#ender in exile

[yoonyia]

I need to draw more enders game stuff, if you don't have content create your own and die with grief that there's no fandom.

be the fandom

become the hoard of brains

I need help I stayed up way to late last night

#enders game #ender’s game #ender in exile #im getting the shadow books soon i swear to god

[vvelegrin]

i've succumbed.

grabbed a copy of ender's game from ebay.

#specifically the 1994 version that i had for years before everyone i've ever lent to stole my copies #i think that cover is the best #saw the final FINAL book that ties the ender and bean series together #and then i pretended i did not see it #sorry i don't care anymore #i will however have an excellent time rereading ender's game and speaker for the dead #have an average time maybe eventually reading xenocide #and then probably quit children of the mind halfway through again if i even start it (third or fourth or whatever time is NOT the charm) #as the mormon god of orson scott card intended #bring me on the journey once more mr. card #to your brazilian catholic planet of the far future #oh god and also the chinese ocd planet #oh yeah there was ender in exile later? that one was okay i guess #literally only remember 1) shakespeare performance and 2) ender letting one of bean's long lost sons beat him to a pulp #literally all that i remember though that second one lives in my head rent free #also lmao not gonna lie i liked his ender short story collection a great deal #sorry folks ender's game et al was an incredibly formative thing for me in my childhood lmao

[sing-me-under]

Red

There was more blood on his hands than anyone else’s. It was thrilling.

Experiment after experiment. Death after death. No one noticed. No one cared. It was perfect.

Once he perfected the book’s secret, he would burn it. Only he would have the power of revival. He would be the sole puppeteer, leading the strings of life and death.

He would be a god.

#personal #dsmp #dreamlessart #dreamwastaken #Dream actually started wearing the golden Eye of Ender after Tommy’s escaped exile #Dream also put his smile on the inside of his cape to appear more threatening #he’s dramatic

[maybevalentine]

tall val tall val tall val

her outfit/ my space suit design is HEAVILY inspired by caroline hardin on pinterest!

#art #watercolor #slay #valentine wiggin #val #enderverse #ender's game #obligatory fuck osc #haven't read ender in exile but ik that she's 21 and i think this is what she'd look like #fanart

[missycolorful]

q!Phil's instinct to isolate will always be his undoing, and the Ender King knows and is trying to use that to his advantage.

That seemed pretty clear when q!Fit told Philza that Tallulah mentioned "someone that protected them." Never a name, just that. And yet, immediately, Philza went to find Tallulah and confront her. His attitude, his everything, changed drastically. It's as if Ender had pulled a bit harder at those puppet strings he has on Philza when he realized someone might figure out what's going on. Ender doesn't want anyone clueing in on what's going on. And why would he let himself slip like that, why would he get so - dare I say - desperate, if it weren't for the fact that he's afraid? He's afraid of Phil's loved ones finding out and them helping Philza defeat him.

Phil being confronted by his loved ones made him see what had become of him because of Ender. He was able to push back against the pull of the Ender King, a motherfucking deity who has been getting stronger and stronger bit by bit, because his children have helped ground him a bit more in reality, and are helping him realize that he's in danger (as well as tragically, in some sense, he's the danger).

And the impact his family has is noticeable. Despite everything, after getting rid of the backpack, Phil seemed to snap out of it a bit. He spoke with a lot more clarity on what was happening to him. His demeanor had quieted and calmed, a lot more like his old self, when he returned to his kids. And he sought to fix what he had done, to ensure he never hurts his kids again. It all worked, but only because he had his loved ones help him along the way.

Which is I, like many others, think that q!Phil's decision to leave and exile himself until Friday, while an understandable decision on such an emotional day, actually isn't going to benefit him like he thinks it will. He's going to be all alone, with only a crow in a cage to keep him company. And, certainly, Ender will be there, too, ready claw into his mind now that he's vulnerable again. Whether this exile doesn't fix anything at all or even makes things worse, it's hard to say for certain.

All that we can say is, with all this in mind, it makes you realize: the Ender King can be vanquished, even in this state. He wouldn't be so vocal, letting himself become so noticeable, if that weren't the case. The support of his friends and family are what pull Phil out of the void, guide him toward the realization that this is wrong, i need to fix this. Phil just needs to let them help. Because that love, so far, has been powerful enough to overwhelm Ender's control on him. And I don't know if that'll be enough if things get worse, but who knows on this island?

#qsmp #philza #q!philza #missy rambles #yes q!phil is so far being saved with the power of friendship and love. and HE DESERVES IT

[mellorphic]

TommyInnit’s Dream SMP Finale Summary

It was Hannah and Bad’s idea

This was Tommy’s splash text

This was someone’s first dsmp stream in Tommy’s chat

He started farming as soon as he logged on, like always

Tubbo got in a boat and span around again. Tommy used autotune to sing ‘you spin me right round’

Tubbo nearly shot Shroud

This is what How To Sex says

Tommy and Tubbo blew up the Hotel which also resulted in McPuffy’s getting blown up and Puffy was shook

Tommy set shroud free

I skipped over most to the stuff with Dream but Tommy was given op and he spawned ghasts on tubbo and Sam

He went to Techno’s house and found a Cat disc in one of his chests. This broke me.

Tommy spoke about how logsted felt really grungey and different to the rest of the server because of how there was nothing there

George nearly slept through it

In True dsmp Fashion getting the end portal to work was scuffed

Callahan kept spawning withers in The End

Tubbo got the final hit on the ender dragon

Tommy and Tubbo met in vc2 at the bench and listened to music

Tommy has an irl ‘your tubbo’ compass

Exile was one of his favourite arcs

His favourite quote is ‘I have The Blade’

His only question for us is if we have ever sat and chatted to our friends about it

This server has been my hyperfixation since the beginning of 2021. Unfortunately I joined ag the end of the ‘golden age’ as it were. But I’ve made hopefully lifelong friends through this stupid block roleplay, and the characters and story mean the world for me and will forever. I know this fandom is going to get smaller now. I know people will move on. But I think I’ll be here for a few more years.

Dream SMP, thank you for helping me fall in love with stories again. Thank you for helping me grow in my own writing and in my artwork. Thank you for being here when I needed you, thank you for getting me through these last few years. Thank you for giving me characters I could love and relate to, who feel more real than anything else. And thank you for introducing me to creators I will forever love.

I’m so glad I was here.

o7, everyone.

#dream smp #dsmp #tommyinnit #c!tommy #tubbo #c!tubbo #technoblade #dsmp finale #dsmp summary

[petrichormeraki]

Tips For Writing C!TommyInnit, From A Loser With Brainrot

Tommy is LOUD. Whether he's angry or excited or playing around, he's usually yelling. He is not aware of how loud he is unless he's specifically raising his voice to overpower the conversation (which he usually only does when he's angry at someone/thing, or to make a point). He's only quieter when he's serious, at peace, or very very sad

TOMMY IS SMART!!! He thinks things through when he has time to do so. He is strategic and considers other people's behaviors when he plans something out (ex building the tower overlooking the prison slowly, so Sam didn't get as suspicious, and making a point to only inhabit it when it was dark to be less noticed). Tommy knows how people act/think if he's familiar with them, and he uses that to his advantage.

However, Tommy's very impulsive, and his emotions overrun his brains very often. This happens the most when he's angry or scared.

Tommy lets people take pity on him 80% of the time. Unless it's a serious situation and he's trying to prove himself, (ex Logstedshire) he LOVES free shit and he very easily falls into the "oh poor little TommyInnit, he has no family to his name and is dirty and cold, won't you spare some netherite for his poor soul?" narrative.

Tommy is childish. He bickers over things that don't really matter and is the epitome of "he started it!!" when he gets in trouble. He also constantly nags at people until they cave to get what he wants. I have no idea how CC!Tommy plays being a youngest sibling SO WELL since he's an only child but that is exactly who C!Tommy is

Tommy is not brave. He hides behind people to avoid danger and he runs away from conflict if he can. The times where this didn't happen (Exile, Final Disc Confrontation, November 16th) were because he was backed into a corner, literally or figuratively, and was forced to fight back.

more under the cut bc this got very long lmao

Tommy is not very private UNLESS it concerns his past trauma. He will talk about what he's doing, every thought in his head, and what he thinks of everything he sees, UNLESS it's recounting what happened to him. Getting information like that from the source is like pulling teeth, even for people he trusts completely. The reasoning for this (best as I can tell anyway) is that he simply just doesn't want to relive it.

Tommy has a very black and white way of thinking about his allies. If someone helps his enemy, they are his enemy too. He doesn't really care about personal motivations or reasonings unless they're close to him (Tubbo) and he does not forgive easily.

However, he also recognizes power. When Tommy ran from Logstedshire, he ran to the person who killed his best friend because he knew Technoblade was very powerful against Dream. Another example is when he ran to Phil when Dream escaped prison and went after him, even though Phil destroyed L'manburg WITH Dream AND killed Wilbur, two things that Tommy vehemently hates him for. Tommy seemed to not be thinking very clearly when either of these events happened, so this may have been a purely impulsive decision made out of fear.

Tommy squirrels away his riches. He only breaks into his ender chest when he really needs the resources, ie diamond armor and weapons for a showdown. He actually has quite a lot of diamonds and gold if I recall correctly, but he still resorts to stone/iron tools and no armor in his day to day.

Kind of related to above, Tommy keeps momentos of people he cares about in his ender chest, where no one can reach them but him. He is terrified of losing these things because they remind him of when times were good, and he had people he loved. (This was actually said by him, I just don't remember the stream sorry ;;w;;)

Tommy is very stubborn. He doesn't cooperate very often and views the way he does things as the best way. The only time to my memory that he defaulted to someone else was when Wilbur was alive (L'manburg, Pogtopia)

Tommy likes maintaining his surroundings. This includes harvesting crops and replacing them, patching up creeper holes, and replacing missing blocks from his house or the Prime Path. He does these things without anyone telling him to, on his "down time" if you will, and doesn't really call attention to it

TOMMY LOVES ANIMALS. He doesn't like killing them and tries to eat carrots instead of killing for meat (although he doesn't seem to have qualms with eating meat that other people give him)

Tommy has a soft spot for kids/small creatures. He tried very hard to hate Michael because he was bitter about Ranboo and Tubbo's friendship but he broke almost instantly if I remember correctly. He fawns over "cute" things and gets thoroughly distracted from whatever he was doing if he notices a baby chicken or something

Tommy is rarely still. He almost always is doing something with his hands (ie building, chopping trees, etc) if he's in conversation with someone. The only times where he actually sits down and stops is when he's watching the sunset on his bench, or having a self reflection moment/processing heavy information.

I'll stop here, but I plan on making another post that more goes into his speaking mannerisms and whatnot. I hope this helps somebody trying to write C!Tommy, feel free to send me an ask if you have specific questions!!

#meraki post #dream smp #c!tommy #idk how to tag this lol sorry #writing advice #?? #i love him a lot i hope this helps someone

[aroaceleovaldez]

do you have anymore rogue demigod headcanons? recently i've been thinking of my own rogue demigod ocs and trying to come up with ideas for them

BOY DO I

Okay i have a lot of very niche thoughts about how rogue demigods work and the sort of loose culture they have as a collective group. I'll go over the main thoughts I have and throw some bonus loose rogue concepts at the bottom of the post just for fun if anyone wants oc ideas. Below a cut cause i've thought about this a lot so there's. a lot:

Most rogues take the "names have power" thing a lot more seriously than campers do, since they don't have the protection of the camps to help them. As a result, many rogues go by "rogue names" or pseudonyms. Some chose their names on the spot, others slowly gained a name over time or were nicknamed by other rogues. Some may choose to not go by a rogue name, but many at least have one even if they don't always use it. Some rogue name hcs I have for specific canon characters include: "Hound" or "Hound of Hades" for Nico (cause hellhounds, also rogues making jokes about him being "the camps'/Olympians' dog"), "Rue" for Chris (named himself after Clarisse cause he missed her, though he's too bashful about it to admit it), Luke's was "Titan," and Hylla's being "Twice-Kill" is just canon. It's also fun to play around with how common some rogue names might be ("Wolf" and other animal names are definitely popular), how silly some might be (Just the first thing that popped into their head, their old street/town name, a famous actor or character, a youtuber's name/handle, cryptids, etc etc. "Ender" is also definitely popular. yknow. from Minecraft), and what stereotypes might be associated with rogue names/common rogue names. You can get real funky with it really easily. I'm personally a big fan of there being a rogue joke about people with animal-themed rogue names, just because of how common they probably are. It's probably rare that somebody earns an animal-themed rogue name from the collective community rather than just picking it themself. Also easy jokes about rogues sliding by with youtuber names or similar just cause most rogues can't access the internet, so they don't get the reference.

Almost all rogues knew about other mythologies/pantheons way before the camps did. It's a very open-secret type of thing. It's pretty impossible for them to not run into demigods from other pantheons living like they do. They just generally don't tell camper demigods about it, partially because it's sort of an unspoken rogue agreement to keep it secret from them for general demigod safety and also because most rogues don't like campers, so it's kind of a joke to keep them in the dark. Titan Army demigods were very well aware of both camps in particular.

The Amazons, Hunters, Circe's Sorceresses, and other rogue groups are also fully aware of this but don't ever mention it, even if they're camp-affiliated. The sorceresses just generally didn't run into campers enough for it to be relevant (and the campers they did run into probably never went back). For Amazons they're probably just too focused in profits to bother stirring up trouble by telling the camps about it. The Hunters probably don't mention it for the safety of the camps.

Camp Jupiter is very anti-rogue and hostile towards rogues in general. It's very rare that rogues are able to join the legion, and anyone who leaves to become a rogue is formally exiled and can't ever return. Most people who join the legion have to either be sponsored by a retired legionnaire family living outside of camp or just wholly directed to camp by a god (or representative of a god - see: Nico for Hazel). Rogues particularly hate CJ because of that. CHB on the other hand is perfectly willing to take in former rogues and there are plenty of ex-rogues in CHB who are fully aware of other pantheons. They just. Don't feel like ever mentioning it. Rogues are generally a bit kinder towards CHB because of their more open friendliness towards rogues, and will help direct new demigods towards CHB fairly often. They're still not fans of it most of the time, but they understand rogue life isn't for everyone and that it's safer, at least.

A lot of rogues take mercenary work, or other hired jobs. Technically this one is just kind of canon. See: Lots of TOA rogues, even some rogues from PJO and HoO are implied to have been hired by the Titan Army or Giant Army (or Octavian). This line of work is seen as totally legitimate to rogues, though there's a lot of different opinions within rogue circles about how it should be gone about. The most common opinion is that it's taboo to take or hire hits on those who run safehouses. Rogue safehouses are usually considered off-limits for any kind of targeting, and trying to target them is sure to ruin your reputation. Stealing or inter-rogue violence is generally considered on the table though. It's largely a lawless space. If you're particularly cruel or try to throw your weight around a lot though, you're sure to be ostracized by other rogues. Because of this, groups like the Titan Army who vocally advertised a lot of trying to make life better for rogues were popular, but other groups like the Giant Army or Tri are significantly less popular because they're seen as just power-grabs trying to hire extra muscle because they can't handle their petty squabbles on their own. Most rogues who joined the Giant Army or Tri were either indebted to them somehow or really desperate and willing to take more dubious jobs.

Norse rogues are actually significantly more common than Greek or Roman rogues, as they don't have any options for a camp to train at instead of living as a rogue, and get hunted down by monsters once they become old enough often regardless of specific parentage. Norse rogues are often more willing to take more dangerous work, as they hope it will either attract the attention of their godly parents to help them or if they build up reputation and die valiantly it will be enough to get them into Valhalla.

Safehouses are rare, but not unheard of. They're mostly just rare because their success rates vary wildly, and many try to build one but fail. The successful ones are often widely known in rogue circles, and there are some that are trade/gathering hubs to find work or restock supplies (and catch up on news). Most are considered peaceful zones, though there are some where combat is allowed, or may even have spectator sports like gladiator battles or etc where rogues can try to build up their reputations and notoriety.

Not every demigod benefited from Percy's deal that the Olympians had to claim all their kids - for some, they could have otherwise slid under the radar, but being claimed caught the attention of monsters and forced them on the run. Some got claimed in the middle of doing something in their mundane lives (with the gods doing some mass-claimings after the war) and had to run away on the spot, and resent Percy/CHB/The Olympians for it.

Free to use rogue demigod concepts:

Amazons and Hunters count as rogues! Anything with them is always fun. Ex-Circe sorceresses are also very fun.

Titan Army, Giant Army, and Tri rogues are also always very fun to play with.

Rogue satyrs, fauns, and nymphs! Or monsters/part-monsters, even!

Cursed rogues! Maybe they're part-monster, and/or the curse is part of them being banished/exiled somehow.

Rogues who run safehouses, or rogues who don't run safehouses but live there. What's their community like? How does it function? What are the rules there, and what's life like there? What's their role?

Think of a rogue name and then make a character themed around that. It's VERY fun I highly recommend it, especially if the names are leaning silly. Rogues stealing youtuber names, or their favorite anime characters, or some other pop-culture reference and hoping nobody notices. Rogue named Vriska or Sans or something. Rogues named after Pokemon. Get funky with it.

Rogues who work with monsters, or have alliances with them! How did their alliance come to be? Is it reliable? Why do they work together - what do either of them get out of it? etc etc.

Mercenary rogues, or other rogues who do hired work. Who are their clients, and what does their work entail? How does that impact their reputations?

Rogues who were revived with the Doors of Death. what were their lives like before they died? How did they die? How did they come back? Were they ever part of the Giant Army? What's their second life like?

Multiple generation rogues! Second-gen or third-gen rogues who were born into rogue life outside the camps but have always known about demigod communities.

Demigod who got claimed unexpectedly from the post-Titan War mass-claiming stuff and was forced on the run.

Norse rogues! Rogues from different pantheons! Or even rogue magicians! How do their lives differ from Greek/Roman demigods? What do they get up to?

#pjo #riordanverse #headcanon #headcanons #rogue demigods #Anonymous #ask #I LOVE ROGUE OCS!!!!! also love to see other people making them! #theyre so fun and versatile love those funky guys

[megabuild]

MCYT RELIGIOUS GUILT OFF R1 MATCH 14

CAPTAINSPARKLEZ (MIANITE) VS PIXLRIFFS (EMPIRES SMP SEASON 1)

CaptainSparklez: "he technically invented (Lady Ianite) and he's never had the chance to properly serve and protect her. she was locked away in the first world and he only just got her back a s they were told to take a "leap of faith" and jump into the void, he never really got the chance to know her. and in the second world, he was just a poor replacement for her husband and again, never really got the chance to be her champion. and then she died, in front of him, and he still thinks it's his fault"

Pixlriffs: "Pix was the caretaker of the Vigil (which is a shrine dedicated to the deaths on the server), and immediately after helping to kill the Ender Dragon, he exiles himself because he doesn't feel worthy of being the keeper of the Vigil or the Copper King anymore. One of the most common headcanons is that his disappearance from Empires S1 is because he went on a second exile for the same reason."

#captainsparklez #pixlriffs #mcyt religious guilt off #now this is the scary one. why you ask? #because i know pixs recap cohost who shall not be named lest i summon him goes into his tag #and if he sees this ill have to go into witness protection. #well ive posted worse in the tag tbh

[zenscrypt]

"on feathers and dreams"

read it on ao3!

Rated: T (Teen and Up Audiences)

Content Warnings: possession, brief self-harm (ender king hurts purposefully hurts phil's body), drowning, brief vomiting

Summary:

“This is what happens when mortals steal from gods, crow,” the King snides, narrowing his eyes as he clenches the fist tight. “Now, quiet down. I think it’s about time I’ve rested, now that you’re out of the picture.”

Somewhere in his monologue, the King doesn’t pick up footsteps somewhere behind them -- but Phil does. His ear feathers twitch.

A soft voice calls out, “Phil?”

-- A self-imposed exile leads to a reunion.

You.

His skin writhes with an intruder's presence.

“What about me?” he rasps, aching eyes watching the ocean underneath him. The sun had set moments ago -- maybe hours, but he’s stopped counting -- and now, the waves lap at the cliff walls with a hypnotic motion. How long has it been now? Weeks? When was the last time he slept? Ate? Did anything besides stare vacantly at the endless horizon and entertain that nagging voice in his head.

Every part of his body aches since that moment in the forest -- he had to wrench the control away at each second, demanding the movement of his own body. His eggs had run from it. His body remained frozen so he wouldn’t chase after them with the dagger in his hand. The backpack is gone. He’s powerless.

Even his voice comes out wrong. His vocal chords are wrung from two warring voices fighting over them, a deep snarl so unlike what his body is used to, and his normal voice. It’s all… wrong.

Let me out.

The voice hisses, sharp and ringing in his head. It has no face, but he still raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Is that the best you can do?” he scoffs. “No. You’ll have to beg harder than that if you want to escape so badly.”

A quiet sea breeze rustles through his feathers. It all feels still, peaceful, static. Normally, he would be lulled to sleep by this, but something in his body refuses to let him sleep.

When he looks up, the void stares back at him.

What a familiar face. Distantly, he thinks of it as home. The night sky, free of twinkling stars and suffocating clouds, just a vast emptiness for him to soar through. This island was nice, but it was only a vacation.

The End was where he belonged.

Let me out.

“You can keep demanding that,” he sighs, disappointed. It’s like he isn’t even trying. He’s bored by each attempt because it hasn’t changed. Has it been days? “I won’t give it back so easily at your request.”

You will pay for this.

“Will I, now?”

Give me back my body.

The voice rumbles now, deep in the back of his head -- and his wings flare. “Your body?” he hisses sharply. Indignation rushes through him. His body? Does he even hear what he’s saying? “What makes you think this body is yours? It’s always belonged to me. Has your greed gotten to your head?”

You are so full of shit.

There it is.

His lips twist into a grin that stretches too thin on his cheeks. “Oh, crow,” he croons, “do you really think your insults will do anything to you like this?”

Fuck. You. Ender.

He laughs, louder, booming off the cliff face. “Face it, Philza. You’re useless like this.” The King taps his claws — his claws, not flimsy talons, dripping with the tears of the void — against stone and rolls his neck back, spreading out his wings. His wings. “Be patient. I haven’t had my fun with you yet.”

Do not hurt my kids.

“And what will you do about it?”

The King’s mind falls silent.

He hums. Typical. All bark and no bite from this little pest. “Try to take your body back. Speak for yourself if you think you’re strong enough,” he goads, returning his gaze to the void.

Die.

A laugh erupts from The King’s chest again. That really is the furthest he could do, isn’t it? How pathetic. “I will repeat this until it finally sticks to your feeble little brain, Philza: we are one and the same. You conquer every new land you’ve traveled across and steal every last piece of valuable treasure from its habitat -- and you say it’s for protection. For your safety. For your eggs. Do you really believe that fantasy that you’ve made up? Do you really think I would believe these lies you tell yourself? We both know the real reason you claim all of these things for yourself. Right?”

I didn’t take them.

The audacity. The King’s wings flare out again, feathers standing on end with rage and the pulsing amethyst light branding into his skin. “Do not lie to me, Philza.”

I didn’t take your fucking wings.

“Do not lie to me!” he roars. His fist slams into the ground, knuckles first -- and the King hears bones snap and break with a grotesque pop. This mortal body is just a puppet for the King to control, so Philza is the only one to feel the pain receptors firing. He hears a sharp, pained cry in his head and Philza’s pitiful voice finally quiets. Insolent brat.

The King lifts the damaged appendage with a flat stare. The stone underneath his first had cracked under the force, but Philza had a fast metabolism, so the hand slowly began to repair itself before the King’s eyes. It was hardly fascinating. Dragons could regrow heads.

Once it fixes itself entirely, the King rolls the wrist to test it out. It must still feel tender or sore, because he feels an involuntary flinch in his wings. He has to bite back a snarl. Of course Philza picked his wings for that.

“This is what happens when mortals steal from gods, crow,” the King snides, narrowing his eyes as he clenches the fist tight. “Now, quiet down. I think it’s about time I’ve rested, now that you’re out of the picture.”

Somewhere in his monologue, the King doesn’t pick up footsteps somewhere behind them -- but Phil does. His ear feathers twitch.

A soft voice calls out, “Phil?”

---

He didn’t hide his location on the map. It had to be a sign.

Missa had to believe that.

He told Phil he would protect him. As best as he can, with all of his willpower. Sure, he isn’t the strongest and he can barely hold his sword right sometimes, but he made that promise to Phil and he intends on keeping it.

“Tallulah… Tallulah told me,” he says to the black wings shadowing Phil’s seated form. The moon sits high in the clouds and against his back as Missa takes a step forward. It’s almost eerie, how still Phil’s body went at the sound of his voice. Just moments before, it was bellowing with a voice so unlike Phil’s, Missa was convinced somebody else -- something else -- was here.

Rose-weaved signs flash in his head. [ he… he hurt me ] [ but papa is still in there ] [ i know he is ] [ i dont know what to do apa ]

Chayanne had disappeared too. Part of Missa hoped he would find his little egg here too, along with Phil, bantering as they farmed in a new location or sparring with Phil’s cawing laughter and Chayanne’s adorable quacks. It was… wishful thinking at best. He couldn’t just ignore Tallulah’s fears.

There’s no response, so he continues cautiously, “You don’t have to say anything. I just… want to know if you’re alright. I don’t think you should be alone.”

Phil’s head lifts. Blond strands roll over his shoulder, but he doesn’t look completely over to meet Missa’s eyes. “How did you find me?”

He… sounds fine. Maybe too fine — it comes out flat, lacking any of his usual inflections, and cold. If Missa hadn’t known any better, he would’ve taken that answer the second he heard it.

But he doesn’t. “I came as soon as I heard,” he murmurs, trying to see past the shadows of Phil’s face. There’s the faintest glow of something violet illuminating his face from a downward angle. Underneath his black feathers, a pattern of light pulses slowly, like a heartbeat. Missa doesn’t tell him -- them? -- how long it took. They don’t need to know that; as long as they-- Phil knows that Missa was looking for him, that’s enough.

“You’re too late.”

“Maybe I am,” Missa says without missing a beat, confident as he takes another step forward. Phil’s wings begin to spread and, despite the warning signs, Missa advances. “I’m always late, aren’t I? Phil-- I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t respect my promise like I told you I would. I woke up for Tallulah, spent as much time with Chayanne as I could, but-- I couldn’t do it for you. I’m sorry.”

The Ender King scoffs. Missa shoves aside the queasiness rising inside his empty ribcage, because they’re using Phil’s voice but it sounds nothing like him. He knows better. “Your apologies mean nothing to me. He’s too far gone to hear this. Leave me, or else.”

Or else. Or else what? Missa’s resolve burns through the dread that tries to freeze him in place. “Tallulah wanted me to tell you, if I found you,” he continues with another step, and another dangerous twitch of those obsidian wings, “that she forgives you for attacking her. You’ve always looked out for her and Chayanne -- that’s why you’re doing this now, right? You just want to protect them. She knows. She forgives you.”

Tallulah doesn’t.

That’s the thing. She was terrified at the thought of following after Chayanne to try and find her papa, conflicted because of the fear this deity instilled into her and her love for her father. She didn’t take to any of Missa’s reassurances -- she was as stubborn as her feathered parent, albeit so much more intune with her emotions.

More importantly though, Tallulah told him that Phil knows she wouldn’t forgive so easily. It takes time for her to recover from her wounds, no matter how fresh they are. Phil would know this.

When Phil’s body finally turns to look at Missa, his eyes are wide. “She does?” he whispers, in utter disbelief.

Missa nods. “I missed you,” he adds quietly.

…There’s truth to that one, unfortunately. It feels too easy, and he hates that it works. Phil’s body sways as they stand up -- and Missa rushes to close the gap between them, reaching for Phil’s hands. They’re almost unrecognizable now, covered with black scales and nails sharpened into something far stronger than this sharper-than-average, black-painted nails.

He’s always loved Phil’s hands. The few nights where they were under the same roof, he asked if he could paint Phil’s nails for him. It was something that brought unnamed nostalgia to Missa, a memory from his past life he couldn’t exactly grasp, and it was a fun night where they learned they could paint Chayanne’s nubby paws as well. Phil’s hands were always nice and well-kept.

Like this, they’re completely gone. Not to mention the black mass pulsating on Phil’s shoulders with that violet glow he spotted earlier. His nonexistent stomach twists into knots. He rubs his thumbs along gnarled knuckles and, holding eye contact, asks Phil, “Are you okay?”

Phil’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. The wind lets his hair sway, his wings ruffle, and the act is laughable. Missa almost feels insulted. “I’m fine,” they reassure Missa with no reassuring inflection. “Now, what did th-- Tallulah tell you?”

Missa glances away. “She… everything, Phil. It- it freaked me out a little bit, but-- are you sure you’re okay? I just wanted to come here to make sure everything was fine. I’ll leave if you want.”

Phil’s wings twitch again -- Missa’s starting to realize this must be an involuntary twitch, because the sigh they let out sounds… aggravated, and the wings tense against Phil’s back again. Missa tries not to let his surprise show. He’s still in there.

Behind Phil’s body, past his wings, the edge of the ocean meets the starry sky. It’s an impressive sight. They’re fairly high up.

“I told her not to tell any more people,” Phil’s voice says with another displeased sigh. His eyes lift back to Missa’s. Gone are the beautiful azure he loved so much, replaced with a cold, amethyst purple. When they look at Missa, it’s like they’re looking through him. “How much do you know? The King won’t be happy when he hears about this.”

You don’t seem like it, Missa thinks, unimpressed. He swallows and glances away from Phil’s changed eyes. “I- I mean, I can pretend I don’t know anything? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t snoop.”

He’s still in there somewhere. Missa needs to get him back.

He… isn’t a fan of the idea he’s come up with though.

Phil’s eyes soften. He reaches up carefully with his unbroken hand, cupping the underside of Missa’s cheek in his black, clawed hand delicately, as if he were a flower. His touch is ice-cold against Missa’s wispy skin. “I’m sorry, my love,” he whispers, violet eyes searching his. “This is all my fault.”

Alright. That’s enough.

Missa slams his hands into Phil’s chest.

Lo siento, querido.

The cliff’s edge drops off directly into the ocean. Missa saw it as he paddled his boat to the island and worried, for the longest moment, that Phil’s distant figure was going to jump. Would he have flown, if he did? Did the deity Rose heal his wings like Chayanne told him? Would it be Phil that finally gets to spread his wings -- or somebody else?

Phil doesn’t fall. His only tether to stability beside his feet, desperately scrambling against the stony edge, is Missa’s hand, clenched around the collar of his kimono.

“What--” The King snarls -- his voice booms suddenly, unnaturally deep in Phil’s light voice and echoing over the cliffside.

Missa holds firm, staring down violet eyes stretched wide as saucers. He can’t hold this for long, but he keeps his stance balanced. There’s a chance this might not even work. Missa could be wasting his time.

Better him than Chayanne.

Phil’s wings pump through the air for his own balance. The flaps are stilted and uneven, strangely enough -- it’s not instincts trying to keep him upright. Something is holding them back. Is something trying to… keep them closed? Hope wells inside Missa’s chest.

The loud, thunderous voice quiets back to Phil’s as if nothing happened. “What do you think you’re doing?” they say incredulously, feigning innocence.

“Let me talk to him,” Missa says firmly.

They bat his eyes. “Talk to who? I’m right here, love.”

It’s all wrong. How smart does this thing think they are? Missa’s arm starts to shake with the strain of holding Phil’s weight -- so he gives the thief a thin, weak smile. “Philza never calls me love.”

Cloth slips from his hands, and Phil’s body plummets.

Without missing a beat, Missa dives after him.

(He really hopes the Ender King is allergic to water.)

There’s barely enough time for Phil’s body to rotate and catch the airs in his wings for flight. Those huge, black shadows billow in the wind as the thing controlling his body thrashes, suddenly out of his element, eyes stretched wide and fear in their grimace. Those wings have been broken for so long. Maybe, if they had the chance, they could’ve flipped around and taken control of his flailing body as they fall.

Missa can’t let that happen.

It’s a horrible feeling, taking hold of Phil’s wings in the air. Claws flash, but Missa grits his teeth through the pain and the cold drip of his blood down his face to hold Phil’s body as tightly as he can. Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento, lo siento.

Faintly, as the ocean below swallows them whole, Missa wonders… if Phil could fly, would he take Missa with him?

The water around them makes everything go blurry, sluggish, heavy. Missa is naturally weightless, but the armor he’s wearing lets him sink further down. More claws swipe at him until their squirming gets to be too much -- they break free with a sharp knock against Missa’s jaw and shove him away.

The Ender King’s eyes are terrified. They’re holding their breath, eyes wide and furious when they glare at Missa, but quickly, they look back up to the surface above them and try to swim for it. They kick Phil’s legs and pump his wings frantically -- Missa panics, thinking they’ll manage to escape the second they break free from the ocean’s grasp -- but then, Phil’s wings stiffen up. Their eyes shrink even further.

“No!” they screech, and all of the air rushes out of them in large, globe-like bubbles. As loud as the voice once was, the water muffles the booming effect, as if trying to silence his cries. “Stop-- give me back my body, you--”

All of Phil’s limbs freeze in their scramble. Missa watches as they try to suck in another breath and only take in the seawater, sputtering and seizing. It’s horrific, trying to watch somebody you love try to fight for control with no room to breathe. What is he supposed to do? What can he do?

The King continues babbling, voice growing shrill without any oxygen in his lungs, “Not again! Not again, I can’t-- No--”

Missa counts the bubbles rushing from his lips until there’s no more. The ocean grows still. Quiet. Phil’s body sinks.

Limp.

He’s going to die.

The realization spurs Missa into action immediately. He went unconscious, but Missa only has a minute until Phil dies and respawns somewhere else.

Hurried, frantic Spanish spills out of him as he takes Phil’s body in his arms and swims up to the surface -- Phil’s head lulls onto his shoulder the second they both break free. Land- land-- where--

There! Where Missa left his boat, a small shore under the cliff roof, but far away. Too far for Missa to reach with Phil’s -- heavy -- body in tow. Hastily, he searches his inventory.

It’s cluttered with random items he picked up along the journey after Phil’s map marker, but a singular enderpearl catches his eye. Thank the gods he decided to take it with him for some reason, as if he could’ve spoken with the Ender King through it or some shit-- it doesn’t matter. Missa grabs it and, without missing a beat, launches it in the direction of the beach.

As it flies, Missa wraps his arms around Phil’s body and squeezes him as tight as possible against his chest. Please teleport with me, please teleport with me, please--

Pop! Missa hits sand with a heavy weight in his arms.

It worked. He has no time to celebrate. Carefully, he adjusts Phil onto his back, taking as much care as possible with his wings, laying them out flat and not kneeling over sodden feathers, and his trembling hands hover over Phil’s body. The death counter ticks in his eyes. Fourty seconds.

And counting down.

Dios mio. What does he do?

Breathing-- is Phil breathing? He peels off his gloves and throws them somewhere in the sand, bones rattling in the dark wisps that make up his skin and making it nearly impossible to stay still to check for air. He hates how pale Phil looks, and the dark circles around his eyes, and the way his face is too slack -- is he breathing? If Missa’s hands would stop shaking--

Twenty-five seconds. Phil still hasn’t moved. Tears well in Missa’s eye sockets. Why hasn’t he moved?

Pulse-- check for a pulse-- please, why isn’t he-- it’s the best thing Missa can do, carefully pressing against Phil’s neck, trying to remember where the pulse point is. Twenty seconds. He bites his tongue to hold back a whimper. Phil, please--

Thmp. He can barely feel it. Thmp… thmp… thmp…

Is that--?

Water gurgles.

Immediately, Phil’s body seizes and water splatters from his open mouth -- Phil’s eyes shoot open as coughs rip from his throat. Missa retracts his hands with a surprised squeak, eyes stretching so wide it hurts but-- Phil?

He rolls to his side to dry heave, a painful, guttural noise that Missa hates, oh, Gods, please let him be fine. His whole body shakes with each retch. Missa, twitchy, anxious -- needing to do something because is it Phil, is he okay, how can he help -- finally gives into his urges and reaches over to brush Phil’s long hair out of the way as he vomits the seawater out.

When he finishes, Phil lets out a shaking breath and slowly, on shaking limbs, pushes himself up into a sitting position. Missa’s hands follow him carefully for support.

As he catches his breath, Missa hovers still. The silence wanes on. He can’t see his face -- his eyes, Missa just wants to check, dreading the sight of that same purple glow that’s still stuck under his feathers.

“Phil?”

His wings shift. Weakly, Phil’s head lifts to meet Missa’s seeking eyes.

Blue.

“Hey, mate,” Phil croaks, looking exhausted.

It’s-- Missa can’t help it -- an overjoyed sob escapes him, tears finally bursting from his eyes. “Philza!”

“Mis-- ouff--”

He doesn’t have time to return Missa’s exclamation the way they normally do before Missa collides into him all at once. A caw startles out of him -- so crowlike Missa is swarmed with adoration and endearment and relief. Phil’s okay, he’s alive, he’s back -- Missa has to bend down and shower his face in loud, blubbering kisses, vocalizing each with an exaggerated, “MWAH!” that makes Phil burst out into breathless laughter. It’s the only distraction Missa can give himself, trying so hard to keep his trembling bottom lip shut.

For Phil. For Phil.

“Okay, okay!” Phil laughs, craning his neck away for space but Missa only takes the opportunity to press his lips underneath his jawline and blow a raspberry against his skin. “What the fuck-- Missa! Chill out!”

His words are meant to be sharp, but he’s giggling like he’s drunk and Missa feels like it. It’s infectious; he feels silly laughing into Phil’s neck, needing to cling onto every inch of Phil’s skin he can reach, relieved and happy and so, so, so-- scared--

A sob tears out of him.

Missa has never been the strong one here.

“Oh, mate,” comes Phil’s achingly sweet murmur into his hair. Missa curls in on himself, into Phil’s embrace, letting the terror finally sweep over him.

Gods above, he almost killed Philza. He knows how painful death is for him, even if they respawn-- but if he respawned, he would be with Chayanne and Tallulah. He would’ve put them directly in harm’s way if he didn’t save Phil in time. They could’ve died because of him.

Missa wants to be strong for his family. He tells them, over and over again, he wants to protect them the way they protect him. He wants to be there for them when they need it. He wants to love them as much as he can.

But he can’t. He’s gone so often, and he can’t help it -- can’t help it when Death calls back to him in his sleep and he loses himself in his past again -- no matter how much he tries. If this plan of his failed, his kids would’ve been through the same thing. Gone, except, unlike him, they won’t be able to escape.

How can a protector do that? How can a father do that to his kids? He doesn’t deserve the title of a husband, much less a parent. All he does is sleep and dream, and-- and--

“I’m sorry.”

Missa hiccups. Phil’s voice vibrates against where he’s buried himself against his throat, his hands loose where they’re wrapped around Missa’s back. He leans just as heavily onto Missa, muttering, “This is all my fault.”

What?

Phil sucks in a breath -- and Missa hates that it sounds shaky like his sobs, which can’t be right. “I should’ve- I should’ve known he was coming after me. All of the warning signs were there. I took that stupid backpack without even thinking about it, and look where that fuckin’ got me. I’m-- god, I’m fucking stupid. The worst fucking dad.”

What? No, no, no-- Missa lifts his head away with his eyebrows knitted together, finding Phil staring resolutely away from him, his teeth gritted and eyes glimmering in the moonlight. That doesn’t make any sense. Why is he blaming himself? What is he blaming himself for? A deity possessing him? Is he being ridiculous?

“Phil, what are you talking about?” he whispers.

He watches Phil grind his teeth and give a very forced, controlled exhale through his nose. His eyes shift down to the sand underneath him, the space on his opposite side where Missa isn’t is, down into his lap. When he opens his mouth, his jaw trembles as he laughs something harsh and bitter, spitting, “I’m fucking terrified, Missa. I don’t know how to get myself out of this.”

His voice cracks in the middle of his words, and the second he finishes, Phil shatters.

Missa watches his face crumple in dismay. “No, no, no, querido,” he moves quickly and shushes him gently, gathering Phil in his arms. A strangled noise, torn between a sob and wail, gets muffled into Missa’s cloak and Missa cradles Phil’s head closer, pressing his lips to the golden crown of his hair. Skeletal fingers run through his scalp as delicately as he can.

How long has this been going on? How much has Phil been holding this all in?

Has he told anyone this?

Everybody must think of Philza as the most collected person on the island -- even Missa thought that, because who couldn’t? He held himself together well, kept to himself, and offered kindness whenever somebody needed help. He’s always been the one protecting -- because he never let anybody else do it for him.

He grew up so alone. Of course he would expect to manage on his own, but--

Missa screws his eyes shut, feeling more tears drip from his sockets. He can’t handle this problem by himself. And now…

Taking in a shaking breath to calm himself, Missa pulls away from Phil’s embrace. His face is red and splotchy, eyes swollen, and he makes another strangled grunt, covering his face with his hands to wipe away the tears and mucus. His shoulders still shake with labored breath and the occasional hiccup. He looks miserable.

Distantly, he wonders if he’s the only person that’s seen Phil like this.

Missa’s hands gently sweep away his to cup his jawline, tilting his face up. Tears stain his cheeks -- wet streaks that replace the sticky, dried-out marks from the seawater that was on his skin -- and Phil still can’t look him in the eye. He doesn’t seem like he’s used to this attention. This kind of vulnerability.

That’s fine. Missa brushes away the fresh tears that bead from his long eyelashes. He holds Phil, just like this, taking him in. He doesn’t want Phil to hide this from him, not when he’s here.

When blue irises finally focus on him, it’s shy. Missa’s chest flutters. Even like this, he can’t help but feel enamored by the crow in his arms. He had no idea someone so strong could look so bashful at someone like Missa.

Love is a strange thing, he thinks as he leans down and fits his lips over Phil’s.

It’s a simple message, a reminder. Phil tastes like seawater, but Missa drags him deeper, willing to drown himself in it for him.

Phil pulls away first -- his breathing still isn’t steady, and the kissing probably isn’t helping, but he stretches to meet Missa’s lips again anyway. It feels like a response -- Missa was fine as long as Phil heard, but he wants to return it-- him-- his head spins.

He doesn’t care if his feelings are reciprocated or if Phil even knows how far Missa is willing to go for him, always. Relief pours over him like honey and he sighs into the kiss, letting Phil take the lead.

There’s a bit of a challenge, namely Phil needing to breathe. He parts long enough to take in a breath before diving back in, and it’s-- endearing, tickles Missa in a way that makes him giddy, but he knows he should probably put a stop to this if Phil wasn’t going to, for Phil’s sake. He’s not the one with lungs here after all.

(He also wasn’t the one to almost drown.)

Despite this though, Phil chases after him the second he starts to pull away. His nose knocks into Missa’s skull, the edges of his nasal cavity -- and still, that doesn’t deter him. Missa’s endeared laugh gets muffled by Phil’s smiling lips; he can’t help but give into his fluttering chest and Phil’s touch.

Eventually, they part, just not very far. Missa rests his skull against Phil’s forehead -- at his insistence -- to listen to him steady his breath. Behind them, the waves lap at the sand. They’ve gradually dried over time thanks to the enchanted armor they wear, but Missa feels ready to collapse like he’s weighed down by bricks.

He can’t imagine how Phil must be feeling.

“Missa…?”

He blinks, sitting back on his (hurting) knees (ow, he’s been on them too long), peering at Phil. The crow looks like a mess still, but under the moonlight, Missa doesn’t care. Phil gazes at him, hesitant -- an expression Missa’s never seen on him before.

They… have a lot to talk about, don’t they? If Phil even feels comfortable enough to talk to him about it. Something nags in the back of Missa’s mind -- a horrible voice in his head that usually points out all of his insecurities -- that this feels too perfect. The Ender King disappeared too fast. They’re too happy.

Chayanne is still missing. Tallulah is no doubt worrying about him, and Phil, and now Missa. The sand underneath them is bathed in that eerie purple glow from the mass on Phil’s back -- he said something about a backpack? -- and Missa still feels the edges of his fears still gnawing at his bones. Phil isn’t okay, and there’s no telling the next time Missa may wake up.

Phil’s voice carries in the breeze. “Can… can you stay here tonight? With me?”

Oh.

A warmth, fuzzy and like the sun, coils in his ribcage. Missa nods, maybe a bit too aggressively, with, “Sí, sí, si me quieres aquí. Anything, Philza.”

Phil’s smile crinkles the edges of his eyes, his crow’s feet, in a way Missa thinks only he’s seen before. “Thank you. Th- thank you, Missa.” It sounds as if the world is lifted from his wings. Maybe it has.

It isn’t much, but it’s something. They find a spot underneath a tree, far from the beach or the stony cliff, and Phil lights up the area as much as he can despite his exhaustion. As they work together, they talk. This isn’t the end of it. The water scared Ender off, but it didn’t get rid of the mass on Phil’s back, or the darkened claws that were Phil’s hands.

It was enough for tonight. Phil hadn’t slept as a punishment to himself, afraid Ender would take control in his sleep -- but that ended in his downfall the moment his consciousness lapsed with the sleep deprivation. Ender swooped in, and Phil was too exhausted to try and fight back.

So it comes to no surprise that Phil’s asleep the second his head hits Missa’s lap.

Blond hair weaves through Missa’s skeletal hands as he chuckles quietly. With two fingers, he picks up a lock of his hair and presses his lips to it, murmuring to Phil’s sleeping face, “Buenas noches, querido. Que descanses.”

The moon above them wanes into something full, bright, whole -- a lunar eclipse just ending. It watches Missa slowly drift to sleep as well, hearing Death’s distant call.

For the first time in his existence, Missa fights against the natural calling of his undead body. Maybe it’s a pointless fight. Maybe Death will still claim him in the end. Maybe he’ll give into the urge with his fears too heavy and pressing in his mind and submit himself to the void.

He fights because he wants to wake up next to Phil. He can’t leave him alone after tonight. He wants to help him with this, in any way he can.

Just like he promised.

#my writing #qsmp #philza #qsmp philza #qsmp missa #missasinfonia #qsmp ender king #deathduo #death duo #pissa

[yoonyia]

HAPPY NEW YEARS EVERYBODY well not everybody yet BUT HAPPY NEW YEARS WOOOOOOOOOO 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

enders favorite food is corn, this includes anything corn like canned sweet corn, corn on a cob, steamed corn on a cob, grilled corn on a cob, any food that primarily contains corn, corn soup etc etc. Why does he like corn or how do I know he likes corn? I don't he just seems like a fellow that has 3 cobs of boiled full corn in his bag at all times like korean grannies or my dad does so yea ender likes corn and that's my only contribution to the enderverse community.

Eat corn guys and a happy new year~

#enders game #ender’s game #ender in exile #he likes corn guys i swear

[apollos-boyfriend]

i know i hype him up a lot and am extremely biased. but you genuinely cannot begin to imagine what happened to cjordan. he lost everything. he lost everyone. he created a goddess by the power of sheer bullshit. half the men around him, including actual gods, desired him carnally. he accidentally acquired a child. he watched her die repeatedly in front of his eyes. he watched his girlfriend do the same. he watched his goddess do the same. he did an unfathomable amount of drugs. he got banned from the moon. he was stuck in the void for literal centuries. he broke into multiple government buildings. he risked the lives of an entire city for his lady. he was the server’s strongest fighter. he was the multiverse’s best redstoner. he kept an eldritch being with the power to possess literal gods in his ender chest. he was exiled. he was later offered kingship of the very place he was exiled from. he’s committed an unfathomable amount of blasphemy. he has never had a successful date, nor do i honestly think he wants to. his best friend/sworn rival became god. he became god? he spent half the series being referred to as “sparklydick”.

#icarus speaks #he has the Range #his alternate universe self is immortal and also married to his goddess. he definitely evaded taxes. he has so much wrong w him

[triviallytrue]

also very funny looking back on Ender in Exile (more recent book OSC wrote as a direct sequel to Ender's Game) where he is clearly trying to portray Ender as a Normal Straight Boy which includes lines like "he decided he was going to have to kiss her, for this to work" and "go have lots of babies, not with me tho, with someone else"

[mossdontknowwhattheydoin]

LONG-ISH POST ABOUT WHATS HAPPENED SO FAR IN PHILS STREAM- so here goes-

Phil was planning on exiling himself if he couldn't save the eggs- and he's hallucinating???? He found things in the aquarium regarding the Ender King(from his hardcore lore which got me SO excited) and he talked about how the Ender King would not be a good thing to have on the island-

Also- mans is traumatized- like if y'all out here making qPhils lore seem not that bad I got news for u bc it's actually affecting him- like did u hear how how scared he sounded? Did you hear and see how fucked up he was about the message? And the fact that only he could see it-

Also the kids comforting him :(( my babies- my babies

I genuinely wonder how Phil's lore is gonna continue- like obviously Phil doesn't do lore as much as others but I think that makes his lore when it happens even more cool- like when it happens it's always so- eueueeueueue

Also- Phil talking about the birds in correlation to his hallucinations, please-

Also just man the eggs- lil babies :(( look at theeemmm!!

Also picture of the message in the aquarium! And the babies burning down the forest that the birdhouse was in! They just wanted to help their dad :(( sobs

#qsmp #qsmp philza #qsmp chayanne #qsmp tallulah #qsmp empanada #qsmp liveblogging #qsmp lore

[missycolorful]

something unintentionally beautiful about how most of the birthday letters Philza got from other eggs/islanders mentioned them having his back or willing to be by his side if he needs anything. Reassurances that he doesn't have to deal with everything alone. q!Phil has always felt like he needed to shoulder everything and handle his trauma by himself. And this whole Ender King possession has pushed that idea, having him isolate himself even further, to a point where he exiled and distanced himself from everyone, because he thought facing the Ender King alone was the best solution. And for this arc of his lore to sort of end with reading letters telling him that there are people who are willing to help him if he needs anything? Absolutely lovely.

(now he's just gotta let them help, c'mon, Philza, let your friends take care of you, you stubborn bird <3)

#qsmp #philza #q!phil #i say unintentionally because like. ain't no way cell knows what's going on lmao #maybe some of the egg admins do! and bagi kinda does but still

[whirld-of-color]

hehe… enderman oc.

byzar andijaz is a weird, somewhat dramatic and prideful enderman with several chips on her shoulder, who’s on a revenge quest to kill anyone who’s ever killed the ender dragon before after being kicked out of his home in the end kingdom!

byzar got kicked out after his mom (the ender dragon) was killed by a player- without her support, byzar’s position as inheritor to the crown was overthrown and she was swiftly exiled. this is because he is terrible at being royalty and is also generally regarded as “not having come out quite right”. admittedly, he did not!

the egg byzar is holding in the top right corner is the dragon egg from his home kingdom- it managed to take the egg while getting kicked out and considers the egg it’s sibling. potential sibling? the egg hasn’t hatched. sometimes when she serverhops to hunt down speedrunners she also steals eggs from those servers, although if the end realm in that server is safe, she tends to just return the egg

andijaz as a last name is just an old root word for “end”. byzar’s pronouns are not technically exclusive to she/he/it, more of a “my pronouns are a you problem not a me problem” kind of thing!

#oc reference #animation vs minecraft #animator vs animation #avm oc #ava oc #alan becker #enderman oc #original posting #she’s my poor little meow meow #byzar tag