#tommy misses wilbur
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
ladyddanger · 1 year ago
Text
thinking about the events of the dsmp hundreds of years later being just a bunch of stories.
In a village nestled between tall pines children play Manberg Vs Pogtopia, the names of nations and reasons for war long forgotten as they hit each other with sticks and tackle their friends to warm summer grass.
When their mothers tuck them in that night they tell them stories of a snowy wasteland, so ancient it still holds the scars of long wars forgotten. They tell them of the wasteland’s inhabitant, the greatest warrior this world has ever seen. His name is lost to history but warriors still pray to him on the eve of battle and tie ravens feathers in their hair in his honor.
If the children misbehaved that day their mothers tell them a different story, one of a masked man who steals bad children and drowns them in the sea.
There’s a crater a few miles east of the village in the middle of the marshlands up by a glittering ocean. The crater is so deep that you can throw rocks off the edge and never hear them hit the bottom. Legend says that once upon a time the goddess of death had a son who walked this earth and when he died in her rage and grief she tore into the city that once stood there with her bare hands and ripped it from the earth leaving nothing but a crater behind.
On long sunny evenings in the inns that dot the coastline bards tell stories of a cursed city of gold and glass buried in the heart of a desert where it snows. They whisper the city is full of riches but nobody who looks for it ever comes back.
On stormy nights the Bards tell a different story, a story of a town that sits over a slumbering god. Strange things happen there. Red vines sport up over night. If you listen closely, the people say you can hear them talk. Everyone there has red eyes and cold cold hands.
If you start at dawn and ride in the opposite direction of the carter you can reach the vault before nightfall. The locals claim it used to hold a faceless god guarded by a king but time has weathered the vault’s defenses and the towns children dare each other inside its walls, running though the tight passages.
An old fairytale says if you follow a small barely visible path from the doors of a vault beyond you’ll reach a forest full of trees so overgrown they block the sun. The fairytale says if you walk to the heart of the forrest there’s a prince sleeping there, nestled in the flowers and weeds. The fairytale says his true love and his knights are long dead. The fairytale says he dreams the whole world in existence. The fairytale says a lot of things but nobody really believes it.
3K notes · View notes
eonslice · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
yeah i miss dsmp So Fucking What!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
614 notes · View notes
yuttikkele · 5 months ago
Text
i like how while the dsmp was going on we were all like “awww the brothers! ctommy and cwilbur the brothers!!!” and now we look back and all collectively say, “their relationship was incredibly toxic, actually.”
65 notes · View notes
phatcatphergus · 10 months ago
Text
If I think about cTubbo for too long I implode because he was only 17!!!!! He was 17 and the president of a nation that wasn’t even his!!!!! He was protecting a dream to the death, a dream that wasn’t his dream. He gave up everything EVERYTHING for the dream of a man who only saw him as his sidekicks sidekick. He was never himself, he was always part of something, l’manburg, Tommy’s best friend, a spy for the rebellion, and the one time he was chosen was because it’s didn’t matter who was chosen bc the place was going up in flames anyway. He had a target on his back and became the face of evil to protect a dream that he gave his life for TWICE with zero recognition. No one listened to him and he sat alone in his big cold office as others told him how he should think and what he should do and that he was an idiot, a tyrant and called him the name of the most hated man ever just because he wanted peace, something he never had before. No one listened to him, but even his best friend who said he would be at his side but blatantly ignored him and told him that he’s just like the man that murdered him. The man that executed him at 16 years old after making him decorate his own public execution.
He was only 17 and became Atlas. he became the face of what everyone hated. People destroyed the dream that didn’t belong to him yet he gave his life, his happiness, his friends, his childhood for just to say it’s his fault that governments are corrupt af that the world would have been better if he had never been given the role. A role he didn’t ask for. A role he was thrown into just for someone else to pull the rug from under him. He was only 17
96 notes · View notes
3rdsday · 2 months ago
Text
I need to write an essay about c!Tommy's purgatory being empty. But I have class to focus on so it's probably not going to happen
24 notes · View notes
clownehonk · 2 years ago
Photo
Tumblr media
some sbi for the soul
420 notes · View notes
slashcatt · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
experimenting w/ some color palletes and having the time of my Life part 1 / ???
248 notes · View notes
sardonic-the-writer · 2 years ago
Text
Something about how the DSMP changed so many people. Music was made. Art was drawn. Book—series even—were written. Calls over discord stretched on for hours, fans and creators alike rambling until the morning just about the latest stream someone did. All of that over one server full of people who were just creating things as they went; as much for us as for them.
There are countless rooms out there with walls full of paintings or posters of the server. Notebooks jotted down with ideas for a story or things they loved the most about streams that have no meaning at first glance. Merch sitting in closets and plushies tossed on beds, all kinds of emotions woven into the cloth.
Tommy. Techno. Phil. Quackity. Wilbur. Eret. Tubbo. Niki. Ranboo. And so many other people. They've shaped countless people into who they are now with their content and that server, myself included. And I can't thank them enough for it.
Thank you DSMP. This symphony had finally come to a close
364 notes · View notes
10piecechickenmcnugget · 1 year ago
Note
osmp crimeboys
Tumblr media
SO FUCKING TRUE ANON
157 notes · View notes
poggersbastard · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Holy shit! Sanity check!
80 notes · View notes
sundewhasaudhd · 21 days ago
Text
Doodle dump (part two)
11 year old Aspen (THEYRE SO SILLY :33333)
Tumblr media
Random Aspen doodles
Tumblr media Tumblr media
So Aspen… did not take Grace getting the Black Book (in the NPMD timeline) very well (because, say it with me, they have the worst complex about being needed)
Tumblr media
Wilbur and Aspen because they’re the (non-canon) father son duo ever
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Hey, Mr. Solomon, how’s your wife?” (From a timeline where Aspen got caught for all the murders and got put in juvie [I’ll go in depth about this timeline one day])
Tumblr media
Doodle of @wigglyobsessedweirdo ‘s Hatchetverse OC, Willow Locke
Tumblr media
Aspen hanging out with a Pokey sniggle
Tumblr media
Linda doodle :D
Tumblr media
Aspen babysitting the Monroe kids (Linda had no other options)
Tumblr media
Aspen’s homecoming outfit
Tumblr media
Wilbur doodle
Tumblr media
Wiggly doodles
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Holloway doodle (minus the face)
Tumblr media
c!crimebois doodle from the Literal Monster animatic my head
Tumblr media
IF YOU LIKE MY ART, PLEASE REBLOG :3
9 notes · View notes
nomsfaultau · 24 days ago
Note
Halloween interactive event (p.4)
The person stays mostly silent, noting down three names. He doesn't seem particularly surprised by the bickering of the guests. As soon as he finishes doing so, the man speaks up again.
"Oh, of course, I apologise for my rudeness. You can call me Fragment 186, Count's loyal servant."
The odd man bows.
"I welcome you to the masquerade, dear guests. This will be a night that you'll remember for the rest of your lives, I'm certain."
~
The mansion is grand. Many guests in many different costumes line the halls. The interior seems practically brand new, no scratches or marks. It smells of wax and aconite.
The main ballroom is giant, with ceilings as tall as six meters in height. There are inside balconies on which the musical instruments seem to be playing by themselves, without any person to wield them. There are also two staircases leading up to the second level of the ballroom and the big outside balcony.
There doesn't seem to be a buffet, strangely enough. Instead, each person is given a pen and paper. (For The Blade, the pen works telepathically. Magic.) There are a couple of meals written down as suggested, but the rest of the list is blank. They are instructed to write any and all meals and drinks that they'd like on the paper and they shall appear.
How do they choose to sate their appetite? Or perhaps they choose to interact with the other guests instead?
Meals:
Wilbur: *Stops trying to eat the walls to see if they taste like wax when he’s given a menu. Nibbles at the edge of the paper just in case. Then it writes down “everything” on the paper, just to see what happens.*
Philza: *Doesn’t really trust it. He orders nothing.*
The Blade: *Orders round after round of baked potatoes. Starts taking suggestions from the voices, which leads to some really weird stuff getting eaten but hey when you need like 300 pounds of food a day.*
Tubbo: *Writes down “Martha’s chocolate cake”. They sigh in delight with the first bite. Too many years since she’s died, and the ache is bittersweet. Also gets sopaipillas and drizzles their honey on.* Supreme Alpha Male! Remember that contest we did? Back with Ros? Now we can finally see who’s right! *They nudge a bite of cake at Tommy.*
Tommy: *Writes down “Mum’s waffles.” After a first bite he stops almost immediately, overcome with emotion. His eyes are glossy with threatening tears.*
Tubbo: Hey. You’ll see her again. Soon, probably.
Tommy: I know. It’s just- it’s just been so m̴̡̬̒͑ű̴̬̭̙͗̀f̸̦͑ͅf̴͙̖̂͌í̴̲ň̸̩ing long. I didn’t- m̴̡̬̒͑ű̴̬̭̙͗̀f̸̦͑ͅf̴͙̖̂͌í̴̲ň̸̩, when I told you it was my favorite food, I didn’t- I couldn’t actually remember what they tasted like. Y’know? And now I can, but- but it’s not really her, is it? I’m still not home.*The pair find a corner of the room to sit and talk about Tommy’s family. He eats his waffle and cries as Tubbo comforts him.*
Interactions:
Philza: *Going around idly chatting with people, mostly so he can move around the room and try to see if anything is suspicious. He’s keeping an eye on his Collected at all times. Kinda expecting a murder mystery.*
The Blade: *Absolute introvert. Has never been to a party before (bc lorge). Following Phil around because he knows him but then ah too many talking to people. Cringe. Tries to stand in a corner and avoid people. Unless he can escape to the garden again, then he does that.*
Wilbur: *Sees that The Blade is getting some weird looks for introverting, and its Act As Normal As Possible Or Die tm mode kicks in, so Wilbur starts also trying to talk to people. Mostly gauging the humanity of the crowd, trying to match the energy of the crowd. Has zero familiarity with party etiquette or upper society social cues but is trying to charisma its way through.*
Tommy & Tubbo: *still having their conversation. But may eventually begin causing problems once Tommy bounce back and overcompensates with self aggrandizement and arrogance. Packaged deal, with Tubbo escalating and supporting to make Tommy feel better.*
7 notes · View notes
aquamarine021109 · 4 months ago
Text
c!tommy fanart I made😊
Tumblr media
10 notes · View notes
artlesscomedic · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
what are firstborn children, if not free labor?
96 notes · View notes
myundeadgayson · 3 months ago
Text
“navigating” by twenty one pilots music video, but it’s C!Tommy and C!Wilbur,,,
Tommy being guided through the woods by a ghost of Wilbur. (and yes, i know we have Ghostbur. i love Ghostbur, but hear me out.)
Tommy being haunted by the vivid image of his older brother. and as they walk, this memory of Wilbur appears so real, that Tommy forgets that it isn’t real at all until they’ve reached their destination.
it’s during Tommy’s exile. Tommy’s at his breaking point. he’s starving, he’s cold— he’s alone. no one has visited in ages and he’s so, so tired of fighting. there’s no one to stop him if he wants to lay down in the dirt, close his eyes, and never get back up. but right as he’s about to do it, he opens his eyes to see Wilbur.
Wilbur is dead. Tommy knows this.
he knows bc he’s seen the gravesite. he’s seen the mockery of a memorial that was built in the name of a mad man. hell, he was there to witness the wreckage of when it happened. he can still hear the ringing in his ears of the explosions, the taste of ashes on his tongue, the scent of smoke that never leaves.
but the vision is so vivid.
(“if you really wanna know what i’m thinking…
kind of feels like everybody leaves.
feeling the reality that everybody leaves
[…] and i’m trying to hold onto you because everybody leaves…”)
it’s not real. Tommy knows it can’t be, but as Wilbur teases and prods him into getting up, he can’t help taking Wilbur’s hand.
it feels so solid in his grasp.
so, he does what he’s always done — he follows Wilbur.
(“pardon my delay… i’m navigating, navigating my head.
disassociate— i’m navigating, navigating my head.”)
i love imagining the video with them — Wilbur leading Tommy through the trees. Wilbur guides him over tree roots and offers him a hand when he struggles to climb over inclines. Tommy tries to be difficult, waving Wilbur off to pretend to be a big man, but after what feels like hours, his legs are ready to give out. he whines and tries to plead Wilbur to let him rest, but Wilbur isn’t slowing down. he keeps tugging Tommy along.
the trees begin to thin. the air is growing colder. there’s a thin sheen of ice over the puddles that they pass.
Tommy has no idea where they’re going, but Wilbur keeps telling him to be patient.
as they pass the treeline, all Tommy can see is snow. it stretches out to the horizon, and Tommy can feel the dread in his bones.
right as he wonders if Wilbur’s ghost has led him to his death, he spots a cabin.
it’s shelter.
there’s smoke curling upwards from the chimney and Tommy’s freezing bones long for the warmth that’s inside that home. part of him is terrified of who might be inside — will they send him back to Dream?
but Wilbur drags him along, waving off his worries. it’ll be fine, he says, and stuffs his hands into the pockets of that stupid trenchcoat of his.
they’ve walked too far to turn back, so Tommy follows as he always does.
but right as they’re approaching the door, it opens.
Wilbur is standing right beside Tommy. while Tommy is shivering, sniffling from the bitter cold, Wilbur seems unbothered. his hands are in his pockets, his posture relaxed as ever, as if they haven’t been traveling for hours.
and Tommy tries to feign the same confidence. but as his eyes adjust, he realizes what Wilbur’s done. the flurries of snow have subsided enough that he can finally see the figure in the doorway, right as they’re noticing him.
it’s Technoblade.
and right as they lock eyes, Tommy realizes something important.
Wilbur’s disappeared.
(“give me some advice! i am wasting all this time. my, oh my…”)
7 notes · View notes
werenotacoupleyesyouare · 10 months ago
Text
No I don’t think you get it, c!Tommy had to witness his brother kill himself twice, and the second time he had to let him.
20 notes · View notes