#like as stupid as it is if it makes phil happy well

[ouddlareme]

everyday the line "for you the world, phil" does wonders to my brain chemicals but in context, its about phil taking down techno's floor will never not be funny to me I fucking love them

[oliversrarebooks]

you shouldn't have

tw: mind control, hypnosis, demeaning language, dehumanization

December 1986

Light, heat, and an unfairly delicious smell poured out from a restaurant's door as Phil passed by. It was Christmas Eve, and he was freezing his goddamn ass off in his worn-out sweatpants, battered coat, and leaking shoes. His empty stomach didn't help, either. The library had already closed down for the night, and most of his usual haunts where he could warm up were also closing early on account of the holiday.

Some fucking time to get his heat shut off. Merry Christmas to him.

He'd scrounged up enough money for a shitty hot dog from a convenience store, which wasn't nearly enough to quiet his growling stomach, and his hunger definitely wasn't helping him deal with the cold. At this rate he might as well go home to his cold apartment, curl up in bed under as many blankets as he could find, and hope for better luck tomorrow.

He passed another restaurant, this one a high-end affair, all done up in garlands and ribbons and twinkling lights. The people inside were sipping wine and laughing, and he couldn't help but stare in envy as some rich asshole cut into an enormous juicy steak. Phil hadn't had a steak since --

No. That was the last thing he should be thinking about. Going back was not an option.

But of course, now that the seed had been planted, his stupid brain couldn't help but poke at it again and again. A soft, warm bed. All the food he could eat. A hot shower.

And the bloodsucking asshole who'd put him under a spell and drained his blood for the better part of six years.

That vampire was the reason he couldn't hold down a proper job any more. All that time spent in a servile daze had given him permanent brain fog, not to mention an unexplainable gap on his resume, and all of his skills were woefully out of date by the time he got back to the real world. Trying to go back to being an accountant was out of the question. Instead, he struggled to hold down a minimum wage job stocking shelves at the grocery store. It was barely enough money to make rent and eat, and that was before he got fired for showing up late one too many times.

And so, here he was on Christmas, broke as fuck with no future.

The frigid wind howled through the buildings, cutting him to the bone, and Phil pulled his coat tighter and started to walk back to his apartment. He tried to put the vampire out of his mind and ignore the darkened shop windows full of things he couldn't afford. He'd fought like hell trying to free his mind of the vampire's hypnotism enough to escape. There was no way he could just give up and go back, not when he could take his life back.

And after eight months, what did he have to show for it?

Fuck. He really, really didn't want to spend Christmas in his ice-cold apartment, shivering under his covers, ignoring his stomach. More than that, he really didn't want to go searching for another low paying job he hated, spending his days doing mind numbing chores, then going home and slumping in front of the TV, only to wake up the next day and do it all over again.

Phil stopped at a crosswalk and waited for the light to change, glancing in the direction of the vampire's stupid fancy brownstone where he'd been confined for so long, only leaving when the vampire wanted to show him off at a party, or have a servant to carry his shopping, or take a convenient meal with him on vacation. The place wasn't very far away. Maybe a ten or fifteen minute walk from here.

He forced himself to look forward and cross the street. It didn't matter that the vampire spoiled him with a rich and comfortable life, he'd been a prisoner. The vampire had his mind half reduced to mush, convinced that he lived to be a servant and a bloodbag, fawning and simpering at his undead feet. Any resistance was met with another round of hypnosis to keep him docile and obedient. He'd been happy, sure, in the way a loyal and stupid dog is happy, smiling blankly when the vampire treated him as a dumb little pet. The thought of returning to that made him sick. It didn't matter how bad things his life was now, nothing could be worse than that.

At least, that's what he tried to tell himself. It was hard to believe it on nights like this, when the icy wind whipped through his threadbare clothes as if he were wearing nothing. Sometimes it was hard to convince himself that a soul-sucking job was really so much more noble than being a vampire's personal blood supply. He had a far higher standard of living when he worked for the vampire, too. It only cost his free will.

Phil found himself stopped on the street corner, trying to keep himself from doing what he was so sorely tempted to do. The filthy, melting snow was leaking into his shoes and soaking his socks, his toes turning numb. His stomach ached. His head throbbed. A woman in a hurry, carrying four big shopping bags, jostled into him, almost knocking him over.

When he regained his footing, his heavy, sore feet began to sleepwalk towards that old brownstone, as if he were in a dream.

His throat felt dry, his hands clammy. He couldn't really be doing this, just to get a hot meal and a warm roof over his head. He couldn't give up, not after working so hard to escape.

The light turned and he kept walking down the familiar streets to an all too familiar gilded cage.

This was crazy. Even if he did want to do this -- and he didn't -- he didn't even know if the vampire would want to take him back. Phil had run away, after all. The vampire might turn him away out of scorn, or worse, decide to punish him for his disobedience. While the vampire had never been overtly cruel to Phil, there was no doubt that he had cruelty in him, and Phil didn't want to be on the receiving end.

It wasn't as if he could just show up on the vampire's doorstep and be welcomed back with open arms, everything back to the way it was. Just because the vampire had generously indulged Phil's insubordinate attitude in the past, finding it amusing -- just because the vampire's only punishment was hypnotizing the resistance out of him -- just because he sometimes would lie awake at night wondering if the vampire missed him --

He stopped. He was there. Despite arguing with himself every step of the way, he arrived in front of the vampire's home, his former prison.

There was a warm glow coming from inside. The vampire was certainly home. All Phil had to do was knock, and he'd see that awful smug face again. He wanted to puke.

He had to walk away right now before he did something he regretted, probably for the rest of his life. It had taken all of his willpower and a lucky break for him to pull free of the hypnotic spell long enough to form an escape plan. There was no way the vampire would allow that oversight to happen again.

And hell, the vampire might be angry at him for escaping and subject him to some horrible punishment just for showing up. Maybe he'd even been replaced as a thrall. It had been eight months, after all.

Phil didn't want to acknowledge how the idea of being replaced made him feel.

So there were many good reasons why he absolutely should not climb those steps and knock on the door, why he should turn around now and go back to his cold, empty, messy studio apartment for the most depressing Christmas Eve ever. It was better than turning his life back over to the vampire. Wasn't it?

As Phil stood there staring at the brownstone and fighting with himself, the wind began to blow harder, the sky opened up, and freezing cold raindrops began to dot the sidewalk. He swore under his breath, already getting soaked.

Fuck it.

He climbed the stairs and knocked on the door, trying not to shiver as the rain came down harder. He could still walk away. It wasn't too late --

The door opened, and there he was, looking just the same as the night Phil had escaped -- thick dark curls, deep and inviting eyes, self-satisfied smile. The vampire was dressed in one of his thick velvet bathrobes and it looked as if he'd just stepped out of his shower. Phil hated that he knew that the vampire had changed his shampoo just by the scent of him.

"Phil," he said, eyes going wide.

"Virgil."

And there it was, that insufferable smug grin. "Well, well, well, I wasn't expecting a Christmas present."

"You don't celebrate Christmas," said Phil. Oh, this was a mistake. Virgil being happy to see him was perhaps the worst outcome of all.

"I might have to start," he said, stepping aside and beckoning Phil forward. "Come in. You surely don't want to be out in that."

Every warning bell in Phil's head went off as he stepped over the threshold of the vampire's home, leaving behind the freezing rain and entering into surroundings that were all too familiar, Virgil's taste for the expensive and avant-garde on full display. Virgil wasted no time in invading Phil's personal space, standing so close and hooking one soft finger under his chin to lift it.

Phil averted his gaze from the vampire's eyes. He may have returned here willingly, but he wasn't going to just submit to Virgil's hypnotic spell like that. He still had some dignity.

"You're soaking wet, dear," Virgil purred. "You must be absolutely freezing in those gross things. Why don't you go upstairs and get changed into something warm? Then we can have a little chat."

"A chat?" Phil asked, struggling to keep his teeth from chattering.

"Yes, dear, a chat. If not that, what did you come here for?"

Phil's face felt heated even as the rest of him was cold. "It's not like that. I just…" God, he didn't want to admit to the fucking vampire how badly his attempt at taking care of himself had failed, how he'd been fired from three jobs, how his heat had been shut off, how little food and sleep he'd had in the last few weeks. He knew that Virgil must see the failure all over him, even if he didn't say it. He was dressed in ratty clothes and sopping wet, leaving a puddle on the marble floor. "It's Christmas Eve, and I didn't know where else to go."

Virgil's grin at that statement was positively predatory, making Phil feel like a mouse under the paw of a cat.

"You don't have to look so smug about it," Phil said.

"Oh, dear, you know me better than that. Of course I do. Now why don't you run upstairs and get changed like a good boy, hm?"

Ugh, that condescension. Why the hell had he come back here? Now he was stuck in the house with Virgil who was certainly going to try and put Phil back under his sway. He'd known that, of course, but the vampire's smile was what really drove it home. He probably wasn't leaving this place of his own free will again.

So he begrudgingly climbed the stairs, not even bothering to ask Virgil where he should get changed, knowing before he'd opened the door that his bedroom would be untouched since the night he'd escaped. It was all there, just as he'd left it -- the basket of knitting with the unfinished sweater, the fancy binoculars and telescope Virgil had bought him that were so sophisticated that Phil had barely learned to use them, the overflowing bookcase, the black and white TV with the rabbit ear antenna. The only difference was that the bed had been made, and god, did it ever look inviting. The second floor of the vampire's house was even warmer than the first, almost stiflingly so, and Phil could feel the cold melting away as he stripped off his clothes and left them in a wet heap.

The wardrobe was the same, too, full of disgustingly expensive designer clothing, all picked out by the vampire. Half of it was garish shit that Phil would never normally wear that Virgil had bought so that they could match. Phil pulled a plain black t-shirt and cotton pants, the simplest and most comfortable things he could find, and put them on.

He couldn't stop himself from flopping onto the bed, trying to keep his heavy eyes from drifting shut. He knew he couldn't go to sleep here -- Virgil would certainly take advantage of that, and besides, the vampire seemed to want to chat, whatever that was going to be. But the bed was warm, and comfortable, and fitted out with the softest blankets and sheets…

He was staring up at the ceiling he'd stared at so many times before, dazed and drowsy after the vampire fed on him, the throbbing in his neck washed out by mind controlled bliss. And now, here he was again, and he'd spent so much time fighting with himself and daydreaming about food and warmth that he didn't even have an exit plan. Avoid looking into his eyes, try not to let his voice lull away his senses, ask him real nicely pretty please don't enthrall me again -- good luck with any of that.

God, he was so fucking stupid. His stomach growled at the same time a yawn was forced from his lips -- being hungry and exhausted always caused him to make idiotic decisions. Really, he should just leave. Put his own clothes back on, rush out the door, and hope Virgil couldn't be bothered to chase after him in the freezing rain. It was a long shot, but the only way he could --

"Knock knock!" said Virgil, opening the door without knocking. "I'm having Bernie make you an absolutely enormous breakfast. You're welcome."

Phil's stomach made an unholy noise. "You don't need to do that."

"Nonsense. I could hear your stomach from downstairs, you know. Now come along to the kitchen." Virgil grabbed Phil's wrists and pulled him to his feet, ushering him towards the door. "It'd be rude to waste Bernie's cooking, and I know you have better manners than that, because I trained them into you."

Phil dug in his heels. "I'm not going to be your thrall again, Virgil."

"Oh, dear, who said anything about that?" said Virgil. "I certainly didn't propose that. I think someone's desires are causing him to get ahead of himself."

"I do not desire --"

"Hush, hush, come along now."

With no better options, Phil allowed the vampire to drag him off to the kitchen, where he was slapped in the face by the mouthwatering aroma of eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. All rational thought went out the window. He hadn't eaten a meal like that in weeks.

Bernie, Virgil's former favorite thrall and current housekeeper, was standing by the stove, with a saccharine smile and daggers in her eyes. "Welcome back, Phil," she said through clenched teeth.

"Good to see you, Bernie. Thanks for breakfast," Phil mumbled, withering before her gaze. Bernie had always been jealous of him. That might make her an ally in Phil's plan to leave after breakfast, except that the only thing stronger than her jealousy was her starry-eyed devotion to Virgil. She'd only ever poisoned him once, and that was when Virgil was mad at him, and she'd relented and called an ambulance before he actually died.

Of course, Virgil was probably mad at him now…

"Eat up," she said.

Phil groaned and tucked into the food, all thoughts of potential poisoning disappearing as he ate. He really did need this.

"So," said Virgil with a terrifying gleam in his eye, "Christmas Eve and nowhere else to go, was it? I take it your little human life has been disappointing so far? Not matching up to your hopes and dreams?"

"My life is amazing. Couldn't be better." Phil stubbornly looked at his rapidly disappearing mountain of eggs and not at the vampire.

"Oh, no doubt." Virgil rested his head against his palm, shamelessly watching Phil eat. "But I couldn't help but notice how unhealthy you look." He reached out a hand, brushing Phil's cheek and directing Phil's gaze to the deep pool of his eyes. They were so dark, so captivating, so soothing, that Phil found himself swaying in a daze just from a moment's contact.

Phil shook his head, pulling out of Virgil's grasp. "You don't need to do that."

"But I want to. I know you must have missed it."

He stuffed his mouth full of eggs. "No, I didn't."

"Mmm." Virgil leaned back, appraising. "You did hurt me, you know. You betrayed me, leaving without so much as a goodbye or a note, not even trying to talk to me to work out your troubles. And after I had spoiled you, I trusted you --"

"You didn't trust me," said Phil, slamming down his fork. "You hypnotized me."

"I quieted your anxious mind. I helped you relax and enjoy life."

"You took my freedom away!"

"Ah, yes, your precious freedom, so very important. Your freedom to live your amazing life." Virgil's facade cracked, allowing his anger to leak through. "Your life that was so amazing that you were out wandering in the freezing cold rain on Christmas Eve, starving and desperate."

"Fine. You want me to admit that my life sucks? Yeah, it does. It sucks," said Phil. "And that's mostly your fault. You took six years from my life that I can't explain to anyone without looking crazy, and the spell you put on my brain makes it so I can't concentrate and can't hold down a serious job."

"I allegedly did all of those terrible things to you and yet you're here, aren't you, choosing to spend Christmas with me, the big scary vampire."

"I make poor decisions," said Phil with a huff. "We're alike in that way."

Virgil laughed. "So we are."

"So you're angry at me. I don't really care," Phil lied.

"Perhaps I am, more than I expected," said Virgil. "But I've also realized how much the entire situation was my fault. After all, I was the one who was so caught up in my own drama that I neglected your poor mind and allowed it to become unmoored. It's a mistake I don't intend to make again."

And there it was. "I said I'm not interested in becoming your thrall again."

"Oh, you did say that, and it's such a pity. I really am quite fond of you, despite everything. But I don't give up easily on what I want." He reached out and nudged Phil's face back to look into his eyes. "I think I can get you to see things my way."

"Uh…" Those eyes seemed even larger, more beautiful, more mesmerizing, and the temptation to curl up and rest in them was eroding Phil's convictions. He looked away with far more difficulty this time, standing up despite his knees shaking. "I know what you're trying to do, Virgil, and it's not going to…"

"Hush hush hush now." The vampire pressed down on his shoulders, pushing him back into the chair. "It's time to relax. Just relax and obey, dear."

"Um --" Phil had forgotten, or perhaps underestimated, or just pretended like he didn't know how strong the vampire's powers were. His mind was fogging, filled with memories of subservience, following the vampire around and doing his petty biddings like an obedient little lap dog. How humiliating. How blissful…

"That's right, just look me in the eyes, if you please, dear," he said, his words like snakes coiling around Phil. "There you are. That's a good boy. A good, obedient boy."

Mustering all of his willpower, Phil managed to push the vampire away, overturning his chair and falling to the floor. He'd made such a huge mistake coming here. He was going to be a thrall again, charmed into mindlessness by Virgil, docile and fawning…

"Ah-ah-ah, none of that," said Virgil calmly, picking up the chair with one hand and pulling Phil back onto it with the other. "There will be no resisting, dear. No fighting your better. Just relaxing. Relax and obey."

Once more, Phil found his gaze tethered to the vampire's eyes. "I -- I won't --"

"You will," the vampire insisted, stroking Phil's cheek and running his hand through his hair. "You're such a good boy, so obedient, I know you are. You don't want to fight me. You want to know your place. You want to sink into bliss."

"I…" He tried to struggle, but his limbs felt like jelly, barely attached to his body. His jaw dropped as his eyelids drooped, losing himself in a daze, swaying along as the vampire played with his hair.

"Now tell me the truth, dear. You did miss me, didn't you?"

"I… missed you…"

"And you missed having my firm hold guiding your poor, anxious mind, didn't you?"

"Uh…" One small struggle, and then it was over. "Uh-huh…"

"That's right, dear. You don't want to have to worry about jobs and bills any more, do you?"

That was an easy one. "No…"

"That's right, it's all too much for your tired little brain. Won't it be so nice to have me take care of everything?"

"Yeah…"

"Good boy. Of course it will. Now it's time for you to relax. I'm hungry too, you know, and my hospitality isn't free."

Phil slumped in his chair, offering no resistance as Virgil tilted his head to the side and brushed cold fingers against his neck. The sensation was familiar, almost comforting. He knew his place.

"What a wonderful Christmas present," said Virgil, his cold breath on Phil's neck, breathing deep of his scent. "You shouldn't have. You really, really shouldn't have."

Rare Bookseller Side Stories Masterlist

Thanks for reading my self-indulgent vampire stories, and happy holidays!

[grey342]

Hii! I’m so glad to see someone currently writing bradley cooper fics because honestly PHIL CAN GET IT. i wanted to request maybe a jealous!phil where reader goes on a friends bachelors trip and knowing Phil’s past he gets all angsty, as smutty as you’d like :) honestly anything you’d write id love!!

Don't leave me

Jealous! Phil x reader

synopsis - Phil's girlfriend goes on a trip for a bachelorette party and he's not happy about it.

warnings - MDNI 18+ content, Phil being dramatic, Phil being jealous (Obv), lingerie, slight handjob, P in V, riding and praise.

authors note - Thank you so much for this request and the sweet compliment! I gotta be honest i'm not a huge fan of angst so I made Phil a lil more dramatic and kinda sassy. I still hope you like it :)

please do not steal my work - belongs to @grey342

This man is gonna be the death of me.

The main thought running through your head whilst packing. His remarks and whines can be heard from the next room.

Your close friend was having her bachelorette party this weekend but, she also wanted to spend a couple of days with the bridal party before her wedding. So you all decided to spend a long weekend in Vegas. And Phil is not happy about it.

"I mean, I don't get why you have to go," you roll your eyes at him, "it's not like she's your best friend."

"Oh yeah? And who is?" You retaliate, smirking.

"Me." He scoffs, as if this is obvious information, walking into the room. You take one look at him and start laughing.

You're not stupid, you kind of guessed why he was so mad about you going but now. He's made it really clear for you.

"What's so fucking funny?" He says confused, placing his hands on his hips. A gesture you would usually find attractive but right now, it's making you laugh even harder.

"I just, uh, I can't believe it," you say in between wheezes, " I mean. I had an idea but now it's so obvious." You quietly chuckle.

"What? What is? You're not making any sense." He declares, clearly getting frustrated. After calming yourself down you finally say-

"You're jealous." Apparently, it's now his turn to burst out laughing.

"What? Where the fuck did you get that idea?" He managed in between laughs.

"You're jealous. You're so insistent on me not going, you're trying to tell me all the bad things about the girls. I mean you literally just said "she's not your best friend, I am." You're SO jealous." You clarify.

He's silent just staring at you. You can see the clogs turning in his head to try and come up with a good response. You swear you can see the light bulb appear on top of his head.

"You're just saying that to make yourself feel better about leaving me. For a whole weekend might I add." He says almost sassily and walks out of the room. Clearly proud of himself.

"Sweetie," you sigh, "it's only three days. I'll be back before you know it. We can text throughout the day and call every night." You try to deal.

"Or I have a better idea... don't go and we can talk all day and all night. Face to face."

You groan in frustration. You cannot believe this is the type of conversation you were having with your grown ass boyfriend. Pick the sassy men they said. You internally roll your eyes.

You walk into the living room to see him practically pouting on the couch. Scoffing, you go to walk away when an idea pops into your head.

"Hey Phil, if you stop complaining right now you can have your present early." He looks at you confused.

"What the fuck do you mean "present"?"

"Well since you are so predictable," you emphasise the last word, " I knew you would act like this when I said i'm going on a trip. So, I bought you something as a "sorry for leaving you, you big baby" gift."

"You did?" You can see the glint of excitement in his eyes.

"Yes my little princess but, clearly you are a lot more upset than I anticipated so i'm willing to give it to you early. If you want it that is." You wager. There's a long pause where he's weighing out his options.

"Okay," he clasps his hand together, " I have decided that I would like my present early. BUT I still want one for when you come back." He leans back on the couch, glowing with pride.

"Fine. I'll be right back." He rubs his hand together in anticipation as you leave the room.

Moments later you're shouting down the hall, "close your damn eyes." He grunts in disapproval.

"Okay and open." He does and your met with a groan that also sound like a moan.

"Oh baby." You're stood in front of him in a lingerie set, barely covering anything. Plus it's in his favourite colour.

"Am I forgiven?" You say, moving down to straddle his lap.

"Yes. A million times yes." He exclaims instantaneously as you giggle.

His mouth meets yours passionately, with your teeth and tongues clashing. His hands make their way down to your ass and yours to his chest. Pushing him lightly so his back meets the couch.

His slowly starts to kiss your jaw, then down your neck and finally the top of your chest. He looks up at you, almost pleading, and you give him a look of approval. His hands move around your back to unclasp your bra.

He slides it off at an agonisingly slow pace. When the bra is fully off he stares at your chest in awe. He moves his head down taking one nipple in the mouth and groping the other. You let out a content sigh.

He switches over, repeating the same process as you began to rock slowly, back and forth, on his lap. His moans vibrate on your chest as your breaths turn into pants.

You reach down in between you and start pulling at the waistband of his grey sweatpants, indicating you want them off. He knows what you want and immediately begins to pull them down. You look down and eagerly take him in your hand. You swipe your thumb over the tip and began pumping up and down.

"Fuck.." He groans. You push your panties over to the side and slide onto him. Both of you moaning in unison. You'll never get used to the way he feels, filling you up perfectly.

Once you're both ready, you begin to move back and forth, riding him. His hands take sanctuary on your hips, slowly guiding you. You lean down, placing your mouth on his, capturing his groans in your mouth.

"You're doing so good. Riding my dick so well baby, my good girl." He says against your mouth. He reaches down and starts to rub slow circles on your clit. You whimper at the contact.

"Oh fuck, do that again." Obeying his orders you do it again. He uses his other hand to begin assisting you in bouncing up and down. Your movements begin to change pace, going faster.

His groans and your whimpers becoming louder. He dick twitching inside of you, indicating he's close. You ride faster and bounce harder. He in turn, quickens his movements on your clit and his fingers dig into your hips, leaving bruises for later.

"Oh shit, Phil.. I'm close."

"I know honey, I know hold on a lil longer." He pants. Your cries being the response. Your head thrown back, eyes screw shut.

"Hey, look at me. I wan't you to look at me when you cum." He demands. You immediately open your eyes and stare into his. His gaze possessive.

"Oh fuck, Phil." You whine.

"Let go baby, give it to me." That send you over the edge. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the pleasure taking over and your body began to shake.

"Oh shit, oh shit." He says as he fills you up, head resting in the crook of your neck.

Coming down from your highs, he lifts his head and smiles at you.

"What?"

"You're so beautiful." He places a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Mhm, i'm still going." You stand up and start walking towards the bedroom.

"Ah! Come on honey, i'm the love of your life! You can't leave me!" He calls out, following you.

[woso-lover]

The other side of Manchester | Alessia Russo

Alessia Russo x foden!reader

Phil Foden x foden!reader

Summary: A anonymous dating app lets Alessia Russo, the Manchester United star striker, and Y/n Foden, the die hard citizen, fall for each other.

Warning: language, rivals to lovers?

English is not my first language

Masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Bantr. It was the new trendy dating app everyone's using. It's a complete anonymous dating app, where you find your partner without any pictures or whatsover, only the things your counterpart says the you. This is the formal description of Keeley Jones, the developer of Bantr. Everyone in your surrounding and who's single has this app, exept for you. It wasn't like you weren't against the idea, but you didn't believed in every trend. With you the only single one who has not the app, your and your brothers teammates were basicly forcing you to download this app.

"Comon, Y/n. You know it going to work, since you look more for personality and everything. And wouldn't be home alone anymore." Your brother whined. Since weeks he tries to get you to download this app. He even put your own teammates against you, who were always on your side.

"I'm everything but lonely, Phil. And who knows maybe in two weeks no ones using this shitty app anymore" He raised an eyebrow.

"Y/n/n you are lonely. And who cares about this stuff. If you don't do it on your free will I will. And I will find you a hot chic who has both looks and personality." With that he grabbed your phone to make his threatment reality.

"Alright, alright. But at least let me do the fucking profil on my own."

"Alright, heartbreacker" He smiled as he gave you your phone back.

"I hate you" you said as you opend the app and logged yourself in. Phil kept a close eye on your phone until Jack walk over to the next room

"Yo Jack. You own me 20 bucks!" Phil yelled at him.

"I can't belive you fucking bet on me" You said shaking your head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

On the other side of Manchester it looked a bit different.

"Tooney, I think I'm gonna delete this app" Alessia sighed.

"What Bantr? Don't you dare." Ella muffled with a mouth full of crips.

"Because it's useless."

With that Ella stop whatever movie they were watching. It was movie night at Alessias like every friday. "Why? I thought there was this one girl you wanted to meet up with."

"Well she canceled"

"What? Why?"

"I don't know. Can we just go on with the movie?"

"Of course yeah. But I swear on my boyfriend that I and this app will find some one for you." Ella said while putting on the tv again.

"No don't swear on him. He's actually nice" Alessia said smilling.

A few hours and two movies later Alessia and Ella still sat on the couch, with Ella sleeping besides her bestfriend. Alessia often tought about going also to sleep but the movies always kept her awake. So the blonde finally decides to put the tv off and closing her eyes too. But as she wanted to drift off, her phone beeped. With a sigh she looks at her phone and frowned at the bantr message.

Hey, sorry to disturb you. But my brother wouldn't leave me alone, if I wouldn't text anyone on this stupid app. ;)

Alessia smiled at this message. She ddebated if she's going to answer or not. In the end she decided to give it a try.

Hi. No everythings fine. I share the same opinion with this app. My bestfriend forced me to get it.

A thing Alessia didn't know was, that you were smilling on your phone to her respond. Happy that there was someone who shared the same opinion as you.

Looks like we have the same story. So do you maybe know how this app works properly?

I could help you indeed

I'm all ears, Bantr master

Alessia couldn't stop smiling. She wrote with many girls, acording the Ella it's necessary to find the perfect match, but never smiled this much in the beginning. She adjusted herself on the couch and text the anymous person.

You texted each other for hours until you had to put a stop into this. On sunday you had a game and with that a little training and a meeting. Your told her you had to work, not what you do for living. You didn't feel like telling a stranger that you are a footballer and maybe get used for this. But your texting partner didn't mind and you fell asleep thinking about her.

Alessia on the other side couldn't sleep, thinking to much about her texting partner. The conversation you two had was easy. It was easy to talk to you. Easier then with the other girls she texted with.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Ella woke up, searching for her bestfriend on the couch. Confussed she couldn't found Alessia, Ella walked around Alessias house, only to find her sitting on the kitchen counter with a smile in her face. She was looking down at the phone in her hands.

"What got you so smiley today, Lessi?" Ella asked. With that Alessia looked up and aknowledge for the first time her bestfriends precence.

"Nothing!" Alessia said quickly and turned her phone off quick. Too quick for Ella to believe.

"Well I think, you got a match on bantr, right?" Alessia nodded her head frusterated. There was no point in lying.

"Ohh. What's her name? Dies she lives in Manchester? Tell me everything you know." Ella commanded.

"Well she's a private person" Ella nodded suspicious. "Her names Y/n...uhm... yes she lives in Manchester and her favourite colour is Y/f/c"

Ella looked at her bestfriend dumbfounded. "Is that everything?" Alessia nodded her head slowly. "Oh dios mío. You really don't know how to talk to people. But let me handle this... Oh I got one. Ask her if she supports United or City."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"So how's bantr?" Lauren Hemp, your bestfriend, welcomed you, when you entered the pitch

"Good morning to you too, and how do you even fucking know about that one?" You asked her confussed while you tied your shoelaces.

"I have my trust sources" You shook your head. Your brother must tell someone and one of his teammates told it Lauren or it was Jack who told then Lauren. "So found any matches?" She asked curious.

"Yeah, I started texting with someone yesterday" You said proudly.

"Show me!" You gave Lauren your phone, so she could read the chat. "Why aren't you answering her?" She shoved your into your face.

"You see the kind off question she wrote down, right? So know imagine she supports fucking united. I wouldn't know what the fuck to do."

"You don't do anything, silly. You just have to shake of your pride and look over this, mate, if you like her. You do, right?" Lauren asked with a smile.

"The fuck, Lauren. I don't even know her. We texted yesterday. How can I like her then?"

"Because I know you. But you can't tell me you don't know anything."

"Well, her name is Alessia-"

"Uh like Alessia Russo." Lauren interrupted you. It was to tease you, because she knew about your rivalery you had in the league and who gets the starting on the Lionesses, since you both a striker.

"Don't Lauren, or I fucking-"

"Hey! Everyone to the middle!" Your coach yelled. As soon as everyone was in position, he went on. "Alright girls. Tomorrow we have a game to warm us up against United next week. As we know Tottenham is nearly on relegation, I do not wanna see any mistakes. It's also important that we win this game, so we are going to be second, since Chelsea lost against Arsenal. And with a win next week we are going to be first." He looked everyone of his players in the eyes. "Okay, so today is a short training with an tactic meeting afterwards. So want you all be ready at 2 o'clock in the meeting."

With that the training started. It was not intense, just something to train the things that didn't worked. After the coach dismissed y'all, you went instenly to your phone, to look what Alessia had texted you. You texted her in a pause.

Well isn't this sad, because I think Manchester is red ;)

You smiled at your phone for a short time. Something that didn't went unnoticed by your bestfriend.

Don't know if you support woman football, but they are playing next week. I think you going to see there, that Manchester is blue.

"Make sure your ready at 2, heartbreacker" Lauren said, when she walked to the showers.

Quickly you grabbed your towel and speeded after her. "Where do you get all this Informationen?.... Wait!... Are you talking with Jack again?" You yelled and ran after her.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

In the next days the texting with each other has grow to an routine of the other. When you had your meeting for the game against Tottenham, what you won 4:0 with a hattrick of yours, you couldn't keep your hands and eyes of the screen. It went this far that the coach had to take it away from you.

With the win against Tottenham ManCity was one point apart from ManUnited. The tension got thicker in training and everyone worked hard to win this derby.

You and Alessia had a bet to finally meet after the long time of writting. If City wins Alessia had to orginze the date and if United wins you had to it. It gave you both something to work harder, to impress the other one, even none of you know that you both are playing profionall football for the Manchester clubs.

You felt attracted towards the woman. You liked her personality and of course that she is big football fan, who also watched the womans game. She on the other side felt like she had fallen for you. Alessia was known as a person who falls in love very easily. It has it pros and cons. One con she doesn't even know you properly. She only knew a version you could have created. But she was looking forward to the date.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was matchday. Your nerves went crazy like on every other big game. Steph Houghton gave the last prep talk before everyone lined up after her. You stood to your annoce next to Alessia Russo. You gave each other a look that meant, whoever wins this game gets the starting spot for the upcoming international break.

The game was intense. Both didn't want to give the other the win and with that the first place. It was 35th, when Alessia shot a beautiful goal with an assist from Ella. The United girls celebrated the goal loud with their fans. Then there was halftime. You went with anger of yourself in your locker-room, but it went away quickly, when you saw that Alessia had texted you.

1:0 for me, opps

You wish, honey. City still got full 45 min to score at least one goal

Not going to happen

Ella saw Alessias smile and smiled to herself before she sat next to her. She looked at her bestfriends phone before their coach called for everyones attention.

The game got more intense, than it already was. You had chances over chances, but nothing worked. Neither it was Mary or the last defender.

With that the game ended 1:0 and United stayed on top of the table. You were ready for a teasing comment from Alessia, like always when she wins against you, but that didn't happened. She just ran to the locker room. Weird, you thought. She always stays for the fans in the end. Since you played abroad, you also just went to the locker room. You were frusterated with yourself. You wanted to win against Alessia, but also wanted to impress the girl you had to admit were falling for.

When you entered the locker room you could see the disappointed and frustration in your teammates faces. You the first thing you did after you sat down, like all the other times, you went straight to your phone and of course did Alessia message you.

So since Manchester is red again, where does our date lead us. ;) ♡

Alessia was eager to finally meet you. To see if she not fell for a version the other person created. So she went straight to the lockerroom, forgetting for once the fans and texted you. She knew it sounded desprate, but she hoped you were too. Slowly the other girls were entering the locker room and started to celebrate their.

"Lessi, why are you on your phone? Come celebrate with us. You can text or whatever later." Ona said. But the blonde ressist.

"I'm good Ona" But the spaniard wasn't not pleased with the answer. She wanted to ask Alessia again, but interrupted by Mary, who put the music on.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Today was the day for your meeting with the girl you had fallen for over the last two weeks. It felt like falling for a mystery. Alessia wanted nothing fancy, like going out to a restaurant or something. So you decided to go to Café. Both of you were nervous to meet the other person. Alessia was a mess and put on every outfit she had. But with Ellas help she finally found something to wear. She also helped Alessia with the hair, that she at the end wore down.

You were also not better. Lauren came over and helped you with an outfit and gave advice on how to style your hair, but also to calm down your nerves. She swears she had never seen you this nervous. And of course your brother called you. He told you how he knew you find someone on this app and that he wishes you the best luck. With a look in the mirror you made your way to the Café.

But you still were running late so you texted her about it.

It's fine I'll wait outside

And she did it waited for you, but it looks like you were not coming.

Because you knew that Café very well, you drove a little bit different, so Alessia wouldn't see straight away. With a last look in the mirror of your car, you walked to the Café. But as you got closer to it, you couldn't believe your eyes. Alessia mf Russo stood there with her phone in her hand.

I'm outside. Where are you?

And now it hit you. The name Alessia, supporting Manchester United, having two brother. It now all made sense. And you stood there on your spot frozen and for the first time you didn't know what to do.

"Fuck me"

Part 2 maybe?

[misctf]

Employee Swim Day

Jack sighed as he adjusted his goggles and prepared for his morning swim. As co-captain on the swim team, he always did his best to stick to his strict routine, even if it was early on a Sunday. But he had other motivations too. His bros were giving him shit for choosing to study over partying the night prior, and his girlfriend wasn’t happy that he wasn’t spending time with her. It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy those things, but right now he needed to focus on his grades and studying. But with all the added stress, he knew he could count on a nice swim to calm his nerves. Well at least he thought he could. Arriving at the pool earlier, he saw a sign reading “Employee Swim: Students Not Permitted”. Usually he wasn’t one to break the rules, but today felt like an exception. And despite the glares of a few employees, Jack was feeling good.

“It’s a big pool.” Jack mumbled to himself, “They have enough room.”

Without another thought, he expertly dove into the pool and started his laps. He pushed himself hard, relishing in the feeling of being in the water. After another lap, he pushed himself out of the water and sat at the edge of the pool to catch his breath and remove his goggles.

“Just a quick breather.” He thought, “Then I’ll get back into it.”

“Hey kid, you an employee here?” Jack jumped at the commanding voice and turned to face the man.

“Oh uh...” Jack started. He expected someone might make a comment, but he was truly taken aback by the man in front of him. Saying the man was large was an understatement. He was clearly muscular, although his muscles were covered in a thick layer of fat, causing his pecs and gut to jut out. His arms and shoulders were similarly massive. But what got Jack the most was how hairy he was. As a swimmer, he had always been careful to keep clean shaven, something this man cared little for. The only place Jack could see that wasn’t covered in hair was the man’s bald head. Even his face was adorned with a salt and pepper beard, indicating to Jack the man must be a few decades older than him.

“I haven’t seen ya around kid, the names Phil.” Phil said extending a hand to Jack. Jack couldn’t explain it, but in front of this man, he felt small. Not just physically either, even though the man towered over him. His presence radiated authority.

“Oh, I’m Jack.” He said, shaking the other man’s hand. Jack couldn’t help but wonder if this man really thought he was an employee? Was he stupid or something? Jack cleared his throat, “Uhh and yeah, I’m a student. Just wanted to get a swim in.” Jack mentally kicked himself, why did he sound so unassertive? It wasn’t like him.

Phil raised a thick eyebrow, “That’s what I figured kid. You know its employee swim day, right? Ya know, for employees to relax poolside after stressing over cleaning up after you kids. Me and the guys are gonna kindly ask that you leave.”

Jack was uneasy, “Look just a few more laps and I’ll get going.” He said, trying to muster some confidence, “I pay tuition here and with finals and everything else going on, you don’t need to tell me about stress.” Phil smiled, “Besides, I’m not taking up that much of the pool.”

Phil shrugged, “Alrighty boy, suit yourself.” The larger man gave Jack a firm pat on the back, and walked back over toward a group of guys. Jack couldn’t help but notice that this group were all nearly as big and hairy as Phil. The larger man sat down next to his buddies and said something, causing a few of the guys to laugh.

“Whatever.” Jack thought, placing his goggles back on, “Bunch of assholes.”

And with that, Jack dove back into the pool and started another lap. However, as he approached the other end of the pool, Jack couldn’t help but feel a little more out of breath. He stopped at the end of the pool and took a few deep breath.

“Must be from pushing myself earlier.” Jack thought. He brushed a hand through his hair, not noticing that as he did, clumps of it were washed away, leaving his hair shorter with a few bald patches.

With another deep breath, he started his lap across the pool. As he swam though, he felt a strange itchiness course across his skin. It started in his chest, but quickly moved down his toned stomach and seemed to then reach around and spread throughout his back. At first it was uncomfortable and he nearly stopped midway across, but as he continued to swim, the itching and tingling seemed to improve. Unknown to him, tiny hairs had begun erupting across his chest, back, shoulders, stomach, and armpits. His arms and legs were not spared either as more and more hair grew from his previously well shaven skin. And while the hairs continued to lengthen and thicken as he swam to the other end of the pool, the remaining hair on his head fell away, leaving him completely bald. He remained unaware as he reached the edge of the pool- the changes seemingly stopping.

“What the hell?” Jack breathed, exhausted. To make matters worse, he felt a dull throbbing pain across his forehead, “Damn headache.” He mumbled. He removed his goggles and threw them on the pool edge, “New goggles suck.”

“C’mon Jack, ya look like shit out there!” Phil’s voice boomed across the pool, causing a few of the guys next to him to snicker.

“Fuck you.” Jack whispered to himself, not even glancing over at them. He was going to do his best to ignore those assholes.

With that, he started another lap across the pool. As he did, the lengthened until a thick pelt covered the previously hairless swimmer. At the same time, hairs pushed out around his chin and upper lip, forming into a goatee. But the biggest changes occurred when he was halfway across the pool. Fat began to accumulate on his previously toned body. His flat pecs pushed out with fat and muscle, while his toned arms thickened with fat. His legs and ass were not spared, and the accumulating fat caused his speedo to strain before ripping completely. As he got closer to the edge of the pool, his once tight abdominal muscles became covered in a thick layer of fat, which continued to push further out into a solid beer gut. His face filled with extra fat, becoming somewhat rounder. But by the time he did reach the edge, Jack was feeling exhausted. What was worse though was the headache that pierced through his skull. He was barely able to concentrate on anything.

“Just one more lap.” He said to himself, “Just gotta grab my goggles, go home, and sleep this shit off.” Jack winced at the sound of his voice. It sounded deeper and more gravely compared to his usually youthful tenor. He tried to clear his throat, “Maybe I’m coming down with something.” He whispered to himself. Between the headache and his voice, it made sense to him.

With that, he started his next lap, although he felt slower and heavier. With each stroke, Jack felt even more off and his form began to suffer. He felt more tired, but not in a way he could associate with a good workout. As this new feeling grew, his body began to lose its youthfulness. The thick hairs across his body began to lighten, with patches of gray poking through. Wrinkles formed on his skin, while his complexion began to change. His arms and legs darkened, while his upper arms, chest, and abdomen lightened until he had a solid farmer’s tan. At the midway point, his changes continued as his muscles began to atrophy with age, and his layers of fat started to lose its firmness and sag. As he neared the edge of the pool, it was like his body stopped responding to him. His technique became flailing of his arms and legs. He was panicking and just as he thought he was about to go under, he felt a pair of strong hands lift him out of the water and onto the edge of the pool.

“Damn, you really had us going there for a sec, Greg.” Phil chuckled, as he too pulled himself out of the pool.

Jack was coughing, “What the fuck? Greg?” He said between coughs, “My name is...”

“Greg” Phil said cutting him off, “Fuck did you take in too much water? Screwed with your head?” Phil laughed, “Also I think ya lost something out there.” He said nodding towards the torn speedo floating in the water.

Jack’s eyes widened and he immediately looked down, “What the fuck?!” He shouted, taken aback by the large gut that protruded from his once toned abdomen. He quickly covered himself with one hand and grabbing a handful of his hairy, fat stomach, “Wha... what happened to me?” He immediately shoved Phil away and moved as quickly as he could to the locker room, his hairy fat ass jiggling with each step. He did his best to ignore the laughter of Phil’s buddies as he passed by them. Phil just smirked, nodded at his buddies, and followed Jack into the locker room.  

Once in the locker room, Jack continued to take deep breaths. He looked around in panic, and moved towards the nearest mirror. When he finally was able to get a good glimpse at himself, his heart sank. Gone was his toned swimmer’s body and youthful appearance. He rubbed a hand through his flabby chest hair and patted his bald head, recoiling at the unfamiliar sensation. This couldn’t be real, whatever this was it had to be an illusion or a prank.

“Well Greg, what do we have here?” Jack’s eyes widened and he turned to face Phil, who wore a smug grin across his bearded face.

“You did this to me!” Jack shouted. But just as he was about to continue yelling at the still larger man, his piercing headache intensified.

“Well I guess you’re somewhat smart.” Phil chuckled, “I did warn you it was employee’s swim day, and since you wanted to swim so badly, I made you one of my employees.” Jack continued to grip his head in pain, barely registering the words, “Although, I still have some shit to get done today. I’m really enjoying my time here, so I’m sure you can handle our workload.”

Jack groaned, “Please... just stop this.” He said collapsing to his knees, continuing to grip his head, “My name... I’m not Greg.”

Phil smirked, “Ah don’t worry. Besides no more stressing about school or stupid relationships.” Jack looked up at him. How did he know? Who was this guy? Phil shrugged, “Mind reader, but no need to concern yourself with that, right Greg?”

“Greg...” Jack whispered, the headache improving only slightly, “But my name is...” What was his name? The more he tried to think of it, the more the headache intensified.

“Greg, you’ve been working for me for the last 25 years.” Phil said walking up to Jack, “You know that, right Greg?” He said forcefully and once again Jack felt weak in the presence of such an authoritative figure, and with the forcefulness of the large man’s tone, the name “Greg” seeped into his brain. He could hear a voice radiating from within his mind, prodding him to accept this new name. Jack gripped his head tighter. Would it really be that bad to be called Greg? Did it really matter what his name was? Besides, as the name Greg reverberated through his head, it just seemed right. As he accepted the voice and what it was telling him, the searing pain of his headache improved. In fact, a euphoric feeling washed through him, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. It felt right to him. If Phil wanted him to be Greg, he would be Greg.

“Yeah... Greg, sounds right.” Greg replied. He seemed content with his name, but old memories from what felt like a lifetime ago forced themselves to the surface of his mind, “But... no, what about college? And finals? And my girlfriend?” He said gripping his head again as the headache intensified.

Phil shook his head, “You work at the college Greg. You’re in maintenance.” He chuckled, “Ya know you’re such a dumbass, how could you forget you’ve been working the same damn job for the past 25 years?” Greg gripped his head even tighter as the pain intensified, “And a girlfriend? Really Greg? All the guys know you’re a total cock sucking moron. One of the reasons we keep ya around.”

Greg felt the headache worsen again. He could’ve sworn he was smart- studying all the time, getting good grades, actually attending college and not working at it. But as he tried to resist those thoughts, the headache seemed to worsen. Maybe he was mistaken? Just that thought alone sent a small wave of euphoria, that caused his body to shake in pleasure. It was at this point he realized that accepting these facts would bring relief. And so, his resistance faded. It was true, he never dreamed about going to college, instead dropping out as quickly as he could from high school. He instead spent his time drinking beers, looking for jobs, and sucking cock. Finals? A girlfriend? Why would he even care about those. He worked as a groundskeeper for decades, doing everything he could to help his coworkers out. He took extra shifts and would help his coworkers relax in the breakroom. Memories of sucking off Phil and his other buddy’s cocks flooded his mind as he developed his new skillset. At last, the pain in his head was replaced by that same euphoric feeling that only served to reinforce his new reality. Even the remnants of Jack that tried to protest felt comforted by his new reality- no more stress, just relaxing, being happy, and making others happy. As such, his eyes dulled as his IQ plummeted and years of schooling evaporated from his mind. A stupid grin formed on his face he resigned himself to being a “cock sucking moron” as Phil had put it.

“Huh yeah not the smartest tool in the shed, that’s for darn sure.” Greg mumbled as the headache dissipated, “Goddamn, well what am I doin’ in here? Ain’t it swim day or somethin’?”

Phil shook his head, “Always cracking jokes. Did you see yourself out there? You couldn’t swim to save your life!” Phil chuckled, “I’ll admit, we gave you a chance today, but if I didn’t save you, you’d be in big trouble.” The large man chuckled.

“But... but I love to swim.” Greg replied, feeling the headache worsen again. The remnants of Jack in this case wanted to resist this. If there was anything that made him who he was, it was his passion for swimming. But the headache seemed to become even worse this time, pounding from deep within his head. New memories of taking extra work on swim day filled his mind. It was okay though, afterwards the guys would buy him some beers and he’d spend time drinking with them. He couldn’t really enjoy swim day anyway- given he wasn’t much of a swimmer. With those thoughts, he could feel his passion for swimming being replaced with a passion for drinking and hard work. Yeah he might’ve been the dumbest of them all, but he was the hardest working employee. And so when swim day would come around, he would do their work. Besides, it wasn’t like he could swim anyway, right?

“Can’t swim...” Greg mumbled, the voice again booming from inside his brain, “Can’t swim...” he repeated. At this point the headache nearly dissipated and again replaced with euphoria as he accepted Phil’s words. Of course he took all their work on swim day! He was a good employee after all, and it wasn’t like he’d enjoy swim day anyway, “Can’t swim to save me life. Never learned how to.”  

Phil smirked, “Well damn buddy, what’re ya still doing here? I got a whole list of things you need to get done. And put some clothes on. Told ya it was stupid to try and wear a speedo.”

Greg nodded, “Yes boss, don’t you worry! Ya’ll enjoy the day, I’ve got ya covered.” He smirked as he eyed his shirtless boss, and his eyes traveled down to Phil’s crotch.

“Nah eyes up here, Greg. I’ll give you a taste later, but only if you’ve done a good job.” Phil replied with a grin.

And so Greg, now feeling extra motivated, pulled on a pair of shorts and a ball cap, both of which Phil had on hand. He quickly left to start his long list of tasks for the day- taking care of the grounds, ensuring work orders were completed, and most importantly to him, making his boss proud. Yeah it was stressful at times, and the guys always made him pick up extra work, but all Greg wanted to do was be the best darn employee he could be.

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

Country Boy

Phillip Graves x f!reader

PART ONE!

Summary : it’s been 10 years since you packed up and left your small town for greener pastures, but after recklessly deciding to come back after so long you’re reunited with the former love of your life - Phillip Graves

Word count : 3.4k

A/N : as metroman would say, ‘my death was highly exaggerated’. Sorry for taking so long to put something out but hope that everyone enjoys! Yearning part 3 is also in the works <3

“One day, when we’re out of here - just you and me - I’m gonna ask you out real nice, darlin’.”

It’s August, 1994, nearing the end of high school. It’s a humid Friday evening and the both of you are sitting on the edge of the dock that only the town fisherman knows about. But he’s not here tonight.

You chuckle at him, “Thought you said you’d never consider leaving, Phil.”

He’s got that dorky grin plastered on his face, his dimples visible.

“If it were with you, I’d leave in a heartbeat.”

“I knew you’d say that!” You hit his shoulder playfully and he can only laugh.

It’s your usual thing; sitting together on the docks after school until late as possible. As late as it can get before your papa considers reaching for his rifle to find the troublemaker keeping his daughter out till ‘God knows when’ as he said. So you cherish these childish yet heartfelt moments, even if you’re both 17 and have big lives far ahead of you.

“What? It’s the truth, hon.” He smiles, wrapping an arm around you.

“I wouldn’t have guessed otherwise. I’m not the kind of girl you lie to, Phillip Graves.”

“So does that mean you would?”

“I would what exactly?” You cock an eyebrow at him, expecting a dirty joke of some sort.

“You know.. go out with me. Real fancy, too. I’ll dress up and everything, just for you.” He adds, his hand now reaching for your face.

Your breath hitches at the way his thumb brushes over your bottom lip. You stole your mother’s lipstick for moments like these. Leaving that little red stained mark on him.

He withdraws his thumb slowly, squinting in the dark. You could see the way his smile grew as he examined the smudged rouge on his fingertip.

“That’s pretty, darlin’. That for me?”

What comes out of your mouth is a whisper and you couldn’t explain why; maybe it was the glint in his eyes as he said it, the way his lips were parted slightly as he looked back up at you from his hand.

“Yes.. Yes.” You swallow thickly, your gaze fixated on him and what he could do next.

“Really? Well, I think that answers my other question then.” He’s beginning to get up now and your eyes widen as you frantically get on your feet to follow him.

“What does that mean?”

He stops in his tracks, turning to face you again. He’s still smiling but his arm is now concealed behind his back.

“It means that I know it’s the right time to give you this.”

It’s a small box.

You approach him slowly, your bare feet not making a sound on the wooden boards of the dock. Once you’re finally inches away from him, he flicks it open.

A ring. A beautiful ring is now before your eyes; a small, golden ring with a big, shining gem in the centre.

You could cry, and you almost do as you let out a choked sob but Phillip quickly wraps his arms around you.

“Don’t- don’t cry, sugar.. unless they’re happy tears, I hope.” He murmurs into your ear, hand caressing your back gently.

“They’re happy. They’re so… so happy, I swear.” You catch yourself between your gasps for air.

He waits a moment, taking the time to memorise the way your bodies align. How perfectly they fit into each other. But when he pulls away, a hand comes up again to wipe your tears.

“I just thought… even if- you know, you go to do the amazing things that you’re meant to and I end up staying here or there… That I’ll always be with you. Just a little part of me you can carry around forever. Now, why don’t you try it on and see if I got the measurements right, okay?” He prompts carefully, allowing you to hold out a shaky hand as he slots it into your finger.

“It fits like a glove, Phil. I can’t believe you did this..”, you take a deep breath, trying not to cry.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re the only girl I’ve ever want to cherish like this.” As he brings his finger away from your cheek, he leans in.

You share a kiss that you could’ve never imagined happening with any boy in that wretched town.

Except, Phillip Graves was the only thing that made staying there worth it.

-

You must have been daydreaming again, playing with the ring still on your finger after all these years.

You run a completely different ship now; miles away in the city, married and thriving.

You would’ve never believed your future turned out like this. Not without Phillip.

A business all to yourself and your husband, and hopefully for your future kids too. A display of pride and joy that you’ve managed to work for and build with your own hands.

You attempt to direct your focus to the ring that your husband gave you instead. It’s silver and covered in small little gems, always sparkling in some way. A way to represent how your husband’s love seems to be only visible in objects. How they won’t stop pestering you at this rate.

Five years have gone by since this much flashier ring was presented to you on your summer vacation.

And now you’re here - surrounded by bustling trains, people and business that you can’t seem to escape.

The rush of the city never seems to alleviate, even if you’re a day away from your vacation that you’ve been planning for weeks now.

No husband. No business or constant phone calls. Just you and the countryside.

Obviously, you weren’t entirely sure on the idea of going back there. Not after that charming rascal Phillip Graves.

But your ma and pa kept calling which made you realise you just needed a break from the city. You needed the hot, dry days and cool, breezy evenings back at the family house. When your pa used to come back after work almost covered in sweat and you’d still run up to him and hug him like he’d just come back from war. The fresh pies you’d try to eat even when they were too hot and you still kept the piece in your mouth because you were so hungry. Those foolish nights when Phillip would knock on your window after hours and you’d sneak out to the wildest places imaginable - it was all such a daydream that you never would’ve wanted to leave.

But, this is where you are now.

You place your coffee cup down a little suddenly onto your desk, raking a hand through your hair.

“Louis? Louis, honey?” You get up and charge out of your office, looking both ways down the hall.

“Louis?” You repeat, calling out to him.

“Yes, baby?” He’s walking towards you at a leisurely pace, phone pressed up against his ear as he lowers his voice to talk to you.

“Do you uhm.. need me here right now?” You bite the inside of your cheek as you wait for an answer - a finger held up to your face.

Wait.

Your whole face seems to scrunch at the sight of it, frowning as he laughs and smiles at his phone.

“Right- yeah, I’ll call you back. No, it won’t be long.” He ends the call, putting his brick phone into his suit pocket.

“What’s up?”

“I said, do you need me to be here?”

“Well, it’s nice to have you around. Always helpful to have a spare hand.”

“Yeah, I understand. But-“

“Is it about your trip? You’re not going?”

You sigh.

“No, I am going still. I just want to get ready now since it’s going to be a long drive and I don’t want to waste time tomorrow.”

“If you say so. But what if I need you here right now? You’re going to be too busy packing for the hillbilly hellhole.”

Okay, your marriage isn’t the most functional. Or romantic.

Louis isn’t horrible - just a little less emotional than you would’ve hoped. Maybe even a little manipulative. But who’s psychoanalysing that, because it’s definitely not you.

It’s very obvious that you’re the only one that notices this behaviour.

You try not to dwell and take another deep breath.

“Well, my parents live in that ‘hillbilly hellhole’ and I’d like to pack all my extra things so I will be going now.”

“Alright, if you say so.” He waves a hand carelessly at you. Dismissing you.

You don’t say anything back, you can only bite your tongue and grip your suitcase handle like it’s about to fall off.

It was never this bad at the beginning, but that’s what they always say, isn’t it?

Recently, he’s just been so out of touch with you and your love life but you don’t even want to know why. It could probably break you, or worse.

So now, here you are, packing frantically for that ‘hillbilly hellhole’ that you call home. You don’t even know why you’re so excited, the items seem to fly into your suitcase as you run around the house to grab anything else you might need. Even if the majority of it is still in your old room, waiting for you expectantly.

That morning felt like the beginning of something big.

Getting up at the crack of dawn, brushing your teeth and getting ready for a holiday that you’ll never forget.

Jumping into that car felt like a breath of fresh air as you rolled down your window hastily, not bothering to bid goodbye since you’re too busy hitting the road.

It’s a nice feeling; being able to have your music turned up as loud as you like as you get to look out for all the wonderful sights to see on the journey. It’s a sense of accomplishment, that’s what you declare to yourself as you rifle through your CD album to choose the next one to play.

It’s even a shock when you find some hidden CDs you burnt when you were younger, the sound of nostalgia bringing back memories of your childhood.

The hum of the dingy, flickering bulbs in the gas station seem to be the only thing you can focus on as you slowly prowl the aisles, waiting for something to catch your eye. Colourful, fluorescent wrappers seem to jump out of their display and into your hands as you collect many sugary delights that would make your husband cock a brow at you. But he’s not here, so you pay no mind as you take them to the register and pour them all in the passenger seat before you get back on the road once more.

The roads seem to blend into each other as you continuously drive for what seems like days, when in reality is only a couple of hours. It’s much more tense when you consider what awaits you back home.

It’s been at least 10 years since you’ve left, and you never looked back.

Sure, family would come to visit the city and you’d enjoy that; it was easier being able to forget about what was left behind. Yet it still doesn’t seem completely buried, as if it’s dormant and waiting for you to release it once more.

It wasn’t long until you’d arrive soon. You were beginning to recognise the trails and overgrown trees arching over each other as you drove through what felt like a leafy tunnel, snippets of sunlight peeking through.

The breeze cleansed your skin, airing out the car along with the gentle way it soothed your skin as you drove at a leisurely pace.

As much as you were content right now, you knew it may not last for long once revisiting everything that was abandoned years ago. It’s definitely not ruining the atmosphere nor making you now more nervous than ever.

You’ve made it.

You almost want to stop your car in front of the town’s welcome sign, but decide against it and instead drive even slower to encapsulate the same old views that you used to.

As you look around, nothing has changed.

It’s still the same old town, with only minor adjustments to keep up with the times. It’s as if someone’s polished it ever so slightly, while keeping the same ‘look’.

You could turn back. Nobody has seen you yet, it could be your chance-

No. You’re here now, there’s just no point in cowering away.

Pulling up to the familiar drive of your family home, the fresh scent of washed linen and lavenders waft in the air. Your mother has clipped the washing up in the front yard, just like you remember, and your father has clearly been tending to the garden like he’d promised you.

Ten years ago.

It’s beginning to form a pit in the bottom of your stomach. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea from the start.

Just and you’re about to turn to your car, a voice suddenly shrieks.

“Honey!? Is that you?” Your mother’s hands tremble, the basket of sheets toppling to the floor as she brings a hand to her face.

You didn’t realise she would’ve had this sort of reaction, but you didn’t want to question it at all.

“Mom, don’t cry!” You walk over to her, wrapping an arm around her reassuringly.

“I’m- I’m not, baby..” she inhales shakily, “Oh, maybe I am. Look at me.. crying like this..” she murmurs, wiping her eyes gently.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” You whisper.

“It’s okay, dear. Just wait until your father hears.”

Your father was absolutely enthralled seeing you, almost as emotional as your mother as he hugs you firmly.

It’s been too long. Why did you leave them behind like this? That’s the main question running through your head, even if you had the rightful reasons to leave you couldn’t help but still feel guilty for what you did.

After a heartfelt moment of hugging and exchanging ‘I missed you’s’, you finally get to come inside the house.

It’s barely changed, still your dreamy childhood home. The floorboards still creak in the exact spots they used to, reminding you of the way you practically jumped over them when it came to sneaking out at night.

The furniture stayed quite similar, even the new items still referencing to the old ones that used to be there. It felt as if you’d walked into a time capsule.

“Oh, honey, it’s so good to have you back. Maybe we should arrange a small get together. Just to celebrate.” Your mother chimes, smiling as she follows you, still entranced by the same childlike wonder that seemed to come back after all these years.

“We kept your room just the same.” Your father adds, smiling at your excited grin and haste to run up the stairs to what used to be your room.

You almost shriek at the sight of it when you push open the door hurriedly.

It’s just the way you’d left it. Feminine, soft pinks decorate the room as your antique vanity catches the corner of your eye.

“Wow. Wow. Wow- it’s just- so..”, you sniffle and take a deep breath. You can’t cry again, it’ll wear you out at this rate.

You practically topple onto your bed. Relishing in the threatening squeak of the mattress as you sink into your duvet. It’s the same duvet, but smells fresh.

Knowing your parents, they probably washed it while you were away in hopes that you’d come back.

Your mother stands by the doorway, watching with a warm smile as nostalgia floods both of your senses.

“I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll invite all the neighbours, even that Phillip boy-“

You whip your head around, eyes wide.

“Is- is that necessary, ma?”

“Why? Did something happen?” She frowns.

Your father calls from down the hallway, “Do I need to get my rifle back out?”

“No… it’s okay, pa.” You get up and walk over to your mother, who takes your hands in hers with concern.

“What is it then? I don’t have to invite him if you want.”

You shake your head slowly.

“It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

You nod.

-

The next day had began to eat at you with anxiety before it even began.

You woke up earlier than you were supposed to, waiting under the covers as you listened for any movement of some sort.

Clear.

You get up, open the curtains to meet a dreary ray of sunlight slowly enveloping your whole body as you push them open further. It’s warm, almost welcoming as you smile to yourself.

However, beneath all of this was a growing fear now seeping into you.

It had been years since you’d heard the name ‘Phillip Graves’ and you were hoping you wouldn’t have had to hear it again. But it was clearly inevitable.

You splash a little water onto your face and wrap one of your dainty silk robes around yourself, it’s too early to properly get ready for the day.

This prompts you to sneak downstairs, tiptoeing slowly as if you were in a mine field. You didn’t want to disrupt your parents right now.

It’s almost instinct when you turn towards the front door and unlock it, breathing in the fresh summer breeze. Your shoulders relax and somehow you feel at ease.

Now on the porch, you ease yourself into the familiar swinging bench that used to be your favourite spot as a teen. You vividly remember waiting in this seat when Phillip promised to pick you up for a date in his daddy’s worn out truck.

Memories.

You lean back, wistfully closing your eyes as you sink into the cushions and let the memories take over your mind.

That’s why you’re almost sure you’re hallucinating when an oddly familiar revving of an engine blares in your ears as this clearly imaginary car halts to a stop.

You snap up, blinking drearily as you immediately look in the direction of the noise.

“Sugar, what are you doing here?”

No way.

You don’t move, you can’t move.

It’s Phillip Graves, the former love of your life.

He’s hopping out of his truck, staring in disbelief as he saunters towards you. He’s chuckling, placing his hat firmly on his head as he steps cautiously onto your porch.

“Am I dreaming? Or is your dad reloading his shotgun at this very moment?” He smiles, now seemingly unfazed after a few seconds of processing the sight before him.

You, on the other hand, are not responding very well to this. You wrap your robe over your chest in sheer embarrassment while still looking up at him, slack jawed, from your seat.

It finally takes a second for you to shake your head and say something. It comes out a little quiet, shaky even.

“They’re… uhm- they’re sleeping. Right now.” You respond, swallowing thickly and watching his every move like a hawk.

“Hm.” He nods, pursing his lips.

“It’s just you and me then, huh?” Phillip leans against one of the wooden beams of the porch railing, eyes scanning up and down your body.

“Yes.” You whisper, tempted to get up and strangle the cocky smirk that spread across his lips.

“It’s been awhile, didn’t think you’d show up again.”

“No.. no- well, yes it has- but- but I mean no I didn’t really think so either… not so soon..”

“How come?” His responses are snappy, he doesn’t look at you anymore as his eyes dart over to the front door.

“Uhm, I was just going to visit when I got married but.. changed my mind.” A weak chuckle escaped your lips, which you mentally berate yourself for.

“Well, sugar, this has been nice. Tell your daddy that those parts for the fencing have arrived for me, okay?” He questions, cocking a brow at you.

You nod once more, still so shaken.

“I need words, honey.”

“Yes..”

“Good. I’ll see you later. At your little ‘get together’.”

And with that final farewell, he’s turned away and seems to already be starting up his truck when you’ve blinked.

You would’ve thought he’d changed, maybe even softened after your last night together. But it’s shocking how he managed to sober up a few seconds after seeing you.

You can only watch limply as his truck fades away in the distance.

Was he hiding something?

[nomsfaultau]

Hybrid AU in exile week where avian instincts can take over to a degree that is almost horrific, erasing someone’s personality and rationality when they’re panicking. First part here.

Philza flinches. He doesn’t understand why Tommy is suddenly shouting at him for supposedly exploiting his instincts. But he does understand the way Tommy’s wings puff up, bracing to be hit, and it makes Philza freeze as he watches his hatchling throw open the door and storm out of his life. 

“Would it make you more comfortable if I remove your feathers?” 

Tommy stumbles slightly at the threshold, then scoffs, throwing a glare over his shoulder. “As if you would. It’s too convenient to force my instincts to feel safe around you.” That would explain why Tommy isn’t looking at him. Philza can’t breathe. His chick doesn’t feel safe?

Tommy is confused and wary when Philza removes the hatchling’s feathers and hands them back. It only grows as Philza asks if he wants the ones woven into the nest removed as well. The fact he’s at a loss as to why someone would respect his boundaries hurts almost as much as ripping out where Tommy’s feathers mark him as part of the flock. 

But he does it, since that’s what Tommy needs to feel safe, even if Tommy is suspicious of his attempts. Horrifically, he discovers almost every act of affection was interpreted as manipulation, especially the parental ones. Philza winces as Tommy declares he wants to self-preen from now on, decrying the bonding experience as nothing more than manipulation. 

But- hadn’t Tommy liked it? Philza isn’t stupid, he’s figured it would hit close to memories of his abuser. That’s why he’d been so careful to frequently ask if he wanted to stop. But Tommy had coo’d back every time, asking him to keep petting his wings long past the point they were tidy. Like he wanted to stay in Philza’s arms forever. That’s why Philza asked to make their flock official, he’d thought… Tommy had seemed so happy…

Philza feels confused, and awful, and worried. “You know you can let me know when I’m making you uncomfortable, right mate? You can always tell me to stop and I will.”

Tommy doesn’t believe him then. 

But slowly he starts to, tentatively testing the waters over the weeks and waiting with bated breath to be punished for it. As if it’s such an overreach to demand the basic bodily autonomy of people asking permission before showing physical affection. As time passes, he rejects it more and more, growing comfortable asserting his own wants. Philza aches with the desire to tuck his chick under wing, but swallows the increasing distance. It’s good that Tommy feels safe refusing what Philza wants. He’s healing. Philza’s empty arms must be a good thing. 

And naturally, he becomes a little turd with it once he feels safe enough, but Philza can’t exactly resend the promise and so ends up being forced to just stand there while a zombie attacks him since “swinging that sword around makes me uncomfortable Phil, I thought you said this was a safe place.” But Tommy’s delighted laughter makes up for it, even if Philza forces him to replace the golden apples he wasted to survive. He doesn’t mind the little pranks.

But something in Philza panics when Tommy finally abandons the nest to sleep in a bed. He can’t sleep at night, tormented by the keen awareness his nest is empty. Instincts howl to find his chick, because no matter how he fights it that doesn’t change the imprinting. Verging on falling prey to parental instincts and dragging the boy to the safety of the nest, Philza sneaks out the front door and slumps against it. He can’t break that trust, he just can’t. But neither can he sleep with an empty nest. 

His movement sends a few dogs barking, and it isn’t long before Techno looms over him in the cloak of midnight. Philza holds himself a little tighter. “My nest is empty,” he says hoarsely. Techno lurches to action, till assured Tommy is perfectly safe. “He doesn’t want to be my hatchling. It hurt him too deeply last time.” And yet his instincts care not, crying in panic. Philza buries his face in the knees drawn to his chest. 

“Would you be able to sleep if something else filled the nest? Like, could the instincts tell the difference?” Philza has no idea, but as exhausted as he is he’s willing to try. Or, till Techno volunteers himself, because Philza really doesn’t want to make his instincts Techno’s problem. Techno shrugs. “Probably a lot less awkward for me than it is Tommy, given how long we’ve known each other. Might as well try.” Not that Techno cares to be viewed as a piglet, but his feelings were bruised when the broody Philza categorized him as a threat. “We’re a flock, aren’t we?” 

“Always.” So Techno burrows into the nest, rooting it up till Philza’s feathers ruffle disapprovingly. They’re different, and Techno likes it that way, but the dozens of little instances where their instincts misalign get under his fur sometimes, like a wedge between them. But they both refuse to let it stop them. The hesitance is drowned in a yawn, and Philza nestles over him. It’s a reassuring pressure, reminding Techno of the sounder he long aged out of. Soft feathers wrap around him, and after a few sleepy coos, Philza drifts off, finally assured that his nest is barren no more. Techno smiles, glad he could help his friend. He wraps an arm around Philza’s feathered back, and likewise accepts the embrace of slumber. 

Next>

[captain-mj]

Collecting

Toxic mlm??

Graves is an inherently jealous person. He sees things he likes and he gets them.

When he saw Price, that's what was on his mind. He wanted him. Badly.

It started subtle. Graves kept finding excuses to give Price things. Watches, hats, beanies, jackets. Something that you'd see as soon as you looked at him. Any time Price would wear those things, because why would he not? Graves would beam with pride.

He tried not to be too outwardly jealous. Really he didn’t. When he saw Price talking to people, especially people outside their units. Civilians didn’t understand. They really didn’t. They treated Price like a regular man. As if you could find someone like him on the street. He didn't like them treating his things like that.

Graves stayed in check for a long time, playing the innocent commander of the Shadows. But this civvie tonight just... got a little touchy. Their hands... ran up Price's arm and unlike usual, Price smiled back. Indulged.

Graves downed his drink and slammed it down, catching their attention. Price glared at him and Graves bit his tongue. The civvie ran off and left the two of them alone again. Farah, the only reason both were in the same room, had already left to do who knows what and the others that got invited also left. Some were dancing but it felt a little like no one had wanted to stick around the two of them.

"You can't get laid so no one else is allowed to?" Price growled at him, something almost leering in his gaze. The intensity had Graves almost feeling scolded. Almost.

Graves licked his lips and he could see Price watching the movement. "I don't want to sleep with anyone. Especially not a civvie acting like that."

"Like what? Flirty? Nice?"

"Pathetic." Graves growled at him.

Price rolled his eyes. "Someone might flirt with you if you stopped looking so sour."

Graves huffed. "I just said I don't want them."

"Then why are you jealous?" Price smirked for a moment before he faltered. "Phil..."

Graves threw down some money to pay both their tabs. "John." There was an invitation. A split second of such extreme tension Graves didn't know if he wanted to attack him or fuck him against the table right then and there.

Price followed him after a moment, trailing behind him as Graves walked back to the hotel he was paying for. He had bought Farah and Alex a room each as well, but everyone else was on their own. They were quiet as could be until the door shut.

Price grabbed him by his collar and shoved him into the door. His mouth was on him and it felt like his tongue was trying to batter it's way in.

Graves bit Price's lip until he felt blood. Price picked him up and tossed him on the bed. He bounced a little and then Price was on top of him, devouring him.

Graves wrapped his legs around Price and did a rather artful flip. "You're gorgeous. A work of damn art." He pulled his shirt off. "Right there with the Sistine Chapel."

Price grabbed his hips but he shut up and stayed down, watching him with beautiful blue eyes.

"So yeah. I want your attention. I want your time. And I'm about to ride you until you go fucking stupid." Graves shoved Price's pants down. "Unless you're going to say no?"

Price clenched his jaw but nodded his consent. "Go for it. Let's hope you're better at this then flirting."

"Oh I can be a real Casanova when I want to. I just didn't think this would catch your attention. I was right." He grabbed his cock and stroked him, very happy to find how hard he was. Graves spent a lot less time prepping than he should. Especially seeing how well endowed Price was. But he didn't feel like giving a show and he wanted his cock fast.

Price tried to grab his hips but his movement stuttered when he felt Graves start to sink down. "Don't hurt yourself..."

Graves huffed. "Just shut up."

"Make me."

They started snapping and biting at each other like dogs while Graves adjusted. Teeth sank deep into shoulders and hickeys were left that would take days to fade away. His hips twisted and Price moaned loudly, thrusting up into him.

"Fuck..." Graves hissed but it felt so good. The stretch hurt but he could work with it. They sped up, both fighting for more control. Graves's nails raked over Price's chest and he arched into it rather than away.

Price started to turn red and his mouth fell open as he started to get close. Graves paused and he went from blissed out to angry. He lashed out at him, yanking him by his hips up and then down hard. Pleasure raked through Graves when he did that and he let Price use him. He yanked him around like a doll but neither could really keep things straight.

Price came inside him, flopping back into the sheets. He went to stroke Graves off but Graves shoved him away and started to rock onto him, ignoring that Price was actively getting softer. "Wait, I'm not exactly a young man here." He pushed against Graves's abs as he groaned.

Grave put his hands on Price's shoulders. "Come on. Can't get it up?"

Price's cock twitched inside him. "Fucking hell..."

"Look at me, John. How do you think your soldiers would react if they knew you were here?"

Price growled at him but he notably stayed down.

"Sleeping with the enemy. Tsk tsk. And you're enjoying it." Graves grinned as he could feel him getting harder. "Too many thoughts in that pretty head of yours."

"I'm a Captain. Can't let myself get distracted."

Graves kissed him softly and twisted his hips slowly, feeling more than hearing Price's hitch of breath. Now that Price was nice and hard again, he started to slam his hips down on him, chasing his own pleasure. His hands went from Price's shoulders to his throat, feeling him stiffen before relaxing. The coil in his stomach started to twist more and more and more and more until...

Graves came over Price's chest, giving him a nice pearl necklace.

Price looked a lot less cognizant which meant Graves did his job well.

"You stay the night, and I'll show you what I can do with my tongue when you can get hard again."

Price groaned as he slowly kept rocking up into him. Graves stayed exactly where he was until Price came inside him. "Good boy."

The cock buried inside him twitched.

[xialing-gf]

can i be so nerdy for a second but the way phil talks about TV and interactive media makes me so so so fucking happy like as a TV studies nerd

this is one of the essays we had to read in my television detection course about early interactive television and like even just hearing how phil would eat a carrot alongside bugs bunny when he watched tv when he was younger to making interactive adventures on video media through youtube to translating that into interactivity in in-person performances on stage and in interviews just makes my stupid little nerd heart sing with joy!! also i think phil's "arthouse era" is a masterclass comparative uses of youtube in comparison to traditional television.

also the use of TVs on the terrible influence set, like old-school TVs used to project modern media and also references to how TVs were considered like the "idiot box" because it was considered mindless or even harmful entertainment that could influence young people in bad ways and how in only recent years there's been an emergence of "prestige tv" and a shift towards television being a more legitimized form of entertainment and that's kind of been a shift that youtube has followed as well!! anyway sorry i just really really love television so fucking much

[tragicbeauty1991]

So I know I’m extremely late to the party, but I FINALLY got around to watching Wish now that it’s up on Disney+ and…I genuinely don’t understand why it got so much hate?? Sure, maybe it wasn’t on par with things like The Lion King or Frozen in terms of the lasting effect it’ll have on pop culture but it was still a good, fun film with original characters and plot and catchy songs. While I can see where some of the complaints are coming from, I feel like ultimately most of them blow the issues out of proportion. As for my personal thoughts on the film…

- The songs were good overall. Maybe not as memorable as some of my favorite ‘90s Disney jams, but topping Phil Collins and Elton John is admittedly hard to do. Ariana DeBose and Chris Pine were great, though. I honestly had no idea Chris Pine could sing so well. “At All Costs” was by far my favorite song of the entire film. I would have loved to see it as a love duet rather than singing to the wishes but regardless, it’s beautiful. “This is the Thanks I Get” got a lot of flak, but honestly, I thought it was catchy and fun—rather reminiscent of Gaston’s pub song about himself.

- Speaking of Magnifico… More backstory, please! I would love for a sequel to do what they did with Frozen and explain all the things that were not fully developed in the first film. I want to know details on what happened to Magnifico’s family… But man, oh man… Was I EVER happy to get a “real villain” again with more of a classic Disney feel—dramatic, over the top, a little unhinged…and just FUN. I think the reason so many people seem to be having a problem with him is that they don’t quite know how to categorize him, though, before his ultimate downward spiral after being possessed by the book. (I think after that point, no one would argue about him being a villain.) But before…while he’s definitely narcissistic and has a temper…he’s not straight-up evil. There’s a big difference in being a bit of a jerk and being someone who makes you legitimately fear for your life. In fact, we have several heroic characters in the Disney canon who at least start out their story in a similar vein. Prince Naveen, Peter Pan, and Emperor Kuzco, for example, are all full of themselves and entitled…but they ultimately choose to do the right thing when it comes down to people they care about. That is to say, Magnifico’s less than ideal character traits we see early on in the film shouldn’t automatically qualify him as a villain. He could frankly go either way. And then when he does “go dark” it’s ONE stupid decision on his part (going for the book) that ruins any chance he had of being like the aforementioned characters. Personally, I like the complexity…and the tragedy of what it means for Queen Amaya. Which reminds me…

- Yes, a villain power couple would have been fun. But honestly, I think I like this better. Partly because of the angst potential here. For all his faults, Amaya DOES genuinely love him, and watching him slowly lose his mind and himself to the power-hungry monster he becomes has to be absolutely heartbreaking for her. Also…maybe it’s just because I identify with Amaya here. I have been in a bad relationship where I did truly love the other person and thought they loved me…but ultimately, they seemed to love themselves more. And I made excuse after excuse for his behavior for a long time because I couldn’t see what he was doing to me…didn’t want to see it…because I loved him. People say Amaya had to have known sooner that something rotten was going on but I don’t know that she ever allowed herself to think anything other than the best of him. Amaya has a good heart…and sometimes those people see the best in others even when it isn’t there. What I really would have loved is to have Amaya and Magnifico sing a short reprise of “At All Costs” in which Amaya is asking, “Really? You’ll hoard all these wishes for your own selfish reasons even at the cost of losing your people’s love? Of losing me?” And Magnifico is just…stoically resolute. That would have hurt but it would have been so good!

- Similarly, I don’t get the complaint about Star. I wouldn’t mind seeing Star Boy like he was in the concept art and having a romance with Asha. But also…Star is ADORABLE, okay?? He may not speak but he has so much personality. Makes me think of like…Pascal in Tangled or even Tinkerbell.

- I know a lot of people complained about there being too many references to other Disney films but this just seems like a silly argument to me. Disney has always liked to leave little Easter eggs in their films and have some fun with crossovers. I am thinking of the Genie imitating Pinocchio and pulling Sebastian out of nowhere in Aladdin. Hidden characters in the background of other films like Flynn and Rapunzel showing up in Arendelle. Hidden Mickeys. And of course shows that were all about a Disney multi-verse that sort of pokes fun at itself like Once Upon a Time, House of Mouse, and even Ralph Breaks the Internet. With this being a special anniversary film, of course we ought to expect more nods to other films and Disney animation history. I thought it was cute. Especially Magnifico’s jab at Asha’s little moving drawing. (“Is that a talent?”) Made me literally laugh out loud.

- I think the one complaint I do agree with at least in part is the, “But Magnifico was right, though??” Some dreams shouldn’t come true. Especially if it’s a wish you’re making when you’re 18. There are definitely things I wished for at 18 that I am glad I did not get in hindsight. Sometimes what we wish for isn’t what’s best for us or others. And while Asha’s wishes are selfless and for others…she seems to assume that everyone else will also have equally harmless, selfless wishes. It’s sweet but perhaps a bit naive. Also…Asha has good intentions but it is rather funny and frustrating as the adult to watch this teenager come in and try to upset the whole system thinking she knows better than the person who has been running the kingdom for years. That said… Asha isn’t totally wrong either. The wishes do ultimately belong to the people who made them and it’s better even if it’s painful to have a dream in your heart than to be lacking purpose. It may be easier to forget the wishes entirely but certainly not healthier. Ironically, if only these two could have worked together, they actually would have made a great team.

Overall, I liked the film. And I think if I was still a child myself, I would have enjoyed it even more.

[astraymetronome]

the idea of raccoon!Tommy taking a tiny and dunking the in water to wash them before nomming them is SO cute <33 I love it

Yeah! I love laundry bears! They're adorable and honestly shouldn't be seen as gross, at least in my opinion. I think it would be cute if a pred had a tell before they plan to nom someone. Even if it's just subconscious or something!

Tommy would probably do it all the time and, in my example I'ma use Tubbo, the tiny would be able to calm themselves or be like 'oh, okay-' basically it's a way to communicate without actual words- But I'm not gonna do that.

This is the fic I teased in the other ask-

ANGST FOR EVERYONE!

Anyhoo- here's this tiny treat of The Prime Duo ^^

It used to be a tiny treat. Instead it's a full course meal- aka: it's over 7000 words long

TW: Vore, Thoughts of Fatal Vore, Speciesism, instincts, and angst.

Tommy was quietly humming to himself as he went about working on an assignment for school. The 15 year old was frustrating himself over the fact this stupid essay was over something so simple and logical. The teen had chosen to take an agriculture class to learn more about farming so that he could understand Techno's love for it a little more.

The smell of dirt and grime had always been an immediate no for him but the fact he was being told to write an essay on the importance of washing fuckin' vegetables was getting on his nerves. Of course, you wash your veggies! You should wash everything you eat regardless of the type!

He didn't do it because of what people assumed, his classmates would tease him over dipping fuckin' chicken nuggets in water. Yeah, it made it soggy but he learned a lot about it when he did that. If it absorbs a lot and becomes super mushy, then it probably has been sitting out for at least two hours. If it doesn't absorb much then that tells him it's a perfect thing to eat! Plus it won't feel weird on his tongue or anything.

He had a secret feeling this essay was his teacher's way to show their distant for raccoons considering they'd done a lesson on farm pests and chose to focus on his kind. Yeah, raccoons do tend to go after sweet corn and cherries, both of which aren't viable in their area!

He found himself chitting to himself, flexing his hands in anger. Phil always doted over his little hand movements, calling them his grabby hands of anger, but all it was was his instincts wanting him to find something to burrow with and hide until he calmed down.

Tommy closed his laptop, cursing quietly before he proceeded to step out of his room and start heading downstairs. His tail swished in annoyance before a small sound reached his ears. They perked up as he turned to face it, seeing a familiar face sitting on the kitchen counter. He smiled at the sight of the borrower, happy to see someone he liked right now. He hid his hands, knowing he'd not be able to keep from picking them up if he tired.

"Dream, did dad leave out some Cheerios again?" He questioned, smiling as green eyes darted up to him. Dream was a borrower that had been living with them since Tommy was a little kid. The two of them knew each other well and often got into plenty of antics. Though, Tommy hasn't had a lot of time for him as of late.

"Yea- 'he o'd ma' did," The small man said, his mouth full of the sweet cereal. The teen rolled his eyes, knowing for a fact Dream had probably requested to have some set out considering the borrower's sweet tooth. He swallowed before continuing. "Said he has to work the closing shift." Tommy nodded as he listened. He held back a whine, having wanted his dad to curl up with him in the man's nest. It wasn't as good as his burrow but Tommy knew his dad couldn't fit inside it due to his wings so Phil's nest was the next best thing.

"That makes sense, the hospital tends to be busier in the winter."

"That's very true, can't let everyone die." Dream said earnestly. It was enough to confuse Tommy out of his bit of frustration, the teen's laugh filling the room as he giggled.

"I'm sure Momma won't be too mad about the few he takes back." He said with a gentle sigh. Tommy's tail swishing behind him as he happily let a chitter build in his throat.

He was smiling as he proceeded to place his head on the counter, ignoring how the cold marble felt against his chin. He was near Dream, watching as the borrower munched on the cereal. It took a moment before Dream pushed three of the wheat based rings towards him. Tommy let his nose twitch, sniffing them before he proceeded to quietly stick his tongue out.

He let them stick to his tongue before pulling it back into his mouth, quietly chewing them before he gave an eye roll. "You don't need to share it with me." He said fondly, not noticing the slight discomfort on Dream's face at his action.

"You're clearly in a bad mood Toms." The borrower said, the man's mouse-like tail swishing and wrapping around Tommy's finger on top of the slight discomfort in his voice. "Come on kid, you can talk to me. If we need to curl up in your burrow we can." Dream said calmly, quickly hiding the sound of his nerves. The teen found himself scooping him up in a second. He made sure to hold the man carefully, a purr leaving his throat as he walked towards the stairs and back up to his room.

"Someone's an eager beaver." Dream said with a chuckle, laying against Tommy's thumb as he was carefully brought upstairs. He took a few moments to get up to Tommy's room before they both were sitting in front of his borrow. Tommy's bed was around 2 and a half feet above the ground, the space under it being packed full of blankets and pillows.

He held the borrower by his shirt, using his teeth, as he carefully crawled his way into the plush space. His tail wished as he gave a purr and quietly curled into the space. The moment Tommy was on his back he let go of Dream and gently held the blonde borrower to his chest.

Tommy nuzzled at the man with a soft purr, immediately relaxing a little bit as he held his friend before he moved to just let him lay on his neck. Tommy would probably be more controlling over where he lets Dream lay if he was deeper into his instincts but it was mostly surface level. He felt the borrower move, resting just under his Adams apple as the small man spoke.

"So what's got your fur ruffled?" He asked calmly, no blame or accusing in his tone. Tommy liked being around Dream, the borrower never treated him like an animal or like a baby. His tail swished as they sat in the warmth of his burrow.

"It's my stupid teacher, I'm pretty sure he's being a dick about the fact I'm a raccoon hybrid." Tommy mumbled as he proceeded to quietly lay on his back. He had one hand on his collar bone, feeling Dream's tail wrap around his pinkie finger before he continued. "He keeps making these sly comments about vermin. I understand that, because it's an agriculture class, but it's directed at me. Even Purpled feels like it's insinuating he doesn't like me."

Tommy was a little angry but the tapping on his chin was enough to get him out of it. He leaned his head to the side, letting Dream crawl up his jaw and onto his cheek. The borrower sat before speaking. "Tommy, if it's something you're genuinely getting upset about you should tell your dad or Techno."

Tommy held back the urge to shake his head, instead just humming as he spoke up. "I can't. It's childish to get my dad involved, and if I tell Techno it'll cause some unnecessary drama since Mr. Squid and him are friends." He mumbled a bit before bringing a hand up to hold Dream against his face, nuzzling him for a moment before his nose was tapped.

Tommy pulled away as the little voice spoke. "Well, how about I go with you tomorrow? I'll be able to tell you if it's actually targeting comments or not." He let his blue eyes drift over to the small form in his hands, looking unsure before Dream continued. "If not it's fine, but if you don't choose who to tell I'll tell Techno myself."

Tommy gave a loud groan at the comment, immediately tucking the borrower against his chest, feeling the small thing laugh, able to hear the quiet chuckle that escaped him.

"Fine, you can come with me tomorrow, but you're staying hidden in my hoodie all day." He said quickly. Tommy was well aware his family was considered oddballs. It wasn't like anyone knew they had a friendly relationship with borrowers but most of his peers thought his family was strange due to the immense amount of hybrids types.

Dream had curled back under his Adam's apple, the flicking of his tail almost ticking the giant teen as the small man spoke. "Deal. Now get a bit of a nap. I'm sure Techno will know where to find you for dinner." The blonde borrower said calmly, gently tapping Tommy's chin before they both settled down for a bit.

Tomorrow will be fine, right?..

☆~°.•🦝🌱💿//+🪐

Tommy could feel himself sweating and he had the insight to know Dream was in the same boat of panic. He had the borrower hidden in his hoodie pocket with his phone and the raccoon couldn't help but be nervous that Phil would notice something was wrong. They'd never let him take a borrower to school if they knew about this and he'd probably get in trouble when he got home if they found out about the fact he brought Dream with him.

The teen grabbed a slice of toast from the table, taking a bite to show he planned to eat it before he slipped his school bag back over his shoulders. He plans to let Dream have as much of it as he wants after they were at least a block or so from the house. He called out a goodbye to Phil, knowing Techno was already on campus.

Tommy relaxed as they got far enough away before he took another bite of the buttered toast and then sat down in the little backway he took to get to school. He placed his hand in his pocket, carefully letting his palm lay flat until he felt small hands grab his fingers and a weight settle on his palm.

"Finally! I forgot how stuffy and loud pockets could be!" The blonde said quickly. It broke a laugh for the teenager, smiling at the release of tension Dream brought with the little comment. He settled the borrower onto his thigh before holding out a bit of the slice of toast. The tiny man eagerly snatched a piece of it, eating at it like a starving animal. Tommy found himself rolling his eyes as he spoke.

"You're not that desperate for food."

"So what! You guys haven't had toast in a while and I love it!"

Tommy groaned before he leaned back, still watching the borrower as he spoke. "Today is gonna take forever-"

☆~°.•🦝🌱💿//+🪐

The day had been going well so far, at least as far as Dream could tell. Tommy had been talking with all his friends and they didn't get caught in Techno's class either! It was a great day! The borrower had to admit he snuck a few peaks from he sides of his hiding place, knowing full well that he risked being seen or worse, grabbed. Regardless, he wanted to help Tommy in any way he could considering he's watched the kid grow up.

He could sense the kid's nerves as the last class of his day began to grow closer. He recognized that Tommy was very uncomfortable, the teen fidgeting on top of everything he could hear. The borrower was used to picking up noises humans couldn't considering he was so much smaller which meant quiet noises often seemed a lot bigger and more imposing for him. He could hear the raccoon's heartbeat, able to recognize the distant and uncomfortable sound. He could also make out Tommy's stomach, he was very used to the sounds but he could tell the difference between hunger and discomfort.

Being this close to a human, let alone a hybrid human, would make a normal borrower scream and panic even being caught inside something a human was holding, let alone in one's hand. He was used to being near them at this point, Tommy loved to carry him around all the time when he was a tot and Dream was only 8. Now the two of them were 15 and 20 years old, and the bond of being pseudo-brothers had turned real after a while.

He was used to human touch and it wasn't something he wanted to give up, the Crafts were his family and he had no reason to think of them otherwise. None of them saw him as a meal or some toy to throw away. He offered to help Tommy figure out what his teacher was doing because, despite the assumptions, Dream was actually very good at understanding emotions and words but, right now, he couldn't understand anything.

The entire classroom was full of sounds, speaking, squeaking, and thudding. Tommy had his hand around him, thumb rubbing his back as the teen seemed to be laying his head down on his desk, using his free arm to cradle his head. Dream was happy with having a comfortable touch with how loud everything was, he burrowed his head into the teen's palm, carefully trying to hide before everything went quiet.

Tommy removed his hand from his pocket and he listened to the kid's panicked heartbeat pick up before he went ahead and tapped the boy's abdomen through the fabrics to try to remind him he wasn't alone. He listened as the boy sighed and the class started up.

☆~°.•🦝🌱💿//+🪐

"Alright, class! Don't forget that your essays are due tomorrow. Don't forget that if you add things from this lecture to it, I will give out extra points." Mr. Squid said simply before he went ahead and began a lecture on pesticides. It was pretty boring if Tommy was honest, unable to focus on anything considering that he'd learned about this from late-night lessons with Techno. When he couldn't sleep, he'd find himself in his big brother's room, listening to him plan lessons or ramble on about something he was currently hyperfictioning on.

Tommy has listened to his brother talk about natural and chemical-based pesticides for hours and never once did the man make him feel as though he deserved to be on the other side of these kinds of things. He knew full well his brother never used chemical pesticides unless absolutely necessary and, when he did, he would always inform those in the house. He knows the reason Techno talks about it is because Tommy had a bad habit of snagging plants from the vegetable garden before they were finished growing when he was in middle school.

The teen had noticed a small section added the next year that his big brother took care of but always made sure he never used things on it without informing Tommy first, he'd 99% sure it was added just for him but... He hasn't really messed with it as of late.

Well... not since this school year started.

Tommy used to giggle like a menace when he was caught pulling a carrot from the garden, and Techno would call him a little vermin! It hadn't ever been in a way that made him feel bad, but after he started classes with Mr. Squid, he hadn't been able to handle being called anything similar to a pest. His eyes drifted from his paper, and he saw that his teacher was scribbling down key points for the lesson.

The teen turned his attention to the small weight in his hoodie pocket, carefully placing his non-dominate hand into the fabric tube before he rubbed at Dream's back, able to feel as the tiny purred and nuzzled closer to his touch. He let his free hand start to take his notes, enveloping himself in the pattern of glancing up and down, up and down, until a hand on his shoulder grabbed him out of it.

"Mr. Innit-Craft, I've called your name 5 times now. You need to pay more attention." Mr. Squid said sternly. His touch wasn't hurting or anything but Tommy really didn't like being touched by people, it was a part of his raccoon instincts, not enjoying contact with people outside his nursery. His blue eyes drifted towards the man's face, swallowing nervously before his teacher continued. "Regardless, can you tell me what pesticides do when consumed since you seem more interested in your drawings than my lesson?"

Tommy lifted his gaze, back to the board seeing a collection of questions that hadn't been there just five minutes ago. He gave a nod before speaking up.

"Well, if people were to eat too much of it, it will-"

"No, Mr. Innit-Craft, what happens to a critter that eats it."

Tommy felt his heart sink for a moment, taking note of how Dream had gone still in his pocket before he opened his mouth. The teen was at a lost for words before he gave a small smile. "Well..." He started, his words lowering to a whisper as his tail curled into his lap, hiding the pocket of his hoodie and, in turn, the borrower inside.

"I'm not running a seminar, Thomas. Speak up for the class to hear." The man said as he stood up straight and began to walk to the front of the room. "I better be able to hear you this time."

Tommy could feel his heart pounding in his ears as he got to his feet. His eyes drifted over his peers, taking in the sight of normal humans and a wide range of animal hybrids. Not a single other 'scavenger' type animal among the groups in the room. The raccoon hybrid took a deep breath, his ears flicking to each little sound in the room.

"Like with people, if an animal were to eat too much of the contaminated crops they'd probably-"

"Give us an example."

"W-what?.." Tommy found himself saying.

"An example. Like rats, possums, or even... raccoons." Mr. Squid said causing Tommy to freeze up. He looked down at his feet before he spoke up again, able to feel the concerned taps against his fingers by the borrower still tucked away in his pocket. His heartbeat was filling his ears and he couldn't help the shaking of his voice as he spoke, not really paying attention to his words as he droned them out.

"If a raccoon were to eat contaminated crops... depending on how much they've eaten they'd suffer from mild sickness, chronic poisoning, nervous system collapse, liver and kidney failure, or even death." The teen said simply before he looked up and made eye contact with his teacher. There was this sick sense of joy in the man's eyes, enough that Tommy knew he really was trying to make Tommy feel bad. His ears began to flatten back at the soft snickers of his classmates before he began to shove things into his bag.

Tommy couldn't stomach another second in the classroom...

☆~°.•🦝🌱💿//+🪐

Dream felt his stomach sink when Tommy rushed from the classroom. He could hear the teen's erratic heart rate and his panicked breathing, knowing all Tommy would want to do right now would be shifting his body into the shape of a raccoon and hiding in the closest thing to a burrow. He didn't expect Tommy to duck into a side room. Tommy was quiet other than the panicking breaths and the soft hiccups he could pick up,

The borrower took this as a sign they were alone as he peered his head out of the hoodie pocket, looking up to see Tommy's face. The boy's face was red, a mix of anger, sadness, and fear dressing his expression. He blinked a little as a tear fell on the top of his head, causing Dream to take his eyes off the sheen appearance of his little brother's face. He shook his head, trying to ignore the feeling of liquid dripping down the back of his neck.

"Tommy?... Maybe we should go to Techno's classroom." He said calmly, glancing around to see that they were tucked into a corner in a bathroom. He yelped as a hand scooped him up by the front, laying on his belly as he was draped over the interdigital part of Tommy's palm. He didn't expect to be held like this since, normally, the teen was very careful with how he handled him.

The boy's hold was firm but still soft enough to not cause him any pain as he glanced up, squirming to get a better look at the raccoon teenager. He pushed his hands against the pads on his hands, able to feel the soft yet textured sensation of Tommy's paw pads as he was quickly lifted. His eyes drifted from the boy's face, now watching the mirror they were standing in front of. The sound of rushing water grabbed his attention as he looked down.

"Tommy? What's going on, talk to me, kid!" He said quickly, not understanding why his little brother wasn't saying anything or doing much of anything he could think about. He looked up, taking in the glazed-over look in the raccoon's eyes on top of how narrow his pupils seemed to be.

He'd seen this before, most of the time whenever Tommy was curled up in his burrow or Phil's nest after a really bad day. 'Okay, Tommy's just really freaked out. Everything will be fine, I just need to get him to Techno or find a way to convince him to call-' Dream's thought process was quickly interrupted by the fact his head was drenched in water. He went to take a breath in his panic, only to suddenly take liquid into his lungs instead of water. Panic flooded him just as much as the cold fluid drenched his clothes. It felt like an hour of being submerged before the hissing of the faucet stopped and he coughed harshly, forcing water up and out of his lungs as his chest burned.

Dream greedily gulped air down, panicking now that he looked like a soaked rat, and looked toward his little brother before he froze. Tommy's gaze was still glazed over but it had a hint of valuation behind it. He didn't understand the way he was being looked at, but his instincts were screaming that something was really, really wrong. He needed to get Tommy to put him down, or he needed a way to get into contact with Technoblade.

"Tommy!" He called out before shaking as he shivered, of course, the cold was already getting to him. "Tommy?" He continued as he was lifted upwards, faster than he'd like to experience at his small size. His eyes widened as he took in the look on the teen's face. It was closer than he had been of his own fruition. His instincts screamed in fear as he squirmed and tried to dig his fingernails into the teen's palms, not managing to do much of anything as his lips parted in front of him.

Dream's heart fell into his stomach as he watched the boy's mouth open, seeing deep reds and pinks that decorated each muscle inside. He couldn't do anything, being forced to stare into the chasm as warm breath washed over his face. The moisture he could feel inside each exhale didn't need explaining since the sheen that covered everything made it rather clear why. He could see the light scaring in the very back, able to recognize where his tonsils used to be. "Tommy!" He yelled, unable to use his hands to brace himself due to the fact his hands were pinned.

He was shaking as his body was forced closer and began to enter the kid's mouth, he couldn't believe Tommy would do something like this! He's always been such a sweet kid who didn't mind the fears borrowers held, he understood that they had natural fears and never even considered pushing those boundaries, and yet here he was, his upper body sprawled across the teen's tongue as his legs kicked in fear. He could hear his heart in his ears and his breathing seemed to echo across the space as he squirmed before his hand slipped across one of Tommy's teeth. He didn't hesitate to yelp as pain shot through his palm, his hand suddenly feeling more wet despite the saliva and water that was soaking him.

The hum that sounded out around him as the nosy muscle pressed into his wound, now frightened him more than anything else was at the moment. He looked over his shoulder, taking a shuttering breath as he took in the sight of white, clean teeth, strong enough to break him in two if Tommy so desired. He felt dread, anger, and sadness all at the same time as he was pushed and prodded.

"Tommy! Let me out! Please, Toms, stop this!" He yelled out as the tongue pressed him up and against the roof, a loud gulp sounding out as saliva was pulled down the throat. The sight caused him to freeze, watching the liquid go down told him he wouldn't be getting out of this. He yelled, trying to push the roof of his mouth to have an attempt at keeping himself from being swallowed, but it didn't work. An eager push made him lose his hold before an ill-timed movement caused his head to dangle over the end of his tongue. Dream was no longer on his stomach, the borrower had managed to get to his back as he took in shuttering frightened breaths that turned into screams as the throat pulled him inside. The gulp brought him into a slick space, no longer able to get any form of grip before a second one pushed him down further, the movement not stopping as he slipped away.

His eyes were tightly closed as the sound of a heartbeat began to fill his ears, getting louder and louder as he sobbed out of fear and anguish. He never imagined he'd be dying inside his little brother's stomach. The soft wooshing of lungs had joined the fray but the heart had died down, softer than before but still present as his hand touched something thicker and seemed to block him off, only to have it yawn open, depositing him into a resting chamber.

The walls around him were uncomfortable, shifting curiously to try and feel him. Dream was quick to try and get to his feet, his head hitting the top of the stomach and causing him to slip back onto his back. He was scared to he in here, glancing around with hesitancy before he ended up noticing that he was sitting in a pool of liquid. The sensation on his skin wasn't one of burning, but he swore that it was! There was no other option other than that he was sitting in a pool of stomach acids.

The borrower found himself curled up against the wall that gave him the most amount of leniency. He covered his ears, not wanting to listen to the sounds around him. The thudding of a heart, the wooshing of lungs, but... most currently, the sound of gurgles and groaning that seemed to surround him but it was mostly coming from his right. He didn't want to die... let alone in the stomach of someone he saw as a brother.

He wasn't even thinking about the fact Tommy had eaten only an hour or two ago, yet nothing else was in here.

☆~°.•🦝🌱💿//+🪐

Techno was pretty used to his own silence. He enjoyed it when his students were in the classroom and learning but his free period was the best. He could read through the mix of essays and assignments without disruption or anything similar and focus on his own priorities without students bothering him every 5 minutes. He was in the middle of reading through a pretty good essay on, The God of That Summer when his eyes noticed a person standing in his doorway.

The man sighed as he pulled his glasses off and placed them down on his desk, finally turning to face the person as he spoke. "Can I help-" He started before pausing as he took in the sight of his little brother. Tommy's eyes were red and swollen, tear tracks still gracing his face as the teen made his way towards him. Techno got to his feet as Tommy approached before the man met him halfway. He could barely see the blue of the raccoon's eyes, telling him enough he understood what he needed to do. The piglin scooped his runt up, gently holding Tommy close as he closed the door to his classroom with his foot and quietly made his way back to his desk.

The piglin didn't take his hand off Tommy's back, gently rubbing between his shoulders as he carefully held him. "Hey Toms... You're pretty out of it kiddo." He found himself whispering. He would have assumed this was just an instinct rush if Tommy was purring, but the kit was doing none of the sort. The teen was trembling, his tail wrapped around his abdomen and his hands tight enveloping his shirt. His eyes drifted to the backpack by the door to his room, and he leaned back at his desk as he let his mind wonder to where his little brother was supposed to be.

He sighed as he pushed it aside, for now, he'll talk to Simmon later, Tommy was his priority.

☆~°.•🦝🌱💿//+🪐

Tommy blinked his eyes open and found himself curled up in the living room. His head was against something warm, and he heard the beating of a heart and soft, gruff purring that he recognized as belonging to his older brother. The teen felt his face flush red as he quickly moved to sit up, swinging his head up before a faint squeal left the person he was sitting on as his head hit something.

The teen looked forward, blinking as he took in the sight of Techno's head leaning back, the man's chin already turning a shade of red from where he'd head-butted him. "Shit- Sorry!" Tommy said quickly as he reached up to feel his brother's face, carefully nuzzling the piglin's chin to try and negate the hit despite knowing there was no real point in doing that.

Techno quickly pushed him away, "Stop it, I do not need your little kisses, Tommy." The man said simply, a fond laugh dancing on his voice.

"THEY-" Tommy started to raise his voice before he shoved it back down and cleared his throat, embarrassment spreading across his face. "They're not little kisses..." He grumbled. He didn't like it when they called his instincts cute little names like that but the stupid thing had stuck since he was a toddler.

The pink-haired man simply laughed for a moment before he calmed himself, cleared his throat, and spoke up: his face and voice seeming more serious.

"Tommy... Why did you run out of Squids' class?" The man asked simply.

The raccoon hybrid felt his ears lay back, looking up at him hesitantly before he fidgeted and gently picked at his hands. "Oh... um..." Tommy whispered, looking unsure as he glanced over his shoulder and placed his hands in his hoodie pocket.

The lack of a small form in the fabric sleeve made panic swell in his chest. Dream should still be in his pocket unless the blonde snuck out after they got home and that made no sense. The borrower would have immediately told Techno what happened and stayed to make sure everything was fine before he'd even consider running off to hide in the safety of the walls.

Tommy gave a nervous swallow before he glanced up and opened his mouth, "Mr. Squid... I don't think he likes me very much." He said calmly. There was no way he was going to get around this.

"Simmons not liking you is not gonna cause you to come to my classroom in the middle of a Panic-induced instinct attack, Tommy. What really happened?" The man said plainly, without any judgment or anger in his voice. Techno wasn't blaming Tommy despite how it sounded, he was just trying to make sure Tommy was honest and told him what he needed to know.

A whine left the raccoon-hybrid before he glanced over his shoulder and spoke up, not wanting to look his big brother in the eyes as he spoke. "He keeps singling me out... He makes me answer all the questions on pests and vermin..." Tommy mumbled as he let his gaze drift down to his lap, his hands having began to fidget at the ends of Techno's braid. "He made me tell the class about the side effects pesticides and poisons have on animals, specifically... raccoons."

Tommy kept quiet after he finished his sentence, his eyes not leaving his hands as he carefully messed with the end of the piglin's braid, he'd redo it if he had any gold beads or clamps to add to the intertwined hair but he didn't so there wasn't much of a point. It took a moment before his brother's big and callused hands gently cupped around his little ones, rubbing the back of the dorsal side of his hands.

"Shit, Toms... Why didn't you say something sooner?" The history teacher questioned as he leaned forward, placing their foreheads together as he gave a soft chuff. Tommy relaxed at the familiar position and sound, his mind able to relax at the piglin's sign of affection and care.

"I thought I was overreacting."

Technoblade sighed in response to that. "Either way, I could have talked to him and helped clear up the misunderstanding."

"I know..." He said softly before a soft movement in his abdomen caught him off guard. Tommy managed to not make a noise at the sensation, able to recognize the familiar weight of something sitting in his storage. He didn't fully understand it, he didn't remember eating anything, especially an asshole borrower or some kind of mouse, but he could worry about that later.

"Now," Shit... he missed everything Techno was saying. "You head upstairs and curl in your burrow till Dad gets home. I know for a fact he's gonna want you in the nest tonight." The piglin said simply as he picked the raccoon up and carefully placed the teen onto the floor. Tommy glared, trying to play off his lack of listening as his big brother began to head down the hallway, no doubt heading to the backyard to call someone, Tommy had a feeling he could guess who...

The teen groaned as he flopped onto his bed, toeing his shoes off as he hid his face in his pillow. The hybrid was annoyed that this day had gone so horribly. He could feel the soft weight shifting in his abdomen, quiet growls leaving his actual stomach as clawed hands dug into the walls of his storage. He needed to move whatever it was to his actual stomach before he had to deal with a sore organ for a few day.

The teen wasn't super used to this, pulling the squirming form up and out of his storage. He didn't like having to take them back up into his mouth, but it was something every human could do so it wasn't weird, before swiftly swallowing the form's body. Having half of a borrower in your throat and the other half in your mouth wasn't the best experience considering they're decently long, but this one was bigger than he was used to.

Tommy coughed a little as the form disappeared into his chest for a second time, no doubt less happy this time compared to the first. He didn't seem to mind at least, pulling himself out of bed to change into something more comfortable as his stomach gurgled, filling the tiny space with a squirming meal. He couldn't help the chittering purr that built in his throat, the more animalistic side of his brain enjoying the stimulation and sensation of something in his belly.

Either way, he didn't want to be himself right now. Letting his instincts take the reigns sounds nice as he crawls into his nest...

☆~°.•🦝🌱💿//+🪐

Dream had come to the idea that he was safe where he was. He'd been in here for a solid hour or so now and the saliva at the bottom had disappeared at this point. The walls were plush and slick but they didn't really move around him all that much, just reacting to his own touch from the looks of it and the sounds had died down a bit, mostly just being a gentle bubbling that had gotten quieter and seemed to grow further away.

He felt uncomfortable still, not entirely sure what was going on, whatever rush had caused Tommy to do this was still active so it wasn't like the two of them could have a proper conversation. The borrower had almost managed to doze off at the sound of Tommy's and, he's assuming Techno's, purring. He wouldn't normally like to get himself into their more sensitive moments since he wasn't an actual member of their family but it felt nice to be included for once even if neither of them was, at least not fully, aware of him at the moment.

He'd listened quietly as the two of them began to talk, pride swelling in his chest as Tommy told someone about the bad attitude that Mr. Squid had been showing. He shifted his weight, leaning forward to rub the wall he leaned against only to be squeezed. He released a soft yelp, not expecting it as his tail flicked around in annoyance.

He'd have to scold Tommy later, this may be a good place to hide him but that didn't mean he enjoyed being eaten and kept in a flesh sack. He felt as the teen moved around, smiling that his little brother was heading to his room. The soft sway of his movements was actually more than gentle. It made him sleepy but the borrower assumed it was his own instincts trying to trick him into feeling like it was a nest. It wasn't so he didn't want to stay in here much longer.

His peace was quickly interrupted by a growl, feeling the muscles against his back twitch as the rumbling sensation went down his spine. Dream physically cringed away from it, slipping to the other side of the stomach- He couldn't forget that he was laying in someone's stomach. The space wasn't fun, his movements were rather restricted and limited to the soft space.

The grow was followed by a rumble before a louder groan escaped the area as he pinned himself against the furthest wall he could, shaking a bit. This was fine... He wasn't in Tommy's real stomach, that much was clear to him, but it wasn't nice to hear the actual sounds of hunger just next to him.

"Tommy-"

Dream's words were interrupted as he was thrown into the wall to his right, the one of his left pushing him against it before the area squeezed. He clamped his eyes closed as his body was forced back into the esophagus, squirming due to the constricting space. His upper body was pushed back onto the teen's tongue, a shutter of relief leaving him as he reached forward to try and grab onto a fang, something for a safe hold to keep himself secure. He barely moved his hand before the tongue pushed into it.

The pause he felt, confusion etching his face, quickly turned into panic as the muscle rose higher, the grip on his waist loosening for a moment before a loud gulp sounded out. He was forced back down, a panicked yelp leaving him as he was tugged deeper once more. He clamped his eyes closed, trying to ignore the sensation as tears dripped down his face. He'd been safe, so close to being secure. Why was Tommy swallowing him again?! He didn't understand why this was happening.

He'd felt his legs being tugged into an open space again, his entire body following in moments. For a second he thought it was just the other stomach again before the acidic scent hit his nose. Within seconds he was on his knees, pressing his hands against the roof of the stomach as he glanced down. There was a very shallow puddle of murky water in the bottom. It carried the biting smell but it wasn't all that strong. He felt nervous as the organ gurgled, sounding pleased as it shifted around him.

Tommy was moving around him on top of the stomach, the purring he could hear was frightening, knowing his little brother was pleased to have him inside of his stomach. He was nervous as he pushed before he felt the teen crawl. He was assuming they were in the burrow now, a soft tingling forming on his foot as he shoved again, opening his mouth to yell.

"Tommy! Let me out of here!" He called out, feeling a weight settle over him. The purring was still going, having not faltered at his works. Dream growled before he looked over his shoulder. This wasn't a fun idea, but it seemed like his best bet as he shifted to look at the exit and then turned his eyes back to where he'd come in through.

"Fuck it..." He groaned before he crawled over, sitting in front of the sphincter hesitantly before he reached forward and shoved his hands into the area. It wasn't fun, feeling the strong muscles trying to contradict his choices, but Dream needed to make sure Tommy got him out. He refused to sit here and take it when he, a part of him, had a feeling that this wasn't intended. He'd seen the boy in instinct waves, Phil always said he needed to avoid him during these moments and now he understood why.

His legs were already burning. It wasn't a horrid sensation, but it felt like his legs were numb with the carbonated tingling that he often felt when he accidentally rested on his limbs wrong.

He shoved his way forward, his hands almost slipping on the slick flesh of the throat as he squeezed his head through the sphincter. Within seconds an unhappy gurgle sounded out before he was squeezed back down into the stomach, gasping for a moment before the plush walls closed in on him once more. A frightened yelp had been his sound of opposement, before he was quickly shoved up and out of the organ.

Dream loudly coughed as he was forced into a hand, shaking a bit as he lay on his stomach. He needed to relax and take a few moments to adjust to the light and no longer haveing soft flesh all around him. His tail wrapped around his leg as he glanced over at his little brother, an uncomfortable laugh leaving him at the unhappy look on the teen's face that swiftly turned to horror.

Tommy then spent the next 3 days basically constantly making sure Dream felt safe around him. He even would give the borrower little treats and help him do anything he asked. If Dream would occasionally ask to sleep on Tommy's abdomen, no one knows.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Thank you for reading! Sorry this ask took so long but any of the ones I haven't answered yet, I see you Bkdk person, and the two Tommy ideas, I promise I will get to those!

This was supposed to be a short story, maybe 1,000 words but instead it turned into this-

I don't regret writing this, but it took literally months. I've been working on this on and off for weeks now.

I hope you all enjoy it!

[solaneceae]

float like a feather, sting like sharp talons

Philza drops by Étoiles' brand new dojo for a friendly sparring session, and ends up getting quite a lot more. Namely existential dread, the thrill of a good hunt, and the comfort of shared trust. @apthotiosis this is a commissioned fic! read on ao3

He whistles, eyes lingering along the thick, wooden support beams and rice paper walls surrounding him. It’s a surprising sight, tucked away in a corner of what he can only describe as a mess of a base, mostly empty, the walls still a rough (and frankly ugly) mix of dirt and cobblestone that hasn’t been cleared out even after six months. “So. That is your dojo.”

Étoiles nods at his side, a big stupid grin on his face. “Do you like it, Phil?” he asks, eager as a pup as little Pomme zooms around the cave in an improv game of tag with Tallulah — ever mindful of how her lag (sorry, asthma) sometimes stalls her in her tracks. He glances at them fondly, silly, eggs, babies. “I do,” he hums, because it is pretty. Especially if you ignore the rest of the cave outside because God, it’s fugly as shit and Étoiles knows it. The plant hybrid smiles, all teeth and gums, and squints with star-filled eyes that always seem to glow despite not working like they used to. Phil still doesn’t get why what was originally a completely harmless veggie plant has evolved to bear such predatory teeth, but he can’t say it doesn’t suit his friend. “He likes it! Let’s gooo, big win for me, big win. I can die happy now.”

“Oh my god, stop. Kristin’s married, you know.”

Étoiles gives him a mock-shove that is more of a real one, because Étoiles never holds back, especially not with Phil. “Oh! Oh, so I can’t be nice to Lady Death? I can’t just visit her because she’s cool and she likes me also? I am married to the grind, Phil, you know me!”

Phil shakes his head, exasperated and fond. “You’re a nerd is what you are. Did you know she calls you her tech support?” Étoiles makes a confused noise. Tallulah peeps in the background, mimicked by Pomme, a chorus of play and yesyes, because all the eggs have picked up on that one by now. (Mimicry is a powerful thing, and the eggs are highly social creatures who thrive on it.)

Phil elaborates, circling the build to assess its structure better. “Because of the sweeping edge bug thing, and Richas’ cancelled death last week. You find the kinks and loopholes in death mechanics better than anyone she knows.”

Étoile beams at that. “That’s so cool. I’m Death tech support!”

“You certainly are. Do you think it’s because you picked Death? In the entity rooms?”

The green-skinned man shrugs, then gasps and takes off running after Pomme to stop her from setting up waterframes everywhere to display obscure anime edits for Tallulah because her internet, her lag Pomme, you’re going to make her void! Phil glances at them (safe, no danger, good) then back at the dojo, running his palm down a beam to feel its grain. It’s smooth, recently stripped of its bark. “Huh,” he says.

He doesn’t understand why his friend chose to build this underground when dojos are usually suited for wind-swept plains or mysterious forests. Then again, Étoiles has never been much for coherent aesthetics. That, and he probably thought it would be more mysterious to hide it under the ground, knowing him. “It’s. Well, very dojo-like,” he walks through dark support beams and onto clean, recently-oiled planks, coming to poke at one of the wooden sticks idly rotating above an altar to send it spinning in the opposite direction. Étoiles trots back to him with an egg under each arm (Play, dad, Pomme warbles. Play, silly, Tallulah beeps from within her cracked shell.) and lets out a guttural noise, visibly bothered by the sticks being out of sync, and it makes Phil snort. Silly. Silly. “Did you build it all by yourself?”

“Yeeaaaah.”

“You’re lying.”

A dramatic gasp. The warrior puts both eggs down to throw his hands in the air. “I’m not lying! Pomme, ma légende, dis-lui.”

Bomp. [me and richas did it. papa helped, very much :DDD]

Étoiles comes to brush his fingers against the red sign, letting the device tucked into his ear translate the written words into spoken ones. He whines, puts a hand over his heart as his ears droop. “Ahhh, trahison. Disgrâce. Tu m’détestes en fait Pomme, c’est ça ? You want me to dig down to bedrock and die forever? Or it’s because I can’t see, so you think I’m shit?”

Bomp. [papa…] Bomp. [t’a pas besoin d’être aveugle pour avoir des goûts douteux en déco :X]

“Okay, okay. I go die in fire then, goodnight.” Then Étoiles pours lava into the cobble floor and stands in it with a huge smile. His body catches on fire immediately, skin quickly shrivelling up and blackening under the heat. Pomme peeps at him loudly and hits him with her scythe, then douses him in water and healing potions — which immediately prompts Étoiles into sparring mode, laughing and hyping his egg up with a string of ‘oh she knows, she knows the play’ and ‘strafing, comboing, keep at it’ as his body heals up. Philza watches the display for a few seconds before getting bored, choosing to walk past the layer of light wood circling the dojo to take a look inside.

It’s even prettier than the outside, with all the paper lanterns and little fountains and bamboo shoots. His geta clack against the wood, then go silent on the woven straw flooring at the center. “Why’re all the posters in Japanese?” he remarks when his friend comes back from his little mock-tantrum with his daughter in tow, squinting at a crude montage explaining the belts system. Philza can gather that it’s based on how much HP the dojo master has left after a duel, because Étoiles has been yapping about making a dojo with that exact system for months now. (Is that a jar of mayo at the top? The hell?) Guess the eggs returning has been the push in motivation he needed to actually commit to that build, despite his insistence that he is very much a builder now, thank you very much, look at all the wool I have.

Étoiles perks up, grins in a way that lets Phil know he’s about to do a bit. “Oh, you don’t know? You don’t know that I’m literally Japanese, Philza?” he chirps, picking up one of the sticks on display before running circles around the other man, poking at his legs playfully. His boots are off, Phil notices. “Speaking of! Shoes off Phil, come on, come on!”

“You literally told me you grew in a field, mate,” Phil laughs, airy and wheezy and light as he evades the attacks. “The little legume who could! In rural France! Where does Japan come into play here?”

“Aaaah, Philza, Philza,” the warrior shakes his head, hitting the other on the shoulder to push him back out and onto the cold cobble floor. “Shoes off I said, it’s a rule. I don’t want shit on my tatami, I already had to clean it up sooo many times with the whole server fucking around in it yesterday. And Japan lives in my warrior’s soul. It’s all that matters.”

“F’course it does,” Phil complies regardless, shimming out of his geta before walking to the little shoe rack in the corner to tuck them inside. “There. Happy?”

“Very. Also, trivia time, culture time: did you know that cucumbers aren’t legumes? They are fruits, Phil! And vegetables don’t actually exist, they’re all either fruits or roots or leaves or flowers...”

Phil stares at him. “...You don’t get to stand there and tell me my avocados are fruits, Étoiles. What the fuck.”

“Umm, they are berries, actually—”

“Oh fuck off and come kill me already.”

“With pleasure, my bro.”

 

Armors come off next, quickly magicked back into inventories. Phil walks up to the altars to pick up his own stick (unenchanted, as plain as it gets) and spots Étoiles off to the side, rolling up his sleeve to check on his insulin levels before rolling it back down. “We eat one gapple each, yes? My sugar is low,” he explains as they both get into position on both ends of the tatami.

“Sounds good. You got yours?”

Étoiles laughs, summoning a golden fruit from his inventory and spinning it over his finger like the insufferable showoff he is. “Always. Autofeed off Phil, no cheating.”

“Alright, you little shit,” Phil summons his own gapple and bites into it with purpose, feeling the warm tingle of magic-saturation in his stomach as the rest of the apple vanishes into thin air with a few golden sparkles. He turns to the eggs, settled on top of diamond blocks they’ve just placed. “Tallulah, do a countdown for us please?”

Signs are placed, one by one, as Pomme hypes them up with Megalovania, perfectly timed with the Pigstep now blasting out of a music box. Bomp, three. Bomp, two. Bomp, one…

Bomp. [GO PAPA PHIL :D]

Étoiles shoots off towards him as soon as the letters show up on the wood, jumping up and swinging his stick down for a crit. Phil dashes to the side, the blow just grazing his shoulder. “Nice cock, Phil!” Étoiles gasps, all sharp teeth and waggling eyebrows, and it takes the avian back enough for the other to get a few hits in. “Motherfucker!” Phil laughs, breaking the combo and pushing the cucumber back with a few crits of his own, adrenaline starting to flood his brain and paint the world in sharp edges and colors. “You little shit! Stop doing that!”

“Do what, Philza? I’m just bantering, just chilling.”

Étoiles’ combat style hasn’t changed despite the blindness, Phil finds — he’s insanely precise and quick on his feet, which is a problem. He decides he won’t be able to outrun or out-speed him, so he elects to block most of his strikes with his own stick instead, relying more on instinct than observation. “He’s blocking, he’s blocking,” the warrior’s voice chants through the flurry of swings and the clack of wood against wood. “Strafing, strafing, he’s the best, he’s the GOAT. Hit me, Phil! Don’t just defend, hit me!”

And dammit, Phil tries pretty hard — but Étoiles is insane and he’s just a little too fast even without speedbridging, just a little too smart with his feints. Phil goes down after two minutes, the last hit clocking him across the temple and sending him to the (thankfully a little soft) floor, ears ringing and white stars dancing across his darkening vision. He wonders if it’s a little like how Étoiles sees the world now. Probably not. “Four hearts, Phil,” Étoiles announces, laying his hands on Phil’s side — the pain fades, the world comes back into focus, and his brain rattles with the doom-doom of revival. He hears fireworks going off, probably Pomme’s. “That’s good, very good. That’s a brown belt! I think you can kill me soon, easy. Again?” the cucumber chirps, offering his hand, and Phil thinks that if Étoiles had his tail it would probably be wagging right now.

He groans in agreement, grasps his friend’s hand and is pulled back on his feet. “Yes. Again.”

Round two goes similarly. “Again.” So does round three. “One more.” After his fourth consequential victory, Étoiles looks pensive, and Phil is getting a tad frustrated — he’s muted his comm for this, as he often does, but he can usher a guess at what Global chat looks like, spammed with his half-death messages and maybe a brief bout of concern from whoever else is online at the moment. “Fuck, man,” he rubs at his neck where a particularly vicious strike has left the skin an angry red, molted with purple. He’ll feel that in the morning, if he doesn’t get a respawn. “I don’t think I can do it. No black belt for me.”

“No, no, you can,” Étoiles insists, circling him — dull, greyed out eyes scanning for something. “I think…”

“Looking for something, king? How’s nebula-me looking?”

“Like the GOAT, you know that. But since you ask, you’re more blue today. With some red.”

“Cool. Wish I could see like you do, for a day.”

“You don’t. It’s pretty, but annoying. It’s harder to make out details inside the, ah…” he mumbles something in barely-legible French. “Je sais pas comment on dit. Les contours. The lines at the limits of a drawing.”

“Outlines?”

“Yes. I see the outlines well, but everything inside is messy. To me everything is just, shapes. And the bigger a thing is, the harder it is for me to understand it. Eggs are easy, because they are small and simple. People are harder.” He waves towards Phil. “Like, I can’t know if you’re smiling or frowning, I have to listen to how your voice sounds.”

“Huh. That’s interesting.”

Étoiles hums, stops at his side. Cocks his head like an attentive dog. “Ah. You should take your backpack off, Phil. It’s slowing you down.”

Oh. Philza shifts, hesitant. “I wear it all the time, it doesn’t nerf me that much.”

“No, I think it can make a difference. Let’s try it?”

Mh. He hadn’t planned on doing this today. Showing his kids had felt right, natural. Showing Fit had required a few deep breaths, but not much else. Étoiles… is a trickier case.

He does want to show him — the french warrior is one of his most trusted friends, and someone he knows he can rely on in a pinch. The guy is loyal to a fault, always looking at Phil like all it would take for him to lay down his life before him was a single word. It’s a bit scary, in a way, and always makes his hindbrain buzz pleasantly. But Phil held things like mutual trust in high regard, and Étoiles had broken that on the first day of Purgatory.

They had talked since then, and it’s clear to Phil now that it had been an honest mistake, a temporary lapse in judgement. Plus, it’s not as if Phil hadn’t lost his own mind within the first twenty-four hours in that red hellscape. Still, even though he has forgiven Étoiles, the cracks don’t feel completely healed just yet. “I don’t know, mate,” he pulls at one of the straps of his backpack self-consciously, feeling its weight pressing his wings tightly against his back. “I can’t get you under four hearts, I doubt taking it off will give me that much more.”

“Phil. Phiiiiil. Trust me?”

Tall order, Phil almost jokes, but refrains. “I do trust you.”

“Then trust what I’m saying. I know my shit, you’re being slowed down, you can’t spin as fast or jump as high with this thing, it’s basic physics. I want you to have all the chance on your side.”

Philza purses his lips, glances to where Tallulah sits off to the side. She jumps to her little feet and places down a sign, while Pomme rummages through her backpack next to her. He can’t help but coo when the bright ‘<3’ shows up in stark white against the magenta wood. “Right. Okay.”

Étoiles can’t see, not normally. So maybe he won’t be able to make them out, bound tightly against his back as they are. And if he does, then that is fine. No need to make a fuss of it. So Philza walks up to Tallulah and drops the black pack next to her, giving her a little headpat in passing. “Watch over that for me, okay?” he smiles at her, and she peeps at him with purpose, jumping on top of it and doing the egg equivalent of puffing up her chest. Pomme is in her own red backpack now, little legs kicking the air as she reaches as deep as she can. silly, egg, baby, egg, he croons. “I’ll be right back. Got a green ass to kick.”

 

“He is back,” Étoiles whoops when he steps onto the tatami. “Oh, he is ready, so ready. Are you full hearts?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. We go on three, one, two, th—”

Phil takes off at the first syllable, and oh, yeah, the lack of weight on his back means he can lean forward more without gravity winning, and that means he reaches Étoiles right as he reaches the end of his three. He thrusts his stick forward, the blunt tip digging itself right into the other’s abdomen with enough force to make him stumble back, winded and sputtering. “Argh—”

Phil doesn’t let him recover, getting a few good hits in before his opponent parries and attempts an upward swing that he barely evades by sending his body backwards, dangerously far. The weapon grazes his chin, and his wings try to open to regain balance but they’re still bound against him. “Shit—” he steps back quickly, arms pinwheeling, and it looks a little silly but it works, and he does not crash onto his back like an idiot.

Étoiles stares at him from the other side, breathing hard, eyes wide, a palm against his diaphragm. Then he smiles. “Oh. Ohohooo. Okay, now we’re talking. Let’s go.”

Moving more freely doesn’t make the fight easier, not by a long shot, because Étoiles adapts quickly — but it does make it more fun, and that’s already an improvement in Phil’s eyes. He gets less crits in, because jumping up leaves him too exposed to revenge strikes, but he gets more light hits in between sidesteps and mad dashes. “He is so fast!” Étoiles cheers, ducking to dodge a vicious strike to the head. “Oh, he is so good, go Phil go!”

Run, dodge, strike, strafe, dash. Every muscle in Phil’s body strains to keep up as he pushes it past its limits, arm aching from the repeated shocks against the stick, but he barely feels it thanks to the adrenaline flooding his system. A hit to the back of his knee makes him stumble, but he recovers into a roll and trips Étoiles with his stick in retaliation. The cucumber groans, scrambles to get up, and Phil sees an opening right there on his foes’ unprotected throat. He zeroes in on it, takes the first step, raises his weapon and—

 

There’s a jagged shape in his peripheral vision.

 

He falters. Tries not to look at it, tries to keep his eyes on target, target that’s about to get back up, quick, quick, do it. 

 

There’s a purple shape in his peripheral vision.

 

He fails. Sharp angles and eerie glow, that shade he’s come to dread. The amethyst crystals hum out their ethereal song, taunting him. He doesn’t see Étoiles anymore, and his world is drowning in high-pitched static.

 

Purple. Purple everywhere. The room is too dark, too dark, darker yet darker.

Time slows down. No. The edges of his vision are fraying, dark tendrils creeping in. He feels himself falter, adrenaline making way for cortisol and making his hindbrain, no, fly, fly, run, nonono. He’s losing his footing, his grip around the stick growing slack, palms getting clammy. No, no, not now, please. His breathing picks up, faster than it’s been at any point of this duel. The amethysts glow an eerie violet, jagged shapes growing out of the thick, wooden beams around him, and he swears the room has gotten even darker. “Tallu—” He doesn’t make it to the end of the name, because then something smacks him in the back with unrestrained force.

Right on his left ulnare, the wingbone left exposed with no fat or muscle to cushion the blow.

Pain explodes throughout his left wing, the shock propagating all the way into his back and making him yell out, a gasp-screech that is very not human. Tallulah peeps loudly somewhere at the edge of his awareness, papa, no, bad! as he falls to his hands and knees, panic spiking, bad, bad, hurts, getoutgetout—

“Oh merde! Phil, ça va ?” He hears glass breaking, smells melon and gunpowder and something both earthy and spicy — Nether wart. Étoiles is healing him, putting a stop to their duel, and the realisation drags him out of that weird fugue state. “You never made that sound before, I think it’s bad. Are you okay?”

“Amethyst,” the older man growls between clenched teeth, letting the potion effects refill his health bar — fuck. Pain signals were always limited during PvP, but this had somehow broken through the server’s capping function. Étoiles makes a noise of incomprehension, his hands just hovering over Phil’s shoulder, not quite touching. “What?” he says, and Phil hears the patter of little feet rapidly coming closer. Pomme and Lullah.

“Please, just... Can you see the amethyst?”

He doesn’t know why he’s asking, of course his friend can’t see it, because that shit isn’t real. Or at least not to anyone but him. Through the haze he can feel Tallulah’s warm shell bump against his arm, hear her little worried chitters. He doesn’t trust himself to tell her he’s fine.

But then, Étoiles raises an eyebrow and turns his head towards the wall, blinks. A frustrated noise. “Euuuh Pomme, je t’adore hein, mais ça va pas trop avec le reste en fait. Tu peux les retirer steuplait ?” Pomme crouches, one-two, then summons a pickaxe and walks towards the crystals, and proceeds to casually break all of them.

Oh. Her backpack, all her rummaging. She’d been trying to decorate the dojo while they were busy sparring. 

Philza lets out an uneven breath, runs a hand through his hair — his forehead is damp with cold sweat, and it sucks. Okay. Okay. Real, then. Just a really, really bad coincidence. Bad timing. Bad everything. He lets out a breath, the tight coil in his chest slowly loosening. “I’m sorry Pomme,” he gives the little egg a smile that he hopes to the Gods isn’t shaky. “Got distracted by the shiny, you know how it goes. Crow brain go brrrrr.”

Pomme falls dramatically on the floor at that, places a red sign that reads [sorry ;_;] “You’re good, you’re good, don’t worry.” Tallulah places a flower next to Pomme, bomp, [RIP manzanita]. Phil chuckles at their antics, heartbeat slowing down to a more normal pace. Jesus Christ. “You like shiny things, Phil?” Étoiles asks. “Did not know that.” He looks around, scans the dojo for any stray shine. “Mmmh. All good, I think. Sorry about Pomme, she likes amethyst stuff.” Then, quieter, “I think it reminds her of Baghera. She has an amethyst farm in her castle.”

Oh. Phil glances at Pomme, who thankfully seems fully absorbed in a sign-based conversation with Tallulah. “That makes sense. She must miss her a lot.”

(Dad, are you proud of me? I just killed a silverfish.)

“Can I see your wings, Phil?”

And, there it is. The other shoe. Phil lets out a heavy sigh, wincing when the movement makes his joint twinge in lingering pain — he’s pretty sure nothing’s actually broken or sprained, at least not any worse than before, but it still hurts. “So you saw them.”

“No no, I can’t. But I know they are there, somewhere. I’m sorry I hit them, I can’t tell where they are if you don’t have them out. Told you it was annoying.”

Ah. That makes more sense. He doubts Étoiles would voluntarily target them. Still… “How do you know about them? And, why?

“Philza, you need to understand something. And the thing is, I’m really dumb. I want to see them because maybe I can help, if I hurt them. I fix.”

“No you’re not, stop that. And you didn’t do any permanent damage, you’re fine.”

“No, wait. I’m stupid with lore, but I have eyes and ears. Jaiden showed she had wings, pretty sure Baghera has some but she hides them, I assumed you were the same.” Ah. Fair enough. Phil hasn’t been as subtle lately, and the crow jokes could only go for so long before people started to pick up on how literal they were. “Also, Kristin told me.”

Wait, what. “Wait, what?”

“Ye ye. First day of Purgatory, I died a lot.  She said she wanted to exchange fofoca, so I told her about things, and she told me about you because she likes me. Did you know, I asked her if I could get wings too? It made her laugh. I guess tech support is not a high enough position to get flying benefits, sad times for me.”

Mother fucker. It’s hard to be upset when everything that spews out of Étoiles’ chattermouth is so consistently funny. “Well. I would’ve told you sooner than later, anyway. S’fine.”

“So you let me help.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll let you take a look, if that’ll make you feel better about it.”

“Let’s goooo, we got trust. Sit down please?”

Phil snorts and complies. He spots Tallulah running back towards him to climb onto his lap with a quiet warbe. good? Phil warbles back, good, yesyes, and rests his chin on top of his egg’s soft locks of hair. He hears Pomme hitting her dad behind him. “Ouais Pomme ?” Bomp, a short silence. “Badboy est là ? Ah ouaaais. Il veut encore t’exploiter pour ses boutons de l’enfer là ? POV, tu aides le fou du QSMP avec son escape game pour pas qu’il te tue.” More hits, Pomme’s little click-chirps. Étoiles laughs. “Okay, okay, t’inquiètes. Va l’aider, moi et Phil on va parler de trucs chiants de toute façon. Je te vois plus tard ?” The sound of a warpstone going off. “Saluuut.”

“Is Pomme leaving?”

“Yeah, she wants to build stuff with Badboy.”

“Oh god. Please tell me it’s not another find-the-button map.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna spend ten hours finding those fucking things again soon, let’s gooooo. So your wings, who else knows? I bet Fit knows. And your eggs.” Tallulah nods in Phil’s hold.

Étoiles’ lack of big reaction feels nice, but he supposes he should have expected it — the guy never makes a big deal out of anything. Except when it’s about banned materials. Or the Nether. And finding buttons, new trigger unlocked. “Add in pretty much everyone in the original Bolas, king,” he huffs as Étoiles settles behind him. His unseen presence makes a brief shiver of danger, danger go up Phil’s spine. It’s fine. It’s fine, he soothes himself, idly rubbing at the scar at the center of his chest through his robe. “I lost my shit with them around. Stopped caring as much. They saw them on day one.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? Half the people on this shit island are like, creatures. Not humans. Nobody cares. I’m literally a fruit, Phil.”

Phil chokes on his own spit. “Jesus Christ, you have no idea how funny what you just said was.” Tallulah chirps and wiggles in his hold, places a sign. [*side-eyes u*] it says, and that’s somehow even funnier than if she had actual eyes to side-eye people with instead of the blank expanse of her brown-spotted shell.

Étoiles blinks. He cocks his head to the side, in that specific way he does whenever he’s listening to what he calls the ‘voices of the stars’. (Something akin to his crows, from what the older man has been able to gather.) “Oooh. Oh, is it a gay joke Phil? That doesn’t work man, we are on Gay Island, everyone is gay here, or they don’t date at all. And you are incorrect, because I am in the second group, héhé.”

“Didn’t Antoine call you his boyfriend once?”

“He calls me a lot of things.” Étoiles shrugs. ”He’s also an asshole and my DJ partner and my friend and I love him very much, but no, it’s not like that. And I am married to dark metal and dungeons anyway. Now I’m going to unbind your wings and move them around, okay?”

“Mh. Go for it, king.”

To his credit, Étoiles is methodic in his approach — unknotting the binds and carefully tracing the upper edges of his left wing while the other spreads out with difficulty, a few black feathers coming loose. Étoiles lets out a surprised oh, gently grabs the other to help it unfurl, and Phil feels him poking at the bottom of his regrowing primaries — right where the white ones, usually hidden beneath the outer layer unless he spreads them wide, grow in diamond-like spots. “I know this pattern, right there. You have Elytrian code too, Phil? I thought it was just crow.”

“Ah, so Kristin didn’t tell you everything then.”

“No. And she didn’t like, out you, you know. She only told me because she knew I knew, she only confirmed it. People with wings have like, a way they move? I can’t explain it, I just see it.”

“Body language expert Étoiles, ey? Have you known a lot of avians before?”

Étoiles stays quiet for a second. When he speaks again, he sounds perplexed. “Huh. I don’t know. I guess I knew Baghera? Memory stuff, it’s annoying.”

Phil frowns. Right. “You told me a little about your childhood, though. The village, the farmers?”

“Yeah, that’s a thing that came back quickly after the crash. But everything after that, I don’t remember.”

“Man, fuck this island. I’m sorry.”

Étoiles hums. His fingers start combing through his bottom feathers, lingering among the white ones. “I think. I think I went to the End before, Phil.” His voice has gone softer, airy, like he’s not quite anchored in the present. “I think… maybe, I’ve seen Elytrians before.”

“You have?”

“Mmh. I think I killed one. Yeah. And I took its elytra. It was a good fight.”

The revelation doesn’t shock him — Elytrian hunting is a common activity for those who reach the End, and elytras are a highly sought-after item in most worlds. (Philza would know.) “Were you a hunter? Before the island.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t like hunters.” And Phil can’t see Étoile’s face from his position on the floor, but his words are dripping with contempt. “Hunting for yourself is one thing. Making money off it, it feels wrong. And they don’t even fight, they make traps. I don’t like that. If you’re too shit at fighting to win fairly against something, you don’t deserve the loot. Bâtards de merde.”

And Phil laughs, because this he understands. “Ever the honorable warrior, aren’t you Étoiles.”

“Dude, I have so much honor. I told you, I’m literally Japanese.”

“Right.”

“And like I said, I am your arms. I am your sword, Philza Minecraft.”

Phil’s wings fluff up slightly, a croon of ownership-claim threatening to spill out of his chest. Mine. “Étoiles…”

“I am, it’s not a bad thing! Purgatory sucked. I didn’t like it. But it was better at the end, when you were telling me what to do. Who to kill for you.”

Phil croons, leaning back into Étoiles’ careful hands. “I see. You never called me dad though.”

“Fuck that!” Étoiles laughs, bark-like and airy. “That cult leader shit was weird. You’re Philza.” And there’s a quality to the way he says it, something that feels both casual and reverent. “First of his name, GOAT of PvP, Avoider of Lore, greatest man alive—”

“Woah there—”

“—husband and Angel of Lady Death, and father of dragon eggs. You’re not my dad. Why everyone has daddy issues on this shit island?”

Phil snorts. “I don’t know, mate. But I won’t judge. I think it’s fine if seeing me as a father figure brought them comfort. It was literally hell out there.”

Étoiles hums. “Maybe. Also, you didn’t answer my question.” Phil lets out a confused huh. “Earlier, when I asked why you were hiding that you had wings.”

…Shit. Curse Étoiles’ one-track mind, his deflection tactic had been foiled. “It’s not— shit like prejudice I was afraid of, Étoiles,” he admits, quiet and somber. The other man stops his ministrations, fingers dug deep in his primary coverts. “I know this island is a goddamn circus show. Mousey screams she’s a demon to whoever will listen and nobody gives two shits, I don’t know why Bad even bothers pretending he’s not. That’s not the problem. It’s just…” He sighs. ”The Federation has eyes everywhere, man. I feel like if I show them off too much, they’ll fuck them up again. Maybe even worse than last time.”

Étoiles is silent. His motions resume, slower, more careful and deliberate. “The first time, you say,” he eventually hums. There’s something dangerous in his voice. “So it’s because of them, that they are like this? Your wings.”

“Pretty much. Woke up on the train, boom, clipped. No more flying for me. I don’t know why they didn’t do the same to Jaiden, she said she didn’t want to fly, or didn’t know how? I can’t remember too well, but maybe that’s why. Less of a threat. Honestly, I’m just glad they didn’t do it to her. She’s family now.” Even though her loyalties are a point of concern, he couldn’t help it. She is Bolas, she is flock. And he had held her as she screamed out the temporary loss of her shiny blue wings, that first night in Purgatory. “No avian deserves that shit.”

“You don’t either, Phil.”

“I know that.”

“I’m just saying it because you have the voice! The one you use when you think bad things.”

A wry smile. “How dare you call yourself dumb, man. How fucking dare you.”

“It’s what I do! I kill things, I see people’s true souls, and I shit on myself.”

They stay quiet after that. Étoiles stretches out his wings, flexing the joints one at a time, muttering quick apologies when Phil hisses a little too loud. “Sorry, sorry.”

“You’re good. Keep going.” So he does, until Phil no longer feels the pins and needles of blood flooding back into his wings, until the joints no longer feel like rusted cogs. He even gets a little preening in, dislodging matted down and crooked secondaries, and it feels nice. Tallulah is dozing off in his hold, warm and safe. His egg, his baby, his hatchling. “Thanks mate,” Phil hums, a little out of it by the end, hindbrain thrumming pleasantly. Flock, good, yesyes. “You’ve done that before, I can tell.”

“If I have, I don’t remember. Okay, now stand— sorry Tallulah, were you sleeping? Sorry, your dad has to stand so we can see. Yes, nice. Now try them.”

Phil chitters quietly, furling and unfurling his wings experimentally — the constant pain is still there, but minimal, very bearable, and they do feel less stuffy. Lighter. “It actually does, yeah.” Tallulah does a little dance at his side, twirling and playing a few cheery notes on her flute. “Good job, seriously.”

“No probleeeem, Phil, my bro. Last round?”

This guy, I swear. “I’m a little tired,” Phil groans, cracking his neck as he stands, stretches his wings out as far as he can — it still aches, but feels miles better. “But okay. I’m going to put Tallulah to bed real quick, she’s eepy.” Tallulah nods in confirmation, takes out her warpstone right as her papa does. “Then let’s fight, one more time. After that I’m going home and conking the fuck out.”

Étoiles makes a sound that probably means something like ‘holy shit say less king’. “Okay!”

Five minutes later, and he’s warping back to Étoiles’ cave like a man on a mission. And in a way, he is. “Welcome back, worthy challenger,” the cucumber greets him, crossed-legged in the middle of the dojo, and Phil snorts because the music box is blasting Smash Bros music now. “You’re such a fucking nerd, oh my God.”

“It gives me strength, Phil. It’s my final form.” Étoiles gets up, stick already in hand, bouncing on his heels with anticipation. “Autofeed still off?”

“Yup. How’s your sugar?” Étoiles checks his monitor quickly, gives a thumbs up. “Good. No holding back?”

“I never hold back, Phil. Let’s go.”

There is no countdown this time — both opponents slip into quiet assessment, circling each other slowly, slowly. Étoiles does a strange head-tilt, ears flicking to track Phil’s footsteps, the sounds of feathers ruffling. Phil’s eyes do not stray from him, hardened and focused, picking up on the change in the air. Étoiles wants him to go all out. So he will. And he has a plan.

(The bigger a thing is, the harder it is for me to understand it.)

Time to put that to the test, then.

Étoiles charges first this time, quick-footed, swerving at random moments to keep himself a hard-to-track target. Phil almost bursts into incredulous laughter because holy shit, he’s Naruto-running, what the fuck— but manages to keep his focus, waiting until the very last moment to thrust his wings downward with enough force to send him soaring abovehis opponent. Then, right as his feet touch the tatami and right as Étoiles screeches to a stop to spin back towards him

he spreads his wings

wide, wider

casting huge shadows on the four walls of the dojo

and lets his powers roll off of him like a dark mist, sparking with magic and wither-decay.

(The bigger a thing is, the harder it is for me to understand it.)

It’s a gamble, a costly one that saps his Feds-capped magic like crazy — but it pays off, because Étoiles staggers back, confusion etched across his features. His head subtly snaps in all directions, like he doesn’t know where to look, his ears swivelling to try and pinpoint him. Bingo. Phil has made his nebula-self big, toobig for Étoiles, rendering the warrior effectively blind. Well, double-blind.

Phil doesn’t wait for the other to find a counter to this, curls his wings forward then snaps them back — they launch him forward at breakneck speed and create a gust of wind that makes the paper lanterns swing on their hooks, and then Phil is slamming into Étoiles like a literal hurricane.

The plant hybrid gasps, fingers slackening from the sheer strength of the impact — his weapon slips out of his grasp to clatter against the ground and roll out of bounds. His body describes a perfect curve and hits the wooden floor with a loud thud. He barely has the time to blink the dizziness away before something presses against the side of his neck, and he freezes completely. “Gotcha,” Phil preens, looming above him. The end of his stick is right against Étoiles’ pulse point, the threat crystal clear, and he’s a writhing mass of burning stars and cosmic fury.

The energy rolling off of him washes over Étoiles in waves, makes his skin tingle, and he recognizes it as withering. Withering coming from Philza himself, whose outlines are impossible to pinpoint, lost in the cloud of magic and giant Angel wings.

...Okay, this is sick as hell, Étoiles thinks, and he can feel somethingwithin him grow, a presence rejoicing in the back of his mind. Ink bleeds into his eyes, then under it, twin lines of darkness going down his cheeks and neck. (Flashes of a white spiral on a dark expanse, of whispers and stolen Time.) He feels cold, but he feels good about it, and he’s not scared at all — this is fine, more than fine. Withering is harmless for Death-touched things. Things like him and Phil. He laughs, loud and ecstatic, this is fun, so fun! “Aaah. Clever bird, clever Phil, I like. Okay.”

Then something wraps around Phil’s ankle and pulls it forward, breaking his balance and making him hit the ground ass-first with a startled caw. He grits his teeth, shoots a glare towards his leg to see—

—blinks at the sight of a green vine wrapped around his ankle. His eyes trace along its length. He’s seen this before, but only once, months ago. Right after harvesting a freshly-regrown Étoiles out of the ground, a week after his Code-related demise. “Oh,” Philza says, and Étoiles smirks in return.

His tail is long, as long as he is tall, and covered in large, healthy green leaves. It swishes against the tatami in a serpentine motion, the leaves rustling quietly, and Phil notices a half-star-shaped kink at the end of it. It’s... well, it’s pretty adorable actually, but something tells him Étoiles wouldn’t like that descriptor. “You kept it,” he says instead, fight-darkened eyes sparkling with something like kinship-euphoria. “You grew it out.”

“I did, I listened to you. I keep it wrapped around my waist, it works.”

“Told you it could come in handy.”

“You did. You’re always right about things, Philza.” Étoiles steps into a fighting stance, hands curled into fists, tail lashing left and right like a whip. Phil understands, lets out a quiet chuckle as he sends his own weapon flying out of the arena. So they’re doing it this way, huh. More than fine with him. “Nothing’s off the table then,” he hums, hands curling like claws at his sides, sharpening talons glinting ominously in the light of paper lanterns. His friend hums approvingly, and it’s all Phil needs to pounce.

They no longer try to evade, instead crashing into each other to cause as much damage as quickly as possible. Étoiles throws a jab, Phil retaliates with a smack of his wing to destabilise the other before slashing at his chest, tearing at his shirt and drawing the first blood. Because yes, Étoiles bleeds, deep cuts marring his dark green skin, chlorophyll sticking to Phil’s hands. Étoiles hisses, gets behind him and wraps his tail around Phil’s throat to choke him. Phil gasps, coughs, briefly flails before smacking the other with his wings until the tail goes slack. Phil rips it off him and whirls around to pull at it sharply — Étoiles falls, but not before grabbing onto Phil’s robes to pull him down with him.

Things get messy after that — a flurry of feathers and leaves and punches and kicks, one that clocks Phil in the jaw and makes him taste blood, one at the side of his head that makes him see stars. He hisses, screeches, swipes, again and again, and Étoiles blocks some of them with his arms, arms that gain more and more tiger-stripe cuts, but many go through and eat at his health, heart after heart. The warrior retaliates with a headbutt that makes the Angel’s world darken for a second, burning blood getting into his eyes and half-blinding him. Maybe it’s more fair this way, not that it slows him down at all.

They punch, claw, snap their teeth at each other like rabid dogs — chipping at each other’s health with no care, no limits. Dark red and greenish white smear against the straw tatami, but that’s fine, that’s okay, they are playing, they are having fun, and Philza feels alive, alive, alive!

(The whole time, Étoiles never touches his wings. Which goes against the whole ‘nothing off the table’ thing, yet Philza is grateful for it. He’s also grateful none of the eggs are here to see this.)

Philza has no idea how long this lasts, lost in the thrill of a fight the likes of which he hasn’t experienced in decades. But eventually the doom of someone getting downed makes every muscle in his body lock up, and he’s still standing. Or, kneeling over Étoiles with his talons right above his jugular, the other hand pinning the warrior’s hands above his head to keep him from hitting back. Semantics.

Étoiles has gone limp, heaving, his body a canvas of bruises and bloody cuts. “I win,” Phil realizes, wings quivering, all fluffed up in a show of victory. “I… won.”

“Well played, well played,” his warrior wheezes out in response, and Phil’s never seen anyone so happy about getting their shit kicked. Except maybe one person. But he won, Phil won, Étoiles is down and he himself still has… yes, two hearts to spare. He has won. They can stop. Right here. Right now.

But then. Étoiles, stupid and crazy and wonderful Étoiles, tilts his head back to offer him his throat, his binary-scarred face twisted in a feral grin. Philza gasps and leans back a little, eyes wide “Take your win, my bro,” he chirps, happy as can be, tail thumping against the tatami like an overpet cat. Tap, tap, tap, the countdown to his demise if Phil doesn’t up him soon. “Do it. You won’t. No balls, no bolas.”

And those words are the last push Phil needs for his Elytrian code to take over. He bares his teeth, eyes darkening to a pitch black that eats up his entire sclera, until the white of Étoiles’ teeth gets reflected back at him — not that he can see it. 

Phil’s wings spread out behind him, huge and dark and awe-inspiring even in their frayed state, and the withering aura that exudes from them paints Étoiles’ eternal night in bursts of star-speckled purples and reds and blues.

It’s beautiful. And it’s terrifying. Étoiles is about to get killed by an Angel of Death, and he’s never been so goddamn scared and excited in his life.

 

Phil feels insane. He’s going feral, going sicko mode, or whatever other colloquialism that means his mind is drowning in the thrill of hunt, hunt, prey, yesyes. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Étoiles scared before, but there’s no mistaking those too-wide eyes, that subtle tremor in his friend’s wrists as Phil’s hand tightens around them. He can smell it too, like cut grass left to decay in the hot sun, and it’s making the End’s superpredator in him go zoomies inside his skull.

He growls, low and bone-deep and dangerous, his talons pushing harder against the paling, sweat-damp skin of Étoiles’ neck. prey? flock. prey. prey? kill, eat, yesyes. Étoiles isn’t human, but he has something close to a heart, and he bleeds like one — greenish white chlorophyll that smells strong and tastes awful, bitter.

(Phil knows that, because Purgatory happened. More specifically, Bolas happened, gas masks and ritual sacrifices and fresh blood always lingering at the corner of their mouths. He misses his flock — misses all the ones that are still gone, carving cookie-cutter negative shapes in his heart — everything else about that hellscape, not so much anymore. Maybe he’s healing, just a little.)

 

His talons are just a hair away from perforating Étoiles’ jugular, so close to making not-quite-blood pour out like a fountain. But then he freezes, going silent, because the part of him that is still sane recognizes that this is a terrible idea.

It’s a terrible idea because Étoiles is bad at knowing when to stop, bad at spotting the line between what challenges him and what hurts him. And Philza understands that this, this is a bad. The cucumber hybrid is a creature of instants — fugue moments, rash decisions, the kind you would look back on later and go oh, yeah, that was dumb and maybe not worth it. Hence Philza has to be the responsible one, has to ignore his base instincts screeching at him to hunt, kill, kill, lest this ends badly. Like Étoiles getting mauled to death by what is supposed to be his most trusted friend. Again. (They don’t talk about that time. Just like they don’t talk about Étoiles’ betrayal, neither want to reminisce over Phil’s teeth tearing his throat out in the middle of a Hunger disaster. Not-so-fun fact: Étoiles doesn’t taste like cucumber at all.)

“Enabler,” the avian warbles, talons slowly lifting off the hollow of Étoiles’ throat. “M’not killing you.” And Étoiles, like the little shit that he is, has the gallto pout at him. “Why not?”

“Because then I’ll have to regrow your ass in my potato field for a week, you twat.” Also I think it’s not good for you, and my sanity is at an all-time low so I don’t need cold-blooded murder to push me over the edge, he adds in petto.

Étoiles blinks. Huffs out a laugh, something a little unhinged, but also a little relieved. “Ah, yeah! I forgot, because I respawned normally in Purgatory. Okay, you win.” The warrior’s smile softens to something more like him,  and just like that, the tension vanishes, the buzz of fear and aggression replaced by something light and playful. Étoiles baps his hands against his chest, grabbing at his robe to tug him down into a hug.

And Philza’s hindbrain floods the rest of him with happy, happy, yesyes, because Étoiles isn’t really a touchy-feely person and neither is Phil, but this feels right. “GGs,” the crow says back, warbling and chirping like crazy, the black in his eyes receding. yesyes, mine, mine, yesyes, yesyes! And to his surprise, Étoiles responds, not with a crude imitation of his own bird sounds, but with something… different. And Phil’s not sure any word in his vocab could ever describe it accurately — but something deep within him knows that if starlight was a sound, this would certainly be it. “Oh, oh, he is so good. The GOAT, the actual GOAT, best man on the planet Philza Minecraft,” Étoiles mock-sobs against him. “He wakes up in the morning casually being the best, and he takes care of two eggs and says fuck to the president’s office from the wall, and he finally beats me. My legend, Felipe, Felipe!”

Phil shakes from the force of his hilarity — a regular occurrence whenever he hangs around his favourite pickle man for long enough. silly, he warbles between fits of belly-aching, hiccup-inducing laughter, and he leans down to nuzzle against his friend’s mess of dark green hair (leaves?). silly. silly. flock. “I do see Forever wave at me from his office sometimes,” he hums, once he’s calmed down enough to speak again. “He makes kissy faces at me through the glass, so I flip him off.”

Étoiles hums in acceptance, finally pushes Phil back to shimmy out from under him with a small héhé to lay on his back, starfish-style. Phil rolls onto his own back, and they both stare at the interlacing wooden beams of the dojo roof for a little while, basking in the fuzz of a fading adrenaline rush.

(Phil hasn’t seen his favourite Brazilian as much lately. Silly, sun, friend-protector. He probably has his hands full, what with returning to his political duties after so long. Still, Philza worries — he thinks of black tar clinging to sun-kissed skin and tired sienna eyes, above a smile that just doesn’t shine as bright as it used to.) “I kinda like it, though. It’s like our good morning. Never tell him I said that.”

“I wooooon’t, I promise.”

“Thank you. For the fights.” Philza closes his eyes. He is here, he is real, everything about this moment is so real. It’s comforting, a balm on his fraying psyche. “It was fun.”

“It was so fun. Please fight with me again like this sometime, no sticks, yes? You have to come back so I give you your black belt anyway.”

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

“I can hear you smiling, Phil. You want to, I knowww.”

“M’not smiling at all, dumbass.”

Étoiles does that high-pitched hum of his that means he’s not buying it, reaches towards his friend — his leader, his wielder, his death-touched Angel. Cool fingers, untouched by code, playfully trace over each of Philza’s features, feeling out the dimples and the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes — pun very much intended. “You’re so bad at lying, Philza,” he sing-songs, playful and content. “I know you too well. Maybe I can’t see you, but I can see you.”

And goddammit, Philza actually does feel seen in this moment, anxieties melting away for now. How does he do it. How does this reckless, thrill-seeking cucumber man with a limited (albeit pretty good, and improving) grasp on English so consistently drop the most gut-punching lines in this entire server. Étoiles is something else. “...Yeah. I see you too, mate,” Phil breathes out, and the rough texture of the tatami is starting to dig criss-cross patterns into his back, but he wants to stay like this. Just a little longer.

 

(Philza is damaged goods. But so is Étoiles, and so is everyone he knows. But maybe they can both pretend, for a little while.)

[gayengineers]

If you don’t mind, how were people annoying during Dan’s most recent show?

I there! I don't want to be harsh about the other fans, I really did meet some great ones as well.

I personally think people were being annoying for various reasons.

A lot were acting very entitled and rude towards the venue staff who were simply doing their jobs. I think it was the level of entitlement that annoyed me the most. Fans were almost shaming others for really stupid things and were generally just really irritating. I don't think they were intentionally being dickheads to the staff. But this is something I have seen a lot with people in fandoms. Just so many people with superiority complexes and too big of an ego.

There was also a lot of comparing who had the most merch or was the most insane for Dan. Tbh there were times it was actually quite concerning the things they were saying. Like a 26 stating she has Dan and Phil cut outs in her room, shes got 6 copies of all their books and has to watch their videos every single day. I just worry about people like that, like do they really not have anything else going on?

Amongst all this, the lack of social awareness, armchair diagnosing and showing off about failing university I just found myself feeling like I'd jumped back into 2014.

There was also someone cosplaying as Phil, which idk always makes me feel weird. Like he isn't a character? He's a real person??

But yeah, I just really hate fandom culture a lot of the time and like the fans it breeds. I'm quite happy in my little corner and I don't wish to change it. If they're happy doing what they're doing, fine. But they do need to learn social awareness and how to respect others. Especially those who are simply working at the venue.

Sorry for the long reply!!

[letsgetrowdy43]

how did mark react to finding out y/n was pregnant since he had a crush on her?

Mark found out about the pregnancy a few weeks before the rest of the team. He had been scratched from a home game due to a major penalty he’d received the night before, so he and the girl sat in the student section of Yost near the opposing team’s net.

She offered him some of the popcorn in the bag in her hand as she watched him pout, “Stop being whiney, I miss happy Mark” She poked him in the cheeks, needing his bubbly personality to come back to life so she could actually enjoy watching the boys play. The small frown diminished as he felt her cup his face in her hands and squeeze his cheeks, “watch the game” He grabbed her hand and removed them from his face, trying to act like he was still upset as he pointed towards the game.

Cheers fill the room as Kent scored, the two of them got up and on their feet screaming, banging their hands against the glass as the boys all hugged Kent in front of their portion of the glass, before switching shifts.

As she went to sit down once again she felt a pain shoot across her abdomen, her hand finding Mark’s arm to steady herself as she looks at him in panic, “something is wrong” she said with fear in her voice as she looked around the room at the roaring crowd, trying to find the nearest exit. “What’s wrong?” “Do you have your car?” she grabbed her jacket and winced again, her hand still on his forearm as she lets out a short groan of pain. “It’s in the parking lot,” He helped her stand up straight, his hand finding the small of her back as he navigated them through the crowd and out into the entrance of Yost.

“Where do you need me to take you?” “The hospital,” she said, her chest tight with anxiety as she stopped in the doorway of the building to let a wave of pain wash over her again.

Mark sat wide-eyed as the doctor lifted her shirt to expose her growing bump, “and the pain is around this general area on both sides” the woman asked the girl nodded, tears in her eyes as the doctor pushed on her stomach.

“It looks to me like your fast jumping movement slightly tore one of the ligaments in your stomach that are helping to support your bump, nothing too detrimental and nothing harmful to your baby” The woman took off her latex gloves and fixed the young girls shirt to cover up her stomach, “just take it easy for a few weeks, lots of rest, and lots of ice”

“Are you the father?” She smiled at the boy who looked disassociated mixed with shock as his eyes stayed on the girls now very noticeable bump. “No, he’s not, just a good friend” she laughed and waved her hand in front of the boy’s face, “I hadn’t told him I was pregnant till we got to the waiting room” she laughed and tapped Mark's arm to make him look at the doctor.

“Well whatever you are to her, make sure she stays off her feet and especially no heavy lifting” She smiled as Mark slowly nodded his head followed by a panicked Philippe running into the room.

“What happened?” He asked as the door swung shut behind him, he walked over to the side of the hospital bed, her hand now in his grasp as he looked over at the doctor “Is the baby okay? Is she okay?” “You must be the father?” The doctor asked with a laugh as the two of them nodded, Mark’s jaw dropping as he watched the girl look over at him sitting in the chair next to her bed a slightly overwhelmed expression on her face as she looked back at the doctor who re-explained the prognosis to Phil.

Mark’s chest filled with jealousy as he watched the two of them argue about her no longer being allowed to games, to which she debated that it was a stupid idea and that she’d just be more careful. “Can I interrupt for a second?” Mark asked as he looked between the two, “so like you guys are having a baby? This is like a thing” His brows furrowed as he motioned between the two. Her face flushed and a laugh left her lips, “we are not a thing, just a happy accident” she said with an awkward smile, Mark looked over to Philippe whose lips formed a straight line as he nodded.

“Congrats?”

Mark returned to his dorm the night, the sickly feeling had not left him since he departed from the hospital. “Dude, why are you so tense?” Ethan furrowed his brows at the boy who sat aimlessly staring at his computer screen, “oh my god the doctor said she okay right, she’s not like fatally ill right?” The freshman sat up in his bed as Mark looked over at him. “She’s fine, I’m just a terrible person” he groaned and dramatically flopped back onto his mattress. Ethan smiled at Mark’s theatrics, “You can’t be that bad of a person” His voice sounded amused as he watched Mark shake his head

“I don’t even know how to put it into words,” Mark groaned and looked at Ethan who was still waiting for an explanation, “I have feelings for a pregnant woman” his mouth went dry at the confession as he ran his hand over his face. Ethan’s face dropped, “oh you're fucked”

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[antiadvil]

ok i'm trying to figure out exactly what is going on in my head bc i don't really find the wad hat thing particularly cute like it's funny and i'll joke about it but it inspires no shippy feelings in me.

and i think like. part of it is that migraines can be so scary and difficult to control and i don't find "oh this one specific hat helps with migraines even though no others do" to be like... a comforting or reassuring narrative. if that happened to me like yeah i'd be happy that it helped but it's really scary to have so little control over your disease! what happens if i lose that hat? if i don't know why it's working i can't replicate it. it's scary to rely so much on one specific item that can't be replaced.

i also don't want people to actually think that the hat is a cure lmao. i know i literally called it a cure in probably more than one post and like it's fine to joke about but blah blah blah migraine is a lifelong uncurable neurological condition that can only be managed with preventative and abortive medications. people casually call things "cures" for migraine all the time and like the colloquial use of the word cure is super different than the medical use so i can't really say people are using it wrong, but for something to be a medical cure it needs to get rid of a condition and stop it from coming back. there are no migraine medications that do this: even if botox stops me from getting a migraine ever again, it's not a cure because it wears off and i need to keep getting it every 3 months for it to keep working. i know that people say "cure" all the time when they really mean "medication that works really well at managing symptoms" and i'm not going to demand people stop that entirely but i do also want to point out that phil only said it helped with migraines he got from looking at his phone (I'm sure he gets migraines from many other sources) and he didn't say how well it works. and i'm sure he's using a fuckton of other preventative tools. which doesn't mean the hat isn't helping! phil hasn't spoken much about the details of his migraine management (which is completely his choice and i support it, tbh if i had a major platform like his i would be really worried that i might accidentally influence people in the wrong way, like i would never want someone to make their migraine management decisions based on what worked well for me) so i don't want people to think that like avoiding chocolate + wearing the wad hat are the pillars of his migraine management plan just bc that's all he's shared.

i'm also maybe a little scared that people are going to start unironically suggesting that i get the hat for my migraines lmao bc ppl give me stupid migraine hacks ALL the time like... i'm not going to drink half a liter of purple gatorade in 60 seconds and then do weird breathing exercises for half an hour i'm glad it seems to be helping you but i don't have time to try every stupid migraine hack someone recommends. and some of them have very real risks involved, like SO many people have suggested i get a daith piercing (which is not an easy piercing to care for!) and i might have to kill the next person who tells me i should get one, i don't mind explaining why i haven't gotten one but it's crazy to just confidently tell me i should get one. and okay yeah i do mind a little! when it's like the tenth time i've had to explain it and the people i'm talking to don't really care! if you genuinely are curious about migraine treatment options and want to know why i haven't gotten a daith piercing i could talk about that for ages but it really comes down to "there is basically no evidence this will work" and i'm tired of having to justify myself every time people present me with "treatment ideas" that are stupid and won't work! i'm tired of having to pretend like these are good ideas just to be polite. i understand that sometimes really weird random things help with migraines, but if they worked regularly for large groups of people, they wouldn't be weird migraine hacks, they would be actual medically advised migraine management techniques. human bodies are weird! something working for one guy absolutely does not mean it will work for everyone else. if the wad hat was universally helpful for migraines i think people other than phil would have noticed by now. like i said, i find pressure on my head to generally be pretty painful so i find the concept of something snug on your head helping migraines to be incredibly weird, but i'm glad it somehow helps phil lmao. like, i haven't seen any posts even remotely genuinely suggesting people with migraines should have gotten the wad hat. i'm just preemptively defensive about it because it just seems like the kind of genre of post that could feasibly pop up i guess? hopefully i'm preemptively being defensive about nothing.

idk i don't wanna be a killjoy like it really is a bullshit fanfiction scenario and i think a lot of the jokes are funny i just don't want people to like genuinely believe/spread migraine misinformation bc of the wad hat? which is like a crazy sentence to say i know idk how i got here either. and i'm more interested in this fact from a migraine perspective than a phan perspective. like idk i'd be more impressed from a phan perspective if dan designed the hats that way on purpose or something lmao. the functionality of the hat presumably has nothing to do with the wad design part so like eh? i do think it's kind of cute the way he Always has it with him like idk the same way i hope that my little hat and glasses and massive bag of rattling pill bottles and inability to properly frown and someday, probably my weird lack of forehead wrinkles, are all endearing to my friends and family. like not TOO endearing you know. but a little bit endearing.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Wizard!Phil Masterlist

6 Things Phil Regrets Ordering By Owl Post (ao3) - fourthingsandawizard

Summary: Dan confronts Phil about his obsession with ordering useless junk via owl post.

A Kiss in the Tower (ao3) - gamingbeats

Summary: Who would have expected these two to fall for each other?

Blessed with a Curse (ao3) - Mi_Munson

Summary: A prince accidentally wrongs a wizard and is cursed so that no woman shall ever love him. Fortunately, the prince is gay and now that the wizard is a little calmer he notices that the prince is super cute.

Sparks fly, and not because of a magic spell.

crush (ao3) - howelllesters

Summary: "The problem with being a Slytherin was that if you were caught with anything even slightly darker than normal, people got suspicious. And apparently, a book on how to raise the dead classified as ‘slightly darker than normal’, and then some."

Firewhisky - fourthingsandawizard

Summary: Dan is fast asleep at Hogwarts when he gets a 2am call from a Firewhisky-fueled Phil in the club.

Galaxies and Greenhouses (ao3) - fourthingsandawizard

Summary: When Dan meets a boy with piercings and a dragon tattoo while shopping in Diagon Alley, he’s pretty quick to jump to conclusions, much to his own embarrassment. But as they become fast friends, they both come to see that sometimes the most important lessons learned at Hogwarts are the ones that happen without a wand.

Kisses on the Cheek (ao3) - Star4545

Summary: Gryffindor Dan Howell and Hufflepuff Phil Lester meet on the Hogwarts Express. As their time through Hogwarts goes on, Phil starts to kiss people on the cheek, all Dan wants is one simple kiss on his own cheek.

One golden glance of what should be (ao3) - maybeformepersonally

Summary: Hogwarts AU where inter-house friendship blooms, Dan plays Quidditch, Phil cheers for him, and realisations are acted upon.

pure (it’s not about your blood; it’s about your heart) (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Dan arrived at Hogwarts entirely unprepared and he doesn't understand how rare it is for a Muggle-born like himself to be placed in Slytherin. However, he quickly learns that his housemates believe it to be a bad thing and by accident he gets wrapped up in the lie of being son of a powerful wizard dueller instead.

It makes his skin crawl to see his new Slytherin friends bully people with Muggle parents, most of all when they go after sweet half-blood Phil Lester, who was kind to him on the first day of school. A couple of months after their first meeting, Dan and Phil wind up alone in a classroom and Dan is stunned when Phil offers to help him with his spell work.

Sketching in Moonlit Darkness (ao3) - rainbowchristy, spaceandvinyls

Summary: Dan’s whole family are Slytherins, and he was expected to be one as well. But the stupid sorting hat had other ideas. Dan Howell: A Hufflepuff. What a disappointment, right? Luckily there’s a nerdy black-haired boy in the year above him who’s more than happy to supply cuddles and kind words when Dan’s in need.

Spiders and Spells - fiction-phan

Summary: Phil was never great at transfiguration but thought he was getting better. At least he did until Professor McGonagall paired him up to work with Dan Howell. Dan is nice but there’s just one problem. He’s Phil’s crush and Phil is prone to make mistakes when working under pressure.

The Magic Within (ao3) - writingfunstories

Summary: Daniel James Howell always knew that he was special

The One With The Dragons (ao3) - CanDanAndPhilNot (enbycalhoun)

Summary: Phil is a young creature collector and the famous wizard and dragon training expert, Daniel Howell, catches wind of Phils rare Miniature Red Reaper.

the serpent and the badger (ao3) - CallofTheCurlew

Summary: Dan's getting a late night snack in the kitchens, when a certain Hufflepuff crosses his path.

they were all yellow (ao3) - kishere

Summary: when phil gets injured in a quidditch game, he reflects on the past year of his life and how dan fits into it

To Dwell on Dreams (ao3) - carltzmann

Summary: “Taking in the whole image, though, it hardly hurt. Watching this perfect version of himself smile and wave and talk to his friends, bathing in success and appreciation, Dan suddenly started to believe that maybe all that was possible, even with the confirmation of a terrifying secret.”

Dan and Phil meet at the Mirror of Erised.

Treat You Just The Same - huphilpuffs

Summary: Daniel Howell was definitely not a Hufflepuff. Except that he was, and Phil was determined to befriend the boy with straightened hair who loved transfiguration and probably should have been sorted into Slytherin. A Harry Potter AU.

You Light Me Up (ao3) - ShippingFangirl26 (IceQueenJules26)

Summary: From their 17th birthday on, wizards could try performing a spell to find their soulmate via marks on their arm. Phil was anxiously waiting for the day to perform it, but he never really expected it to fail…