Chapter Text
They say that when you are a hybrid of a mob, you take one of two things. Their powers or their desires. Their powers, as simple as it is. A Blaze hybrid would be able to conjure flames and stay inflammable. An Enderman hybrid would be able to teleport and are harmed by water. Their desires, not as simple. A Creeper hybrid would desire to see things explode. A Wolf hybrid would desire the thrill of a hunt.
These are all based off of a roll of a dice, not every hybrid has a chance to have powers or have the other. In the end, hybrids in and of themselves are powerful with or without their powers. Even if they only possess the desire, this can push them to great lengths just to achieve it. Even going as far to influence people around them to achieve their desire. Even then, their desire can never be sated.
They say that the dangerous ones were always those who got the desire- the shortest end of the stick.
Wilbur had always known he was a Wither hybrid. Long before he entered the Dream SMP. Long before he even met the Sleepy Bois. With this knowledge, he hid that part of him (he didn’t trust anyone, not after the hunts). He hid the fact that he was a hybrid. He knew he was dangerous. He knew he had no control when it mattered but he tried anyway. He tried so goddamn hard (he never wanted to be a malevolent being hellbent on chaos and destruction, but a lot people never get what they wanted anyways).
He tried when he was fighting against Dream (and did he try so hard).
He tried to stay peaceful. To fix everything without violence but Dream had forced his hand. He was half glad that the masked menace had blown L’manberg in front of him or else he’d have gone off the deep end. At the sight of the chaos, the destruction- the death - he felt oddly at home and the itch behind his neck was gone (loathe he admit he was actually happy that his own nation- something he built with his own blood, sweat and tears- was being demolished before his eyes)
Then, Tommy challenged Dream to a duel.
He had wanted to stop the younger blonde, wanting him to be safe. Though, deep down a raspy whisper told the truth (a voice he avoided listening to at all costs).
‘You want to see him dead.’
‘You know he won’t survive, just stand back and watch.’
That's what he did, he stood back and watched him do it. He watched with morbid fascination and glee as the arrow pierced his friend’s stomach and he fell over. He masked his satisfaction with worry as he rushed to Tommy’s side, helping him as he applied pressure on the wound. He looked up and glared at Dream ( he needed to act, he needed to seem sympathetic).
When faced with the blank mask, he felt a chill rush up his spine. He knew he hid everything well but somehow it felt like Dream knew. As if he knew that deep inside, Wilbur had actually gained satisfaction over this (the chill never left him for weeks to come). It didn’t take long before the tyrant had turned around and addressed him with his back turned, “I expect that surrender.”
Wilbur said nothing. At the time he said nothing and didn’t have anything to say. It had taken all of his effort to remain calm during this whole war and he would not throw that effort in the dust by charging Dream. Instead, he took a deep breath and nodded. He turned back and commanded his men to help Tommy back into their walls (he needed to get away from the feeling that Dream knew ).
He hadn’t expected them to win either way.
The days leading up to the election only caused the itch to grow. He wanted to wring Quackity’s neck, to bash George’s head against the wall. Who were they to run against him? The general who had led all of L’manberg to revolution and won. Who were they to run against the clear winner?
Still, he kept a tight leash on his emotions and instead focused more on gaining more votes. Campaigning with his right hand, Tommy. Still, as the stress and tension grew so did his desire and he found it harder and harder to keep a rein on his emotions. Still, Wilbur continued as usual and ensured that nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Soon, he stood on the podium with the results in hand. He kept a smile despite knowing who really won. He announced the results, hoping his voice stayed level. When he revealed the truth and saw Tommy’s heartbroken face, he had to push away the slight sadistic glee that bubbled in his chest (he felt bad, he felt bad, he felt bad, he felt bad ). As he sat down on the chair, looking up to the new President with his new declaration, he felt his chest constrict.
He doesn’t know if he can hold it in any longer. Not like this.
When he and Tommy were chased off of L’manberg grounds, he felt a hint of satisfaction hearing the cries of outrage and the familiar whizz of arrows flying through the air. He was so focused on his bubble of satisfaction that he wasn’t able to dodge the arrow that struck his arm. Wilbur hissed and gripped his wound, gritting his teeth. He and Tommy continued to run off, entering the woods.
He swore that he would keep his mind through all of this. That he’d emerge victorious over his own desire.
They say if hybrids squash down their desires, they come back stronger than before.
Wilbur felt the anger rush through him as Tommy continued to make multiple mistakes, slowly leading the opposition to their base. He felt the rage consume him as he watched and listened to Schlatt announce the coming of the festival. As he walked back to Pogtopia with Tommy, his head bowed low, he heard the whispers (he wanted to stop listening but they were so enticing).
‘ Won’t Manberg look better all blown up?’
‘Just blow everything up, it’ll wash your worries away.’
‘It doesn’t deserve to stay alive.’
‘ Destroy it. ’
Wilbur let out a loose laugh, looking up. Tommy had stopped behind him, shooting the older man a worried look. Wilbur whipped backwards, his eyes gaining a crazy glint and Tommy took a step back. Wilbur relishes in the fear on Tommy's face.
"Tommy, are we the bad guys?"
"What…?"
"Are we the villains of their history?" Wilbur continued on, reveling in the horrified look that settled on the younger charge's face (he’s done playing nice). "If so… then let's be the villains, Tommy."
"Wha- Wilbur no." Tommy's voice faltered, stepping forward. "We, we're not the villains."
"That's what you think." Wilbur turned, rushing through the forest. His long legs gave him the advantage as he soon found himself surrounded by Pogtopia's walls once more. "Let's blow up, Manberg."
"Wilbur, please-" Tommy stopped in his tracks, choking at his words when he saw Wilbur's face.
"Let's blow it sky high."
Tommy choked on his own words, stuttering as he tried to find an appropriate response, "Wilbur, no. We're supposed to be taking back L'manberg, not erasing it! I know Schlatt has done so much bad and ruin and we can't recognize L'manberg anymore but that doesn't mean we can't get it back!"
"No, Tommy. This is the only way we can win." Wilbur strode forward, his taller form cutting an intimidating figure. “Even if we kill Schlatt and win back Manberg, we’ve lost. Even if Schlatt kills us and keeps Manberg, we’ve lost. Either way, Tommy, we’ve lost .”
“No, Wilbur, you’re being reckless.” Tommy shook his head, taking a step back.
“No, Tommy. We could just blow it all up. We literally have a man who rigged all of L’manberg with TNT on our side.” Wilbur grinned, the madness seeping into his voice. “We don’t have anyone we could trust. Eret? He’s betrayed us before, why not again? Technoblade? He’s a bloody loose cannon! Tubbo? Tubbo will drop us the moment he realizes we’re not in the lead anymore !”
Tommy lashed out, punching Wilbur in the face. The two stood in silence, Tommy panting as he looked down on his clenched fist while Wilbur’s head had stayed in the same position after the punch, his eyes covered by the length of his hair (he can’t lash out, he can’t lash out, he can’t lash out ).
“No, no. Wilbur, do you not hear what you’re saying?” Tommy breathed out, looking up at his friend.
“Oh no, I hear what I’m saying.” Wilbur laughed, his voice breaking in the middle. “It’s just you’re scared, Tommy. I know you are, I can see it in your eyes.”
“Wha-”
“You’re scared.” Wilbur turned his head, bringing his hands to rest on Tommy’s shaking shoulders. “When I said you can’t be president, it wasn’t meant to be a challenge, Tommy. It’s the truth.”
Tommy flinched back, shrugging away Wilbur’s hands whose nails seem to dig into his shoulder. He swallowed as he looked at his crazed friend who continued to smile at him. Whether it was mocking or even plain joy, Tommy didn’t care anymore. He was terrified seeing Wilbur like this. His supposed pacifist friend whom he looked up to as a brother seemed to have snapped and all he wanted was blood.
“Wilbur..”
The taller man waved him off, walking past him and out into the open. He had planned on walking all the way back to the Dream SMP lands to find their ruler only to be face to face with him at the entrance of Pogtopia. Wilbur didn’t startle, instead smiling and nodding at the masked ruler.
“Dream.”
“Wilbur.”
Wilbur did a double take at the tone. It was patronizing, like he knew he had snapped. Like he knew his darkest of secrets. The itch had come back, urging him to take the masked man’s neck into his hands and squeeze -
“What brings you here to our… lovely Pogtopia.” Wilbur smiled, his grin the only thing keeping him from strangling Dream (the mask had not helped matters but when was it ever helpful?).
Dream hummed, fiddling with the arrow he had in hand, “I thought I might stop over for a visit after I heard about the festival. See how you’re doing right now.”
“Oh, what a coincidence!” Wilbur clapped his hands, gripping them hard after. His eyes glowed with malice as he stared at the blank porcelain mask. "I was just about to come find you!"
"Oh?" Dream shifted, sliding his arrow back into a quiver that was strapped to his waist. "Have you snapped?"
Wilbur tensed, narrowing his eyes, "Excuse me?"
"Don't act like a saint, Wilbur." Dream tilted his head and Wilbur had a feeling the younger male rolled his eyes (he wanted to rip it off his stupid face and break it on half). Wilbur gritted his teeth as he turned back, checking if Tommy was there or not. Dream noted this and let out a laugh, "Scared of tainting your big brother image, Wilbur?"
"Shut up."
"It won't matter in the end anyways, won't it?" Dream continued, his tone mocking. "If you do blow Manberg up, his vision of you will be tainted."
" Shut up. SHUT UP, HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW ." Wilbur surged forward, grabbing the collar of Dream's hoodie and slamming him against a tree. Once again, he was met with a blank mask and no outward signs of fear. He growled and tightened his grip, wanting to smash the man's head against the tree (he has long given up on pleasantries now).
His eyes shifted and suddenly he was holding nothing and faced with an empty space. Wilbur blinked and whirled around to see Dream leaning against a different tree with crossed arms. Wilbur paused, his mind whirring with different possibilities (what how did he, he was right there and now-?)
"You're not the only one, Wilbur. Stop acting like you're special." Dream mused. "Of course, we hybrids should stick together… I'm surprised you didn't feel it."
"You-"
"Of course I don't carry the same burden as you." Dream waved off his question. "I got the better deal while you, on the other hand, seem to receive the short end of the stick."
Wilbur scowled, glaring at Dream, "What are you getting at, Dream."
"I'm just saying, you shouldn't keep repressing this side of you." Dream held up a finger. "Just let it all out. Which is why I'll be helping you. Whatever you need, I'll provide."
Wilbur paused, thinking. While he had no trust in no one anymore, wanting more to destroy everything in his path (then again he was a hybrid, he could trust him). In the end, Dream was right. He had squashed this part of him for too long and now he needed to let it all out before he destroyed himself.
He looked up and stared straight at the mask (maybe now that he had an idea of what hybrid Dream was, that annoying thing made much more sense), "Fine. Give me all the TNT you have."