#qsmp drabbles

[cat-hybridcellbit]

In another timeline Q!Cellbit finds an abandoned building covered in cobwebs, with a crude drawing of an egg on a sign by the door. In another timeline he does not find a journal in an empty glass cage, but a very sick little egg who needs immediate treatment. In another timeline a little egg named Hope is whisked away to the Ordem infirmary, given medical treatment, and wakes up surrounded by caring faces. She is adopted by a strange man whose voice she feels she heard in a dream. She gets her very own room in a giant castle, surrounded by beautiful red trees. She has brothers and sisters now, even two that feel very familiar.

In another timeline Hope survives, because what is a world without Hope?

[sweetie-peaches]

It’d been while.

Since, everything, the memories had almost faded in Tubbo’s mind, the scars had start to change colors, the aches remained, and the nightmares. Things had gotten better

Then he was back, a different competition. A different fight, this time he could almost call it willing, if anything he’s done in his life has been willing.

He doesn’t know what he feels when he sees them. His team. His family. Every fight and battle, they come back to him like that.

It feels like blood and ash.

It tastes like snow and dirt.

It smells like home.

Sparks kindling, A home he can’t come back too, a home forged in bloodshed.

Soulfire.

So he pulls himself up, he ties his boots and he’s ready, ready to be a part of this. For the memories he lost, for the ones that remain. For his family.

For soulfire

[ena-writes-stuff]

— unscheduled break.

˒ ⌕ with his work consuming more of his time, the special evenings you once shared become rare. feeling the strain of this separation, you decide to visit him during a livestream.

— warnings: smut, female reader, use of his real name

— words count: 2.3k

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

He had warned you an hour ago that he was going to start a stream on his secret Twitch channel. It was a well-established routine: every now and then, he would lock himself in his office to dedicate a few hours to livestreaming, attending meetings, or even catching up on emails. During these periods, you chose to stay in his room, using the time to work or study something that needed to be resolved.

Despite the routine often feeling solitary, there was a valuable compensation: when evening arrived, after dinner, you knew you would get to enjoy moments together. It was a special time reserved just for the two of you, a moment you eagerly anticipated. It was during these hours that you could snuggle in his arms, feel his warmth and scent, and be enveloped in a comforting embrace. Sleeping next to him, feeling his scent mix with yours, made everything sweeter and more meaningful. These little things, these shared moments, were what made the wait and loneliness of the day more bearable and gave purpose to the time spent apart.

But, since last week, things had changed drastically. The frequency of your time together had decreased significantly. He was increasingly busy with work, and this extra load was causing a misalignment in your schedules. There were days when you would wake up early in the morning and find his office still lit, with him immersed in his work. It seemed that instead of starting his day by your side, he was beginning earlier and ending later. Other times, you would be woken up in the middle of the night when he tried to get into bed in the dark, after you had spent hours waiting for him and eventually falling asleep.

He had promised to make up for the lost time, to find a way to get things back to normal, but that promise seemed distant and increasingly unlikely. The special moments that used to mark the end of the day, the cuddles at night, now felt like a distant echo of a time that was no longer a reality. The longing for those hours together grew each day, and the time that once seemed so well-balanced between work and personal life was now heavily tilted towards work and stress. The yearning increased, and you had the chance to have a few minutes with him at that moment, if you could manage to stay quiet enough. The desire to be by his side, even for a brief moment, was intense, and your heart pounded with anticipation for the reunion.

So you decided to do something that had long remained just a timid, almost impossible thought at the back of your mind. Entering his workspace, even for a fleeting moment, was a risk you were willing to take. The room was silent except for the constant sound of the keyboard and Alexis' own loud voice. As you opened the door, you made sure the creak was as discreet as possible. The door itself made a low noise, a sharp sound that seemed to fill the space for a moment, but not enough to penetrate the ambient noise and reach the microphone picking up your beloved's voice.

“Hey, babe,” his voice softly echoed as he finally turned to face you. Despite the visible exhaustion on his face, he seemed determined to keep up with his work marathon. The idea of playing Fortnite for two hours as part of the job seemed surreal, but it was the reality of the moment. “I’m still live, and I think after this, I have a meeting with—”

The conversation was taking a direction you were familiar with. Your eyes wandered between your boyfriend’s face, the muted microphone, and his two computer screens. On one of them, the Fortnite game continued; his character was standing still, a clear indication that he had stopped focusing on the game to pay attention to you. The screens' glow reflected off the glass screen, mixing with the fatigue in his eyes.

“I miss you,” you said, your voice heavy with the sincerity of your feelings.

He blinked, as if the simple recognition of your desire for connection had awakened a new level of awareness in him. “I miss you so much too, my dear,” he replied with a tired smile. “Just a little longer, and the stream will end. After that, we can meet and talk more.”

“No,” you cut off the idea, with a slightly whiny tone, not wanting to think about when that would actually happen, allowing yourself the luxury of ignoring any other complaints or excuses he might make. “Here. Now.”

The words came out softly, almost a whisper, as you moved closer, your body gently leaning toward him. Your lips sought his with a touch of delicacy, as if they were made of the same ethereal material as dreams. The kiss started soft and exploratory, the taste of his sweet kiss filling your tongue, as you indulged in a subtle game of intimacy.

Alexis, in turn, responded with an instinctive caress on your waist, his hands sliding slowly in an affectionate gesture. He wasted no time giving in to the kiss he had been longing for, his emotions spilling into a deep and genuine kiss. Each touch, each movement, seemed like an unspoken promise, a reaffirmation of the desire that had grown between you. The moment extended, the connection between you both strengthening with each passing second, while the world around seemed to disappear, reduced to a sequence of soft sighs.

“It’s better if we stop; I think chat is already missing me…” Despite the frustration of losing contact and pleasure, you merely nodded, acknowledging that he was right and that it was the best course of action. The tingling sensation you felt as you dragged the back of his hand across your cheek brought immediate relief, as if a painter was spreading colors on a blank canvas. He really knew you, inside and out. “But I’m really tempted to just…” he whispered, not needing to finish the sentence for you to understand what he was thinking.

He wore a black pair of shorts that contrasted his tanned skin, and on top, he had a tank top, both of which screamed 'comfort' when you looked at him. His dark hair was tied in a ponytail, a move that must have been a daily routine. With a mix of curiosity and boldness, you gently brushed my fingers against the sudden bulge that had formed between his thighs. The intimate contact was undeniable, and after so long of abstinence, he was putty in your hands.

Your palms slightly tingled with the power it gave you; as a studious and outspoken individual, this kind of control was intoxicating, if not a bit unexpected.

“My love, can you please help me out?”

As Alexis’ voice zapped through your system, your legs betrayed you, buckling underneath your weight. Like a marionette pulled by strings, you tumbled to the floor in front of his office chair. A fiery wave of desire blossomed within you, an urgency to kneel and serve him, to satisfy his every whim. His hands trembled as he fumbled with the keys of his keyboard, his voice quivering as he tried to string together an excuse for the delay. He knew he was failing, couldn't hide the truth: you being to obey, to give in to his demands, all while he broadcasted to his viewers who were oblivious to the situation. The lack of webcam, a small mercy, spared them the spectacle.

Your heart raced, nerves and hunger warring within you. Sweat dampened your skin, the clinging tendrils of your hair a reminder of your flustered state. The thought of pleasing him, of serving him, sent a shiver down your spine as you lowered his pants, the underwear he was wearing followed suit, revealing his erect manhood that seemed to be craving for your touch. With your heart racing, you stood there for a moment, taking in the sight before you, your gaze lingering on the pulsating flesh that begged for attention.

Lovely.

Your mouth moved to his throbbing member, lips wrapping around it as your tongue teased the sensitive tip. You swallowed greedily, desperate to take him in, before pulling back to tease. Your hand joined in, skillfully caressing his length in a rhythmic dance. You were eager and satisfied, ready to serve.

As your eyes watered, you tried to keep your focus, swallowing hard as you felt the thick cock invade the recesses of your throat. The sudden force caught you off guard, but you couldn't show it. Your gaze flicked to Alexis’ face, a silent reminder of where you were, a girl with her mouth full, sucking off your boyfriend that tried his best to focus on the game and not to moan in pleasure. Your hands worked diligently, gripping his shaft tightly. You caressed him fervently, your fingers playing teasingly with his heavy, aching balls. With each stroke, you reminded yourself why you were doing this — for him. Your tongue danced eagerly along his length, willing to give him everything he craved.

You fixated on his every reaction and micro expression, drinking in the visuals he provided. Your attention was abruptly pulled away when he let out a dangerously loud whimper. Your hands flew to his mouth, shushing him. "You're being too loud, baby," You whispered, your lips curling into a soft, amused smile. You watched as he hurriedly muted the microphone, the shuddering moan that escaped him only further fueling your excitement when you saw he unmuted again. "Hush, love. Quiet, remember?" You reminded him, keeping your voice low.

You watched as Alexis nodded, the rocking motion coming to him with ease. You could sense the rising pleasure within him, and though he strained to suppress it, soft whimpers and gasps of air still managed to escape. Your hand found its way to his thigh, gently squeezing and whispering, "Shhh, shh, baby. I know it feels good, baby."

It became increasingly clear that the intense pleasure his body was experiencing was taking a toll on his performance. Sure enough, he lost another match in the game, slamming his hand against the table in what could have been frustration from losing, or an attempt to alleviate the mounting arousal. The tension in the room was almost palpable.

"FUCK!" Alexis screamed, gripping a fistful of your hair and forcefully pushing his erection against your face. In a split second, he decided on a plan — pretending to be so enraged the he’d cut the live stream. He reached for his computer, shutting down the stream as his cock invaded your mouth once again. Now it was just the two of you and that was the perfect moment that you would be able to worship him.

He fixed his gaze in your eyes, being able to see the way you stared at him. The look of his own perdition. He sighed heavily, moving his hip while the low moans escaped. For a moment, he tilted his head back, just feeling the pleasurable sensations that ran through his body when he had your tongue sliding so well through his cock.

You really knew how to drive him crazy with your touches and if for some moment he thought he didn’t, he had been too foolish. His cock went in and out of your mouth easily, he was already in ecstasy, fucking on cloud nine.

There was a sheer ecstasy that washed over his face. His body trembled, a testament to the intense delight that consumed him. Drunk with lust, he succumbed, the intensity of his orgasm palpable between you. He allowed himself to spill any drop of sperm into your throat, letting the overwhelming sensation take over him.

Your gaze drifted to Alexis, who had collapsed into his chair, his body slick with perspiration. His heavy breaths echoed in the silence of his office. He wiped the back of his hand across his brow, leaving a smear of moisture in its wake. You couldn't help but notice the flushed hue that spread across his features, a testament to the pleasure he'd just experienced.

Observing him in this vulnerable state brought a twisted sense of satisfaction, knowing that he, the studious and outspoken one, was now rendered weak.

He finally looked down, his eyes expressing a mix of concern and regret as he observed the uncomfortable situation you were in. "Shit, I'm sorry, my love…" he murmured, his voice laden with remorse, as he carefully lowered himself to hold your hands. With a gentle and protective gesture, he began helping you to rise, offering support and trying to alleviate the discomfort you had been enduring for the past few minutes. "Come here, sit on my lap," he said with a voice that conveyed tenderness and a genuine desire to make you feel better. He adjusted his position to ensure that you were comfortable and secure, his gaze fixed on you with a care that seemed to say more than words could express.

And that’s how you both finally managed to enjoy the lost time. You were comfortably seated on Alexis's lap, feeling the softness of his touches and the sincerity of his affection. Each tender kiss on your shoulder and each sweet word whispered in your ear seemed to fill the space between you with a renewed and profound intimacy.

As you settled into Alexis’ embrace, a new perspective began to emerge.

Maybe interrupting him at work from time to time wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

[fairytsuk1]

riding alex while ur wearing his merch and its like some subtle dominance thing for him Im Gonna Go Insane!?!

riding alex while wearing his merch …

he already goes crazy seeing you in his clothes because he’s really into subtly marking you. like he loves leaving hickeys in places only he can see, so he’s definitely touchier when you’re donning his hoodie;))

but he’d literally have to restrain himself so he doesn’t fill you up right when he pushes into your creamy hole, “fuck, dámelo, mi amor. i wanna feel it.”

him moaning, whining into your mouth as you sink down onto his fat cock. your insides quiver as alex stretches you out, the hair at his base sticky with arousal. you have to yank up the black cotton of the hoodie to see how your pussy swallows his dick whole.

“you always take me so well, ohmygod, you’re so tight! babe,” he pants into your neck, “you know you’re mine. mmph, and i’m yours, you know?”

your hips are slowly rocking, leaving your lip swollen as your toes curl, “‘m yours, it’s all for you, alex. oh fuck!! oh god, you’re so—deep!”

your nails leave crescents in his shoulders and alex can’t get enough of gripping you by your hips and bringing you closer, helping you bounce harder, and you’re shuddering in his arms when his hips buck up to meet yours.

“look at you,” he croons, sucking a mark on your collarbone, “fucking you in my hoodie. you’re my dream girl—aah, shit.”

alex goes from letting you ride him to losing himself in your body. his fingers pinch and tweak your nipples, dark eyes meeting yours with a knowing look.

“yeah? you love it, i know you do. y-you can’t even deny it,” his hands wind in your hair, lightly tugging and baring your neck to him, “you just have to take it. it’s okay, baby. let me make you feel good.”

yall….

[plant-acts]

I love the image of Fred, who looks like a mess trying to survive in the wilderness alone while slowly losing hope, suddenly hearing his name.

He looks over and sees someone as dirty as he is, and yeah, the guy's eyes aren't as blue as before and he looks like he hasn't slept in months, but it's still his Tubbo.

His Tubbo has come to save him like some knight in shining armor. The fire reflected off his cracked goggles like a beacon of light.

They stop and look at each other because they genuinely can not believe their eyes. They have both changed so much, but they are still the same hearts beating in rhythm.

Slowly, they close the gap between each other. Their eyes focused like the other would disappear in a blink of an eye until they were less than a foot apart.

All Fred has the energy to do is open his arms, and that is all the invite Tubbo needs to throw himself into them.

They are both gross and tired and moments away from breaking down, but they have never felt so warm.

[miscellaneoussmp]

Stay away from those whose names appear in red. If you get close, you'll lose your sanity, too, or become one of their sacrifices to the same gods they scream at. The same gods they curse in the same breath as joyus laughter.

They tear each other limb from limb and laugh. They're covered in blood, their own blood.

One of them bites into a raw potato like it's the red apple of original sin, spurred on by her teammates like snake in the tree of knowledge.

"God hath forsaken us! Confess your sins!"

His hands press together as he stands in the flames of their fire pit. "I am a murder! I don't regret it! I'll keep doing it!" He is consumed by the flames. He returns for the next burning.

Her hands reach out towards the onlookers as she stands in the flames of their fire pit. "I'm a back stabber! I don't care who I hurt in the process!" She is consumed by the flames. She returns for the next confession.

His hands stretch out the side of him, palms facing out toward the others, as he stands in the flames of their fire pit. "I am a liar! I knew from the start!" He is consumed by the flames. He returns for another sacrifice.

Their home, their place of worship, is built on their bloodshed. They die on each other's and their swords because it is fun.

"God hath forsaken us! We're having fun!"

They tear each other limb from limb and dance and laugh. They're having so much fun.

They scream at and curse the gods they so dutifully worship until their time runs out. Their eyelids get heavy, and they sleep.

[brokenstar-s]

Something about qphil and qtubbo-

Tubbo who asked Phil first what their plan was, and they talked about how to make it fair and did so. Who both admitted they wanted the same thing. Who Tubbo had already shown his skill before but when faced with the man he thought of like a father suddenly shook. Where his confidence was drained and he ran and missed his hits because how could he be fighting for the end of it all against Phil?

and Tubbo died to Phil's blame in the name of a victory they didn't know of the reward.

And then at the end of it all, when Phil realized he couldn't save any of his children, when Tubbo made himself be with the daughter when he talked to his son, Phil decided to same the only child of his he could. Tubbo.

Tubbo who clung to Phil who could kill him a second time, but didn't. Phil who had his wings breaking at the moment, tore and ruined, decided to fly with extra bagged.

Phil who held Tubbo close and made sure he wouldn't fall or get hurt, and in the embrace they held as they flew to safety was the words 'I'm sorry'

Who Tubbo stayed near as they landed and grasp his hand as he stuck close saying silently, 'all is forgiven'.

[haloberry]

I’m just imagining like a Future Au, where everyone escapes the island and the Federation gets demolished. Where the eggs get their own jobs titles and Sunny becomes a Movie Star like she always wanted.

Like, she’s sitting in their acting chair when someone is having trouble graphing out the set as a machine malfunctioned and everyone is freaking out bc their already delayed on filming. Sunny, obviously annoyed by this, goes over to see what the fuss is about and sees that the workers calculated wrong.

Their like “An experienced worker would’ve noticed that right away, why didn’t you?” And quickly writes down the correct formula and equation for the positioning and walks away like “A star like me shouldn’t waste their time on something their not payed for. Do your job!” And goes behind set to fix their makeup.

New workers are flabbergasted and older workers yell the new ones for not seeing the problem sooner. A few are gossiping in the corner like, “How did she know that? They’ve never even touched dirt without gloves, how could she have made that calculation so quickly?”

The other turns to them like “You don’t know? Their the daughter of Tubbo and Fred_! The CEO’s of the fastest growing marketplace in the world, Turbo?? Rumor has it, Mr._ has made every single machine the factory uses and is the only one running all of them! The one that broke multiple records in Engineering and revolutionized the Create scape as we know it?? The ways that are being taught in schools?? You would be crazy to think he’s daughter didn’t know something about machines!”

And the new workers are stunned, and get called out by the older workers a bit for judging a book by it’s cover.

Sunny, later on, even drops a line like “Oh yeah, Pa wanted me to run the company after he retires. Hated building though, so it’s going to my cousin Rámon instead.”

[radiocrypt-id]

Daughter of Mine Phil and Tallulah really kill me, ya know? Chayane too, of course, but there's something about an abandoned little girl desperately clinging to the coat tails of the only adult in her life that's ever stuck around, terrified they'll leave her too. desperate to be loved, terrified to love someone else after the continuous heart break of an absent father every morning. And there's something about Phil, so fatherly to everyone around him, so often forced into the role of a parent, so kindly, warmly, lovingly accepting such a task in the case of Tallulah specifically. Knowing from the beginning she'd likely never see her real father again and still cautiously allowing her the space to make room in her breaking heart to have him be her father too, never assuming he has such a place with her but always feeling she's his daughter, regardless of circumstance. He said this so readily, with so much gentle joy and love in his voice and face. Tallulah has always been his daughter, he was just waiting for her to be ready for that dynamic with him.

And now he lovingly calls her mi nina. I'm crying don't touch me. now that the eggs are back and safe I can post this without feeling too guilty lol enjoy the angst knowing everything worked out in the end

When Phil woke up to the empty beds, his stomach dropped. The room in disarray, their favourite items, their identifiers, left behind. He called for them, searching the wall, dread growing with the answering silence. Not again, not again, they didn't get taken again, they couldn't have. Everything was secure, no one could get in that he didn't trust enough to care for his kids, and he knows his friends wouldn't play such a cruel joke. Where are they? Where is his son and daughter?

When Phil returned to the empty home, heart in his throat and his stomach somewhere outside in the dirt, hundreds of feet below at the foot of the wall, he sat in the silence. The layers of stone and moss ate whatever sounds he made, at the foot of his childrens beds, the familiar exhaustion of loss heavy on his shoulders. He would find them, somehow. He wouldn't lose them. he'd look until the air in his lungs had left and his body decayed, even if it is futile and hopeless with no signs of what happened and no clues on who has them, he'd search the world if needed. He pulls Chayanes duck and Tallulahs hat close, holding them close to his chest with his eyes shut tight against the tears falling down his cheeks. In a whisper, a prayer and promise, he tells the silence he'll find them; if it's the last thing he does, he'll bring them home.

[flame-cat]

Part 1 (you are here) / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

Read on Ao3

The thing is, Phil is actually doing alright.

He knows he's trapped, knows most likely no one will come looking for him for a few days at least. He knows he was tricked with the stupidest setup that he should've seen from a mile away (did see and didn't care about the consequences, is never above throwing himself on a sword if it's to save his kids). He knows he has limited food aside from golden apples, that this tiny home was built specifically to taunt him in every way, that he won't be able to tell how much time has passed or if his kids are okay or if anyone is even looking for him.

He knows. And that's exactly why he's doing alright.

Because the thing about torture is that it's scientifically proven not to work. That once you know someone's goal is to break you, it becomes that much easier to resist breaking. He knows what the federation wants- they want him to break down, crying and begging to see his kids again, just so that they can make an offer he won't refuse, so they can use him.

Phil is not only smarter than that, but bigger than that.

He's spent eons with no one but his crows for company. Eons spent idling, no goal in mind except what he gives himself, finding new ways to keep himself occupied. This? This is nothing. Phil is strong. Phil is resilient. Phil is the Angel of Death.

Phil is laying curled up on his side in front of the door.

Moving would take energy. Energy he needs to conserve and use for planning, for keeping sane, for not breaking. He can do all of that from the ground, in the spot the walls are thinnest and he has the greatest chance of hearing any changes from the other side.

(He can't hear anything. Hasn't for the past however long. It's probably been less than an hour, right? He can't have been laying here for hours.)

Phil is listening. He's on his side, breathing evenly, not moving a muscle, because he's listening.

(Just the birds and his own breaths. They still come a little wet, a little hoarse.)

He knows what he's listening for. Fit's smooth baritone, Toby's post-pubescent rasp, Missa's soft worry, even Forever's booming shouts. He can picture them clearly in his mind- picture isn't the right word, but the point is he can practically hear them, sharp and real, right there on the other side of this wall.

They aren't. He knows that. But they will be.

(No one was before, those eons alone. He didn't listen then. He could fly then. Could create. Could explore. Had only himself to worry about besides.)

Phil has his eyes closed. He doesn't sleep, doesn't dream. He's listening.

He's listening.

He-

"Phil? Phil, are you in there? Phil!"

He can hear them!

Of course. Of course, all he had to do was wait, he can open his mouth and shout to them now, he...

Phil is...

Phil is not opening his mouth.

Why? Why isn't he shouting? Why isn't he moving?

"Phil...?"

He's here. He's right here. Please, come on, he's right here!

"Did you find something?"

"No... I don't think so, sorry."

HE'S RIGHT HERE! PHIL IS HERE, PLEASE, LISTEN! HE'S HERE!

"Let's move on."

Phil is jolting awake.

His heart is beating. His lungs are heaving. His eyes are open. His mouth too.

Ah. Better stop screaming.

Better breathe slower too.

He is. Phil is breathing slower. He is. He is.

(Phil is sobbing.)

Phil is doing alright.

(Phil is being stupid. Has been nothing but stupid for the past two weeks- the first when he left, the second when he didn't find his children faster.)

He's alright.

(He's useless.)

He's alright.

(He's weak.)

He's alright.

(He's breaking.)

[youphoriaot7]

The crows are a well-known attachment to Quesadilla Island. Nobody's exactly sure quite how they got there, nor why there's so many of them—they're just there. They don't seem to intrude, and so everyone simply goes about their day. It's normal, now; just like the bear that checks in on them, just like the eggs they care for.

They seem to especially gravitate towards Philza. He can always be found with at least ten or twelve scattered around—his shoulders, his hat, his cape... They tend to gather most frequently near the Wall, perching on every visible surface. The top edge of the Wall often looks black, every inch of it covered with feathers.

So when the crows are gone, it's noticeable.

Philza's absence hasn't gone unnoticed, of course. Chayanne and Tallulah have mentioned his departure, heading out to explore the outer edges of the island, looking for...something, he didn't mention what. The fact that they've been hanging out with Tubbo and Niki also proves it.

But the crows were the most noticeable.

Slowly, they start to gather...elsewhere. A small group starts a nest in the tower of Cellbit's castle, and he stares at it in confusion for a few days before he shrugs it off. Let them stay; they're not bothering anyone. Another flock takes shelter under the overhang near Forever's presidential office. He grins every time they fly up to the windows. A couple of stragglers find comfort in the quiet of Chume Labs, flying along after the current lone inhabitant and cawing in concern. Pac shrugs them off, trying not to read too much paranoia into it.

Tubbo finds himself swamped with the birds; Niki, too. They guess they're following the children, which seems to be correct, at first glance. (But it's more than that.) Some flock to Bad, others to Foolish—the two groups cawing and chirping whenever their chosen followees' get into spats. Roier catches sight of a couple hanging around Rivers' base, and smiles brightly when he gets back home to see some of his own nearby.

Mouse waves them off for a few hours before sighing—it's certainly not the worst thing in the world, even if they keep accidentally landing where she's trying to work. Jaiden lets them land on her wings, grinning and talking to them as she moves around her day. Etoiles and Antoine aren't quite sure how to react at first—but it's no weirder than anything else they've been dealing with recently, so it's probably not a worry, and therefore, not a concern.

When the children vanish, the crows get anxious. They spend more time away from their makeshift roosts: cawing at the Wall as they fly by, pecking their way across the roads of the main square, shrieking at every passerby in the Favela. They're looking for something—information, the kids; it's not clear what. But either way, their presence is heard.

One day, when the Wall feels taller than ever before, there's a loud rustling of feathers reaching every corner of the main square. The birds' noises are deafening; it's barely possible to hold a conversation unless you move further away. And when the island's inhabitants look up, they see them there—the crows, returning to their original home. There's a figure, as well, standing amongst the potato fields, staring down at the world below him.

Philza Minecraft has returned, and the crows are at home.

[blocksgame]

QSMP drabble, Phil & Etoiles & the code shield

/rp

“Phiiiil. You are ignoring me. Stop making blocks. Hit me with sticks instead.”

“Hey!” Phil barks. “Stop interrupting me. You don’t look away while you’re using a stonecutter. They’ll chop your fingers clean off.”

Etoiles stops his parkouring, intrigued. “Really?”

“Yes. The life of a builder is very exciting.”

Etoiles laughs. “I thought what the shield does is bad enough.”

He realizes his mistake a minute too slowly, as Phil’s expression changes. He considers lying some more, doubling down, but then he remembers that Phil is smart, maybe he’ll know something.

 Hell, Phil could even end up bearing the shield himself at some point - if Etoiles dies, it’s who he’d think to bequeath it to. Phil should know the details.

“...Etoiles, what does the shield do?” Phil asks, after a moment, like he's caught him out, which to be fair, he has. His eyes are still locked on his handiwork. (God, Etoiles loves this guy.)

“It's not that bad. It makes my arm go numb. And code comes out.”

“...It makes your arm go numb and corrupt and you didn’t think you should stop using it.”

“No, no no no, listen, let me show you.” Phil stops working and stands up. Etoiles conjures the shield onto his arm. The static sets in instantly, like he's elbow-deep in another dimension, but it's not even strange anymore. “Hit me.”

Phil rolls his eyes. But he pulls out his best axe and takes a colossal swing at Etoiles, fuck yeah, that’s what Etoiles likes about him, that when Etoiles says to hit him, he’s not fucking around with a stick or an iron sword or whatever, he knows he can take it. That makes his point better too. Etoiles catches it on the shield, easily. 

“Okay, look,” he says. “I haven’t moved.”

“Right, no Knockback - ”

“No, see, I haven’t moved at all. Look, I’m not even braced. I’m like - I’m like if a guy was just standing here!”

Phil snorts.

Etoiles goes on: “Normally if you swing a sword, I should stagger. Even if I’m braced, I’m still putting the force into the ground, so I should move a little. But when you hit this shield, I think it takes all that energy inbound and just deletes it. It’s gone. I think that’s the magic of the shield, that nothing can happen around it.”

Phil is looking at the edge of his sword. It’s an interesting question, actually, whether he’s lost durability or not, Etoiles hasn’t thought to grab someone and check  -

“Okay, so how does that lead to your arm going numb? ...Oh, like you’re saying if it’s, fucking - ” Phil starts putting the pieces together.

“Yeah, it’s deleting the sensation.” Etoiles puts the shield away. “Yeah, look.” Sure enough, neon strings of raw data creep up and down his arm.

“WHOA!” Phil yells. Then he leans in, horrified and curious. “Jesus christ.” After watching the data pulse, he puts his fingers to the bridge of his nose and looks very dire indeed. “...And how sure are you that it isn’t deleting your data?”

“It goes away after a few minutes. And my arm is fine and nothing is missing.”

Phil relaxes a little. “Then where’s that data from?”

“I have two ideas. One is that it’s data from the hits, that the information the shield deletes comes back out like this. Or two, it’s data from inside the shield. The shield is broken and was put back together, you can see, so either way, I think maybe it wasn’t supposed to do this. It’s probably supposed to just cancel out from one side. But really, it’s no problem. I go back to normal afterwards. It’s like, uh, you know when you fall asleep on your arm?”

“...Yeah, yeah, okay.”

“It comes back.”

“Yeah. Sure. Okay. Does it do the, uh, the fucking, pins and needles thing too?”

“Yeah. Exactly. It’s exactly like that.”

Phil takes Etoiles’ hand to examine it. Etoiles can't look away. It’s still all static and Etoiles is almost glad except for how he wonders what it would feel like to die and he thinks that the more he felt this, Phil holding his hand tenderly and curiously, the closer he'd feel to death. He watches Phil bend his fingers, look between them to see where the code is. Numb, it's dreamlike and disconcerting.

“It was like this from the first time you used it?”

“No, it’s, uh, I didn’t notice at first.”

“So, it’s gotten worse over time.”

Son of a bitch. “Well Phil, when you say it like that, it makes me look bad.” Etoiles laughs.

“It’s not you.” Phil squeezes his fingers and Etoiles could swear he does feel that, the pressure, nerves deep down or something. It’s electric. “Look, I,  uh - I get why you’re not stopping. The code wants to kill kids. And because of the shield and this busted-ass sword it got its hands on, now it’s just you. If I had that thing, no way in hell I’d be letting go of it. I mean, fuck.”

“Ohhh,” Etoiles sighs, “Thank god. I think if Baghera or Antoine see this, they’ll be like: you idiot, stop using it, it’s your own fault if you die.”

Phil smiles, thin, wry. “What do you tell them?”

“I don’t. I wait for it to go away before they see.”

“Shit, man.”

“Yeaaaaah.”

“...Well, that’s enough fuckin’ feelings. You want a stick fight? Maybe I'll get a win while you're distracted.”

“Yeaaaaah!”

[sweetie-peaches]

You know, tubbos material scramble was funny. But like think about what it would be like?

Ten minutes. Ten minutes and he’s back in the prison he’s back there again. He has ten minutes.

For the first time in a while his mind isn’t a garble of incomprehensible thoughts and feelings. He’s locked onto this one thing and he can think finally. Desperation and anxiety becoming background static as tunnel vision takes over again.

He hears his heart pounding in his ears, he puts it out of his mind. He doesn’t allow himself the anxiety, the fear. He needs to get what he needs.

When his pickaxe breaks he’s scrapping at the stone with bloody hands. And it’s all for nothing because they removed the god damn andesite

It occurs to Tubbo that this might be a game for them. Watch him struggle and squirm. Finally pin down the one thing that’s been a pain in their asses for ages.

And he knows it is when they start taking pictures. The Polaroids drop to the ground, he’s put on display, his struggle for everyone to see.

They play cheering sound effects and he can’t let himself get distracted, can’t let his mind sway from the task at hand

Break blocks

Loot chests

Find what your looking for

Plays in his mind repeat. Break blocks. Loot chests. Find what your looking for.

And then his chest tightens and the realize of it all comes crashing down when the guard announces his time is up. And he takes a step back,

Suddenly he realizes how cold it is outside.

Suddenly he’s aware of snow flakes landing on his cheeks.

And he must be cold because why else would he be shaking? Why would his hands wrap around him otherwise?

His back hits the wood of the fence, and he could run away but he knows how he’d end up. He made a deal and he has to honor it

Tubbo never considered himself afraid of dying, why be scared of something like that when they live in a world of infinite respawns, infinite chances.

But something stirs in his gut as the guards descend upon him, with guns in hand. He doesn’t call it fear, he won’t call it fear.

He’s never considered himself a cornered animal, either. Until they trap him like one, until he hears and feels their bullets punch into his skin.

At least they make it quick, at least the respawn doesn’t take too long.

[ena-writes-stuff]

— a fine line.

˒ ⌕ you end up being enchanted by your boss' son in a law firm. between deadlines and tensions, an invitation changes everything.

— warnings: female reader, use of his real name

— words count: 1.0k

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It was honestly so glaringly obvious. The glances he shot your way whenever something absurd unfolded in that office were unmistakable, electric. Each time you caught his eye, your heart raced a little faster, a thrilling reminder that at that very moment, he was watching you too. There were those moments when he would casually approach your desk, a warm smile lighting up his face, asking if you needed anything. Each interaction sent a jolt through you — a silent, shared understanding that felt like a secret just between the two of you. It was so painfully obvious.

When you stepped into the law firm as an intern, you braced yourself to be utilized in every conceivable way by the busy lawyers. From sprinting to the courthouses on behalf of your boss to collect case updates, to battling tight deadlines that pushed you into sleepless nights, struggling to meet the absurd expectations placed upon you. And then there was the ritual of brewing coffee — an incessant demand from your boss for it to be fresh, as if the flavor of each sip held the key to his productivity. But what you truly hadn’t anticipated was the way your boss’ youngest son would occasionally drift into the office, like a restless spirit, occupying space with no clear purpose.

You knew his name. Alexis. It was a name that rolled off your tongue in your mind, prompting you to silently move your lips, as if whispering it was a secret act of intimacy. The tip of your tongue would rest behind your upper teeth as you formed the syllables, relishing the satisfying hiss of the "X," a small indulgence amidst the daily chaos of office life.

“Have you filed the appeal for the current case?” The question sliced through your reverie like a sharp knife, as if the devil himself had heard your thoughts and decided to materialize before you. There he stood, relaxed yet imposing, one arm casually resting on the desk. The air around you seemed to constrict, and the scent of his cologne, a rich, woody aroma, invaded your senses, unmistakably expensive. Expensive enough to rival a month’s wages from your underpaid internship. And there he was, enveloped in that fragrance on an ordinary Tuesday, as if he had nothing to lose.

For a fleeting moment, you hesitated, time stretching infinitely as your gaze wandered to the gold cross necklace he wore. It gleamed under the harsh office lights, visible only because the first button of his dress shirt was undone. The sight made him even more alluring, and you found your thoughts drifting to how that small detail could easily become a distraction in the midst of your mounting responsibilities.

Finally, you blinked, as if awakening from a dream, and reality rushed back in. “Was the deadline today?” your voice emerged, a bit louder than intended, betraying your sudden anxiety. Alexis nodded, his eyes locked onto yours, seemingly assessing not just your response, but the very essence of who you were.

A sigh escaped you, echoing in the stillness of the office, as your gaze fell to your palms, almost as if expecting an answer to materialize there. It felt like a crushing defeat to forget such vital details about a case — your work, not merely an internship. And that encompassed everything from brewing coffee to enduring overcrowded buses during rush hour to reach the courthouse, all without earning a single cent. The weight of failure settled in, a heavy burden pressing down on your shoulders.

“I can take care of it if you haven’t already,” he offered, rolling up his sleeves as he shifted his stance. Now, with his arms crossed, he kept his gaze firmly on you.

Your instinct was to deny him. How could he possibly offer help? A storm of doubts swirled in your mind: did he truly know how to draft that document? More importantly, you questioned whether he had any skills beyond being handsome, drifting around his father’s law firm, and flaunting expensive cologne. You hesitated, a tumultuous mix of pride and uncertainty swirling within you.

“You know I have a law degree, right?” he added, as if he could read your thoughts. Your mouth opened to respond, nearly affirming that, of course, you knew, it was such basic information, like the color of the sky. But your reaction drew a laugh from him, a light, infectious sound that filled the space between you. “No worries, I know I don’t look like someone who went to college.”

You couldn’t help it; laughter bubbled up, spontaneous and unguarded, and you instinctively covered your mouth, as if trying to hide your amusement and the enjoyment it brought.

“We can grab lunch together so you can tell me about the case,” he suggested almost immediately, biting his lower lip with a hint of nervousness. His eyes closed for a brief moment, as if mentally scolding himself for making such a sudden invitation. A soft blush crept onto his cheeks, and he ran a hand through his hair, fingers brushing through the strands in a distracted manner, as if trying to sort through his own thoughts.

The offer hung in the air, leaving you torn between surprise and intrigue. It was a chance not only to discuss work but to delve deeper into who he was — the person who always seemed so distant and unreachable. The way he proposed lunch, tinged with a touch of shyness, starkly contrasted the confident facade he usually projected in the office.

For a moment, the world around you faded, and you pondered the possibility of sharing a meal with him. The thought of sitting side by side, away from the cluttered desks piled high with papers and the pressure of work, felt incredibly enticing. You could finally glimpse what lay beneath his facade of beauty and charm, and perhaps he could provide a fresh perspective on the case that was consuming your thoughts.

“I would love to,” you replied, feeling a thrilling mix of excitement and nervousness flood through you.

[alexblue29]

foolish love language(s) and how he expresses it?

MINORS DNI.

Oooh that's cute!

Foolish x Gn!Reader

Foolish is referred to as Noah by the reader!

I personally think Foolish’s love languages are acts of service and physical touch.

Since he streams almost everyday for eight to ten hours per shot, he feels bad not being able to spend a lot of time with you. Especially if you work or go to school full-time.

If you’re out of the house or busy studying when he finally gets out of the office and he notices the house is in a bit of a mess (dishes starting to stack up a bit, clutter at the wrong spots all over), he’ll take an hour or two to clean up quickly, maybe even vacuum a bit if needed.

Let’s say you get home around dinner time, the first thing you notice is the slight burning smell wafting through the house.

You were pretty lucky with your college schedule, most days didn’t have too many classes pilled up but since the end of the session was coming, you were getting more homework from your teachers and more and more materials to study in order to get ready for the exams.

You also worked part-time at the school’s library in order to bring in some money, Foolish always told you it wasn’t necessary but you didn’t want to put the weight of having to pay for absolutely everything on his shoulders. Even if he could afford it.

Foolish loved his job. He gets to play with his friends for hours and make a living out of it, who wouldn’t love that? Even though his streams went on for up to ten hours, he really loved his community so it never really bothered him.

Well, not until he met you.

He loves streaming, yes, but he also loves you.

You two were able to spend more time together before your classes started but school has kept you extremely busy recently. He would never complain about it, especially considering what he does, all day long, but he missed you and it was starting to show.

At the beginning of his stream he’d be alright. You two were able to spend some time together in the morning before he got up for his jog and you to get ready. Some days it was an hour or two, other days it was 30 minutes, and those were the ones he despised the most.

Foolish adores morning cuddles. Whether you were laying on his chest with his arm around your waist holding you close, or laying side by side with him practically crushing you, he loves it. So, he cherished the days that allowed you to just lay about for a few hours with no concerns. On the days where you only had a few minutes, he’d try to convince you to stay for a little bit more.

“Noah, honey, I have to get to class,” you laughed as his arm tighten around your waist to keep you against him.

“Nooo.” He buried his face in the back of your neck, “Just a little bit more, please.”

“I would love to, baby, but I really have to go pee.”

You barely had time to do anything by the time you’d get home after class. You would shower, eat some food and then crash in bed, Foolish joining you a few hours later once he ended stream.

He ended stream early when you were still in class. You two haven’t been able to properly hang out in a few days which lowered his patience by a lot. He’s been struggling for a few days with a new build and absolutely nothing was worked today. He lost the little bit of patience he had very quickly. Fast enough that he received a message from Quackity and Phil asking him if he was okay.

He apologised to chat for the shorter stream and ended quickly. He took his headset off and rubbed his face with his hands as he sighed. He slid his phone in his pocket as he stood and exited his office.

It was around one thirty in the afternoon, meaning you wouldn’t be home for another three hours and a half. He frowned as he took in the state of the house, the both of you were usually pretty good at keeping the place decently clean on a day-to-day basis, but he’s recently been streaming for longer and you’ve been busy enough studying for you exams that it’s gone over the both of your heads easily.

Foolish took out his phone, sending the easy tired answer to both of his friends before starting up his playlist and gathering the few dishes scattered around the house. There was a decent pile of dishes in the sink and even some clothes scattered around the living room. He put off the dishes for a minute to give him the time to gather the clothes and start up a quick load of laundry.

By the time you entered the threshold of your shared house, it was perfectly clean. It threw you off for a second as you took in the clean living room and the lack of noises from your boyfriend’s office. What finally took you out of your stupor was the obvious scent of burnt food wafting from the kitchen.

You quickly toe off you shoes and dropped you bag by the door before heading to the kitchen, where Foolish was, his back to you as he struggled with… you didn’t even know at this point.

“Baby?”

He jumped as he turned to you with wide eyes, “Baby!” He exclaimed before looking back to the burning food, “It was supposed to be pancakes.”

You lifted your eyebrows, “Pancakes?”

“Yea- I think I might’ve left the stovetop to high and now the whole batter is, well burnt.”

You laughed as you walked to him and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, “Thank you for the thought, honey. You wanna order pizza?”

“If I ever say no to pizza, know that I’ve been kidnapped and replace by an imposter.” He turned around and wrapped his arms around your shoulders as he pulled you in a hug, “How was your day?”

You scoffed, “Long. Missed you.”

About two hours later, you were showered, the pancake disaster had been cleaned up and the pizza delivered, you two were cuddling in the living room as you slowly ate.

“Hey, it’s Friday,” You said as you looked up to him, “You know what that means?”

He swallowed his bite, “Weekend?”

You nodded, “Mhm, and I have no homework this time.” He smiled, his eyes creasing at the edges as he caught on, “Yes!” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer, “I’m not gonna stream this weekend, I think. Wanna spend time with you.” He dropped a kiss to the top of your head.

---

I wrote that in like 40 minutes while watching Foolish's stream lmao

Hope you like it!!

-Xx

[plant-acts]

Fit never minded playing bodyguard for Sunny.

It made him smile to see her run around happy, thinking she had the world in her hands; and with the way Tubbo cared for her, he might try to give it.

He had created things once only imaginable, just for his little girl.

The island was relatively safe, and her dad would fight tooth and nail for her. So, being the bodyguard was more of a joke.

Then the sky shifted to red, and Tubbo wasn't there anymore.

No one was there for Sunny. Most of her parents were stuck on Egg Island and Charlie was missing. So, no one else but Fit was around to hold the sobbing girl as she screamed for her dad.

Fit never minded playing bodyguard for Sunny, but this isn't pretend anymore.