#phil knot

[akashaonenamillion]

Stylyn' Profilyln'

📸 Photography by Phil Knott

[ghoulish-art-tendencies]

Dan and Phil if they were in a band - 2009

-

fun fact! before I started watching dan and phil.. i thought they were a band.. bc of their american tour poster i saw years ago. so. thats where this idea came from lol

[makeyoumine69]

Hi Lexi! I have to say that I wasn't even into Patrick Bateman before I started reading your works, but now I'm completely hooked! If you would allow me to ask you one small thing, I would be so happy! Could you please write some spicy somnophilia with Patrick? Excuse me my English! It's not my native language! Anyway, I hope you're in high spirits and wish you all the best! Keep cooking, Queen!😘

In The Air Tonight

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x fem!Reader

CW: Smut, somnophilia, orgasm denial (kinda), mutual hand job, unprotected vaginal sex, spanking, finger sucking, dirty talk, pet names, touch starved Patrick.

SONG REC: Phil Collins — In The Air Tonight

A/N: Hello my dear anon! Thank you so much for all the kind words, I really appreciate them! I hope you'll enjoy this little writing.

That night, after an unpleasant conversation with Bateman that bordered on an argument, you couldn't really sleep. And the fact that he was gone, leaving you alone in his lavish apartment, didn't help, but you managed to convince yourself that you wouldn't stay up late waiting for him to return. Even if he didn't get back until morning, you wouldn't care—or at least you forced yourself to believe that you wouldn't. Eventually you fell asleep with a smile on your face, dreaming about how Patrick would try to justify where he had been all night.

The fresh night breeze sipping through the bedroom blinds tickled your exposed skin as you slept uncovered, and while Bateman always had to put a blanket on you every night, tonight you slept alone and his big bed seemed so strangely cold. A soft, barely audible click echoed through the hallway as someone unlocked the front door, and the next moment the owner of the apartment crossed the threshold, moving as subtly as a cat—you didn't have a chance to notice his presence.

With slow, precise steps, Patrick walked past the living room, only to stop in the doorway to his bedroom to see your motionless, sleeping form; his hazel eyes took in the sight of the beautiful curve of your hips, and then, as you suddenly rolled onto your stomach, your ass was on full display for him to admire, and the man couldn't help but gasp, his hands instinctively fixing his red tie, which he then had to loosen.

Just when he thought he had the situation under control, you made a small, sexy sound that was something between a moan and a sigh, and even though it was quiet, Bateman still managed to hear it, and he was not very happy about it.

Cursing to himself, he pulled himself away from the doorjamb, brushing his hair back, not even noticing that his free hand was already busy undoing his clothes. First Patrick unbuttoned his navy blue shirt, the cotton material smooth under his fingertips, then he moved closer to the bed, kneeling down on it with precise caution, because he didn't want to wake you. Not yet.

Hugging the pillow, you were completely unaware of what was happening, even as the man lay next to you and his large palm slid down your cheek, you only sighed in response, almost nudging into his touch.

"God, you look so sweet like that," Bateman crooned, continuing to caress your face, his thumb sliding gently down to your lips, tracing their outline. "So peaceful."

Sniffing sleepily, you suddenly felt a lingering touch slide down your spine as you rolled onto your side. Then the touch became more deliberate and demanding, descending to your lower back, then to the hem of your nightgown, only to lift it up and spread your legs, teasing your delicate pussy lips. Half awake, you stifled a moan from the knotting sensation that was pooling down your lower body, Patrick's thumb flicking around your sensitive little bud feeling almost electric. The man couldn't hide his excitement at the way your body was responding even though you were unconscious, that notion made his cock twitch and spurred him to unzip his Armani pants in one impatient motion.

"Patrick," you murmured suddenly, still half asleep. "Is that you? You…came back?"

Bateman chuckled with amusement. "Of course it's me," he chanted in response, and before you could even react, the man grabbed your hand and placed it on his engorged dick, forcing you to stroke it. "Who else could it be? Were you thinking of someone else, darling?" His question caught you off guard, adding to the overwhelming sensations of his soft finger pads playing with your swollen clit.

Without really caring if you answered, Patrick repositioned his thumb, plunging it into your mouth to slide it along your wet tongue, making you taste yourself. Whimpering around his finger, you let him use your hand the way he wanted, the friction of his thick cock along the soft skin of your palm driving him crazy, but he tried his best to prolong this moment before he could finally fuck you senseless.

"Just you…" you bubbled breathlessly after licking his thumb. "All I could think about… was you… how I was going to slap your face when you got back!"

Bateman felt the warmth grow between his legs as he pressed his hard cock firmly against your soaking cunt, grinding it between your thighs, he could feel your legs tense under the silky fabric of your nightgown. "You can try," his grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you closer, his veiny shaft sliding back and forth between your soaped pussy lips, its tip teasing your clit with each slow stroke. "But first… I'm going to fuck you."

Never waiting for any kind of confirmation or consent, Bateman slammed his cock into you with a powerful, brutal thrust, burying himself deep inside your blushing cleft. The man let out a low, guttural moan as he felt your tightness envelop him, his fingers digging harder into your waist.

"Fuck… so tight…" his voice was strained with lust as he immediately began to move, thrusting into you hard and fast, his cock stretching your inner walls painfully. "I missed this."

The only sounds in the room were the creaking of the bed and the wet, slick sound of Patrick's cock driving in and out of you; his breaths came in ragged gasps as he continued to fuck you mercilessly, his fingers squeezing your hips tighter and tighter, enough to leave bruises.

At one point you had to grab the pillow for support, but Bateman had other plans, his large palms finding yours so quickly. Without any resistance from your side, the man pinned your wrists to the bed with one hand, the smooth metal of his Rolex sliding along your hot skin.

"I…" you hiccupped as he suddenly rolled his hips against yours, the curve of his dick hitting all the right spots inside of you, coaxing your pussy to clench around him. "I'm gonna cum."

To your surprise, instead of saying something mocking or taunting, Bateman just briefly nibbled your craned neck, picking up the pace, holding you as close as he could. When you closed your eyes, you were literally melting in his arms, at his mercy, your body was like the musical instrument, and he was the perfect musician, knowing exactly where to push and pull.

"Patrick…mhm…s-so close!" You instinctively tried to free your hands as you couldn't really control your body, but he held you too tightly. "So…fucking close!"

Hearing your desperate moans, the man stopped moving. "Hang on," he whispered suddenly, pulling out of you, leaving you empty and teetering on the edge, but never really falling over. "I have a better idea."

With that, Patrick shifted his position to kneel on the bed, the moonlight outlining his chiseled frame, leaving shadows on the wall that made him look even more mysterious. But you didn't really have time to admire this scene as he positioned you on all fours, his strong hands already wrapped around your waist.

"'C'mon, honey," the man husked, brushing his messy bangs from his sweaty forehead. "I wanna see you fucking yourself on my dick," he kneaded your ass gently, almost lovingly, before delivering a hard slap. "Use my cock darling, don't be shy."

The way he talked, the way he groped every little curve of your body, it was intoxicating, it was overwhelming, you were literally afraid to pass out at any second if he continued to torture you like this.

"God, you're such an asshole, Bateman," you scoffed before letting out a loud whimper as your bodies connected again, but this angel struck differently, forcing your inner channel to encase his dick like a tight glove. "Fuck��" you cursed again, rocking back and forth, his dick thrusting in and out of your soaked cunt so deliciously you swore you could see stars before your eyes. "You…I h-hate you!"

Grinning, Patrick pulled up the hem of your nightgown and left it folded at your waist, wanting to have the full picture of the way you were taking him. Every jiggle of your ass, your pussy so wet and stretched out to accommodate his huge size. Perfect. You were so fucking perfect, but he couldn't allow himself to admit it.

"Faster," Bateman moaned through clenched teeth, clasping his hands behind the back of his head and bucking his hips against yours. "Damn...you moan like a bitch in the heat...and your voice sounds so fucking cute when you curse like that."

No way you would respond to his cheesy provocations. Not now, when you were so close to your exquisite orgasm. This bastard could say whatever he wanted, you wouldn't even mind him being arrogant about his "magical" ability to make you cum so quickly. You didn't care because in the end you would be satisfied.

The obscene, almost grotesque sound of flesh slapping against flesh was hypnotic, your labored panting and his low groaning, your "sweet" curses mixing with his little praises. When you finally let yourself go and put your hand between your legs to rub your feverish clit, you almost bite the pillow under your sweaty body. This delirious sensation, rippling through every little part of your body, setting every nerve ending on fire—well, for that you could even forgive Patrick for being a dork.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and my amazing co-writer @iron-flavored-lipgloss and turn on notifications to know when we update!

[phorever-after]

dan and phil red string of fate but they tied it themselves and made bunny ears to knot it btw.

[tjodity]

dsmp lesbian analysis post

this was based on a misreading of a different post so now im rating how lesbian dsmp characters are. no real criteria just going off of vibes from a lesbian. based vaguely on how lesbian they are and how much they might identify as lesbian

C!Phil- (4/10)-he has a wife so thats something. he's kinda forgone most identities by this point he just does what he wants

C!Tubbo-(1/10)-im sorry thats just some binary gay transmasc guy. he may have briefly been a lesbian in his early teens so he had an extremely on the spot explanation for schlatt abt dressing masc but he likes men (a lot) so he never really had any attachment to the label

C!Ranboo-(3/10)-they arent really interested in women but he's got a lesbian gender thing goin on. guy with a weird relationship to femininity

C!Dream-(2/10)-she actually is a lesbian but no ones told her that yet and she's probably not gonna figure it out on her own. mamacita was an egg cracking experience

C!George-(0/10)-im sorry i dont see it

C!Niki-(10/10)- trans curious bisexual woman who wears a trench coat and has ratty dyed pink hair and knows how to tie a lot of different kinds of knots and not for boat reasons. she's having a full boar gender and sexuality crisis starting during the election. dyke as a gender identifier probably wouldn't occur to her but she'd like it a lot. she'd also like the old flag with the axe

C!Sam-(2/10)-not really a lesbian at all but if puffy squints hard enough while theyre making out sad style she can act like he's a cute butch

C!Fundy-(3/10)-he doesnt really call himself a lesbian but whenever he has a crush on a woman he in his head says he's being gay for her. accidentally postponed niki's sexuality crisis by transitioning to a guy

C!Punz-(10/10)-look at him. look at him. butch lesbian who kinda acts like a dog for the girl she's obsessed with. religious horror toxic devotion yuri buff lady general tragedy we got it all. also tommyinnit certified look

C!Hbomb-(3/10)-she's mostly straight but a lot of her admiration of other women and learning to do femininity in a way she likes kinda aligns her with lesbians. she believes in their beliefs

C!Sapnap-(??/10)-kinda in a quantum state of lesbianism for me. could go either way honestly. if her fiances want her to be a girl she can be

C!Karl-(9/10)-karl set off everyone's lesbian radar they didn't know they had which was really confusing cause it presented like a gay cis guy for a long while. tubbo just happens to ask her abt gender once on a whim n she's like oh no im a girl thing :3 and everyone else freaks out cause it was just not correcting them. it likes flamboyant masc fashion and being confusing

C!Quackity-(10/10)-watch the quackhalo date stream if you haven't yet i'm begging you. bigender transfem girlguy guygirl who wants to be someone's girlfriend and have a girlfriend or multiple or many. she's running the full gambit of presentation in a bunch of combos

C!Badboyhalo-(5/10)-Quackity brings out the lesbian in her (she's a closeted transfem lady and it makes her very flustered when she realizes q's calling her his girlfriend.) the bigboobies in bigboobyhalo are the result of lots and lots of estrogen

C!Wilbur-(0/10) he doesnt know lesbians are real

C!Puffy-(7/10)-the best way i can describe puffy's gender is that she is earnestly trying to be as confusing contradictory and horny as possible and it's working. she's a lesbian but only when she's a guy or just extremely down bad for some lady and if you called her a dyke she'd moan

C!Slimecicle-(7/10)-lesbian as a gender thing. he doesn't like using typical words to describe his gender but lesbian is the closest to standard it'll go

C!Hannah-(10/10)-she likes women. A LOT. and also worked hard to become one. just a lot about women going on in her life

C!Schlatt-(???/10)-he's got some shit to sort through n maybe that'll be a realization he makes down the road

C!Foolish-(2/10)-if you tried hard enough you could make him one

C!Tina-(10/10)-many of her actions are motivated by the need to kiss a girl with teeth

C!Eret-(8/10)-strong yuriful vibes

C!Tommyinnit-(9/10)-they are fucking ATTACHED to that label you can pry it from their cold dead hands. she also likes boys n is more platoniromantic than anything but. lesbian critter right there it's important to her

C!Aimsey-(-1000/10)-killed your wife idiot

[justcallme-ange]

Happy 1 Year Little Comforts!! <3

Give or take a couple days - oops ^^;

One of the longest projects I've done to date!! <3 <3 <3 Thank you all so much for the support, as well as all the comments and tags! I love going through them and reading all the lovely messages. They're a great pick-me-up whenever I'm feeling demotivated. So thank you again <3

So for the anniversary I wanted to do a little thing where I point out some details in the comic I'm very proud of XD (Yes I'm tooting my own horn - shhh)

Three Wishes Dream asks Techno to promise him something 3 times. And only on the third one does Techno agree. I tried to frame it as both Techno being cautious about agreeing to things Dream proposes (a la favor) but also as Techno finally agreeing when everything was laid out and there was nothing Dream had left to hide. (It's like a fairytale trial - 3 challenges with the last having a great reward.) Forget-me-(k)not I don't know how prevalent they are now a days, but growing up I was a really forgetful child, and learned somewhere that by tying a knot on your finger when you need to remember something supposedly helps in you actually remembering. Which idk if true, it didn't really work on me, but the knot itself actually stuck, so in this case I used it for 3 things: A reminder that Dream was stuck in prison and needed help, a reminder that Phil needed to get Techno out of prison (eventually), and a reminder that Techno promised Dream he would free him. Scars So all the scars that I drew Dream with all actually have canonical reasons. So in order - the one across his nose was from Techno during their duel, the ones on his neck and chest were from Tommy taking two canon lives, the one on his lips were from Sam after first being detained, and the last on his chin (and arms) are from Quackity. Continuity The armor that Phil is wearing at the end is a reference to another illustration I did of the Doomsday Trio. It's post prison break so maybe it's a sequel? (This is less a detail and more just a personal thing - but my favorite page has to be page 7 - where Dream's image crumbles. It usually takes me at least 2 tries to get the look I want - this was one and done ^^) More behind the scenes - this comic (final version) started with the hug. I said initially the comic was supposed to be 6 pages at most, but I wanted to make the hug work so bad that I literally rewrote the comic. Only the first two pages are part of the original draft. Everything else was new. My brother literally sat with me for days going over each scene and making edits. OTL There were so many iterations - in the end I think there are at least 7 drafts of this comic. Cut Content Bonus: Unlike my other comic where the vision was there from the beginning, Little Comforts had some growing pains, and a few scenes had to be cut for it to work. So here ya go!

This was cut in favor of the shaking scene, some levity was needed to let the scene breathe, plus quoting my brother "It's more Techno".

Also wanted another hug, but editor and I felt that it took away from the pay off in the end.

Alternate version of 'he's a child' - originally it was supposed to go at the end of the comic, as an epilogue. Timing wise it ended up not working, which ended up with an even better gut punch so I'm not too upset. I may still render this....

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Some of my actual headcanons for how c!Techno's wears his hair, from more common to less common:

simple braid for casual everyday wear, because it stays out of his face and is neat without taking long to style

loose hair for lazy days when he's inside a lot

bun for in the arena or anywhere he knows he's going into battle. The bun is probably messy BUT very secured. Nothing for enemies to grab and doesn't obscure vision while fighting. Also fits under a helmet.

ponytail when he's in a hurry, again mostly for fighting or working

more intricate braids, usually for casual wear when he feels like it OR when somebody else does his hair (mostly Phil). Techno has several braided styles he uses for hibernation, because they're comfortable to sleep in but prevent him from waking up with a dozen knots

half up half down styles for when he's making an effort (special events) or when he's really bored. Or again, when somebody else does his hair (Niki likes doing his hair half up, half down)

(The more intricate braids and the half up half down styles come with hair jewelry of course!)

[justanoasisimagines]

You rub my back and I'll rub yours

Summary; When Phil sees your back is aching, he finds the perfect excuse to make his move. Pairing; Phillip Graves x Female!Reader Wordcount; 525 A/N; Hey my lovelies, back with a Drabble. I may write a part two to this I don't know yet. Also my requests are open and you can find my request guidelines pinned to the top of the page! Also Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!

Phillip observed you lean over as you explained something to them for the third time. You were too patient. Too kind. He'd listened to you explain it clearly. It wasn't hard to understand.

What Phil couldn't understand was how your trousers were standard issue. They fit too perfectly on your body. Highlighting the natural curve of your ass. It was driving Phil crazy, how good you looked.

He wanted nothing more than to be able to call you his. Show every man in his office, that you were his and his alone. He needed you like he needed air. Running his hand over his hair, he leaned back on his chair, staring at you shamelessly.

You remained hunched over for at least thirty minutes. Phil's paperwork remained untouched. He could try, but there would be no point. He couldn't concentrate or perhaps he didn't want to.

Blinking his eyes rapidly, he snapped out of his trance as you straightened out your back, hands holding onto your back, wincing in pain as you attempted to stretch out your aching muscles. Immediately, Phil began to rummage through his draw searching for something.

"Hey Darlin', here," He threw the tube at you which you caught with ease and a wince. Phil's smile when you began to approach his desk, leaning your hip against it as he looked up at you.

"Thanks," Phil looked down at the muscle relief in your hand, then looked back up at you. An opportunity had arisen and he would be a fool not to take it.

"You want me to help you with that Darlin'?" A smirk graced Phil's lips as he observed your eyes widen at his forwardness. "Don't think I haven't noticed the passaway looks you've been giving me for months now. So, what do you say?"

Phil noticed your eyes widen at his proposal. However, his Ma always told him if you don't ask you don't get. The muscle relief rested in your hands as you contemplated your decision.

Phil smiled when you placed the muscle relaxer into his hands, he rose from his chair, taking your hand a hold in his, he pulled you away from the room. he didn't care who could see the two of you leaving together.

He'd deal with them if they dared to turn it into mindless gossip. He would make them fear him if he had to. Pulling you along, he makes his way to his quarters. No one would bother you here.

"Get yourself comfortable Darlin'." Phil locked the door behind him. Not wanting anyone to disturb the two of you.

Phil then proceeded to rub your back gently, taking the time to work through any aching muscles and knots in your back. Phil admired how smooth your skin felt as he enjoyed you sinking deeper into the mattress.

Perhaps if he asked you nicely, you'd give him one in return.

[tetrapaec]

Phil saying "KNOT" with the wolf ears on... Not to be omegaversing on main but well...

[nomsfaultau]

FINAL SECTION

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.

“I can’t make promises that this will cure anything,” Philza reminds him. Tommy scoots towards the cliff ledge of the frozen bay, a kicked pebble plummeting, plummeting, crunching into the ground below, blood and pain spilling out of him. He tries to focus on fluffy white clouds and pretty scenery but all he can see is the tower from exile. The choppy, turbulent waters of the sea he always woke up drowning in. His chopped off feathers fanning around his abuser’s mask. 

He’s pulled away from the hypnotizing reverie when strong arms wrap around his chest. Philza’s steady heartbeat hums against the back of his head. It’s so wonderfully comfortable in a way that makes him nervous. He’s tried to avoid close contact with Phil, but there isn’t much of an option now. “.....ommy? Tommy? Mate?”

“Huh?” His head feels like it’s swimming. 

“I asked if you feel secure enough.” No. Tommy can’t remember the last time he felt safe. Well. Aside from what his avian instincts were tricked into believing. He doesn’t trust the feeling all that much. 

What he says instead is, “If you drop me I’ll stab you.” Philza chuckles. 

“Fair enough. If it helps I never dropped Techno the few times he let me fly him.” 

“Bruh. Never accidentally, more like,” Techno mutters darkly, earning a smirk. But Phil assures Tommy it’s going to be as gentle a flight as possible. Which probably isn’t a very accurate replication of a first flight. Vaguely Tommy remembers his own from when he was a kid, a scrambling terrifying elating freeing chaotic tangle rushing at him faster than the wind. It had felt so right, once. Natural, like he was growing up. Finally independent, not needing to rely on a guardian anymore. Tommy wants that feeling more than anything in the world right now. Tommy needs Philza to be right, for this flight to fix him. Even just a little, just enough to know it’s possible. 

But the memory of his recent failed flight is far sharper, of the moment he realized his abuser was right about him. An overhanging shadow of doom, despair, dependence. 

Phil tries to nudge Tommy forward, towards the edge, and suddenly Tommy’s panic spikes. He scrambles back, almost expecting resistance, expecting Phil to dump him off the tower. But Philza easily gives away, letting him retreat even as scarlet shame fills him. 

“Uh…are you scared of heights?” Techno asks. 

“No, don’t be stupid,” Tommy snarls. “Stop laughing at me, oh how ironic the avian hates heights, I’m not stupid, I’m not scared of the tower. How about you try jumping off a cliff and see how you like heights, pig boi. I’m not scared. I’m not stupid.” 

“Never said you were. I wasn’t making fun of you,” Techno replies mildly, hooves held out in pacification. “And, uh, what’s the tower?” 

Shame throttles Tommy. Philza frowns at a memory. “...is it the structure I found you at?” 

“I was trying to fly,” Tommy mumbles. He had been trying a lot of things. Some of them had very nearly succeeded. 

Techno and Philza wince as they remember the bloody, almost dead state they’d found Tommy in all those weeks ago. “Could do it with your eyes closed,” Techno suggests. “Just like when I clean up your wings.” Techno’s tusks twist in thought, then he roots around in his bag. He presses a glass bottle into Tommy’s hands. 

“It’s not going to work if I’m asleep, idiot.” 

“Nah, it’s Slow Falling. Just smash it if you need it, alright? It’s the extended version so no matter how high up you are you’ll get to the ground safely. Whenever I get anxious about somethin’ I like to over prepare. That way I have a plan to think about instead when my brain tries to run through disasters.” Oh. Tommy stares at the foggy, half frozen potion. The knots in his gut ease a little. Not the terrifying plummet of the tower, but something slow and gentle. It can’t quite ease the instinctive fear rolling inside his subconscious, but it soothes his more logical balking. What helps even more is knowing Techno cares enough to look at his fear and somehow untangle it in a way Tommy could never manage on his own. 

Techno and Phil are both trying so hard to help Tommy with the messy, ugly parts of himself. Not pushing him away because of it or ignoring the bad, but accepting and working with it. And if they’re trying so hard, they must think it’s possible for it to get better. Maybe they’re right, or will be if Tommy gives it his all, too. 

“... and if that’s not enough I can get you Feather Fall boots. I’d give mine but, well, hooves. It’ll take a bit to make, but you wouldn’t get hurt as badly if there’s ever another fall like that.” 

Tommy splits into a tentative smile. “Really? You’d do that for me?” 

The tension lining his broad shoulders eases, taking on a lopsided grin. “Well. Well you’d have to pay me. I’m not a charity out here, kid. But. Maybe I can get you a friendship discount.”

“We can wait till the boots are done to fly,” Phil offers. “There will be another windless day.” But Tommy clutches his potion. Now. He needs to do it now, when hope still hums in his chest. He can do whatever he has to for it to be easier for himself, not get overwhelmed with shame and loathing and refuse to ever make it better. 

And if what it takes for him to fly is a potion clutched for dear life, is large black wings that aren’t his own spreading out, is his face buried in the crook of Phil’s neck so he doesn’t have to see, then all that means is Tommy is flying. Maybe not the way he’s meant to, but the only way he can. Maybe it’s enough. 

He screams with the first swoop, clawing into Philza for safety. Strong arms press him closer to Philza’s chest, reassuring in their tight hold. The nascent reverberations of a coo Philza bites down rumbles in the throat Tommy’s tucked into, instinctively weakening his coiled tension. The flight smooths into a gentle glide, the plummet of Tommy’s gut vanishing. Only the wind tearing past assures him of their movement. 

He knows they can’t be falling, but he can’t shake the thought. Scared, he pries open a eye. Unlike the tower, the ground isn’t rushing up to shatter him. Icy waves scroll past slowly beneath them, almost still. Sunlight glitters across glaciers, burning in radiant streaks. The tranquil arctic sea is starkly incongruous with the terror ebbing in his chest. His urgent nightmares give way to new peaceful memories, the spark of fear unable to catch. Tommy’s death grip on the potion eases from its white-knuckled terror. 

It hasn’t been long enough when they’ve crossed the bay, Phil coming to a careful stop on an outcropping. There’s an awkward moment as Phil tries to set him down and Tommy still clings on. As cold as it is Tommy doesn’t mind being tucked underwing. 

“Alright, check in time. How was the glide? Do you want to try more compli- oh- oh mate,” Philza says in a soft, fragile way as he finally catches a look at Tommy. He bends slightly till they’re face to face, carefully brushing away blossoming tears. Tommy wants to shove him away, pretend it was the wind. But it feels so nice to sink into the warm, calloused palm cupping his cheek. “This cliff connects to the mainland if you’d prefer to walk back. We can try again later. Or never. Whatever you need…” 

Tommy shakes his head, dismissing his worries. “I didn’t know how much I missed it.” 

Philza’s smile is a mixed thing, half relief half heartbreak. “Flying should’ve never been taken from you. But before long your new primaries will come in and you’ll be able to soar on your own.” Before the thought had filled him with dread, but the memory of wind gushing through his feathers dulls the edge of his insecurities. One day he’ll have feathers his abuser never touched. 

On the return flight Tommy doesn’t need to hide, instead facing outward like Phil initially planned. Probably more aerodynamic that way, and it gives him a better view. Tommy’s wings scrunch up, trying not to get in the way of Philza. The flight is rougher than the glide, Philza flapping quickly to gain upward momentum. Tommy’s gut swoops, but the ascension is so unlike his plummet, a controlled and triumphant race towards the heavens. The arms wrapped around his midriff are secure and not for a second does he imagine falling. The shift of Philza’s muscles against his back with each beat of his wings almost feels like his own strain against the wind, almost feels like his own wings. He finds himself tensing in the pattern of it, echoing Philza’s minute adjustments to the wind current. 

Tommy’s wings instinctively begin to spread. They’re so ragged and ugly compared to Philza’s sleek ebony plumage. Mud colored, his abuser teased once. But in the streaks of close sunlight they glow with auburns and golds, the white undersides softer than the surrounding clouds. They wobble slightly as wind buffets the pair, and quickly Tommy straightens out fully, hesitance forgotten. As air slips through his feathers something wakens in him. It feels right in a way so little has recently. 

Philza caws at him, subtly rocking, and Tommy leans into it, copying the tilt of his wings as they arc into a loose gyre. Tommy grins as he earns an approving coo, dutifully mimicking Philza’s exaggerated, coached movements. He flaps, Tommy’s wings awkwardly crashing into his the first few times till he gets in rhythm, the pair climbing higher into the azure. Perhaps for Philza it feels like teaching, but for Tommy it feels like remembering. All the little instinctive details he’d forgotten, all rushing back like they’d never left, like an old nostalgic song he’d thought he forgot the lyrics to until he heard the tune again. His own short wings stretch out beneath Philza’s massive black ones, flapping and angling to match. It’s as if they become one. 

An elated chirp bursts out of Tommy, and for once he doesn’t slam his hands over his mouth. It doesn’t overwhelm him, this joy, doesn’t rob him of his senses. It feels like laughter, something drawn out, not forced upon him. A wild, booming caw explodes from Philza in response, vibrating deep in the chest Tommy is flush against. Tommy is delighted to discover his vibrant, bubbly chirps are prettier than Philza’s raspy caws, though they surely hold no less enthusiasm. Suddenly it makes sense why they’re always so loud and ear-piercing. Words are only whipped away in the rush of the wind. The pair twitter back and forth, less a language and more intuition and tone. It feels like pure joy. 

Their descent is slow and winding, Philza careful to avoid anything resembling a dive or swoop. He’s disappointed when they finally land at the first cliff. It’s dizzying to go from feeling like the wind itself to be standing on firm ground once again. Unconsciously Tommy’s wings flare out, echoing the memory of freedom still ringing in his head. The careful angling for aerodynamics, adjusting to currents of wind. He steps back towards the cliff, tensing as if to launch once more. 

A hand lands on his shoulder, and Tommy blinks. “Hold on, I need a break first.” Phil smiles at the impatience in his eyes.

“Tired old man! I bet I’ll be an even faster flier than you. I’ll leave you in the dust.” Tommy puffs up his chest, but mischief suddenly dances in Philza’s eyes, and Tommy huffs. “What’s so fun-”

“BOO!” Techno shouts, jabbing Tommy in his soft sides. The boy shrieks, feathers fluffing up as he’s seized and lifted into the air. He thrashes and flaps wildly, but the piglin’s long arms prevent retaliation. 

“OOOOOH I’M GOING TO STAB YOU. YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW MUCH I’M GOING TO STAB YOU.” Tommy smirks in satisfaction as his wing bashes Techno in the snout. It falters as Techno swings him around and around until the world blurs. Tommy stumbles as he’s set down, then leans against Techno as he tries to overcome the vertigo. “There, now I got my turn flying you. I’m sure it was the exact same deeply bonding experience you just had with Phil. I’m guessing it worked?” 

“It was fantastic!” Tommy enthuses, stretching his wings out. 

“I meant the hatchling thing. Like, you didn’t freeze up when I spooked you.”

“Oh.” Tommy had…kinda forgotten about that part. “...maybe?” He catches himself and jerks his head up. “Actually, since I have no possible way of knowing we’ll just have to go on a bunch more flights. You know. Just in case. You never can be sure with these things.” 

Philza chuckles and tucks him neatly underwing, pulling him close. “Oh yes, really cement the milestone to your instincts.”

Tommy laughs as Philza scuffs up his hair, batting him away. “Oi! Don’t mess with the Tommy Charm™!” When meticulously fixing his locks, he freezes as his fingers encounter a foreign object. He slowly pulls out one of Philza’s feathers from where it had accidentally gotten lodged in his hair. He runs his finger along the vane, watching dark barbs ripple, iridescence catching the light in flashes of indigos and wines. 

Philza goes a little rigid. “Ah- sorry mate, didn’t mean to shed on you.” He reaches for the feather, but Tommy is mesmerized by it, flicking the edges so the barbs part then preening them back into smooth completion. 

“Can I keep it?” he asks before he quite plans to. He doesn’t mean to, knows he’s only getting Phil’s hope up. He wants to shove it back in his mouth. He doesn’t. 

“Y-yeah. Sure mate. If you want to.” Phil barely clamps down on bursting euphoria, trying to be as calm and nonchalant as possible. In avian culture, wearing another’s feathers is a promise to carry the person as safely as their own two wings. Hadn’t Philza already done that? Hadn’t he already promised to always? He’s so, so ready to be family, but even if Tommy is painfully aware of it, Philza never intentionally pressures him. He’s just…allowed to take things at his own speed. Tommy doesn’t slip the feather behind his ear, but he doesn’t let go of it, either. That night he tucks it next to a picture of the three of them. It doesn’t feel overwhelming, more like a gentle promise for when he’s ready for it. 

And one day he will be. Not now, though. Not when some small panicked creature in him wants to bolt at the thought of wearing Philza’s feathers, let alone how he feels about his own. 

But one day he’ll wear both their feathers with pride. 

Fin.

[yonpote]

i want to read fics about the sex and gender politics of a/b/o. i just read the one about omega!dan becoming like an omega / queer rights activist and sex toy reviewer who then falls in love phil who is an androgynous porn star that retires only to reveal that he'd been an alpha the whole time lmao, and even tho it ends in an alpha/omega relationship it does a really good job wrt discussing the politics of the two sexes and draws from irl feminist and gender studies, and theres another one out there thats pure smut lol but its about like, omega!phil being pregnant but alpha!dan wants to experience that as well so they like simulate knotting on dan and idk its so good as like an exploration of what queer sex looks like in this universe where the alpha wants to be knocked up.

id love to read more stuff about what betas look like in omegaverse thats more than just, the witty side character who is not affected by all the hormonal nonsense lol or even like, something with betas being more analogous to intersex rather than "normal human" as like people who have both alpha and omega characteristics, people who can both impregnate and get pregnant or people who can do neither or have alpha genitalia and omega scents and features and vice versa. the part of me that should have done queer theory and gender studies in college is now invested in political omegaverse

fics mentioned:

shapes and weights to choose

a sibling for pup

[ghoulish-art-tendencies]

drew so much phanart trying to cope with the recent events that i hurt my hand and cant draw for more than 5 minutes at a time… i guess ill just write phanfic for hours instead and strain my thumbs next

[thanotaphobia]

stay

hello pissa nation, i'm here to declare that i'm actually in charge of canon now and this is what happens ty xo

CROSS POSTED TO AO3

⋆

Missa comes back to grab his backpack he left and finds Phil in the kitchen.

It’s an accident– he would’ve thought at this time of night the other would be asleep, but he’s wrong. The light hadn’t even been on. Phil had just been sitting in the dark, and Missa had shrieked long and loud when he’d flipped on the lanterns and found him perched on a stool staring at nothing in the dark.

Once he’s recovered from his heart attack, Missa has at least enough decorum to cough and ask: “Why are you awake?”

“Why are you here?” Phil immediately fires back, and that’s when Missa clocks into the fact something is very, very wrong.

Philza looks like a mess. His hair is loose and limp, framing a face that looks gaunter than Missa remembers it being. The eyebags he’s sporting are truly impressive. His wrists look strangely thin where they lie on the countertop, fingers clasped in a knot of knuckles. Phil looks like he hasn’t eaten or slept well in weeks. The tone of voice he uses with Missa is all wrong, edges and sharp angles and accusing words.

“I left– my bag,” Missa says. He shuffles to the side where he had dropped it earlier and forgotten it before dipping and getting distracted by the capybaras. “The last of my things.”

“The last?” Phil asks, and it’s like the last piece of twine holding him together snaps. “So you’re gone, then. For good.”

“Not from the island,” Missa says. “Just– I’m useless, I know you don’t want me here, it’s not like I’m doing anything for you.” Plus whenever I’m around you I go a little crazy stupid, he doesn’t say. He can only avoid Phil for so long– maybe this conversation was a while coming. “I haven’t lived here in a long time. And with Chayanne gone, I don’t see why–”

“Why you have to stay?” Phil asks, then laughs. It’s grating, abrasive. Missa winces.

“He’s not here anymore,” he says. The reminders of Chayanne hurt. They hurt like nothing Missa’s ever felt before. The memories come flooding in unbidden, of warm mornings making breakfast in this very kitchen, wandering around the top of the wall. Chayanne is written into the cracks and corners of this house and that’s fine, but Missa knows he can’t stay here with Phil in the same way they’ve been for the past few months. Not without something changing.

“And so you leave,” Phil says, nodding. “Okay, cool. I see– I get it. It’s fine.”

“I mean…” Missa slings on his backpack. “Are you sure? You don’t look–”

“It’s fine,” Phil repeats. Missa is about ready to run, but something makes him linger and slow down, stepping back towards the door. But Phil doesn’t say anything, just stares at the mess of his own hands. Missa takes another step back, and another.

“Bye,” he offers softly. Phil doesn’t answer, and so after another agonizing moment of waiting, Missa turns. In the same second, his heart shatters.

And then–

"No, stop," Phil says, and Missa pauses in the doorway. The pieces of his heart record-scratch on their way to the floor, and slowly– very slowly– start to rewind back upwards. "I don't–"

When Missa looks back at him, Phil is breathing hard, like he's just run a long way. Neither of them move. The words come out next ragged and scratchy, torn out in fits and bursts between teeth. "I don't want you to leave. The house is– so quiet, with them gone."

It's cruel, but Missa doesn't say anything for a moment. Just lets the silence sit between them.

"I think I'm going crazy," Phil says next, clearly nearing desperation. “I keep finding things. Seeing things. I take pictures, but they disappear. I try to show someone, it’s gone. I’m being fucking messed with, Missa, and I can’t– I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be alone.”

“What changed?” Missa asks. He still hasn’t crossed the threshold yet, caught inside. He feels a little bit like a fly trying to escape a glue trap. Like there might be an inevitable conclusion despite his efforts.

“I don’t know,” Phil says, burying his face into his hands and letting out one long whoosh of air. “I don’t– I just can’t do it anymore.”

The glue constricts. Missa feels his throat tighten, his eyes smart. The backpack that had felt so secure on his shoulders just a minute ago loosens, and then slips to the floor. He sets it down gently, taking a few short, quiet steps to where Phil sits on the stool. He hesitates, but only for a moment– Phil is clearly putting himself out there right now. Missa thinks this might be the first time he's seen his husband so honest, so distraught, and it’s that which gives him courage to do the same. He reaches out and catches Phil’s elbow in his hand, the other one reaching up to draw one of Phil’s hands away from his face. He’s surprised to see tears silently falling down Phil’s cheeks, but neither of them say anything for another long second. Missa just holds his arm and Phil looks back.

“I love you,” Missa says. He says it slowly, purposefully. The translator won’t miss a word this time. “Do you know that?”

“Yeah,” Phil says. His fingers grip Missa’s hand, firm and unyielding. 

“No, no,” Missa says. He doesn’t think Phil gets it. He changes his grip, makes it so he’s the one holding Phil for a change. “I love you. Do you get it?”

Phil nods imperceptibly, just the briefest shake of his head. “I know.”

“Then why don’t you say anything?”

“I’m not–” Phil stutters, stops, and then starts again. “I’m bad at…”

“Nothing,” Missa interrupts. He feels strangely calm, weirdly in control. This is a situation he can handle and Phil can’t. It’s not something they’ve run into together before. “You’re bad at nothing and good at everything, Philza. You are strong. It’s part of why I love you.”

Slowly, Phil leans forward. He inches closer until he’s collapsed almost entirely against Missa, his head resting on Missa’s shoulder and staining his jacket with tears. Missa doesn’t let go of his hand or his elbow, cradling him and supporting him as he goes nearly limp. There’s a hot brush of air against his upper arm as Phil says, “I need you.”

It’s a strange feeling, to know you’re needed by the one man on the server who doesn’t need anything, ever. The man who forgave you for running, who treated you with kindness you probably didn’t deserve, the man who has saved your life a hundred times over. The same man who killed a code monster and raised two kids without so much as complaining once needs Missa, the sad sack of an absentee dad who can barely hold a sword right.

I need you is as close as you can get to love with a man like that, Missa thinks. He’ll take it. He tightens his grip on Phil’s arm and kisses the side of his head ever so softly, pressing his nose to the top of his hair and inhaling.

“I won’t go,” he says. He feels the sob more than he hears it, the shuddering that wracks Phil’s whole body, and moves one hand to rub his back in gentle circles. He breathes and makes a promise: “I’ll stay.”

[simplepotatofarmer]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Alienation & Spite

tuesday morning, 8:47 a.m.

characters: technoblade, dream word count: 1,541

I've been in this room before.

The last time, ages ago, it was brief. Techno had practically rushed me out after ringing the bell a few times. That felt like something that had to be done, some stupid ritual that you signed up for the moment you stepped into the cabin. He had come back, a little later, and made sure I wasn't watching as he opened the secret chest in the back of the room.

I knew where it was. I could go over right now and open the chest and take whatever the hell I wanted and Techno wouldn't stop me. It wasn't a secret anymore and that felt...

It felt shitty for no reason. Of course he didn't bother hiding those things anymore. I've been living in his house for months, what was there to hide? But fuck man. He could at least pretend things were normal.

Ugh.

Rolling over, I shoved one of the pillows into my face and resisted the urge to scream. If I did, Techno would hear. He would climb up the ladder and ask if everything was alright and I would lie. I should feel bad for lying; I know he's trying to help but I don't want help, I want to be left alone.

It's easier. No one gets that. No one understands that everything still hurts or that I feel wrong without a potion or that food makes me want to vomit or that I don't want to leave the cabin. I don't even want to leave the room.

Techno calls it wallowing. Maybe he's right. Maybe I don't care.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the sunlight reflecting off the bell and block of emerald. Something about that makes me angry. I've been angry a lot, I guess. It knots in my chest and I want to tear it out. I want to punch something. I want to punch myself. I settle for dragging my nails against my skin until its red and stings. It doesn't calm the anger that's making my eyes water. Without thinking, I throw the pillow across the room, at the bell.

It makes a low chiming sound and I groan.

As expected, a few moments later, Techno pokes his head up, arms resting on the floor. He's worried. I tug my sleeves down over my arms, hiding the scratches. Not that Techno would be mad. That's the problem. He'd understand. He'd say it's okay and it's not.

"Hey, Dream. You rang?"

It was funny and I have to fight the smile.

"No. That—That was an accident."

His eyes slide towards the bell and sees the pillow on the ground.

"Ah."

I don't say anything.

"How about you come downstairs, man? I'll make you some breakfast."

I still don't say anything. I stare at the ceiling.

"C'mon on man."

He talks so softly, the same way he does to his animals and it's another thing I want to be pissed about except I've heard him use the same tone with Phil, with Ranboo or Niki.

So stupid.

I want things to be normal but it is and I'm still mad.

"I'm not hungry," I lie. I'm starving. I want a potion.

"Alright." Techno reaches out and tugs the blanket up over me. He's stretching precariously. "How about we make a deal? I'll leave you alone for a bit but you've gotta promise to come down for dinner."

His words hang in the air a bit and I roll my eyes.

"Or what?"

Techno laughs.

"Or I'll carry your scrawny behind downstairs my dang self," he says.

I believe him.

"God. Fine, Techno."

He laughs again.

“See ya later, Dream.”

His head disappears back downstairs. Already I regret agreeing to his stupid deal. He won’t actually drag me downstairs if I change my mind, I know that. I roll over the other way, facing the ladder. On the bedside table is a bottle of water and Techno’s communicator. Mine is gone and has been since Sam took it. I reach over and grab Techno’s. It’s only 8:47 a.m. Dinner is a long way off.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

I’m worried.

It’s kinda hard not to be worried when you have a man in your bedroom who’ll barely move and barely eat. I don’t mind. Well, I do, just not in the way Dream thinks I do. He thinks I want him out, gone out of my life. I had to fight against his idiotic plan to fake a parting of ways while we were in prison. The only thing I want is—

It’s lame, chat, I know.

I want him to be okay. The first few weeks, he hardly moved because he couldn’t. He wasn’t in any kind of shape. The thought of what happened to him in that cell after I left haunts me. How can you make up for that?

I pull the raw beef out of the ice chest. A good steak is a start. I wouldn’t have made something that required so much chewing a couple months ago but Dream’s jaw had healed. And I know he’s a steak man when he’s not relying on potions or golden apples. I’ve caught him sneaking both after days of refusing food.

Fighting the urge to keep walking over to stand at the bottom of the ladder is the hardest part. I want to go back up and check on him again. He had been quick at pulling his sleeves down but I saw the marks on his arms. If I had said something, it might have made him withdraw even more.

I’ll make him a cake.

I have no idea if he’ll eat it but he might. It’s something to occupy my time and something to do to show him I care. He knows, he’s gotta know by this point but sometimes he lays there like he doesn’t know anything anymore. I don’t blame him. He has that lost look in his eyes every so often and I know he’s pulling away because it’s easier.

I know, I’ve been there. This cabin was built to get away from everything. It took some time to realize I was being a fool. Dream will get there, I’ve got faith in him. He’s been through a lot and he still smiles sometimes.

I’m on autopilot baking. Niki’s recipe is well-worn by this point and I don’t need to have it sitting out but that’s habit, too. It’s a nice reminder. By the time the cake is in the oven, the sun is midpoint in the sky. The beef’s been marinating for awhile. I glance towards the living room and sigh.

Just a quick check, I won’t even go up the ladder.

Standing at the base, I can’t hear anything. That’s probably a good sign. Hopefully, he’s sleeping. Sleep hasn’t been easy for him which means it’s not been great for me, either, and I can sleep through a lot. Except the person next to me lashing out or screaming. It hurts. Not the times he’s hit me on accident but hearing a friend say ‘no’ and ‘please’ and ‘stop’ over and over.

I’ve gotta stop thinking about it. I know Dream’s picked up on my worry and I know sometimes it makes him feel weird. I get it, I do.

By the time the cake is cooled and has a nice layer of green frosting on it, the steaks are also done and the sun is lower in the sky. I pat my pockets, looking for my communicator to check the time, but I must’ve misplaced it again. I make another mental reminder to put a clock somewhere and head over to the ladder.

Dream is pretending to sleep, I can tell.

“Dinner time.”

He opens one eye. I smile. He opens the other and sighs as he props himself up.

“I’m—I’m not hungry.”

It’s the same thing as earlier and it’s still a lie, I know it. I raise an eyebrow and look at him silently. After a moment, a slight tinge of pink is on his cheeks.

Got ‘em.

“Ugh, fine,” he says as he swings his legs out of bed. “You’re so annoying.”

“I know, Dream, I know.” I slide down the ladder and wait for him. When he climbs down, I put my hand out, hovering near his back, just in case. “I’ve made you a real special dinner.”

“What? Why?”

I stop in front of the kitchen table. Some of the icing on the cake has melted a bit but the steaks look good. Dream is next to me. He looks confused. He looks sad. I put my arm around his shoulders. They still feel awfully boney.

“Because it’s your four month anniversary of stayin’ here, man. We’ve gotta celebrate.”

Dream’s voice rises in pitch.

“What?”

I know that tone. He’s struggling not to smile and rolling his eyes. I nudge my nose against the side of his head and pull him a little closer. He doesn’t pull away.

“We’re celebratin’, Dream. I even made you a cake.”

“This is so stupid,” he says but he’s leaning against me and I wrap my arms around him and hug him.

“Let’s eat.”

@sixteenth-day-event

[rhiaarrow]

Today I'm upcycling an old ramble from my notes!

Obviously it's all personal interpretation so feel free to chime in your own takes or correct me if you think I'm really far off with some egg 🙃

So without further ado, here are my personal headcanons of what each egg wears to sleep!

CHAYANNE -

Chayanne just sleeps in a t-shirt of any color and any color of sleep shorts, his ass does not care about pyjama colors just as long as they're comfortable.

He normally knocks out as soon as his head hits the pillow anyway so he couldn't care less what he's wearing and would happily sleep in his regular clothes some days.

Sometimes Phil will braid the top section of Chayanne's hair too after he braids Tallulah's, just to keep it out of his face while he sleeps.

But it's a loose short braid and with the length of Chayanne's hair not all of it can actually make it into the braid so the bottom section always hangs loose regardless of the braid or not.

DAPPER -

Dapper wears a fancy black silk buttoned pyjama shirt with red decals and details but it's always paired with hideously patterned pyjama pants.

They could have anything on them! Cartoon zoo animals, Rainbow zigzags, Multicolor polka dots, Cartoon food items, Tie dyed, Animal print, Fruit print, Old grandma couch print, 80s arcade carpet print, they could just have faces all over them! Literally ANYTHING as long as it doesn't match the pyjama top (because it drives his Dad absolutely crazy and he loves it).

He also wears a pair of thick plain fluffy socks over his feet at night, since demons naturally run cold to deal with the heat of their home, which unfortunately means Dapper having a Demon as his parent (as well as Em and Pomme) gets cold feet during the night if they don't wear fluffy socks.

She also sleeps with her hair tied up in a loose protective bun on top of their head to keep most of it out of his mouth and eyes while he sleeps.

LEONARDA -

Leo sleeps in cartoon patterned pyjamas but not matching sets, ohhhh no, this girl wears pieces from 2 completely separate sets which do not match at all.

For example she might wear bright blue and red spiderman pyjama bottoms paired with a pale purple pyjama shirt with a giant cartoon panda in the middle or a pair of rainbow striped MLP pyjama bottoms with a pyjama shirt covered in hundreds of close up Walter dog faces.

When she sleeps Leo leaves her hair loose to go absolutely everywhere and does not brush it before bed even though her hair gets tangled easily.

Which unfortunately means her Pa Foolich has to help her brush out the hundreds of knots every single morning but Leo absolutely refuses to sleep with it tied up no matter how much he tries to convince her it'd be a good idea.

She also insists on wearing socks to bed every single night but immediately kicks them off as soon as she actually falls asleep which Foolish finds hilarious.

RAMÓN -

Ramón sleeps in a plain tank top and he used to just sleep in a pair of plain sweatpants like his Dad but nowadays he sleeps in a pair of blue pac man patterned pyjama bottoms that he absolutely totally 100% did not steal from Pac's washing line outside his house.

The drawstrings are always tied to keep them up, since they're not kid sized, and he's clearly taken a pair of shears to the bottom but not re-hemmed them so there's loose threads everywhere (neither Fit or Pac makes a comment on it though, because as long as Ramón's happy they're happy so Pac just secretly sews up the hems and makes adjustments to the waistband while Ramon's with Fit and says nothing).

Ramón's hair is short enough that it doesn't make a difference how he wears it at night, it might stick up a bit in the morning from where he was laying on it but he wears the meathead all day so it doesn't matter and hell, Ramón would happily sleep in his meathead too if Fit would let him.

And obviously the moustache stays on while he's asleep, duh.

TALLULAH -

Tallulah wears a pair of black flannel pyjama pants and a short sleeved purple nightgown, which looks more like an oversized t-shirt but it has scallop hemmed edges that indicate that it is actually supposed to be down to her knees.

The purple nightgown has black and darker purple polka dots all over it and the hemming is done in black thread with a large cartoon skull decal on the center (that she doesn't really like because it looks too cartoonish).

Before she sleeps she brushes her hair and bangs and Phil braids it for her, into a neat and very tight French braid (or two braids depending on what he feels like) to keep it from going crazy while she sleeps.

And obviously when she goes to sleep her hearing aids are removed and put in a little box that she keeps on the windowsill above their big family bed so she can easily reach them in the morning.

RICHARLYSON -

Richarlyson sleeps in only a pair of sleep shorts, a variety of colors depending which house he sleeps in, right now it's been either red for Pai Cellbit, green for Pai Mike or black for Tio Bad since they're the only houses he's actually slept at so far (but he has blue shorts prepared for when they stay over at Pai Pac's and pink for staying with Mae Bagi).

He takes off the football shirt to sleep and no matter how many times her parents ask them to put on a pyjama shirt she doesn't, Richas just sleeps half naked because he can.

He also has a silk hair bonnet that he really should wear to bed every night but he doesn't like it, well no, they like it slightly better now that Pac sewed the outside to be mushroom patterned like her regular hat but he still doesn't wear it every single night no matter how many times her parents ask him to.

Obviously when he sleeps they have to remove his prosthetic leg so he sleeps with only a protective compression sleeve over their stump (like Pai Pac) and her leg just lies beside her bed, he has a prosthetic stand he's supposed to use for it, but again he doesn't do it every night regardless of her parents reminding him.

POMME -

Pomme wears one of the pretty matching pyjama sets, the ones with a cute graphic on the shirt and then that design is patterned smaller all over the bottoms.

She sleeps in a long sleeved pyjama shirt with red sleeves and a white chest with a green apple decal in the middle, paired with green pyjama trousers (the same shade as the decal) with red apples (the same as her sleeves) and white polka dots patterned on them.

Pomme also wears a pair of thick knitted socks every night because her feet get cold, these aren't intentionally matching her pyjamas but since it was Etoiles that knitted them back when he was the 'wool warrior' after losing to the code, they're all either one of the French flag colors or green so they match unless she wears the blue ones.

Her hair is neatly brushed by one of her parents and in a loose braid (or braids) that inevitably falls out overnight, but she won't sleep if it's tied too tight and she doesn't like having her hair tickling her while she tries to get to sleep, she honestly doesn't care what state it's in when she wakes up she can cover some of it with her beret anyway.

EMPANADA -

Empanada sleeps in a long sleeved ankle length nightgown with frilly edges and bow details, the full works.

The nightgown is a brown and pink tartan with white lace frills around the edges of the nightgown and down the seams and it's got little pink bows where they're necessary.

She also wears thick socks with grippy silicone bottoms while getting ready for bed so her feet don't get dirty or cold, but she doesn't wear them in bed, she takes them off and leaves them beside her bed so she can put them back on when she wakes up.

To actually sleep in she wears non grippy fluffy socks which she keeps in her bedside table drawer and they all have cute little kitty patterns on them since Bagi bought them in bulk when she learnt Em got cold feet during the night.

She sleeps with her hair left loose on the pillows but unlike Leo it doesn't go crazy overnight since Empanada is the kind of little girl who brushes her hair 100 times by herself before bed and brushes it another 100 times when she hears Bagi wake up in the room above hers so that it's always neat by the time her Mamae comes to get her in the morning.

SUNNY -

In the early days Tubbo didn't have kids pyjamas and he was too proud to ask another parent for a spare set so Sunny slept in one of Tubbo's shirts like a nightgown, unfortunately for Tubbo, she still does it now even after he's bought them pyjama sets in every color under the sun.

So every night Sunny sleeps in a stolen shirt of Tubbo's that comes down to her knees and the neck hangs off her shoulders a little, with a pair of pyjama pants and a plain vest top underneath.

Obviously she changes the color of the pants every single night in no particular rotation to wear all the fancy pyjama sets her Pa bought her to try and stop her stealing his shirts (it didn't work).

They also sleep with a orange and yellow striped silk bonnet on every single night to protect their hair so that she always looks good in the mornings even before her Pa does her hair for the day.

She obviously takes off her sunglasses to sleep but she replaces them with an orange sleep mask with 'SUNNY' bedazzled on the front in blue diamantes because if she doesn't wear the sleep mask then everything is way too bright when they're trying to sleep since they wear sunglasses all day.

PEPITO -

Pepito sleeps in a crew necked red and white striped onesie with grippy feet covers so Pepito doesn't fall over.

Pepito's hair is usually fine when Pepito sleeps but Pepito occasionally gets crazy bed head, but all Pepito does on those mornings is brush it out as much as Pepito can and put on a bandana or a beanie along with Pepito's glasses and gasmask so Pepito can try to make it look like a purposeful style choice (it works about 30% of the time).

CHUNSIK -

Chunsik always sleeps in an animal onesie, his Dad originally dressed him in a crocodile one but then his Mom bought him a shark one and they fight over which one he wears each night.

Chunsik doesn't care though, he's just happy to have two onesies now, and both of them have sharp teeth on the hood and a tail on the butt and he just thinks that's awesome!

His hair gets a little messed up from sleeping in the hoods but it doesn't get tangled easily so it's easy to brush it out in the morning before he puts on his hat.

[solidaritygaming-fanblog]

Hello again I am plagued with thoughts of the siblings at work so I must share.

Philza is used to loss. He’s lost friends, enemies, lovers, and children. The only things that are constant in his life are Death and his little brother, Jimmy. Gods he never wants his little brother to experience loss like he has.

So yeah, he is definitely opposed to the thought of the life series. As a man who knows what it is like to play with limited lives and has permanently killed before, he hates to the entire concept. However he can’t stop Jimmy from entering, so Phil sits on the sidelines and watches.

Of course, Jimmy gets the canary curse and it removes any chance of loss. You cannot mourn anyone if you die first. It’s like this for years. Jimmy ranting to Phil after each game about the dumb curse while Phil is secretly relieved that his brother has been spared once again from the pain of loosing someone, even temporarily.

Then Jimmy breaks the curse in Secret life. He still dies second but now it’s broken and he is free. Jimmy is ready to win the next season.

It starts slow. Mumbo and Skizz’s deaths are celebrated for the most part (after all Jimmy isn’t last anymore) but there’s still that knot in Jimmy’s stomach, he keeps mentioning Skizz and Mumbo and the others have to remind him they are gone. Nothing major really, they were enemies to Jimmy anyway.

Then Martyn dies. Martyn has always been a good friend to Jimmy and it hurts to see him dead. (Ren’s loud wails don’t help at all)

When Jimmy’s Bamboozler, Scar, dies it tears him apart. Jimmy is wiping tears away the entire walk back to BAM mountain. He hates this feeling. This is worse than dying. When Grian blows Jimmy and Lizzie up, Jimmy isn’t mad, he’s tired. Everything is just so much for him and honestly? Winning doesn’t sound appealing anymore because it meant he would have to kill his friends (even if it was temporary)

So Jimmy stumbles to Phil’s hardcore world after Wild Life officially ends. Phil is busy building but immediately drops everything to help Jimmy, who needs to just talk to someone about how he feels. Phil simply listens as Jimmy rants about the deaths and the feeling in his chest, then the realization that this is how the others probably felt about his own death.

(Holy shit this is really long sorry lol)

BSHABASBBAHAHABAAHAH

You cooked. He would be in so much shock... he's never really experienced death before this and like this- there was real life but that was really fun and not serious! But he's been in this world for so long now. And these people who he's none for even longer are now just... gone? His day one teammate is gone?

God yeah that would fuck him up. Amazing showstopper I'm gonna go curl up now