"Do you think Philza's okay?"
Fit rolls over to look at Pac, his roommate staring up at the ceiling. He reaches over, cautiously offering his hand. Pac, of course, takes it just as hesitantly.
"Cell's back, maybe after you, and you're worried about Phil?" Okay, so Fit is worried too, but his point is well made. Pac had only told him some of the situation, in whispered tones and terrified whimpers a few hours ago, and he was worrying about someone who was at least safe?
Pac turns his head, and looks Fit dead in the eye. "You're with me. I know you won't let anyone hurt me. But who's with him?"
"He's safe enough," Fit says. "Physically at least."
"He just didn't seem, ah," Pac struggles with his words for a moment. "Well?"
"It's not really my place to say," he replies. "But he's Philza. He'll be fine."
"Will he?" Pac asks, fretting already. "If the Federation is inside his head, making him see things..."
It's a worry Fit has too, one he really doesn't want to think about. He wants to pretend that his old friend is fine, that going and murdering blazes and magma cubes will have fixed everything. He needs to believe it, because the alternative... The alternative is there's nothing he can do.
"Do you really believe him?" Pac asks. "That there was a book there."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Fit sighs, and sits up. He turns on the lamp and stretches, looking around his room of missing texture flooring and ugly walls - the safest place he could think to bring Pac when he heard the news.
"It's not the first time," Fit says. "Phil... He swears it was a dream, that he was just sleeping. He wasn't. Tubbo and me? We checked every corner of his house. He wasn't there. Then he takes us to where he thought he was taken and he swears there's nothing weird about it? But it's full of parrots - they shouldn't have spawned there. Tubbo even found an avocado sapling."
"Philza has a lot of avocados," Pac agrees. "You think the Federation took him?"
"I'm not sure, it's not their usual behaviour," Fit frowns. "But I don't know who else it would be?"
"The codes?"
"Maybe." Fit cracks his head to the side. "But I know Phil. Whatever he saw? It terrified him. And anything that scares Philza Minecraft is nothing you ever want to see."
"Should we ask him if we can visit?" Pac has a calculating look on his face. "I can cry scared all over again, I just need to remember why. And his bunker is very safe. They might look for me in your house, but they'd never think of his."
"Why? Is my company not good enough for you?" Fit is mostly teasing.
Mostly.
"No! No, no, no," Pac waves his hands in a desperate attempt to be understood. "I just... I'm worried, you know?"
"Yeah..." Fit sighs. "Yeah, I'm worried too... I'll ask him."
Pac nods, and Fit types.
You whisper to Ph1LzA: Can I bring Pac over? We might need to stay the night.
Ph1LzA whispers to you: sure mate
Ph1LzA whispers to you: is everything okay?
You whisper to Ph1LzA: We'll explain when we get there
That's the end of that; Fit shows his communicator to Pac, who agrees.
"I'm not really faking the tears," Pac promises, already tearing up. "I just don't think about it, and then it isn't real."
Pac's not the only one acting like that, Fit presumes; Philza's constant denials even with evidence in front of him... Whatever the fuck happened in that forest, it's nothing good. Something so terrible believing his memory is at fault is somehow better.
"To Phil and Missa," Fit reminds Pac, not really needing it.
They warp together, and at the same time.
---
Philza is waiting at the top of the hatch when the pair arrive. To most people he would look entirely normal, but Fit can see the way his eyes flitter as he waves. Pac waves back, while Fit gives his traditional "oi!!!"
Philza laughs, and leads them down into the basement.
"What's up?" he asks the two of them. "Need more toast or something? I thought you were both asleep."
"No, um," Fit looks to Pac, realising they didn't quite work out what to say.
"Bagi told me more about the murders," is what Pac says, his voice dropping very quiet as he does. "She thinks... We think someone from my past is on the island."
"Shit," Philza closes his eyes for a moment. "How bad is it?"
"Last time I saw him," Pac's pace picks up; Fit squeezes his shoulder as he sees panic come in. "Last time... He nearly killed me. And the messages..." Pac grabs the hand on his shoulder and squeezes it back. "Some of them might be addressed to me."
Philza doesn't ask questions, he just glances around his children's bedroom, then looks at Fit. Fit meets his eyes.
Philza sighs, and caves.
"Alright," he says. "Do you want to sleep in Chayanne's room? I can adjust the door to just the three of us, Missa, and my eggs for now."
Fit knows it isn't for Pac's sake that Philza is changing the doors, he knows it for sure.
They get their beds set up, tucked behind the chests where a casual observer cannot see. Philza doesn't have a bed, but Fit makes them for him and Pac, placing them tucked away.
"Would you stay with us?" Fit asks, before his old friend can slip away.
Philza looks genuinely surprised by the request, "why, mate? I'll just be in the eggs' room."
"Safety in numbers, right?" Pac asks, glancing between the two. "I would... Feel safer if you were here too."
Fit knows its a manipulation tactic to convince Philza to stay, to make sure the old crow is not alone. It still rings so very true - and so very against everything ingrained within Fit's soul.
It's fine. For a few nights he can manage it, if its what his two closest friends need.
"Alright," Philza hesitates, but comes over and sits on the edge of Pac's bed. He takes off his backpack, and leans his scythe just in reach. Pac and Fit take the opportunity to remove their prosthetics, hastily reattached to travel over here, and stretch.
When Philza stands again, both of them can see how unstable he looks.
"Let's push our beds together," Fit says. "If we put Pac between us, there isn't an angle they can get him from."
Philza looks at Fit, and knows exactly what he's doing. Still, Philza crafts up a third bed, and squishes it between the two.
He nearly falls as he walks around to do it; Fit catches him, helps him steady, but is brushed off before he can say a word.
"Alright," Philza says. "Pac in the middle then. You won't get too warm, will you?"
"I'm Brazilian," Pac says. "It's always too cold here now Mike is gone."
They both see how heavily Philza drops to the bed, curling himself back to Pac and defensively ready. Fit, on his side, curls close to Pac - his one arm over him.
It's not really a surprise how quickly Pac falls asleep, with the sheer trauma and strain of the day on his back. He quickly falls into dreams, and Fit can only hope they are kind.
"Phil," he asks, once he knows Pac is asleep. "Won't you sleep?"
"You needed a guard," Philza says.
"You know we don't. You and I? We'll wake if anything so much as tests the hatch."
It's true, and they both know it.
Philza, however, doesn't speak.
At least, not for a long time; Fit considers conversation a lost cause and is about to give up and call this good enough when he hears Philza again, voice broken just like it was in the garden.
"If I sleep, will I wake?" is what Philza asks, whispered almost silently. "How will I know when the world is real again? What will I see this time?"
"I'll make sure you wake up," Fit promises, because he can. "And I'll do something to make you absolutely certain its really me."
"Promise?"
Philza sounds so weak, so small like this. Fit... Fit cannot stand it, not at all. He reaches a little further, and manages to put his hand on Phil's shoulder.
Philza's own hand reaches over, clinging to it.
"I promise," Fit says. "We'll wake you if we leave. We won't let anything weird happen, its just sleep."
Philza turns, and his eyes do not seem to trust Fit. But they are also exhausted, and desperate, and terrified.
"Go to sleep, Phil. I won't until you do."
"I'm sorry," Philza whispers, sounding absolutely broken. "Thank you. Both of you. I know... I'm sorry."
Fit squeezes his shoulder again.
"It'll be alright," Fit replies. "I've got you. I've got both of you. It's going to be okay."
Nothing else is said before they eventually fall asleep.
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happy new year everyone!! 🌟✨ it's been almost exactly a year since i first tentatively poked my head into this little space here on tumblr, and being part of the wonderful am/miles/tlsp community here with you all has truly been one of the highlights of my 2023 💗
as i'm sure is the case for most of us, it's been a year of ups and downs for me. i've been lucky enough to experience some amazing things (living in a new city, reconnecting with my creativity, getting my dream job, discovering music that speaks to my soul, making new friends, reading some amazing books) and human enough to experience some less incredible things (chronic pain, family difficulties, discovering my dream job is not in fact my dream job, getting long covid, the ever uphill battle of healing from trauma). through it all, this space has been a continued solace and source of joy, where i've met some truly special people and felt part of a little community where i get to have fun and flail and just be me. i can't even begin to express how grateful i am to be part of a space like this, or how grateful i am to everyone here who makes it what it is ✨
i also just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who has supported me with my writing over this past year, whether that's through kudos or comments or messages or amazing cheerleading/editing help. one of the absolute gifts of discovering this fandom has been the writing fic side of it. maybe it sounds silly, but writing four walls has genuinely been one of the highlights and biggest achievements of my year. writing has always been something incredibly close to my heart, but my degree left me totally sapped of inspiration and confidence, and i'd been struggling for a while to climb out of that after graduating. something about alex and miles just instantly sparked off inspiration in me that i hadn't felt for a long time, and getting to write about them over the past year has reminded me of the sheer joy of creating and the magic of getting to share that with people ✨
it's something that's finally given me the confidence to pick up my own original writing again too, and i couldn't be more grateful to alex and his wonderful lyrics (particularly the entirety of humbug) and to everyone who's supported my fic ventures for helping me reconnect to and explore my creativity. it's the best feeling in the world to finally feel like i'm coming home to that part of myself and carving out a proper space for it in my life 💗
2023 was far from perfect, but it was filled with so many brilliant moments of illumination and i feel i am leaving it with a deeper sense of myself and my path moving forward. i know it's going to be a rocky one at times, but i am excited for what 2024 holds in store for me - and i can't wait to continue flailing with you all over all things milex and to enjoy all the amazing fics/gifsets/posts/art to come!
wishing all of you a year ahead full of wonderful moments and new experiences and fulfilment 💫✨ i really am more grateful than i'll ever be able to adequately express for this space here, and to all the amazing people i've been lucky enough to get to know through it. here's to an amazing 2024 for all of us 💗💞🩷💓💖💕💝
(the photos above are just a random little collection of ones over the past year that i particularly associate with the various things i've talked about in this post)
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say it
Byleth makes Edelgard say swear words.
(~350 words; too stupid to post on ao3)
“‘Shit.’”
“Grotesque.”
“Give it a try.”
“… Shit.”
“Very good. ‘Ass.’”
“That one is easier. I’ve said it before.”
“Then why don’t you say it now?”
“I… er…”
“If it’s so easy, then do it.”
“… Ass.”
“Excellent.”
“Don’t mock me.”
“How about this one? ‘Cunt.’”
“Wh—I actually, um, don’t know what that means.”
“You don’t know ‘cunt’?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Byleth, it’s simply not in my lexicon.”
“It means va—”
“All right, I understand. The gesture was absolutely unnecessary. I’m astounded at how many words there seem to be for the same thing.”
“If you think that’s bad, you won’t believe how many there are for pe—”
“Well, this has been a fun exercise and hopefully a source of great amusement to you, but I think I’m finished.”
“Wait, wait.”
“No.”
“One more, one more.”
“Mm, no. I don’t think so.”
“Please?”
“… You know it’s not fair of you to give me those eyes.”
“Is that a yes?”
“All right. All right. One more.”
“Yesssss. ‘Fuck.’”
“Byleth!”
“What?! You said one more, and that’s the one to say.”
“I’m—I am not—”
“Please?”
“You can’t pull the same maneuver twice in a minute and expect to succeed. That’s poor strategy.”
“Is it working?”
“… Regrettably, it is.”
“Then it seems like a good strategy to me. Just say it. ‘Fuck.’ It’s easy.”
“It most certainly is not!”
“Try it. Say ‘fuck.’”
“… Fuck.”
“Oh, that’s rich. That’s very good.”
“Are you quite satisfied?”
“Nearly. Now use it in a sentence.”
“Byleth.”
“I’ll give you one. It’ll be easy.”
“I did not—and do not—agree to this!”
“Just repeat after me.”
“No!”
“Say, ‘Byleth, I want you to fuck me.’”
“… Oh.”
“Go on, El. You can do it.”
“… Byleth, I…”
“Keep going.”
“Byleth, I-I want you to… f-fuck me.”
“Good girl. Wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Less than I—ah—thought it would be.”
“Mm. Well, you’ve certainly earned a reward, haven’t you?”
“Yes, my teacher. Fuck…”
“Aren’t you a fast learner? I’m impressed.”
“If you don’t shut up and kiss me right now, I’m going to start swearing in earnest.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Your Majesty.”
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