Silly WIP Summaries
In order of where they placed in the poll. Also putting them under a cut because this will probably get a little long and I'm including some art if I have any :3
I don't really know who to tag so...everyone who reblogged the poll or who I think might be interested @unclear-contributions @outpost51 @thegoddesswater @did-i-do-this-write @verba-writing @writingamongther0ses @ruitethewingedfox @enbydemirainbowbigfoot @magefaery
Untitled 3 - Two idiots are stuck together b/c they accidentally triggered ancient blood pact
A long time ago Anrikas' family helped a group of people escape persecution and the leader of that group swore a magical oath to repay that kindness in a time of need. Anrikas knew nothing about this when he accidentally triggered that blood pact after being entered against his will into a competition that could lead to the throne. Now he and his would-be savior Kit are stuck together until Anrikas makes it successfully through what could end up being a bloody, life or death struggle. The problem is, they just really don't like each other very much.
(Admittedly this one is actively in the middle of reworking the plot so I haven't written any of it to those specifications yet)
Magic Black as Knight - Evil witch decides that he also wants to be a knight in shining armor
The son of a notorious witch falls in love with a trainee knight and decides to enroll in the same military academy under false pretenses in order to get close to him. His mother only allows him to do so under the condition that he continues to study and practice evil magic in the meantime, so he's really burning the candle at both ends trying to have his cake and eat it too. It does not go well, this story sounds silly but is, in fact, a tragedy.
Second Chances - Gay idiots spend 20 years pining because they cannot get their shit together
I don't really have much more to say about this one, that is literally the plot. Two people grew up together, in love with one another but each thinking it's unrequited, and each one of them with their own baggage that makes them think it's better that way. It's overwrought and angsty but has a happy ending.
(apparently it's been so long since I drew them that I'm not willing to share any of the art that I have, so I gotta get on that, wild because I think about them literally all the time)
Miracles - 3 people with different curses go on a road trip and have a weird time
Larkin stabs a god. The god deserved it but that's not really the point because now he is a mortal with divine blood on his hands, and the only way that he can avoid divine punishment is by crossing dangerous territory to the fabled Temple of Miracles to replace the sword he used with a new, unsullied one. When he tries to hire mercenary to help protect him on the journey he ends up with a sorcerer too.
None of them are who they say they are, and they all have their own curses to bear and secrets to hide, so as you can imagine the journey goes great. They have excellent chemistry and it is not awkward at all.
(alas I've only drawn Larkin and Arwyn, not Guiscard so you only get two out of three)
Hoofbeats - Horse trainer enters illegal horserace to win the hand of a mafia boss' daughter
Again this basically is the plot. A horse trainer falls in love with the daughter of a crime lord who forbids the match due to the difference in their social classes. But every year he hosts an extremely dangerous, illegal horserace and the winner gets to request anything they want as the prize so Kadife enters it in order to ask for Tirzha's hand in marriage.
I've never drawn any art for this one so far.
Silverwood - Family causes problems on purpose for four generations (so far)
Silverwood is Silverwood, they cause problems on purpose in multiple countries over multiple generations, it's very much just focused on politics and consequences and on this one family who cannot stop being insane for one moment. It's a nearly 20-year-old mind baby that's just really fun to play with.
I draw them fairly often but not in a meaningful way, so you can have this picture of Ithea who is, after all, my Main Babe(tm) and who also kinda started everything.
Northbound (et all) - Man the current sociopolitical climate between these 8 countries sure is fucked
This is a series of political/war dramas set in the same world all of which are sort of interconnected at least in so much as the events are happening roughly at the same time and often due to the political situations in the other countries around them changing.
The plot of Northbound is a princess from the Kerivian Empire accepting a very controversial match with a general of the recently conquered northern territories. Unbeknownst to her family she has no intention of smoothing relations between the two sides and instead might actually be intending to incite the north to rebel. Along for the ride is her personal mage/best friend who is really just trying to keep her alive through of this.
There are other stories going on as well. The crew from Northbound is stuck between a rock and a hard place as the Empire is already difficult to deal with by itself but also some freak has decided to conquer all of the far north and might eventually grow bored of his own continent and try to cross the sea to theirs so they have to deal with him. It's much more about the situation in the far north though.
To the northeast people are plotting to overthrow the magical governor of the area. It just so happens that that governor has a friend who was just released from prison with horrible memory problems and the only thing that he remembers is that the two of them knew each other so he shows up hoping to find out more about his past. But he has a very unique magic skill, is unknown in the area, and has nowhere else to go so he ends up getting roped into all of this nonsense as a spy.
And to the southeast an inheritance dispute in one country has broken out into all-out war between two countries who have a long and complicated history. And honestly it wouldn't be so annoying if not for one (1) fucking guy who gets really, really interested in how magic from the enemy country works and how they, as a people without magic, can beat it and just makes it difficult for everyone. I say everyone, but actually he really just ends up getting under the skin of one particular dude who honestly isn't even on the side of the conflict that he wants to be on, but he just has no choice in the matter and this is not helping make it any easier to deal with.
These aren't separated by story but this is basically all the main cast for all of the books.
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to celebrate hitting 50k i'm sharing a snippet of the longfic i'm currently working on <3 (thank you v much to both @deepwithintheabyss and @paprikadotmp4 for the encouragement & brainstorming help <3)
still untitled (i've been calling it the "aob dubcon fic" lmao) but i have written a summary:
Jason tries to sell off his first heat to make ends meet for the upcoming winter. When he’s taken by traffickers instead, he’s sure that’s the end of him—until he’s rescued by a mysterious alpha. That “rescue” comes with a price: Jason’s heat hits shortly after, and… one thing leads to another, and now Jason and Tim are bound together by a fledgling mate bond.
It’s not the first time Jason’s had to make the best of things, but… he finds it a little bit easier this time, especially as he grows to genuinely like Tim. Unfortunately, just as they're starting to settle into mated life, Tim’s ex-pack starts getting involved, and they don’t exactly approve of Tim’s choice in mate—never mind that it wasn’t really a choice at all.
cws/tags for this snippet: reverse robins, aob dynamics, underage jason (15), first aid, medical inaccuracies (probably; i'm not a doctor, so i'm warning to be safe), hurt/comfort, touch starvation, anxiety, allusions to captivity related ptsd, self-deprecation, brief memories of non-consensual touching
editing to add: this snippet takes place in the 2nd half of chapter 2 <3 (& was originally the second scene for the fic lol)
i have also previously shared a snippet of the scene after this, when jason's heat hits, here.
Tim parks outside of an old apartment building. The brick facade is worn, cracked and peeling in places. Most of the windows are intact at least, though; two of them have lights on, the rest dark.
Tim gets out first, already having rounded the car by the time Jason is swinging his legs out. His hand rests on the door, waiting patiently for Jason to join him on the sidewalk. Then he shuts it. One hand rests on Jason’s back again, a gentle guide inside.
There’s a man at the desk near the front entrance, reading a newspaper. He spares them a brief, bored glance before going back to it.
There’s an out of order sign on the elevator, so they have to take the stairs. It’s just two flights, but by the end, Jason’s slightly out of breath. He’d thought he was in pretty good shape, but—
He guesses spending nearly a week in a small, windowless room hasn’t done him any favors.
Tim stops at a door in the middle of the hall, unlocking it and letting Jason go in first. The main room is all one room; living room transitioning to kitchen, separated by an island counter. Tim guides Jason to the couch, directing him to sit while he gets the first aid kit.
The couch is worn but comfortable, cushions sinking under Jason’s weight, cradling him.
Tim disappears down the hall, and returns a few moments later holding the biggest first aid kit Jason has ever seen. Not that he’s really an expert on the things, but— The one at his house was pretty small.
And mostly empty, honestly.
The coffee table looks comically small under it. It makes Jason’s belly flip with nerves, remembering the feeling of latex covered hands on his body, spreading him open.
He bites his lip.
Tim doesn’t open it, though; instead, he slips into the kitchen. He comes back a moment later, holding a bottle of purple Gatorade. Then, he kneels in front of Jason. It’s—odd. Having an alpha kneel in front of him, voluntarily. Even though Jason knows he doesn’t exactly have any power here, the visual dissonance is—
Odd.
He offers up the bottle. It takes a moment for Jason’s hands to move, but he does take it. His fingers fumble with the cap; he flushed, embarrassed despite himself, but gets it open.
As soon as it touches his lips, his thirst hits him full force. He allows himself two large gulps to wet his throat, and then forces himself to slow down, sipping instead.
When he screws the cap back on, he finds Tim still there. Waiting. He twists his hands around the plastic nervously.
“Alright,” Tim says gently. “Other than the bruise on your side, and the rope burns… are you injured?”
Jason shakes his head, twisting the sleeves of the alpha’s jacket. “Nn-nn. Just some bruises,” he says softly. He pauses. “And, um. I did hit my head once. It still hurts, but— I’m not, like, dizzy or nothin’.”
Tim nods. “Alright,” he says. “I’d like to do a head injury evaluation anyway. I’ll just feel over your skull, and then use a penlight to evaluate your pupil dilation. I’ve got cream for the rope burns, and for the bruise—” Tim hesitates a moment, then continues, “I’ll need to check and make sure nothing is cracked, and there’s no internal bruising.” He pauses again. “As long as there’s nothing serious anywhere else… I have some painkillers you can take, when we eat.”
Jason takes a moment to absorb all of that, and then nods, tipping his head forward obediently.
There’s a part of him screaming at himself not to be so compliant. To kick and claw and scratch and bite and fight, the way he has been for the past week. But he’s— He’s so tired, and sore, and—
The alpha smells so good, and— The smiles he keeps giving Jason melt something inside of him. He wants to keep seeing them. Keep earning them.
Tomorrow that might scare him.
Tonight—
His eyes fall closed when Tim’s fingers slide into his curls. The touch is achingly gentle. It feels— It feels good. Nice. Jason can’t help but lean into it. He thinks Tim’s hands linger a little longer than they need to, like he’s indulging Jason’s obvious enjoyment of the touch.
He does pull away eventually. Jason bites back his whine, instead sitting back up against the cushions.
“No bumps,” Tim murmurs. He gets out the penlight next, and cups Jason’s face as he shines a light first in one eye, and then the other. Jason grimaces, hissing a little as he squints. The light aggravates his aching head. “Pupil dilation is normal.” He pockets the light, and strokes Jason’s cheek with his thumb before he pulls away. “Now, I need to check your bruises.”
Jason bites his lip again. The constant worrying is starting to make the top layer of skin break and flake under his teeth. He averts his eyes, rolling the sleeves of the suit jacket up, exposing his hands. Then he pulls his shirt up, bunching it up just beneath his breasts.
His stomach jumps when Tim touches him. Tim pauses, hand hesitating, just barely touching Jason’s skin, and then— He starts to rumble, low and deep.
Jason whines. He doesn’t mean to—but it bursts from him; he can’t stop it, can’t muffle it. It’s a soft, helpless little keen, and the alpha’s rumble gets louder in response. He scoots closer, until he’s between Jason’s knees. His hand settles onto Jason’s skin, curving around his side. His other hand comes to cup Jason’s shoulder, thumb rubbing gentle circles through his clothes.
“It’s alright,” he soothes, the rumble deepening his voice. The sound—
Jason has only vague memories of his father rumbling for him, from when he was much, much smaller. Before working as a henchman had stolen much of his father’s good will. Other than that, Jason has only ever heard alphas rumble on TV. It’s—
It’s a really nice sound.
Against his will, tears fill his eyes, and he raises his hand, pressing his palm over one, like he can force them back inside. Tim’s hand settles against his side, just underneath the bruising. “You’re alright,” the alpha murmurs. “It’s okay to cry, pup.”
Jason sniffs, loud in the quiet. “I—I—”
“Shh, puppy.” Tim’s hand doesn’t leave Jason as he rises, slipping onto the couch beside him. His other hand cups the back of Jason’s head, tugging him forward—Jason’s arms come up automatically, wrapping around Tim’s neck, his shirt falling back over his abdomen. The alpha’s scent drips with comfort and the promise of protection and Jason—
He feels… He feels warm, and safe, and—
A sob rattles through his chest. Tim holds him closer, tighter, his arm winding around Jason’s waist. He buries his nose in Jason’s curls, stroking his skin with his thumb as he rocks him, slowly.
Jason’s chest heaves. His whole body shakes with each sob, so much that Jason is worried he’s going to shake himself apart. Tim’s steady hold feels like all that’s keeping him together.
It’s not just the last few days, it’s— It’s everything, since his Mom got sick and Dad turned to working as henchman and their lives just… fell apart. He’s— Jason’s been on his own for so long. Longer even than he’s been on the streets. Every day has been a fight for survival and Jason—
Honestly, he thought he’d finally lost.
Tim murmurs in his ear. Jason can’t hear a word of what he’s saying, but the tone is low and gentle, and Jason clings to it.
It takes a long time for Jason’s sobs to subside. Jason— He doesn’t know how long exactly. But he does know that when he’s done he feels exhausted. He slumps into Tim’s chest, tremors still running down his spine. His face is sticky. He definitely got snot all over Tim’s nice shirt, and that—
He’s too tired to even worry about Tim’s reaction.
Fingers comb through his hair again, lightly scritching his scalp. He lets out a soft sigh, slumping even more against the alpha’s chest.
Tim hums. He noses at Jason’s temple; a gentle nudge Jason grumbles at. “C’mon, pup,” he murmurs. “I still need to look at your bruises.”
Jason whines—the same plaintive little puppy whine he used to give his mom when he wasn’t ready to get up yet, for one reason or another. It makes Tim huff, amused; the humor reflected in his scent. It’s nice. Really nice.
He noses at Jason’s temple again. “Pup.” His voice is a little more stern. It’s not threatening, though—doesn’t even make Jason’s hackles raise. Tim is still rumbling. Close as they are, it feels like it’s seeping into Jason’s bones. It lessens the ache in him. His skin— His skin has been itchy for years, but. The creepy crawling of it has subsided, for now at least.
He’s comfortable. Jason doesn’t want to move.
He does anyway, sitting back with a scowl on his face. It makes Tim smile—his scowl deepens.
“I’ll be quick,” Tim promises.
Jason huffs a little. He leans back against the couch cushions. Tim’s hand is still under his shirt, sliding back over to the injured side as Jason lifts it. He feels— He feels more settled now. Less nervous, though butterflies still flutter between his ribs.
Jason watched Tim’s fingers probe gently around the bruising. The purple has started to fade to a greenish hue, but it still hurts when he prods it. Jason’s quiet, pained noises are soothed with soft rumbles and fingers rubbing his shoulders.
When he’s done, Tim’s hand lingers, laying casually on his waist. Jason’s skin would normally be prickling, but—
It isn’t.
It hasn’t this whole time, any time the alpha touched him.
“I don’t feel any cracks or breaks. Did— Were there any injuries to your back?” He’s no longer rumbling.
Jason misses it already. There’s a part of him that wants to snuggle up to him, see if he can’t coax that rumble back out.
He ignores it; instead shaking his head. “No. They— The, um, the boss said they were supposed to keep me as uninjured as possible. Any punishment had to be careful not to leave a mark.”
Tim hums. He strokes Jason’s skin with his thumb, and then slips his hand from Jason’s waist. It—
Jason finds that he misses it.
Tim leans forward, finally opening the first aid kit. It’s stocked, full of things Jason has names for and things he doesn’t. Tim takes out two things: the first, a small jar, and the second, a bottle of puppy’s Tylenol. Jason—he doesn’t like it, but he can’t really argue with it. Not at his size and weight and everything. They’re pills, at least, and chewable too,
Jason examines them carefully before he takes them, washing away the chalky flavor with the drink he’d been given before.
Tim unscrews the lid of the jar. The cream inside smells herbal, though not unpleasantly so. Jason holds out his arm, relaxing into the couch as the alpha works the cream into his skin.
It’s easy to let his eyes fall half-lidded. Jason is warm and sleepy. The air is thick with protective alpha scent; it soothes his hind-brain, the part that is purely omega, purely pup and longing for the comfort and safety of pack.
A small voice in the back of his mind is screaming, telling him he needs to keep his guard up.
It’s easy to ignore like this. To focus on nothing but gentle hands on his skin and the ambient noise around him; the hum of electricity and the distant noise of outside traffic.
Jason drifts.
He barely registers when the alpha switches arms, coming back up only to croon confusedly when Tim stops touching him. He blinks up at him, and gets a kind smile in return.
“Hush, pup,” the alpha soothes. “I’m going to get us something to eat.”
Jason blinks slowly at him and hums in acknowledgment. Tim gets a blanket from—somewhere, and lays it over him. It’s soft. Jason likes it. He nuzzles into it, into more of the alpha’s scent, and sighs.
He can hear Tim moving around in the kitchen—the clatter of dishware and pans, the bubbling of boiling liquid, the sound of his soft footsteps. He can smell something savory—chicken, he thinks, and garlic.
He drifts again, stirring only when Tim nudges him gently. A steaming bowl of soup is pressed into his hands.
“It’s hot,” Tim warns, a bit unnecessarily.
Jason still burns his tongue on the first mouthful. He doesn’t care. Having the food in front of him has made him realize how ravenous he is. His bowl is empty far too soon, though he’s too stuffed to go back for seconds.
His empty bowl is taken from him, and then Tim returns again. “C’mon, pup,” he murmurs. “I’ve got a spare toothbrush you can use. A spare den, too. I’ll get you some nesting materials and pajamas while you brush your teeth.”
Jason reluctantly leaves the couch and blanket behind, shuffling down the hall and into the bathroom. Tim procures a toothbrush for him, and then leaves.
It’s a relief to brush his teeth.
His captors had done it for him, so rough his gums had bled and ached. They still bleed under Jason’s gentle ministrations, but at least it doesn’t hurt. By the time he’s rinsing his mouth, Tim has returned, a bundle in his arms. He offers it to Jason.
“Clothes,” he says, a little unnecessarily.
Jason takes them, and Tim leaves again, giving him privacy. Jason goes to shut the door and then—
Hesitates.
He doesn’t want it open. But— He doesn’t…
What if he shuts it, and it won’t open again?
He’s. He’s being silly.
There’s no way this apartment has more than one bathroom. Trapping Jason inside here would be dumb, and he doesn’t think this alpha is dumb.
Jason takes a deep breath. He shuts the door.
Except—
He doesn’t. The latch hits the frame and Jason stops. His heart thunders in his ears. His breaths come sharper, quicker. He can’t. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.
Tears burn in his eyes.
It’s not fair.
He rests his head against the frame; one hand cradling the bundle of clothes to his chest, the other gripping the doorknob.
God. He’s so fucking pathetic.
He shudders. Takes a deep breath. It shakes on his exhale, a tremor in his chest. It’s fine. He doesn’t have to shut it all the way. He can leave it like this, with the metal latch over the door frame, only the tiniest sliver of hallway visible.
It’s fine.
He’s fine.
Jason strips quickly, clothes falling into a puddle at his feet. He yanks on the pants the alpha provided. They’re a little short at the ankle, and he has to draw the drawstrings all the way out for them to stay up, but. They fit well enough.
The shirt, too, is a little big, hanging off slightly at one shoulder. It doesn’t show his breasts, and hangs down to his mid-thigh, so Jason doesn’t mind.. Both pants and tee are soft on his skin, not scratching like the other set did.
There’s a hamper. Jason drops his old clothes in, though he’d much rather see them in a dumpster somewhere. The jacket—
Jason hadn’t realized how much it had been comforting him until now. Without it, he feels almost naked. Exposed. He wants to put it back on again. He resists the urge, though. Instead, he straightens it as best he can, then folds it in half and lays it on top of the hamper before he exits the bathroom.
Tim isn’t in the living room any more, and Jason stands, nibbling on his lip. Maybe he should go for the door… but. He can’t bring himself to. Instead he stands there, uselessly, until he hears rustling further down the hall.
He approaches tentatively, and finds Tim in the den at the end of the hall.
Tim glances up when he hears Jason approach, and smiles a little. “I was just getting out some nesting materials,” he says, gesturing.
In front of him is a cushioned nest base, held off the ground by a wooden frame. Piled on top of it is—
Jason had been expecting maybe a couple of blankets and some pillows, but—
The blankets are piled tall; the one on top Jason recognizes as the blanket he’d been using on the couch. There are plenty of pillows, too—and padding, for added layers, and cushions, and, it’s… It’s a lot.
Jason’s throat feels a little tight. “Thanks,” he says, voice small.
“Of course, pup,” Tim says gently. He’s pulled his scent in tight now, but when he draws nearer, Jason catches a whiff of safehere and everythingsokay drifting off of him. His hand moves slow enough it would be easy for Jason to avoid it, but. He stays still, letting the alpha brush his knuckles over his cheek.
“Goodnight, pup,” he murmurs. “If you need me, I’ll be just down the hall.”
Jason nods. The alpha’s hand drops, and then he leaves.
The rest of the den… It’s not bare, but it lacks a personal touch. There’s a chest of drawers in the corner closest to the closet; a nightstand by the nest; and curtains hanging over the window. He shuffles further in, leaving the door open behind him.
He leaves the nest alone for now. Instead—
He goes for the closet first, opening the door. It’s bare inside, except for a thin layer of dust. Jason shuts it again. He opens the drawers, as quietly as he can. Empty as well. The den smells— Not stale, it’s definitely been used before, but. He catches the barest hints of alpha scent, and other than that… It just smells clean.
Jason rubs at his eyes.
No more putting it off.
As much as he doesn’t want to… Jason doesn’t shut the door all the way. Instead, just like in the bathroom, he leaves it open the tiniest sliver. Anything more, and he won’t be able to sleep. Anything less—
Panic.
Even the thought makes his heart race.
Jason rubs his face. He hates this. He hates it so much. Fuck. Sometimes it feels like life is just out to get him. Like—someone or something out there wants him to suffer.
Stop it. Plenty of people have it worse than you do, he scolds himself. He’s safe right now, or— He has the illusion of safety, at least. The alpha is being nice. Jason is— He’s not bound up. The door isn’t locked. There are no bars on the window. Tim treated his injuries. Held him when he cried. Gave him food and something to drink and soft clothes.
And he’d given Jason plenty of material to make a nice, comfortable nest to den in. One that might finally satisfy the instincts that have been screaming at him.
Jason takes a breath, and pads over to the nest. The sheer amount of material before him is almost overwhelming, but… He goes through it slowly. He starts with the padding, layering it into the nest base and using the cushions to help give it shape. He tests it as he goes, until he has something that’s plush, but not so much that it will engulf him. He works a nest cover over it. It’s a bit of a struggle to get it on, but Jason manages; only a little winded by the end. What padding and cushions he didn’t use—
He decides to put them in the closet, where they’ll be out of the way.
Blankets next.
Jason sorts through the pile slowly, rubbing each on his cheek. Scenting them. The one he used on the couch is the strongest scented; still thick with the contentment he’d felt in the alpha’s arms, and the protective, comforting scent Tim had drenched the air with.
He ends up using a little over half of the blankets Tim provided. The rest he puts in the closet.
Pillows—
Jason doesn’t use as many of them. He ends up putting most of them in the closet. And then, finally—
His nest is done.
He stands back, surveying his handiwork. He trills with pride, running his hand over the edge. His nest is soft. Cozy. It needs— It needs books. And— His fox. He misses his fox, the one his mom gave him. He kept it— He managed to keep it safe, all this time.
It’s probably gone now. Or ruined.
His eyes sting, and he swipes at them roughly.
Jason is so tired of crying.
He climbs into bed, pulling the blankets over and around him, snuggling down into the pillows. It feels—
Safe.
There’s something missing, though. Jason— He’s not sure what it is, but—
He’ll worry about it in the morning.
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The eggs are asleep, and finally Philza and Missa can catch a moment to themselves. Unfortunately, catching that moment means admitting to the injuries they have been hiding from their children - fussing over scratches while having arrowheads lodged next to your spine is the duty of a parent on Quesadilla Island, but an exhausting one.
Missa's quick fingers manage to pull said arrowhead from Philza's back, the momentary flash of pain causing him to nearly drop the iodine solution. He doesn't, though, just a little stain on the floorboards, and so he continues applying it to the wound in Missa's leg.
He barely notices the scratch of a needle against his back, but Missa cannot help but whine as the gauze is pressed against his wound.
"I hate it here," Missa manages, thankfully in English as Philza is in no position to twist and see his translator. "Why is everything trying to kill us?"
"The island fucking hates us, is why," Philza grouches, reaching over for a bandage. He's managed to get Missa's leg to stop bleeding, but it should still be covered. "Enjoy the island my ass."
Missa giggles a bit, even as he tapes a dressing in place over the arrow wound. He says something in Spanish which is definitely too fast for Philza to parse; he tries to turn and look, only to be gently pressed back into position.
"It's nothing," Missa assures him. "But the skeletons! Why are they so bad?"
"The skeletons aren't even the worst of it," Philza groans back. "If you ever see glowing eyes and nothing else? Run."
There's a long pause, and Philza hopes that Missa understands the severity of his warning - a Nightmare Stalker is exactly that, and Philza knows Missa is not nearly equipped to handle one. If he struggles as he does, he doesn't want to think about how his partner would suffer in his stead.
"It's okay," Missa pats his shoulder a few times, leaning around his wings to do so. "I'm good at running. It's my special talent!"
"You're good at a lot of things," Philza promises.
Missa doesn't reply; this time when Philza turns, he is allowed to. His entire body aching he sits himself up and twists himself around, taking Missa's face him his hands.
"You are so good," he promises. "So, so good. There's nobody else I would want to raise my eggs with."
There's more on the tip of his tongue; Philza quashes it as Missa closes his eyes, rest of his expression hidden by his mask.
Philza can see Missa struggle with his words for a bit - he's always amazed how someone can make themselves understood in two languages - before eventually receiving, "you are the best egg father."
"We have the best egg child," he retorts.
"We do!" Missa's entire body language perks up. "Chayanne is the best egg child, and he is ours. We are so lucky."
"We really are."
Philza isn't sure when it happens, but eventually he realises that he has leant forward, his forehead resting against Missa's mask. He closes his eyes and savours it, feeling as Missa loosely places his arms across his bare back - Philza needs his for support, one either side of Missa's hips and taking his weight, but otherwise he would do much the same.
The two of them stay in silence for a while, savouring each other's presence. The pain is still there, from protecting their children, and yet... In a simple house of oak and glass, for a moment it is all peace.
"Run away with me."
This is not how Philza had ever meant to bring it up, but the words slip out of their own accord.
Missa startles, eyes wide and spine straight as he blinks himself out of the peaceful haze, "qué?!"
"Run away with me," he shifts so he can see all of Missa's face, taking both of his partner's hands in his own. "Take the children, and run away. Find a way off this island, and to another world - one where the skeletons are the /only/ thing to worry about. I'll build you another house and we'll make it a home. Any colour you like, with a fence and walls and real bedrooms and a kitchen for Chayanne and gardens for Tallulah... You can have your own music room and kick Wilbur out for trying to steal your guitar, and we can sit on the roof in the moonlight and you can sing and I'll dance with the children asleep beneath us and no risk of zombie horsemen on our tail."
"But how-" a small whine catches in Missa's throat. "How do we get away? They said we cannot leave."
"There's always a way to leave," Philza says. "We just have to find it."
There's hands in his wings, and Philza startles.
"Your wings are so big... If they healed, you could fly away," Missa says, something wishful in his tone. "Up and up and far, far away, so far they could never catch you."
"And leave you behind?" he asks.
"You'd come back for Chayanne. And I... I could follow you then?"
"Even if something happens to Chayanne, I'd come back for you," Philza promises. "I won't leave you here, not in this hell."
"You wouldn't leave anyone here, if you could help it."
"Probably," Philza admits. "But I wouldn't come back for them, not if I didn't know I could escape again - I'd come back for you."
"I'll wait for you," Missa seems almost to melt in Philza's touch, whimpering as he curls in on him. Philza isn't even sure what he said wrong, just that his egg partner is clinging to him, whimpering.
"We might not always be together," he tries to reassure. "But I will always come back for you - I'll always find you. There's no point in running away if we don't run away together; if some day I /can/ fly away, I'd only do it to come back with help."
The whimpering turns to sobbing, and Philza adjusts his position to hold Missa properly. The hands in his feathers dig deep - one finger catches on some tape holding one of the litany of dressings in place - but Philza just holds Missa and worries.
Why this reaction? Was it something he said?
He stops talking just in case; Missa clearly wants a hug, so he just holds him, understanding only odd words of the broken fragments of Spanish between the sobs.
Eventually the tears slow; Missa pulls away, still sniffling.
"And... Spreen can come?"
"He can live next door, if he wants," Philza promises; it'll be a little hard to negotiate with Fit, but interpersonal drama is just a part of life. "A whole new town for /everyone/ - all of the islanders, and all of our friends. Maybe if we let his ex in Forever will even stop hitting on me."
That earns a laugh, if a bit of a wet one.
"I want to dance with you," Missa says.
"With no zombie riders," Philza promises. "Maybe tomorrow we could dance a bit at the Favela? But, one day, we'll do it somewhere safe."
"On the roof, under the moon?"
"I'll make a roof specially designed for it."
The tears slow some more, and Missa drops to actually lie on the bed.
"Do you really think we'll escape?" Missa turns to Philza and asks. "We broke the Wall, and the Federation-"
Philza moves to lie beside him - on his front while Missa is on his back - and takes a hand. "We will. I promise."
"But-"
"Someone cleverer than us will work it out," he smiles to Missa. "We've just got to survive while they do."
"And if they don't?"
"Then I'll burn the Federation to the ground."
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