind of analysis I'm interested in.

But to answer the question I think you imply here, no I don't think c!Dream is a good person. I don't think anyone on the smp is. Maybe Michael? Well he tried to break into a prison for information, so by some moral standards, absolutely not! I'd certainly agree with you that Dream is more complex than common interpretation would lead us to believe, but that complexity does lend itself to morality in some cases.

Is Dream wrong to want to prevent his home from being split up into countries and thus filled with conflict? Is it worse to threaten, torment, and assault someone because you're pathologically obsessed with them or because you have a larger goal in mind and find those actions beneficial to the goal at hand?

To me, that's it's just pointless hole to get sucked into. I am personally uninterested in ideas of a character possessing or gaining moral purity and much more interested in characters learning to move on from the harm they've caused. C!Dream is interesting to me, not because he's a good person, but because hes a complex one. TL;DR: I am uninterested in using villain as a term within the context of dsmp and find the discussions of the moral goodness of characters reductive.

If you have any other questions feel free to shoot me an ask! I actually quite enjoy breaking down how I think about characters and media and am always open to (friendly) discussions on the matter. <3

#root talks #dreblr #c!dream #hopefully this helps you understand #i tend to be long winded but i really did try to keep myself on track here #dreblr moots feel free to chime in here as well if u want #ask #anon

[nefkyology]

THIS IS A GANG AU TNTDUO ONESHOT

Sorry I didn't come up with a name in time, but it's exactly that. it's both qsmp and dsmp characters and there's guns and homosexuals. enjoy

They walk through the house in silence. This is one of those rentals Schlatt has been tethering around a whole lot, it's strategically close to the Sunday markets and, maybe not coincidentally, to the turf border. Cheap furniture, expendable evidence. "Now listen," the man starts off once they've all walked in a single file line, "we're all gonna sit down and discuss some very critical information." he says, rubbing his hands as he lets them all get comfortable wherever there's space in the living room. There's only one couch and an armchair, Quackity walks around but all the seats are filled with a snicker, Jack basically leaps into his as long as he doesn't get it. “Really funny, asshole.” he groans. When he remains to stand, Schlatt orders him to sit down again, so he's forced to go and retrieve a chair from the dining room. "There's no time to waste here, the meeting will be in an hour." "Who are we meeting?" Tubbo asks naively. "We're meeting the Watsons at the rental shop. It'll be a quick affair." Fit reveals. Quackity scoffs in annoyance then, just as he's returning with the chair. "Are you serious? Why did we have to dress up so well then, I can't even fit my clips in these suit pockets!" "It's going to be a formal agreement of peace between our turfs." "Are you kidding? The eldest Watson wants me dead and we're going in there all together, no formation!?"

“We won't need one.”

Then he's surrounded. They close him into a circle and pull him in all directions. Someone starts pulling at his hair to tie it into a braid, someone dust him off and buttons his shirt, fixes his tie. "Hey, hey! What the fuck is--" "You're the centerpiece of this operation, you'll have to look good." "Why? Get off, Christ, stop!" "Sit still, Q!" Roier tugs his hair back slightly, and when the other tries to grab him to land a punch to the side of his head, Tubbo breaks them up. "Big Q, come on, you just have to let us." "Why??? Can someone please tell me what the deal is??"

Schlatt walks forward now, hands behind his back. "Listen, Watson has three sons, alright? The eldest hates you, the youngest is a little brick-slinging shit. But the middle brother, luckily for us, is a little backwards, and they've agreed they want him married off and childless. You see where I'm going with this?" "You want me to seduce him?!" "I don't want you to, you'll have to. I've already promised you to them." "WHAT?! FUCK THAT." he's kicking and screaming now, trying to get away before Roier can start putting flowers in his black hair. He doesn't get far, not even out of the door. Jack trips him and he goes forward on his hands and knees. "We need something that'll bury the hatchet and buy us some time to become friendly with the Watsons. Obviously we've got no ladies to offer to the youngest, but technically you are still my pupil." Schlatt explains. Quackity replies with a series of not very gentle words, so Schlatt forces him to look up with gritted teeth that translate to a restraint from violence.

"Listen, this could be good for you. He's not an impulsive ass, he's got a few vices, you'll be set if you just please him a little." "You seriously think he won't try to finish the fucking job once he looks at me?" Quackity cries out, looking over to someone, anyone who's not also gone completely mad. But nobody defends him. "He has notoriously refused to participate in quarrels unless his direct family was involved, so I think he lacks the trigger discipline to just shoot point blank." Fit interjects, which only makes Quackity scoff in bewilderment. That's it, that's his insurance?? Schlatt forces his shoulders forward and instructs him some more. "Look, just sit on his right, he'll see your left and it'll be too late to back out when you have to look at him!" Schlatt laughs then "Come on Q, smile! It's a wedding!"

Quackity's head spins, he doesn't want this, he was ready for anything but this. Now there's beads of sweat around his forehead and he has to keep drying them off with his handkerchief until he's given a clean one. They put a flower in his buttonhole and dust him off, powder his scar up with the first thing they found in the ladies room, let him have a drink before he's walking back out - a long swing, it's only fair.

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They reach the parked caravans, the Watsons are sitting on the front porch of the rental shop. "That's gonna be your ride." Schlatt points him to one stationed a few feet ahead, a clean wagon with flowers and boxes, supposedly gifts, already packed inside. Mrs Watson watches them from her rocking chair, her black veil gone just for today, but maybe it's not a good thing. Her eyes are more piercing than ever. Mr Watson stands at her side with his cane, holding her hand patiently. Blade and his brother Tommy stand on the other side, stiff and quiet. "Good morning mates." Mr Watson says with the most gentle smile he can manage. It's nice, though equally as terrifying. "Good morning. Madam." Schlatt bows to her slightly from the bottom step, but she doesn't seem in a talking mood. "Well go on, show us the groom." the man of the house cuts the chitchat before it even starts.

Quackity steps forward, head up high, as per order. Blade never takes his eyes off of him, not when he fixes his glasses, not when he bows his head forward to answer a whispered question from his little brother. The whole house stares at him in silence. "My eldest over there respects you, son." Mr Watson says, and Quackity would laugh if it felt like a joke. He feels his skin start to sting along wherever the white powder has seeped into the flesh and he's forced to close his bad eye. The madam notices, "Can you see well, son?" she asks. Her voice is so crisp and clear in comparison. "Yes madam." he answers. She raises her hand still clasped in her husband's and he reaches around for something.

Quackity braces, Schlatt is ready behind him. But the man is not armed, he shows them what's underneath his jacket as he puts his hand behind his back. "We're just gonna test him." he says, and then he tosses him something. He catches it fast, without taking a step forward, it's a bouquet of simple wild flowers. Madam and Mister laugh, Schlatt sighs with relief and does as well. "Yeah, you'll do." the madam says, and quickly he's dragged inside while his mates cheer. The lady of the house fixes the poor powdering job with a sponge as they sit down in the back of the shop. Madam Watson looks almost like a nice woman when up close. "You know, my maiden name is Gold." she says while she's got his chin in her grip "You'll be inheriting that, for safety." "T-Thank you, madam." His own is officially a forgotten last name now, he realizes, but he doesn't say anything. He's always been called something else anyway. He opens his bad eye on her command and she doesn't tell him to close it again, just makes him stand up and go to the bathroom and cautions him to wash his hands.

He's back out in one piece and carted off to the ceremony. Outside a small communal chapel there's some three, four rows of straw seats being filled up by family friends and business associates. The groom is already there, kneeling, luckily he took the praying bench on the right. But he's tall, he's way taller than him. Taller than Blade too. Thinner, but probably not harmless either. Quackity starts sweating again. "If he's ugly I'm killing the entire hall." he whispers to Schlatt, who just shoves him forward to go sit in front of the pastor, an old dog who's probably not even sure where he is unless he's been paid enough. He walks along the chairs and he knows there's no way this will go smoothly.

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The pastor starts his long winded speech and Latin-verse sputtering with his hands on the book and his eyes over the crowd. Quackity stares at his crucifix the whole time, he can't look at this guy, he won't. But he does. The groom whispers. "Hi. Uhm, I'm Will. People call me Wilbur." British accent, of course the sons who are bound to Mr Watson by blood never lost that. "I-I've heard some things about you, but I didn't know you were so pretty." this moron breathes nervously into his general direction. He doesn't sound older than forty though, unlike some other terrible dates. It's definitely hard to call this a date in general, but he's trying to keep at least a bit of his sanity in check here. So he spares him a look, just one. Holy shit (quite literally) he's not bad at all. Eyes like oak tree bark, the likes that squint when one laughs and get buried into bright red cheeks, clean face, slick jaw, just a pretty one overall. Quackity snaps back at Schlatt on the other end of the hall, Schlatt grins. Now he has to keep looking forward, not say anything, keep looking at his cross. God likes to mess with him like this. Wilbur sounds a little disappointed, but not discouraged. "I'm really nervous, sorry." he admits in the anxious struggle, and he goes back to silent prayer. Well, he couldn't have been perfect, Quackity thinks.

They say yes to each other quickly and clearly, the mixing of blood is maybe the only part Quackity would've rather skipped if he knew his hand was going to be so tense at the cut. It bleeds a lot. “Are you alright?” Wilbur whispers to him, “I'll live.” he chuckles. At the proper exchange of the rings he keeps his head as low as it can be and only looks up for the kiss. Wilbur looks taken aback for a second and stops halfway. The fairytale is over, isn't it? But they've already been declared married and this old priest just wants them to get it over with so he won't have to look. Quackity smiles grimly, if he's not going to get a move on he will, and he raises his hand to kiss his knuckles instead. Luckily it counts and cuts through the tense awkwardness. His groom seems to just hum.

Everyone claps, some with restraint, some with actual sincerity, and the newlyweds stand up to be announced. "Mister and Mister Gold-Schlatt." Schlatt seems satisfied. Quackity doesn't interject. It's the other groom who looks back at the pastor, "Sorry, wait, it's Gold-Maldonado now, is it not?" he asks, and the priest corrects himself with disgruntled patience. A proper, shorter applause now. "That's alright with you, right Alexis?" Wilbur asks. "Oh, y-yes. Thank you." he answers with rushed appreciation to look back at his guardian. He's not as contempt as before, but he just shrugs at him and doesn't say anything. Maybe because Tubbo is there to put a hand on his back and keep him in place.

They briefly walk in the chapel to let the couple sign the papers. To their delight, and maybe to the pastor's horror, the two don't burst into flames. Wilbur signs his name first, with ease. It's clear he's been using the last name Gold for a while. Right as he gets to the hyphen, he looks briefly back at Quackity to ask him if he's spelling his right, and uncharacteristically, he laughs. He appreciates it, the honest uncertainty rather than trying to wing it. “Yes, yes it's Mal-do-na-do. Same syllable twice.” “I like it.” his now husband says as he hands him the pen.

The wedding feast is a pretty simple yet loud affair. Lots of neighbors have come along, most are yet to realize there's no bride because the grooms have separated into their own groups. Some just don't care and either add or subtract from the food and wine. Quackity hasn't met anyone of the Watsons and has got no blood bonds to share except Schlatt, who's just watching from the side and coming in to whisk away unattended bottles. Wilbur won't introduce him to them, he respects that, in a way. His groomsmen enjoy themselves, but Tubbo hugs him and hypes him up more than the others, who just offer him drinks and pat him on the back. "Is he rich? Is he rich Big Q?" he asks while shaking his shoulders.

"I-I think so, the band isn't copper." Quackity says while he fidgets with it. Not too bad, he must admit, it's almost his size.

"Yes!! Ask him for more next time!"

"Toby."

"What, it's free money! You can ask him for more rings that look like your wedding band and sell the old one every time."

"Tubbo, I'm not scamming my husband!" Quackity shakes his head, just in time for the aforementioned to appear behind him. "You guys enjoying yourselves?" he asks as if they were guests, a hand tentatively on Quackity's shoulder. Quackity looks up at him and nods, "Yeah, it's very nice out here." he mutters. Still has to get used to this. "Good, good. Uhm, listen, my brothers would like to talk to you." he says.

Quackity feels his heart stop. They're going to finish the job, aren't they? He steps back carefully. "I-I don't really... Maybe let's leave that for tomorrow and focus on the party first." "They insist." Wilbur states. Some ten feet behind them, the two are waiting next to one of the tables, arms crossed. Tubbo urges him not to go with a simple tug at the back of his coat. "Please, it'll only take a minute." Wilbur pleads again. And though he doesn't mind the sweet little voice he’s using, he's not going to follow him anywhere. So they have to walk to him. Quackity scans their hands, their stance, their jackets for any bulges. They wouldn't kill him in public, right? That would lead to a shootout, too many witnesses, too much blood. They're not a mile from the shop, this chapel is a sanctuary for the farmers in the area, they wouldn't do this, no. They'll just put the fear of God in him.

Wilbur puts a hand around his side and introduces him to one who definitely isn't his arch nemesis. “Alex, this is… Alex! You guys never knew you had the same name, I'm guessing.” he chuckles as he points him to his brother, then to the other, who doesn't wait for an introduction, “I'm Big Toms.” he says with a forced cold demeanor. He is neither big nor plural, Quackity finds, and just saw him running around with the other kids a second ago. But he indulges him anyway.

“Hi. I'm Quackity.”

“Weirdo name. Your name's Alexis.”

“On paper it is.”

Blade, or Alexander on paper, reaches over and pinches the shorter one's ear. “He's just Tommy. Please ignore him.” he says, and the blonde boy tries to punch him, which also doesn't work. “Oi, fuck off! I can't be ignored, I'm the best man.” he retorts. “You're the groom's brother, no one gave you the title of best man.”

“Wilbur said I was the best man this morning!”

“Wilbur?”

“I said you're the best, man. There was a comma, Tommy.” the middle brother explains, which makes Quackity snicker and giggle into his hand. Seems they're too busy disciplining this wild card to get on with any plan that wouldn't involve him yelling it out immediately. Tubbo seems interested in this guy, so when he finally scampers off to play soccer with a leather ball, he follows.

“My more mentally sound brother wanted to say something.” Wilbur presses on the conversation, but neither are going to talk for or with the other. Quackity stares at him with the usual spite, maybe a little highlighted by the fact he's in the family now and there's nothing he can do about it. He's quite proud of being able to shove that in his stoic face. He adjusts his glasses after another beat of silence and clears his throat, raising his glass. Oh, he's going for a speech. People start looking at them, quieting down, the soccer ball rolls away into the wet grass and the children are told to retrieve it in silence. “Good evening everyone.” he starts, his voice a little booming. This is true cold, Quackity thinks, vigilant eyes and straight shoulders. He continues, “As much as I despise public speaking, I do want to share my congratulations with my brother and his husband.” his glass points towards Wilbur. “Will, as much as you have been a consistent annoyance to me, you’ve at least graced me of not being like Tommy forever and actually got your life together. You are too a lover of the fine arts and I admire that. Only that, not much else.” “Love you too.” Wilbur chuckles. Now it's his turn, he feels it on his skin, the breath he takes before he moves his glass towards someone else. “Alexis,” he says, "we have not met in friendly circumstances. I'm sorry for the pain I've caused you and I'm sure you're sorry for the pain you've caused me.” Quackity is stunned. He hasn't even said anything to him to prompt this, not threatened or bribed him either. No, his father must've ordained this. “We have been loyal to our fraternities and in turn, we were pinned against each other. From here on out, I don't want any more animosity between us. I will protect what is rightfully yours, you will protect what is rightfully mine.”

Blade puts his other hand forward. He's putting his left hand out for him to shake with his cut one. Wilbur looks down at him expectantly. “You're serious?” Quackity asks under his breath. Everyone is watching, Schlatt is watching. “For a limited time only. I'm not gonna keep this hand up forever.” the other cautions in the same volume. This will be good for you. We need something to bury the hatchet. Quackity reaches out and grabs his hand. It's warm and grips like a vice for a few tense seconds. “Now let's all get back to enjoying ourselves for the newlyweds.” he announces as he finally frees him, and once everyone has clapped and cheered and clinked their fresh drinks, the music picks up again.

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Quackity just stares at his hand. “Does it still hurt?” Wilbur asks him as they step back into the crowd again. “A little. I'm more surprised by the whole thing, really.” “Yeah, my brother told me he would've wanted to do this. His way of apologizing is having me or Tom standing by him, accounting for his wording and everything.” “Is that so?” he scoffs, not out of malice, but he's still a little taken aback.

They sit at their own table for a while now, left basically untouched as they instinctively avoided sitting together. But at this point nobody's thrown a knife or holy water in their general direction, they can act like two people who just got married to each other for five minutes. Wilbur pours them both wine. Quackity splits a loaf of bread, crumbs spill over the tablecloth and he tries to brush them off quickly, he hasn't eaten anything the whole time and he's not going to start having table manners now, but come on man. Wilbur just stops him with a chuckle and picks the crumbs off to snack on. This is their compromise until they can find something to talk about.

Thank goodness it doesn't take long. Once one starts, the other follows and doesn't stop. They talk about everything, barely touching the food as they go, more playing with it than anything. They start with complaints about Tommy and Tubbo playing and getting their good dress shoes caked in dirt, what it's like being the middle child but feeling like the oldest. Then they talk about the wine, whether or not they should take a bottle away with them (the answer is yes); the stars as they look up at them, astronomy, astrology and if it's truly based on anything, religion, race, politics. Turns out they both would've loved to do something with that last one, if only Quackity had money to spare or Wilbur any time to waste. “Journalism? I would've tried my hand at Law, personally.” Quackity tries to guess, leaning back into his seat with glass in hand. “I think I would've rather studied History really, then taken up something of a path from there.” Wilbur sighs wistfully, elbows on the table, how improper. “I'm not too shallow on American History as of right now, but that's just because I got a library card under Gold rather than Watson.” “Why’s that?” Quackity asks “I haven't heard of any Watson-ordained fire in a library.” “It wasn't the library itself, it was the librarian. My uncle and my father robbed that old lady so many times as kids and they always got away, so now that the name has a certain weight on this town…”

“Right. Well, good on you for not using that to your advantage.”

“How could I have used that to my advantage in a library?”

“Y'know, when she told you the fee for the books, you could've just… Slid a knife over the desk very, very quietly…”

Wilbur bursts into laughter then, pushing his head back. Squeezing his eyes tight exactly like Quackity imagined him to, he looks beautiful, the way his curls compliment his stretching grin. When the laughter dies down, they look back at each other and break into childish giggles again. And again, and again. This could've gone worse, he figures.

The celebrations go on all night. Wilbur dances with him just enough before his head spins and they sit down again. Not exactly a sport loving guy, but he doesn't mind that. They haven't noticed yet, but Schlatt has been talking with Mr Watson for a while, and they seem to be enjoying themselves a lot too. Tommy and Tubbo have become friendly, Madame Watson has brought over to their table two slices of mushroom pot pie. “You two have barely eaten anything. Don't you guys get hungrier after talking so much?” she scolds her son politely. “Alright, thank you mum.” Wilbur waves her off again. She'll always try to take care of him. Quackity instead is more taken aback by the pronunciation of the title.

“Mum? With a u, that's how you say it?”

“Yeah? It's not mom, with that annoying “o” sound.”

“English is so fucking dumb.”

“Oh yeah, welcome to this debate, I reckon we'll have one of these at least once a month.”

“The hell's a reckon??”

“And I'm not gonna lose the accent either.”

“Good to know.” Quackity sighs dramatically while he stabs the pie with his fork.

They're dizzy with liquid courage in their systems but not enough to not walk to their designated cart once the party's over. “Where are we headed again?” Q asks while he pats the horse, a very patient mare who's probably used to being handled much more roughly rather than just being cuddled by a tipsy groom. “It's a nice cabin not too far from here, you'll like it.” Wilbur says while he's already climbed up on his seat. “Come, don't coddle Ramone too much or she'll ask for more and won't go.” he laughs, and Quackity obliges after patting her one more time. His groomsmen have already loaded the stuff that was in his bunk and drawers inside a chest in the wagon. Before he climbs on though, he walks back to Schlatt. “You're off?” the older man asks with a sigh. “Yeah. What's- with your face?” he asks, honesty seeping through him a little more than usual. “Aren’t you happy? Today went well and you were just chatting up the Watsons, this seems pretty ideal.” “Oh no no, I am happy, Q, just… Don't want you letting your guard down too much yet, alright? Let's not call it a win until I see a white flag and you're back in one piece.” “I'll be fine, boss.” Quackity reassures him, and he pats him on the shoulder. “Come back as soon as the honeymoon phase is over. And for God's sake don't take it up the ass.” “Oh fuck off!”

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They're sent off with shouts of good luck and cheers as Ramone takes her sweet time carrying them off along the dimly lit dirt roads. The wagon travels while the two lanterns, one set up carefully inside and the other next to Wilbur's arm, swing and creak, breaking the almost complete silence. “Hey, uhm… I'm sorry for not kissing you.” the taller one says suddenly, leaning back into the seat while loosely holding the reins. Quackity was not expecting this apology, so he simply sighs and answers quietly “It's okay.” but that doesn't seem to satisfy him.

“No, I– I swear it wasn't about the scar.” he elaborates pointlessly. Now Quackity just wants to hide it. “I was just...” he makes a vague hand gesture in the air, like he's out of words to explain. “Look, it's okay, you're not the first person to feel skittish about it, I should've shown you–” “No no no, I'm serious, the scar doesn't scare me!” now he tries again. Rather than make a strange signal, he pushes himself to look him in the eye properly, the reins held in one fist. Ramone seems to know where she's going anyway, over a grassy hill and heading towards a stone bridge. “I wasn't scared of kissing you. I was afraid of people's reaction.” he admits. Quackity cocks his head at that. “They were there knowing you would marry another man. It wouldn't have made a difference at that point.” “It-it would've. The kiss would've made it real.” he says, but the way he says that last word makes them both pause.

This isn't real, then? The truce, Blade's peace, the party, is that all not real until they kiss? Well it's too late to think about that, isn't it. They've signed the papers, they have the rings, there's witnesses. The kiss would've just been a decorative affair. “I… Uhm… I know you've been dragged into this as well.” Wilbur adds some more as the caravan makes its way over the bridge. “I knew you existed, just nothing else.” Quackity chuckles into the crackle of the stone under their wheels. Wilbur turns his body back to face the front and hold the rope properly. “I was the only one home when Blade came back with that scar across his chest. He called you a little monster, you know.”

“Hah! I deserved that."

“But he did cry when he cut you.”

There's a beat of silence. Wilbur always knew about the accident. “He wanted it to be fair. He was aiming for your shoulder.”

“It's really too late to tell me that.” Quackity tries to play it off, but the air’s grown tense now. “I know, and I'm sorry to bring it up now. I just felt you deserved to know since he'd never admit to it himself.”

“That’s fair.”

They've fallen into silence again while the cart drags on through a short patch of the woods and makes a turn at the cobblestone well on the side of the road. “I do think the scar makes you prettier than I imagined, if it's worth anything.” Wilbur starts again suddenly. “What?” Quackity snorts, but he actually seems serious. His thumb presses over his own cheekbone and drags down. “Your muscles don't overtighten the skin when you speak, so every expression you make is actually true. They're maybe more honest than some people…” “You find honesty attractive?” Quackity teases the man, and he nods after a pause of self reflection. “It's the bare minimum, I know. What’s your standard?”

“They do have to be taller than me.”

“Not charismatic, or handsome, or…?”

“I’m enough of those things for both actually, as you can see.”

“Boy do I.”

Ramone carries on towards this fabled cabin. Looking out over the treeline and standing up slightly from his seat, Quackity can see this hill looks above the town, some spasm of the shopping district still dimly lit. Then it's all fields. Nice, isolated though. Maybe too isolated. He's looking around with caution now. They're crossing a dark wood fence, the gate already opened for them by someone else. That's the first signal. “This is just a small patch of land,” Wilbur explains calmly as he looks out through the thickness, “but everything within that fence is our small estate for now.” “I've never owned land before.” Quackity comments, still trying to show some interest while he scans around. He's looking for anything out of place, chalk on the tree bark or on the dirt Ramone stomps on, quiet dogs waiting for a signal. “We definitely should've cleared more of this out when I was a kid, but we never really got to it.” Wilbur comments, only now noticing Quackity hasn't sat back down yet, and his eyes hover towards the ground. “Are you…? Do you need to throw up?” he asks, but he doesn't get an answer. Quackity would say something, but right now, he can't move. He just saw something, a long stick out of place behind a tree that looked too much like a badly hidden hunting rifle. And if he's right, if he's about to be ambushed, all he can do is either sit back down, act like he didn't notice and cover his head in time, or jump inside the wagon and then back out. He sees escape routes, but he can't act upon them. He's completely frozen, from the tip of his hair to his toes, he's too scared to turn his body and look back at his husband. “Quackity? Here…” Suddenly behind him he hears a click, a swing of something metal, he draws his pistol as fast as he can, pressing it right in between Wilbur's eyes, Ramone yelps at the tug and halts but Quackity doesn't lose his balance, he doesn't care, he's not dying tonight!

“I knew this was too good to be true.” Quackity sputters with melancholy. But Wilbur doesn't seem to be anywhere near ready for a fight, his own breath is erratic, unprepared. Actually he looks plain terrified. “Wait, wait, wait! I didn't do anything!” he cries out, now moving whatever he was holding to show him. The lantern swings in his hand, the light inside flickering. “I was going to shine it towards you, I thought you weren't feeling well–” “Don’t bullshit me, I know the sound of a revolver.” Quackity presses the barrel in, scanning him again. His jacket seems void, what about his belt, nothing around it? Nothing in his left hand either, though he was quick enough to pull the reins and make the mare stop. Who does that if not a getaway driver. “I don't have a revolver! I-It was the musket! The musket makes that sound–” Wilbur tries to defend himself. “Are you calling me stupid?” Quackity decides to threaten him a little more, just to see if he'll crack and try something, but he doesn't. His voice just rises in pitch, the lantern shakes. “No, no, you're not stupid! Please put the gun down!”

Alright, this is starting to get pathetic. Even Ramone is becoming impatient, looking around with a huff and a thump in her hooves. Nobody has come forward to save Wilbur either. The usual henchman would fire a warning shot now, or at least shout some monosyllabic warning, but nothing happens, the forest remains silent. “Q? Come on, I don't want to hurt you.” Wilbur whispers meekly up at him as he tries to slide backwards, slowly, carefully. And he has to admit he's almost sold, except there's some questions he still hasn’t heard a viable explanation for. “Who's waiting for us?” he asks. “What?” “Someone left the gate open for the wagon to come through. Who's waiting for us at the cabin? Who's watching?” he asks again. And he pulls back the safety this time. Wilbur answers quickly though, no need to pressure him more. “My father sent two of his men and two of yours ahead of us so they can unload the wagon and check the perimeter. I thought someone had told you!” he says, and he actually seems honest. But Quackity just blinks a few times rather than relax, this still seems too well-orchestrated, too convenient. “W- No, no one told me about it!” “Well now I'd really like for you to not shoot me over a misunderstanding!” “I just saw someone in the woods, obviously I'm not going to take chances.” “I-I get it, but can you please put the gun down?” Wilbur condescends. Quackity just scans him again, a little mockingly, “Are you seriously unarmed?” he asks. And he knows it's a stupid question, of course this guy won't be honest and will just say– “Of course I'm armed, just not against you.”

Oh. Wilbur reaches underneath the wooden bar and unsheathes a hunting knife tucked safely above his seat. He doesn't handle it gently, he knows exactly how to put his fingers around the handle to show it. “I wasn't going to tell you tonight, clearly it's a bit of a mood killer to pull weapons on each other, isn't it?” he says. Quackity lowers the gun now, but he chuckles nervously. “A knife.” “You think that's everything?” Wilbur continues, he sounds more sure of himself now. He tucks the knife back into the hidden compartment and shows him the second, which was right above his lap this whole time. There's a pheasant gun hanging right there, wooden handle to once again blend it well with what's supposed to be a safety bar. “Just know that's not everything. If I wanted to kill you, I could've shot your dick off an hour ago.” the man cautions "So put that thing down.”

Is he flustered? Obviously. So much for insurance, he thinks, this guy might just be a Watson. He falls back down into his seat, staring right at the hidden weapon while he slides his own back into his belt. “I'm sorry.” he sighs, and Wilbur just picks the reins back up, spurring a little to not have Ramone wander off and stop munching on the grass along the road. “Come on missy, back on track, come on.” he tells her, and she follows. He sounds kinder to her than him now, not that he deserves anything less. Now Quackity is cursing at Schlatt for telling him so ominously to keep an eye out, he must've set this up. “I'm still not quite sure how you weren't told. You're Schlatt's understudy, right?” Wilbur shakes his head. Quackity only speaks again once he's not sulking in embarrassment anymore. “I'm his right hand man, not his understudy. He wouldn’t just marry off a nobody.” “Exactly what he said when he came to our door last month.” Wait, seriously? That makes him sit up a little better. “He came to your house with this plan a month ago?” Is this what girls feel like when their fathers set these arrangements? Like cattle, being handed over on a leash? His stomach turns. He hopes his sister never has to feel this.

“He knew you would've said no.” Wilbur nods vaguely as he stares forward. “I didn't want to marry you either. At least not without seeing you, but Schlatt didn't have pictures. It was my father who sat me down and told me I'd never get the chance to tie the knot with another man otherwise, that it was for the family, my good deed.” “Fucking priceless!” This has just soured the mood even more. Wilbur chuckles beside him then. “Well cheer up, I do like you enough and you get a patch of land to call your own. One less problem for you.” “I've got plenty more.” Quackity huffs.

“Such as?”

“I dunno, I smoke and I deal cards.”

“Hm. I smoke too. I've switched to herbs, they're not clean either but they taste nicer.” The word “clean” makes Quackity scoff. Nothing clean about his line of work. His husband continues. “As for card games I only play solitaire, but I can learn other ones if we don't wager off my whole dowry. What else?”

“I'm a gunslinger.”

“That I've noticed. But, as long as you don't hide the evidence inside the house…”

“I almost shot you a minute ago!”

“Oh I was expecting you to do that eventually. I'll just have to figure out what calms you down.”

“How are you gonna achieve that?”

“Trial and error. I've been told this is how marriage works.” Wilbur shrugs.

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

Alas, the cabin finally comes into view, dimly lit from the inside. Now he's seen cabins in the woods in picture books and mundane cafe paintings: just wooden logs stacked on top of each other, a roof, two windows, a door. But this isn't a cabin, this is a place, a castle in comparison. There's a front porch, two floors, copper shingles. “You like it?” Wilbur asks, “I know it looks a bit of a mess, but we’ll clean it up as we go.” “It's kinda small.” he jokes, but maybe it doesn't get across, because Wilbur actually nods.

There are people waiting for them, they're familiar faces too. Not heavily armed with pointy hunting rifles, he finds. They're sitting on the steps, mingling with bottles they must've helped themselves to as well. “Missa!” Wilbur calls him from the caravan and he stands up quickly to start unloading it. “Rubius, what the hell man? I thought you were still at the party.” Quackity says as he climbs off. “I was! But I felt like surprising you.” is the reply he gets, followed by a laugh. One bag after the other is unloaded and carried on inside. Most of them are gifts from the family and the respectful neighbors; fine china, cooking books, tablecloths and whatever one could usually find in a wedding trousseau. Quackity feels it a bit strange to not have to move all this stuff in himself. “You wanna come take a look inside?” Wilbur snaps him out of his daydreaming while he lets Missa and Fit walk between them with some light luggage Quackity recognizes as his own. He nods.

Wilbur walks through with the lantern and sets it up somewhere ahead. The ceiling isn't too high, too low. Dark wooden floorboards, a dust filled rug catches his eye. The men are placing down whatever they've got on their hands on the right as soon as they walk in, where there's a black-stained fireplace, a bookshelf and two armchairs sitting patiently, almost looking back at him. When he hears the clutter of gently placed down plates and silverware in wooden chests, he turns around and there's a kitchen. He checks the tap, the charcoal stove, everything seems well kept. There's a small crack across one of the light blue tiles, but it takes him three or four glances over the cabinets to actually notice it. He's checking out every room, back and forth, up and down the spiral staircase that creaks a little but certainly won't fall apart with metal steps like these. He picks up the lantern and takes it everywhere with him in his exploration frenzy, not realizing the light is flickering out, but there's almost no need for it. The moonlight shines through the curtains and he's unmistakably in love with it at first sight.

Upstairs is a sort of patio area, a dusty couch facing the stairs, the window on its right and two doors on its left, one opens to a single toilet and the other to an empty closet. He steps outside the door on the right and finds himself looking out a balcony. He always thought things like these were a little useless, who would need to look outside when it's cold and dangerous at night? Someone might climb on the railing and try to come in… But not here. Here it is quiet, the moon looms over the dark trees and the hills, the wind grazes his face for a moment and he realizes he owns this view. That's incredible. He owns the tree closest to the balcony railing at the one he can barely see the top of.

He walks back inside once he notices Fit is walking out. He calls him a few times but he doesn't hear, so he has to run down and catch up to them. “You guys going home? Hey, take Ramone with you…” “Nah, it's fine, we've got someone picking us up at the bridge.” he brushes him off, but not before giving him a little nudge. “Hey, congrats. You deserve a little something to come back to, man. It's a nice place.” he says, and the others agree with similar words, both to him and Wilbur as they tredge off. “You guys be safe!” Quackity cautions, and they give him thumbs up as they get farther away. “You do care about these people, yeah?” Wilbur asks more out of curiosity. “Well we've been working together for years, it's kinda strange to let them do something for me” he shrugs.

They start talking about the house and sharing stories about backyard games when they end up checking into the bedroom, a simple and quite dusty thing, the furniture is worn but not inexpensive. And that's when they remember they can't head in different directions now. Wilbur was working on his shirt buttons and had already chosen the left as his favored side of the mattress, but suddenly he stopped to look back with a flustered grimace. “Oh! Hey, we don't have to do anything, ok? I'm just going to bed…” he gets that all out of the way before he's misinterpreted. Quackity just giggles along. “I-I know that, yeah.”

They climbed into bed silently, almost synchronized, but started laughing at each other's awkwardness as soon as they shared glances. “Can't you–?! Turn around. Please, please turn around, away!” Wilbur waves him off to no avail, because every time they tossed into opposite directions, they were back to looking at each other the next. “Don't look at me!” Quackity scolds him for the third time. “You're the one looking at me.”

“I'm not looking at you, my eye is closed, see?”

“You just closed the wrong one.”

“No I didn't.”

“Yes you did.”

“Mmmm, you have no evidence.” Quackity counters with a giddy smile, only for Wilbur to try and reach over and snap his fingers at him until he blinks. He slaps his hand away with a laugh, “I will smother you!” and other empty threats while he buries his face in the pillow. But the hand doesn't actually leave his head for a moment, actually he feels it brush in his hair, bring a strand behind his ear and then depart quickly.

“Goodnight.” Wilbur whispers as if it's no big thing, but Quackity might not sleep at all now. There's so much he wants to say, ask, see. He can't even find the words or the strength to actually look up again. So he lays there, for a second, saying nothing but silent Thank Yous to the Lord. “...Goodnight.” he replied finally.

#nefkyo can write #i did it guys #i posted it that means it's over #<- i had 7 beta readers check me this and keep telling me to stop changing stuff #<- wrote this in like 3 days #<- I think this. is what the cool kids call an episode #tntduo #qsmp #dsmp #fanfiction #ff #arranged marriage #gang au

[watchthekittycatcher]

The DSMP is dead, long live the SDMP

#dsmp #sdmp

[lookinghalfacorpse]

i have a bad habit of dumping au or 'what if THIS happened!' bunnies onto people so i have a dsmp one for you, also its really long i am so sorry

what if cdream, in the back of his mind, always knew that XD had made him? His whole purpose was to bring together and maintain the peace and family like nature of the server. Too whatever lengths it took. The original Dream, the manhunter speedrunner the eight were close too became the server that universe, thats why its call Dream SMP. XD was created by the server to maintain it, XD created this puppet replica of Dream so his friends could live there, their friends could live there and their family and friends.

after the vault, cDream knows hes too damaged to keep fullfilling that purpose. Philza and Techno get the vibe that Dream's given up. They try to help him regain that, but Dream has accepted that as soon as he's in reach of one of XD's anchor points, such as the End Portal, XD will most likely undo him and remake him. A different version of Revival. HE doesn't tell Phil or Techno this at all, why? it doesn't change anything, and they would try make so it did.

Then Punz shows up, in a rare moment that Techno and Phil are gone (syndicate meeting? ranboo's still dead and dream is almost refusing to even try to get better) and takes Dream to that End Portal. Following Dream's instructions to his End. They show up, holding this broken puppet man and XD appears. Neither XD or dream speak, but XD lays their many hands upon dream, like a mother upon her child and says "Sleep, You Have Done More Than Earn It. I Will Take Care of Them All For You Now." and Dream nods and goes to sleep.

And all the Life leaves him, however you want to envision it. Techno will say like cooling corpse on a hospital bed, Niki will say like barely there steam from a fresh loaf rising and twirling away.

And Phil? Phil would say that even though Kristin stood over trying to catch the butterflies and dragonflies that left him, she couldn't. Those little creatures return to the server, along with rumors from the Artic of a Dream who's never known the rest of the SMP, who is exactly the same as the Dream the eight knew, before anyone else joined. Quietly, in the Void with the Dragon, a deity hopes that this time they'll find enough love in their to heal from the posions they fed themselves and the puppet man who had hurt them so much trying to protect them.

like an amnesia arc for only c!dream ?? am i reading that right ?

i’m picturing a dream who’s confused by the scars on his skin, who doesn’t remember losing any fingers, who’s frustrated by his trembling hands and the ache of his shoulders and hips.  he’s confused, and lost, but in other ways he’s still very much himself.  he’s sharp.  quick-witted.  he loves animals and insects and has read all of techno’s books about wildlife already.  he smiles more.  he doesn’t shy away from touch.  he has gruesome nightmares about lava and pliers and needles and infinite tnt falling from the sky and he doesn’t know what they mean.

philza would love him.  he’d teach him about history.  he’d show him how to heal, how to grow crops (not potatoes-- that’s techno’s job), how to cook, how to build.  phil already watched sam lose his memories and start a new life, so he’d surely grant dream the same freedom.  he’d be protective of this second chance, hiding him from the rest of the server because he Knows that the younger members won’t recognize what a rare and merciful opportunity this is.  at first, in the face of dream’s many many questions, he might say that he’s dream’s father or a similar arrangement.  in time, he might find a way to tell him the truth.

techno would mourn him.  at least at first.  all the inside jokes, the memories, the infallible Trust he worked so hard to build has disappeared.  losing that would be hard.  i do think he’d come to agree with phil, however, that this was probably the best option-- the kid was on death’s door anyway, so at least this way they haven’t lost him completely.  he’ll be grateful that punz had the foresight to see that.  he’d feel honor-bound to the new dream, determined to protect him, and, of course, to make him laugh.  he’s good at that.

niki finds it hard to look at his face and forget who he used to be.  it takes her some time.  punz feels the same-- there’s an ache in his chest that won’t seem to pass.  anyone else who comes to the cabins to investigate is chased away.

dream will wander off on his own, and when he finds the frozen body of a butterfly in the snow, he’ll take it home and preserve it.

#many many people have pointed out that amnesia was the best (and maybe only) way to allow cdream to heal #so doing this with the rest of the server in tact is interesting !!! #i don't think many people would forgive him though... #asks #dreblr

[apollos-boyfriend]

i remember when i watched dsmp there were a LOT of times that only one or two people would be on, so no one would have anyone to talk to/do stuff with, and the stream would end up pretty flat and/or nothing much would happen (and this would go on for months at a time, stream after stream). and then eventually people just seemed to stop streaming altogether because of this issue. and the actors solve that problem!! i really hope quackity studios adds some more after the egg event is over, as this first month has really proven that having actors really transforms how the story and all works (in a good way). aside from providing engagement, actors also have the potential for lore (ex. what cucurucho/osito bimbo has been doing) which is always really fun, as someone who enjoys the lore aspect of mcrp :D

sorry for the long rant/ask!

yeah!!!! one thing that really stuck with me was during one of michael’s streams, where he said something along the lines of how awkward it was to do live lore where he was just talking to chat and no one else. because the reality of it is that most ccs that get into mcrp aren’t really actors, not in the sense that they’re used to playing a character and essentially having repeated soliloquies. so for some people, it’s hard to get that foot in the door to get used to it.

not to beat the mianitian dead horse, but on the other hand, something that also stuck with me was a time where all of the mianite streamers were busy at some con or other event, and jordan was the only one active for the day. despite that, he was still able to create an engaging and entertaining stream because the actors were online alongside him. the stream unveiled more personal aspects of the characters and enabled the story to continue its pace despite every streamer but one being absent without it feeling awkward and empty. i also really hope quackity studios have learned from the egg event and continue with similar implementations of actors, because it’s shown to really work to enhance its medium!!

#muse talk #anon #do not apologize for long rants my responses r all long rants #we r all just positively yelling at each other over how much we love mcrp #and that is okay <3

[bumblebeerror]

I need to be a little insane about Philza “Angel of Death” Minecraft and Kristin “Goddess of Death” MissTrixtin because like I need you to see my vision

If you see Phil as a harbinger of Death you’re like. You’re so so close. You’re so close

The relationship between Kristin and Phil (as RP characters) is a reflection of Life and Death.

Kristin when it comes to Minecraft RP is an entity that is there but in most ways unreachable. She can be communicated with, but she cannot be Present in the World (most of the time). Death is also a state of being wherein the living can speak to the dead, but the dead can’t return, can’t interact with us.

Phil is Life. Phil is growing plants and animals, he’s planning and nurturing and blunt and protective. He’s interested primarily in keeping alive the people he cares for, keeping himself alive. He survives, and he strives to help others do the same. He knows things must die eventually, he says as much during Sam’s dsmp finale, but he’s not out here to hasten the deaths of players he cares about. Especially when it comes to Qsmp but on dsmp too, Phil isn’t worried so much about the state that people are in at the end of an ordeal, as long as they’re alive.

Because you can’t therapy or gapple away Death. She is powerful and eternal and inevitable, the sparkling of stars in the void, an endless drop out of the world. And Phil is dogged, stubborn, and persistent, a dandelion growing in the sidewalk crack. Life is clinging by a thread, and it refuses to let go. It’s a stone thrown in the ocean whose ripples spread endlessly. It’s messy and silly and wild.

And, of course, Life sends Death many gifts.

#can you tell I read a poem with a specific line and it changed me as a person. #qsmp philza #dsmp philza #dsmp mumza #Qsmp mumza

[victoria1676]

Hi I'm back too lol✌️:

(Warning:This is a long rant prepare your eyes lmao)

Okay so I drew the liyue gang react to one of sadist animations in the soft au since I'm not sure it would be possible on the imposter one since her fam can't get to her yet but in the soft their just chilling anyway and it would make the characters possibly see this as a weakness to get their god back or something else I'm not sure but anyway I drew Zhongli, Childe, Ganyu, and Xiao's reactions to how i would have thought they'd react but feel free to state how you think they'd react but Childes is pretty obvious since you posted about it lol and he does act like the type to boldly ask dream and techno for a 2 v 1 fight which he would over course lose unless he doesn't dude to his vision giving him double power since if he didn't he would be able to throw some kicks and punches but would possibly be nocked out in a few minutes but if they were to fight longer this dudes dead because of how much more stamina dream and techno have along with their infinite items and lives lol also didn't have enough space as it's seen to draw more of liyue characters but i will be drawing the other 2 nations but you can decide what four other characters you want in the fourth of their reactions to techno and dreams fight since with would be awesome if you drew the archons along with picked characters reactions to sadists animations of the Smp all the way to final waltz unless you want stop at hog hunt since it may not include the reader dude to them being in another world but we can imagine the reader in dawn of sixteenth along with hog hunt since it would be wired if they just showed up in one vid but it also gives the characters a chance to understand more about their god and her family along with her world if she every gets back or they wanna know what it was like dude to them knowing little of it but back to the drawing besides Childes reaction Ganyu shows a face of fear and confuse since it is said in her quest she no longer knows much about battle and godly hood due to her spending most of her time with humans ajnd its said she takes a different approach in battle so she may be pretty shocked an worried about them due to her not being formular with how people fight in the readers world (the dsmp) and how they go straight for the enemy in a way of hatred and no mercy so if she were to met those two she is so terrified the she forgets to talk since she does have a social problem and they would make it slightly worse cause she doesn't want to make them pissed, Xiao wouldn't be surprised how they fight since back in the days he saw how blood thirty the gods were on the battle ground and he did see his friends who were family to him died in a way of karma for their kills but he would feel threatened since it is said that techno is a god the great magnificent Blood God who has killed many so he is a higher status than him and has ten live but he maybe has one life but can't die easily due to him being years old an still knowing how to hold his own and for dream he still acts the same was he is for techno since dream is also a god you know the XD god unless he's not in the soft au but he still keeps his guard up, and finally Zhongli he's shocked how the gods work in the readers world due to them not holding back and having many options for a wepon of choice but also how they freely walk around making both friends and enemy's out of their names and life due to him wanting to keep himself secret in his new one due to him 'dying' and retiring in his last two but also because he uses threats to get his way along with contracts but it's also been a while he's use violence as an option to win or get something so he'd be wary of they an don't try to persuade them in a contract since they would read him like a book and threaten him back to not mess with them so he'd feel neutral about them but again not mess or interact much towards them so ya they how i would feel they'd react towards the video and draw and techno themselves so sorry about the long rant lmao but see ya soon lol.

-Anon Crow out

(Referring to this post trend made by me and @reblogs-of-sagau-content )

Jesus this was long XD

But at least now i caught up with it LMAO but honestly I dont mind and okay with you guys ranting your thoughts or ideas about of my SAGAU x DSMP/SBI reader XD

But honestly damn i did not expect this long tbh! OwO

Although mostly this idea is just a an idea that both me @reblogs-of-sagau-content thought of which I am still think to put this as a spin off series of The SAGAU seeing High Pixel but for now ill add it on my list since I already have like a list of stories to do for the SAGAU or other genshin ideas as well XD

Considering I wont put this canon in my story but a spin off of comedy and chaos UwU 💕💖

Also sorry if I dont go rambling full caps like before Im currently suffering an Fungal infection this whole time with my fam thinking i have allergies when it wasnt an allergy the whole time and this infection became so worst 💀💀💀

#genshin impact self aware #genshin self aware #sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact #genshin self aware au #self aware au #genshin impact x dream smp crossover #sagau dsmp reader #sagau x dsmp #sagau x dream smp #genshin impact x dsmp crossover #genshin impact x minecraft crossover #anon crow #anon crow fanarts

[kisuminight]

Can Blades be Corporeal without a Driver?

Short answer is no. Longer answer is yes, but things get weird and they are not quite considered a Blade anymore. XC 2 calls these Blades flesh eaters. This AU will call them Heartstealers because that is dramatic and also relevant.

Heartstealers are Blades that have incorporated enough cells (data, in this AU) from their Driver that their core crystal has assimilated them and grown a copy of the Driver’s heart and now the Blade is in Resonance with themselves. Ways to become a Heartstealer:

Fight past their own instinctual love and protectiveness for their Driver, rip out their Driver’s heart, and implant it in themselves. This usually only happens if the Blade is very desperate and the Blade-Driver relationship very bad.

Somone is doing inhumane experiments involving strapping down Blade-Driver pairs and surgically removing pieces of the Driver that are then implanted in the Blade

A Driver is killed practically on top of their Blade in a brutal enough manner (shredded, exploded) that the Blade’s fading bodying incorporates enough pieces of them to hit the assimilation point.

Of these, scenario 2 is most typical. For the Heartstealer process to take, there must be enough mystical “weight” behind the sacrifice from the Driver. Just trying to move a kidney or chunk of liver from the Driver to the Blade will just mean the Driver has lost and organ and the Blade’s body rejects it. In more general terms, if a Blade becomes a Heartstealer, the Driver is dead.

Scenario 1 is the least likely to happen, but it is the one everyone ascribes to Heartstealers. Social perception is Player-centric, so default reaction is to assume the Blade is Scary and Evil rather than that they may have been a victim, grieving survivor, or very, very desperate.

The thing about the Driver being dead? Yeah, that sticks true even in a MC AU. In XC 2, which is real world-ish, the Driver is expected to die. In MC, we have Respawns—and they do not work in this case. Even on a server such as Hypixel (infinite respawns) or DSMP (multiple canon lives), the Blade becoming a Heartstealer completely removes the Driver from the equation.

For an in-universe explanation: what the Blade does is rip out and assimilate chunks of data from the Driver. They are stealing and absorbing the code that makes a Player a Player. The remaining personal data of the Driver is just a jumbled mess of junk that cannot be read by the server and is disposed of. Straight to the void, no Limbo for you, even if this happened on the DSMP server.

Heartstealers now count as a Player. They can get sick. They can die. They now adhere to the life system of whichever server they are taking residence on. They don’t forget when they die. However, they cannot return to core crystal form due to the foreign/non-magical Player code they contain.

This non-magical code can make a Heartstealer’s power fluctuate. Usually, they end up weaker than they were as a Blade. They bleed now. It’s horrible, and they have less control of their aether. Even though Heartstealers count as Players, they still have enough Blade-based magic to being in Resonance with another Player (if they trust them) or another Blade. A Heartstealer can be on either the Blade side or the Player side of a Resonance. Sometimes even both at the same time.

~

c!Technoblade is a Heartstealer. What's his origin scenario? Bruh, no one but Phil gets to know that. Yes, they are in Resonance.

c!Skeppy is almost this in this AU? He and Bad did a demon ritual that required Bad losing his heart and Skeppy giving up chunks of his core crystal. Their situation is the exception that proves the rule, and it is the basis for lore where Bad has infinite lives as long as Skeppy is around, even on limited life/respawn servers like the DSMP.

#DSMP Blade System AU #dsmp #theoretically c!Techno does have Creative Mode in this AU #but c!Phil lived in his hardcore world with limited Creative Mode (upon request to Kristen) for a long time #mostly they forget he has access to it again

[myminecraftfantasy]

DSMP Fusion AU

(This note was last updated April 6, 2022. Any event/lore/new members after this date is probably not included.)

This AU is inspired by Steven Universe and @koopattemptsart on Instagram.

How the World works:

Only one cluster of fusion crystals were found. Its appearance is similar to an amethyst cluster but is transparent like glass. The cluster was broken into five shards, and divided among those who found it.

The living cannot fuse with the dead(aka ghosts). The living can only fuse with the living, and the dead with the dead.

In order to fuse, their thoughts and bodies must sync or harmonize. Even if two people do not like each other, it is possible for fusion to happen as long as they meet the requirements.

Fusions give you a more intimate understanding of the person you fuse with.

There is no 3 Canon Lives system.

How it started:

Begins before the L’manburg Presidential Election

BadBoyHalo finds a translucent crystal while mining and breaks it into five shards. He brings it to Gay Castle where Eret was holding a small celebration for its completion. The other guests in the small get-together was Skeppy, Ponk, and Awesamdude

Music was playing when BBH entered. He held a crystal and was about to show them, when Skeppy grabbed his hands and pulled him into a twirl.

The crystal they’re holding as they twirl begins to glow. black, red, and blue light mix into the crystal. The light consumes them both, and one figure is left in their place.

A fusion between Bad and Skeppy appeared, and everyone is shocked. Sapnap decides to call the fusion “Bappy”.

Bappy unfuses The others try to recreate it but they don’t know how.

When it came time to leave, the crystals are divided among Bad, Eret, Sam, Skeppy, and Ponk.

CRYSTAL OWNERSHIP PROGRESSION:

BBH —> Sapnap

Ponk —> Schlatt —> Dream —> Techno

Sam —> Quackity

Eret —> Niki

Skeppy —> Punz —> Tubbo

Sapnap borrowed the crystal from BBH.

Ponk gives his crystal to Schlatt as part of their trade. Schlatt then gives the crystal to Dream along with the revival book. Dream uses the crystal with Technoblade during Doomsday, which Techno keeps after.

Skeppy trades his crystal to Punz. Punz gives the crystal to help Tommy and Tubbo during the Confrontation, which Tubbo keeps.

Sam gives his crystal to Quackity as part of their deal at Las Nevadas.

Eret gifted his crystal to Niki.

(I’ll make another post with all the existing fusions and their timeline appearances. I just need to organize my mess of notes.

I both loved and hated making this au. Making fusions of characters is fun. But I remember combing through multiple stream vods, looking for fusion opportunities because of my need to keep it lore accurate time wise. There are dates listed! I don’t even remember anymore T^T)

#dream smp #dsmp #dsmp au #mcyt #dsmp fusion au #fusion #minecraft fantasy #fun fact: ​this au was made before amethyst was in the game #imagine making a whole au just because you wanted to see a nihachu and technoblade fusion #i dont even know why

[elmhat]

// dsmp rp

A Post-Prison Endersmile Drabble

Dream fell against the wall, but remained determinedly upright. Deep breaths in. Out. He couldn’t pass out, or he could very well end up with a knife in his back.

He didn’t know how long it was since he last used the book—how could he? But it was enough for the sheer force of it to be alien again. The world spun.

In and out.

He straightened his spine, looming tall over the body laid across the stone. Slowly, it blinked, red eye glinting in the firelight, and Ranboo hauled themself up onto their knees.

Then the eye snapped to Dream, and went wide.

Ranboo scrambled back against the wall. “W-Where am I?”

Dream had handpicked the location: a shallow tundra cave, not too far from the Syndicate’s land, just warm and sheltered enough to keep them both alive. Dream shivered anyway.

“What did you do to me?” Ranboo’s eyes flicked between Dream and the exit.

“Relax,” said Dream, and talking was suddenly harder than he remembered. “I'm helping you.”

“What— No, you’re not helping me. Wait— What do you mean?”

And Dream didn’t need to explain himself, but Ranboo had presented an opportunity. “Look. I'll let you go back home, back with— to all your friends. But first, I’m gonna need you to tell me something.”

Ranboo frowned. “Tell you something?”

“I need you… to tell me where you were.”

Ranboo glanced outside. “Well, I-I mean, I, um— I don't even know where I am.” All Dream could see was a blanket of white, but then again, his vision wasn’t wholly reliable.

“Think harder.”

There it was, that fear that Ranboo had always been so terrible at hiding. Good. Fear made Dream’s life easier.

“Um. Well, um— I see we’re in the snow. Uh. I live in— in the snow. On my own.”

Dream shook his head. “You don’t have to— I already know about the Syndicate. Techno and Philza and Nihachu, right? They literally helped me escape. I don't care where you live, that’s not— What I need is for you to tell me where you were, like, five minutes ago.”

Ranboo’s face was an open book: panic to contemplation to panic again. “Wait, was I… no, wait, hold on, was I dead?”

“That’s not my question.”

“I'm sorry, I don't— So, wait. You revived me.” Ranboo weighed up the words. “You revived me. You brought me back to life. Which means— Which means I was in limbo. I guess? Is that what you mean? It was just this, um, massive ocean.”

Huh. That wasn’t right.

“What kind of ocean?”

Ranboo’s eyes narrowed. “I mean, why do you want to know?”

“What kind of ocean, Ranboo.”

They flinched. Privately, Dream smirked.

“It— Well, there was just water everywhere. That was all I could see. And I think… yeah, there was this tiny island I was on. Like, really tiny. I was just. Stuck there.”

Ranboo had died by Sam’s blade; Dream wouldn’t soon forget it. But, in Dream’s experience, that kind of death didn’t result in an ocean limbo. It could relate to the prison’s location, he supposed, or to Ranboo’s terror of the burning water.

Whatever the reason, it needed research. Dream wished he could ask Ranboo to accompany him. He would just have to test it himself by the prison’s entrance.

“Are you going to let me go?” asked Ranboo.

Dream cringed as he shifted his weight, then cringed again at the slip—it was too dangerous to let Ranboo see the state he was in. “Head south, you'll reach Techno. He should be pretty easy to find.”

Ranboo gawked. “Oh! Um. Thanks! And, I guess, thanks for reviving me.”

Flames glinted off of netherite; the sword was still within Dream’s reach. No one had come for him, as of yet, but he wasn’t stupid enough to believe it would last.

“Just tell Techno we’re even.”

#Shut Up I know this is random #I just wish we had more from these two #c!dream #c!ranboo #c!endersmile #endersmile #dreblr #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp fic #dsmp writing #drabbles #my writing