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youphoriaot7 · 8 months

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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.

#SO HOW DO YOU THINK TOMORROW'S GONNA GO?!#i'm excited :D #qsmp #qsmp fic #qsmp drabble #qsmp philza #qsmp headcanons #ev;hatch #i FLEW through this so it's a mess #but i hope y'all enjoy #this is all i can manage for fluff tonight the angst will come later i promise

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sweetie-peaches · 5 months

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I’m rotating qtubbos trauma and denial in my head so hard

After getting off the boat the first thing he does is throw himself head first to working on his projects. Blood soaks his hands through the gloves he threw on but he puts it out of his mind

He worked until he couldn’t work any longer. And passes out, leaning on the boiler in his factory, positioned awkwardly across pipes and conveyer belts. His exhausted riddled, used to purgatory brain translates the warmth of the boiler to his team, all curled up together, only having each other to keep themselves warm.

He’s thrown into the final battle, thousands of eyes watch as he misteps, his hand shake and he drops his sword.

Everything seems to slow down then, a Diamond sword jets out from his abdomen, it’s slick with his blood. Ruby red, so so red. Blood clots in his nose, throat, and ears.

His friend.

His guardian.

He looks up into Phil’s eyes, he wasn’t wearing that mask anymore. Red..ruby red eyes so full of desperation, and fear.

He did what had to be done.

And for what?

He wakes up at with a cough, hitting his head against the hard metal of the boiler, his entire body tingles with burns but he puts that out of his mind as his shoulders shake as globs of blood and spit eject themselves from his mouth

Respawns always left such a nasty toll, especially with no time to let himself heal.

After unclogging his throat, and grabbing something to clear away the coppery taste. He throws himself back into work.

He comes up with the frankly genius idea of mixing speed potions with caffeine, downing bottle after bottle and letting his brain hyperfocus on ever detail of his factory. He fixes things that didn’t even need to be fixed.

He just wanted to do anything to put that hellish island out of his mind

#peaches posts #qsmp qosts #qsmp #qsmp tubbo #qsmpblr #qsmp purgatory #tubbo #qsmp drabble #qsmp fanfiction

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plant-acts · 4 months

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After the success of the first QSMP Gift Exchange, I am proud to announce that we are back for round two!

This months theme will be ❤️VALENTINE'S DAY!!!❤️

Starting now, if you are not a writer, you will be able to gift artwork instead!

Be sure to fill out the form below if you are interested in joining, OR checking out the Discord server for future projects!

❤️(An A03 account is not needed for fic's!)

⚠️We DO NOT allow proshippers at all!⚠️

⚠️No NSFW in gift submissions.⚠️

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angelsandarsenic · 23 days

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ya'll wanna read the Deathduo drabble I wrote for a school assignment?

Of course you do, here you go.

"Do I believe in vampires," Phil repeated skeptically. Charlie had a strangely nervous look to him, and Phil raised an eyebrow. If anyone would believe this shit, it would be Charlie, but it was also equally likely that he was pulling Phil's leg.

"You would have proof, wouldn't you?" He put on a smile that made Phil sure he was joking. "Come on, you ever see any empty refrigerator cases when you knew for sure there was someone in there before?"

Phil frowned. He had been just about to open one of said compartments to inspect a new body and frankly wasn't in the mood for this. The report he had on this John Doe was severely lacking. That wasn't abnormal considering that as the coroner, he was always one of the first people to use it; not even abnormal in the fact that it didn't list a name, but there were usually some details by the time it got to him. Primary concerns, state of the body when found, state of the scene and whether or not it was suspected of foul play--all of it was listed as "inconclusive". Meaning Phil had a lot of work to do. Quesadilla Island was small, so his duties as a coroner were combined with being the medical examiner, and frequently had to do a lot of his own investigating. That didn't yet include his...unofficial duties.

Did Phil believe in vampires?

"No Charlie, that's never happened. And no, I don't believe in vampires." There were many beings beyond mortal nature, beings in fact, that he often dealt with, but vampires were not one of them. "Why, do you think you've met one?" It would probably eat him if he had, but then again, Charlie, as unassuming as he was, was one of the only people who knew of Phil's supernatural expertise for a reason.

He opened his mouth as if to respond, then closed it, glancing around. "No. No, probably not. Of course not, I was just joking. You're no fun Phil." He rolled his eyes, grinning again like usual and slapped the blonde man on the back. The change in demeanor was obvious, sure, but since his daughter died Charlie had had moments like that often. This wasn't his first rambling about the undead either, though it was mostly wistful dreaming about ghosts and angels (dreadful creatures, though Charlie didn't know that). He had never asked questions like this before.

"Yep, I'm sure." It had become his default response to that statement after so often of hearing it from his kids. "Are you here to help me out, or just interrogate me about the supernatural?"

"No, no, I uh, I actually have to be getting home. And groceries, I really need groceries. I'll see you later Phil!" He seemed slightly preoccupied, even as he cheerfully waved the man goodbye, but Philza had work to do, so he got on with it.

A gentle puff of cold air brushed against his face when he opened the airtight metal door. The cabinets for unidentified bodies and/or potential victims of foul play were kept at about negative ten degrees, to almost completely stop the process of decomposition. Without his gloves, the chilled metal would have stuck to his skin when he pulled out the gurney tray and transferred the body to the examination table. Typically, he preferred to start his examinations as soon as possible when receiving a new body, but this one had been brought in at the end of an already late shift and Phil was desperately wanting his bed and some dinner, so he had stuck it in the freezer for the night.

The man was long- tall, his feet and head both nearly hung off the edge of the table. His hair was dark and looked silky smooth, like the feathers of a raven, though Phil wasn't in the habit of petting the hair of corpses. His eyes were closed. That wasn't entirely unusual, except in this case the man seemed peaceful and completely relaxed, as though he had simply fallen asleep or been knocked unconscious. He was not. Even before the freezer, his skin had been completely cold and was extremely pale, no lingering blush on his cheeks. He had been dead for at least the whole day. There was not a single mark on him. No bruises, scratches or blemishes, no punctures or stab wounds or ligature marks. The coroner couldn't accurately pinpoint the man's age, however, he was clearly too young to have died from seniority or heart problems.

It was going to be a real hassle if Phil had to ask around about this man. His possessions, which still sat in a plastic bag on Phil's desk, hadn't included a wallet, driver's license, or anything of such consequence. Not even a phone. Quesadilla Island wasn't a large area--hence the name. A small community in the middle of nowhere, only one road leading in and out and no other towns for miles, discounting the ghost town locally known as Purgatory for lack of any better knowledge. Phil had no idea where this man came from, how long he had been here or where he was going. If he had died from some rapidly onset disease, it might take ages to find out otherwise.

Phil picked a small light out of his coat pocket and leaned over. With one latex gloved hand, he delicately peeled open the man's left eye. The ceiling lights flickered. Phil froze, straightening.

The lights glowed steadily, as if it never happened. Phil looked around, but finding nothing save for the sterile, empty white room he was used too, the same smell of sterile chemicals and glistening stainless steel, he turned back to the corpse. Phil leaned over the body once more, delicately opening the eye and turning on his hand held light.

He almost startled when the pupil looking back at him was pure, citrine yellow. Phil's own eyes widened. Contacts. Surely they were contacts. As annoying and admittedly gross as it was to have to pick contacts out of a dead person's eyes, Phil would much prefer that to the possibility of...

He checked the other eye, only managing to confirm that it was indeed also yellow, and in fact, not a contact lens, when the lights flickered and buzzed, like they were about to go out.

Philza shot up and immediately his left hand was in his pocket, clutching the protection charm he always kept with him at the morgue. The lights continued to short out, on and off, on and off. This time, Phil's stare was glued to the man--the creature--on the table. In his experience, anything that looked human was malicious. Anything that looked so convincingly human could only be very, very dangerous. He backed out of arm's reach.

Somehow, whenever the lights went dark, the figure still remained perfectly clear. Something flickered stark white over its face, and something else was burning darker and darker into its chest, right along its collarbones. It glowed faintly at the edges, like a brand being burned into the creature. Wings? Over its face, Phil was starting to make out the silhouette of a skull, as if in grease paint.

Phil's heart thumped loudly in his ears. That...that was not good. He didn't know what it was, but it wasn't good.

At some point, the intensity of the lights had become glaring when they were on. The electrical buzzing crescendoed, until Phil had to close his eyes and cover his ears, for fear of what all this flashing might do to his sight. Even under his hands, he heard the loud shatter and pop of the lights blowing out above him, felt a few shards of glass plunk against his lab coat before hitting the floor. Everything went silent.

Phil didn't dare move. If there was any chance of catching that thing's attention, he didn't want it. However, slowly, he opened his eyes.

In the pitch dark, the white skull defined the creature's face. There was no more burning edge to the wing brand across his chest, but faintly, as if through translucent skin, Phil could see the dim ivory of bones. The creature's whole skeleton.

The thing on the exam table still looked very much human, insides included, but he was still having considerable trouble making anything out for certain without the lights.

When those lurid, golden eyes snapped open, Phil was sure that the thing would have no trouble seeing him. He expected it to stand, to float, to move with some inherently inhuman, Wrong motion that would set every alarm bell off in his head. He expected it to be silent, eerily turning to look at him, or perhaps ignoring him completely in favor of the door. Worse, maybe to go for the other corpses, in which case, Phil had to decide how he was going to explain the mutilation or disappearance of three whole bodies to his boss because he certainly wasn't going to risk his life for them. He hadn't the slightest idea how to deal with this thing to begin with! The closest he could come, as on the nose as it was, was that this was some avatar of Death. The obsidian black wings were Her symbol and the skull on the creature's face and bones glowing faintly through its skin weren't exactly subtle.

It came to him then. A main character in every folktale but only vague approximations in the thick tomes in his library. A creature none had seen and lived, or perhaps a creature to be gambled with. The unkillable but too often cheated. A creature no one was ever truly prepared for, lacking so much proper documentation that Phil was stunned to be seeing it now, in such a plain form. A Grim Reaper.

Is it here for me? He wasn't that old!

That conclusion didn't sit right though. It didn't feel like his time yet. Not in the petulant, fearful way he was sure the Reaper encountered often, but a surety deep in his soul. It wasn't Philza's time.

But Philza was not prepared for this.

The Reaper groaned. It brought a hand to its eyes and rubbed, the same way Phil had watched Chayanne do in the mornings. It rolled over on the table like it was going to shut off an alarm and go back to sleep for just five more minutes. The table wasn't meant for that. He rolled right off with a mighty thud!

That shook Phil out of his stupor. He almost laughed, listening to the creature curse, but he wasn't calm enough for that yet. Still, he grabbed a bigger flashlight off the desk and turned it on, shining it on where the Reaper lay in a naked heap on the floor. It jumped when the beam fell on it, as if it hadn't realized he was there.

"Um...hullo? Are you alright mate?" With nothing else to say and too much dignity to scream and run, his brain defaulted to British over-politeness.

The Reaper swallowed, and cursed again, this time in Spanish before replying, "Don't look!"

Immediately, Phil turned the beam away, shining it pointlessly on the tiled floor. There were a few seconds of silence, before the Reaper spoke up again. It sounded very human. "Where am I? You uh, don't have my clothes, do you?"

"I do!" Only a second after realizing that he ought to have been getting the man his things, he also realized how creepy that must have sounded. "Here. Uh, sorry, you're at the morgue. Some police officers picked you up thinking you were dead, so..." he trailed off. The larger plastic bag had held entirely normal civilian attire, so Phil hadn't found it strange at first. Now, he was genuinely surprised it wasn't a long black cloak. He slid the bag across the floor and the Reaper tore into it eagerly.

There was a lot of shuffling before the Reaper muttered, and Phil could see the white glow of his face paint raise in the air as he muttered, "bien, bien."

Hesitantly, Phil called out, "all good?"

"Yes, yes, thank you."

"Right." He didn't bother pointing the light back at the Reaper. "I'll just go turn on the backup generators then."

"Ah, mierda. Did I do that? I'm sorry."

Taken aback, the human's plan to leave and hopefully not return until the entity had left was derailed. "What happened to you?" he asked.

When the beam fell upon the Reaper, Phil realized it was in fact very tall. At least a whole head taller than he was. It didn't squint or flinch away at the harsh light, as if it made no difference to him. The Reaper now donned ripped black skinny jeans and a purple and teal hoodie. The white face markings disappeared under the light, but he could still see the tips of black wings peeking over the creature's collarbones. He had several black rings adorning long, nimble fingers and frankly looked as though he should be wearing barbed wire necklaces and thick eyeliner. Maybe he did when he wasn't laying "dead" on the side of the road.

No, that was silly. Phil was jumping to stereotypical conclusions. Don't be rude. Admittedly, the mental image made him smile slightly.

His expression was just as clueless as Phil felt. "I wish I knew."

”You’re supposed to be dead,” Phil informed him.

”I am,” the Reaper answered, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Or, well, I was. Sort of.”

Phil attempted to process that for a moment, to no avail. All supernatural nonsense aside, the dead were dead, this he knew as fact. ...Except apparently not anymore. “You didn’t have a pulse.”

”Oh no, I wouldn’t. I’m a Reaper, we don’t bleed. Or have heartbeats. I’m all skin and bones, really.” He chuckled quietly at his own joke.

Huh. So that confirmed Phil’s suspicion then. Why is he here?! “Do you have a name?” That was the polite question to ask first.

”Right! Yes, hi, I’m Missa. Sorry, I haven’t really talked to anyone in a long time. Not anyone who wasn’t about to die at least.” He held a hand out, which, out of the flashlight beam, turned back into pale bone under translucent skin. When the human hesitated, he seemed to sense the questions that died on Phil’s tongue, and his enthusiasm waned considerably, awkwardly drawing the limb back in to himself.

Phil crossed the room, reached out and took it anyway. When had any entity been so friendly? Much less one of this caliber? The answer was never, and it never hurt to be in such a creature’s good graces either. It occurred to him momentarily that physical contact with the Reaper might mean certain doom, but he was still wearing gloves, so he figured it was fine.

The way Missa lit up made him unable to resist the mirroring smile that split his own cheeks. “I’m Phil.”

”Nice to meet you Phil!” Hefting himself up on the autopsy table as casually as if it were his living room couch, he grinned delightedly. “I don’t suppose any other bodies have come alive- or uh, undead on you lately, have they?”

Oh boy, Phil was not getting paid enough for this.

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So basically, something mysterious made Flippa Come Back Wrong and Reaper!Missa is here to investigate!

#deathduo #QSMP drabble #philza minecraft #missasinfonia #charlie slimecicle #qsmp juanaflippa

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cubitodragon-moved · 8 months

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[+] Ph1lzA

It’s the silence that sits in the Garden of Hope and Music that tips him off first.

Silence, on seeing the beds. Eyes skip, rereading over signs he recognises. The creak of his chair as he rises, dull aches from a months old nightmare rising like scars against his back. The weight of the inevitable a stone stuck in his craw.

There’s an empty kitchen and a neglected garden, names he doesn’t utter aloud echoing in the walls of his mind. Climbing back to the main room finds the new messages he hadn’t clocked at first glance.

There's. A lot of sighing. On finding the gift and the apology etched in remorse and affection. Something like resignation takes up residence behind his eyes, hidden by the shadow cast by the brim of his hat.

Then outside, where a half told story settles its talons into his shoulders; replies to questions he doesn’t hear but can imagine. The crushed grass and sign placements walking him through the path taken when he wasn’t here.

He retreats back down stairs. Short cracked nails dig into the top rail of his abuelito chair, body leaning with unsteady purpose as he surveys an empty nest.

A bunker that failed its purpose.

He sinks back into the chair, leaning into the back of it with a sigh and tips back his head. Closes his eyes.

The warpstone will herald the arrival of..someone, soon - Fit, most likely. Tubbo, probably, the latter no doubt bringing enough sound with him to fill the innards of the Wall ten times over, nervous energy no doubt dialled well past eleven and into triple digits. But for right now, there is silence, save for the slow breaths drawn unwillingly from his lungs.

And Philza does what Philza has always done, has done now almost every day for the past however many months:

He waits, for his kids to wake up.

#qsmp #Qsmp Drabble #Qsmp fic #Qsmp Philza #Qsmp eggs #I don’t know where this came from but it needed to be excused from my brain #qsmp fanfiction

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disfrutalakia · 7 months

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Werewolf Forever BUT he never told anyone about it (except Cellbit but they were married once so it doesn't count, he witnessed the full moon once) so nobdy on the island knows he is a Werewolf, like sure he has sharp fangs, is a lot hairer than normal humans and very very tall (imagine something like 1,95cm (no clue how much it's on feet)) but he is just a guy!!

There are urban legends about a weird big wolf running around some nights, but people truly don't suspect him (Cellbit just tries not to laugh when the rumors get to him)

And how the secret gets out you ask? At the end of the happy pills arc, the emotions of being off the drugs, of being so angry and the fact that he hasn't transformed in so long, make him turn right moments before he pass out. So yes when people enter the order there is a giant wolf there that people swear it's Forever.

Nobody knows what to feed him, if they should give him dog food or human food, they are confuses but are trying their best.

When he wakes up, he expects people to be afraid of him, it's what usually happens, but not this time

#qsmp #qsmp forever #qsmp drabble #cause it's so short you know

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mad-c1oud · 3 months

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“Don’t play the hero all the time.” with Etoiles and Slime if you'd like!!! They truly are blorbos <3

nonnie they really are, you're sooooooooo right

Charlie pov starcicle for a change

(more dialogue prompts here and here!! Thank you sm for this one anon <3)

+++++

“Don’t play the hero all the time.”

Charlie would feel bad for making Étoiles wince with how rough he’s being as he plays nurse, but he can’t find it in himself to calm down. Not after everything that just happened. He’s tired of almost losing this stupid fucking cucumber with a death-is-noble complex. It’s gonna give him grey hairs at this point. Grey slime. Whatever.

Étoiles hisses when Charlie accidentally brushes against an open wound along his arm in his haste to wrap the gouge in his shoulder. Fuck. He presses a warm but angry kiss to the back of his skull in an apology and the fighter hums happily. Idiot. Stupidstupidstupid-

“Then what other part am I going to play? You already have damsel in distress covered.”

Charlie rolls his eyes. “Har har, maybe consider the court jester route then, your jokes are getting better.” Étoiles snorts quietly, drooping forward tiredly. Charlie worries his lip between his teeth as he gently rights the fighter. He has to be exhausted after that fight. Pleased, content, and beyond satisfied with the outcome but tired. There’s a slump to his shoulders that Charlie rarely sees and it’s… it worries him. Étoiles is more than capable of doing what he does best, but Charlie wants to protect him too, he just has no idea how.

“Nothing compared to yours, Charlie,” The fighter probably means for it to come out sarcastically but his tone is sugary sweet and just so full of fondness that it has Charlie pausing where he’s winding gauze around the other’s torso to lean heavily into his back, arms coming up to wind around his waist carefully, mindful of the burns to his chest.

Charlie takes a moment to just breathe with the other, forehead pressed to the nape of his neck as they sit in silence. The stress of the day should be over, washed down the drain of the shower Charlie shoved Étoiles into the moment he won his fight, was out of arms way and in the circle of Charlie’s arms, back at home. Whole. Warm. Safe.

But there’s a lingering anxiety there, knowing this isn’t the last time they’ll be like this, but in all honesty, it’s an annoyingly fair trade. For all the times Charlie has to heal sew-up cuts and ice burns, Étoiles has to turn around and pull arrows out, replace broken bones. Back and forth. Around and around they go.

“You suck. Next time, let me play the plucky sidekick yeah? They always get cool deaths or super awesome heroic moments in the final battle. I need to complete my arc bro, lemme have that.”

Étoiles turns a little when Charlie finishes tucking the gauze into itself, wrappings bandaged limbs around the slime in as tight a hug as he can manage. Charlie tries to not actually melt into the embrace, sinking into the blissful warmth radiating from the star of the show. His star.

This is good. This is worth it all.

“Okay. Next time, Charlie.”

“Cool beans. Now unhand me, we’re not done with your boo-boos, babe.”

Étoiles giggles into Charlie’s hair, warm and happy and loose-limbed and safe. He’s safe. “No, I'm the hero and I won,so I am claiming my prize.”

Oh, this suave motherfuck- “That’s it, I’m going to bury you in the garden and see what happens. Say hi to the worms for me, dick.”

“Nononono Charlie haha please- not the dirt-“

Etoiles isn’t buried alive, but Charlie makes sure to bury him in kisses at least. Serves him right.

#they are silly #starcicle #etoiles #slimecicle #qsmp #qsmp slimecicle #qsmp drabble #qsmp etoiles #mad writings #mad box #gotta stop using mad for every personal tag #wrote this in 10 min excuse the mistakes and run on sentences

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flightlesskaz · 6 months

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Drabble about QSMP Jaiden, grammar and spelling errors. It is... long... thanks.

I'm watching Purgatory vods (to catch up instead of just the bit I managed to watch in stream) and I decided to watch Phil.

When they're admitting their sins and Jaiden says, "I'll stab everyone in the back for cucurucho. I don't give a shit." Honestly hits something for me.

A bit TMI as I project: My memories from a young age are super hazy, I imagine (thanks to lore) that Jaiden is similar. With everyone on the server worried that the memory issues is caused by the feds or trauma they might have had from being on the island previously. Having angst is fun, but I don't really see myself that much in such characters. You can have your heart-wrenching moments, but I love seeing characters casually just living and still content on a daily basis. Randomly remembering things or having seemingly random train of thoughts, but not remembering what she did last week. Also, absolutely adoring her parental figure even as an adult. Not really needing a reason or completely remembering why. I don't think I've ever heard her say, "I love cucurucho because..." or "I trust the federation because..." She's just happy to do it. Similarly, Cucurucho loves her too. It's constantly shown how cucurucho terrorizes the others but they're so soft for Jaiden. Her birthday, checking up on her just to see, giving her gifts just cause they can, accepting her interest (birds, Hatsune Miku, art) and actively encouraging and supporting her. Hiding tiny Hatsune pictures in the fed buildings and her birthday with a chance she'll never see them, just cause they can and she likes it. Letting her flight feathers (lore + head cannon) grow back in instead of clipping them like every other bird hybrid on the server. Even Foolish, her only (?) real friend respects and understands her opinion and feelings about Cucurucho. (I also have opinions about Foolish that make me soft.) Constantly hearing and seeing people talk about how much they hate Cucurucho and the feds, but they're just so nice to her. They play and joke, they have interest and hobbies they're happy to talk about. I like to think a part of her is happy when she learns that Tubbo has a 'thing' with Fred cause someone recognizes how good they are.

I just imagine Jaiden and Cucurucho hanging out and bonding, talking about anything and everything under the sun. Cucurucho just adoring Jaiden as their child, similar to how everyone loves their eggs. What if some of the 'egg tasks' are things they had done together. Everyone talks about the 'test subjects kids' with a cold detachment to the feds, but what if it wasn't like that for all of them. They raised these kids, sure trauma is a thing, but it's not everything. Cellbit and Bagi both grew up on the island. What if some families were invited to the islands so the kids could interact.

Hit me up for more💛

#qsmp #qsmp drabble #qsmp jaiden #jaiden animations #qsmp cucurucho #qsmp federation #you can see my trauma💛#a rant

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miscellaneoussmp · 5 months

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The desert is cold. They all huddled around a heatless fireplace. Nobody has spoken up yet. "Bad?" Max is the first one to speak up in a while. Bad tilted his head in response. "I think... I think I'm ready to go." It was decided, then and there. Bad and Max stood up. "Does anyone else want to come?" The reaper hoped to make only one trip.

"I know a shortcut home, I'm good." Mouse responds. She's wearing a lazy smile.

"We have to find Richas." Pac explains, leaning on Mike who's next to Forever. Felps is on the other side of Pac. Cellbit sits farther from the rest of his family. "I'm not ready..."

"Pomme needs me." Baghera hummed. She's sitting closest to the flame.

"I'll find my way back." Tina was laying back, she was the farthest from the flame aside from Bad and Max.

"Leave? Nah." Foolish was tending the flame.

Bad and Max started to walk across the cold desert. "The boat shouldn't be too far." Bad started when he heard somebody call his name. It's Forever. "Don't get lost, okay?"

"I won't, promise."

Bad is an amazing liar, as always.

—

(Part 2)(Part 3)

#qsmp #qsmp purgatory #qsmp drabble #qsmp maximus #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp mouse #qsmp pac #qsmp mike #qsmp forever #qsmp felps #qsmp cellbit #qsmp baghera #qsmp tina #qsmp foolish

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haloberry · 6 months

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Soulfire headcannon/Drabble.

Tubbo, due to having not slept for like 2 days prior, was running a high fever during the Egg Event, dreaming (?) of the scavenger hunt. He was at the base healing, with Pol and Mariana looking after him while the rest fought in the event.

Luzu is non-existent, standing still as a statue in forest. No soul behind his eyes, just light binary.

After the team comes back from the event, emotional exhaustion killing them worse than an physical energy, they all use the last of their energy to huddle around Tubbo. Their using the space where they kept the villager as a temporary bedroom. There’s not even a bed, just layers of soft blankets and carpet.

Bad and Tina go to change his towel, when they move his hair and see two little brown demon horns in place of his old bee antennas.. Bad nearly cries right then and there, while Tina goes up to touch hers, the little nubbins being even smaller than her shaven down ones..

They clean the area, and head back to the group to finally sleep off the day.

Bad sleeps sitting up, on leg tucked in to hold Tubbo up in his arms, pressing him close to his body— flu be damned. Tina and Niki take up Bad’s sides, with Rivers draping her legs on Tina’s lap and rest her head next to Lenay’s, who lays down with knees to chest at the corner of the room.

Pac is using Bad’s stretched out leg as a pillow, holding onto Tubbo’s hand while Pierre, who is actually too exhausted from having his wires cut open due to the respawns, is passed out right on Pac’s stomach.

Mariana and Missa are right below Bad’s feet, parallel. Even with their couple quarrels back in the other island, both still feel the right amount of safe when next to each other, allowing an overlapping of legs and arms to just jumble up at the other end of the room. They formed an almost type of “X” shape, somehow, with Missa hand was under Pierre’s foot while Mariana’s torso was on top of Missa’s.

Pol was right beside the connection of Missa and Pierre, the only one in a semi-normal sleeping position, laying on his side with his hands acting like a pillow but still close enough to Pierre where his head is by Pierre’s torso and legs near the human pretzels below.

That night, in a small room, with body limbs acting more like blankets than the actual ones they have, sleeps a team too tired of everything. Having, truly, only the ones sleeping in that room to trust. With glow berries and torches as their only light, all members sleep safe and sound for the first time since they arrived on that island.

Not even the Eye can take that away from them.

#qsmp #qsmp drabble #qsmp soulfire #qsmp blue team #team soulfire #qsmp purgatory #qsmp headcanons

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gwynthecrow · 5 months

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Finished an old WIP I started a while ago for a writing exercise (Sorry that it's probably shit. I finished it in like five minutes on the notes app on my phone. I just wanted to get this out of my head before Qpurgatory actually ends): The Final Duel

Crimson dripped off the point of Phil's sword, it fell to the graying grass dying the plants red. Bright blinding sun reflected off the stains, giving the corpse a slightly lifelike glow. He turned away from his own gruesome handiwork and faced the last one.

Tubbo stood tall, pulling out an enchanted weapon and stood poised for a fight. They both stared into the other's soul, mentally preparing for the battle ahead.

"Why are you doing this? You don't even have an egg." Philza's distorted voice rang out from his gas mask. Tubbo didn't answer, instead he ran forward at full force.

Phil quickly brought up his sword to block. Sparks flew out from the clashing metals, a starting flare to signal the duel had begun.

Survivors made their way to where the two leaders were fighting. Some shed tears of fear, fear for what the results of this duel will bring. Some shed tears of joy, joy for the fact it was almost over. They could almost go home.

Purgatory is coming to an end. Just one more day.

#qsmp #qsmp purgatory #qsmp philza #qsmp writing #qsmp fanfiction #qsmp tubbo #qsmp drabble #qtubbo #q philza #qsmp team bolas #qsmp team soulfire #purgatory event #qsmppurgatory

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youphoriaot7 · 8 months

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just saw a heart-wrenching edit on tiktok (sad music and all) about q!cellbit and the way he interacts with the eggs and i just...

i remember when i was still getting into the qsmp (which i did from cellbit's pov) and was scrolling the wiki on the daily, trying to figure out past lore and relationships and everything

and every single time i clicked on an egg's page i would end up seeing cellbit's face somewhere in the relationship box. and it always made me grin so wide because it was just...cute. and then i realized a lot of them had even mentioned things like him being one of their favorite tios or whatever and i'm just so. fucking. soft. about the idea of just-

this guy. comes to this island. in the middle of nowhere—doesn't really know how he ended up there, doesn't remember much about where he came from, nothing. and, like, it's natural to be a bit skittish or at least defensive, especially when there's already so many people here, because you don't know what they will do to you, how they'll react to anything: they are essentially unknown entities.

and if you really think about it, that completely includes the eggs. because although they're just kids, q!cellbit was canonically in a war at, like, age 15. he's definitely not one to underestimate someone because of their age—he is damn well aware of how scary people can be, regardless of what their age is.

but then they start interacting, and, like—tallulah gives him flowers, and ramon picks him for a partner in the boat race, and he's able to joke and play around with chayanne and bobby, and...in a way, it's like seeing himself, or rather, what he could have been.

because he never got that; he never got to do that. he can see the relationships they have with their parents—tallulah and chayanne with phil, ramon with fit, dapper with bbh, bobby with roier and jaiden—and he sort of comes to realize, like, "these kids don't know." they don't know what it's like to be at war. they don't know what it's like to end up in jail. they don't know what it's like to not be able to live because you're too focused on surviving. whether it's been that way in the past and they don't remember or not, they don't know.

and, inwardly, he decides he's going to make damn fucking sure it stays that way.

so he starts collecting flowers, to give some to tallulah the next time they meet, and the way she beams assures him he'll continue. and when ramon makes a mistake in the boat race and starts beating himself up about it, he empathizes and reassures him. (practically makes the poor kid cry.)

he sees the way chayanne takes the lead around the younger eggs and takes note, making sure to joke around and play with him whenever he can—because he may be the oldest, and the most responsible, but he deserves to have fun, too.

all of this includes richas, of course. in fact, it's even more exaggerated, to the extent that (in some ways similarly to fit) he mostly lets richas do what he wants, only growing concerned or stern if the kid's life is in danger. (because he saw what happened to bobby, and he's not going to let it happen on his watch.)

because there's enough pain in the world. chaos runs rampant on the island, from the federation to the codes, from the kidnappings to the tasks, from the bombs to the capybaras. there is death at every turn, and this island can be deceiving, because it doesn't seem like it. it seems perfectly fine.

but he knows.

he's been in this position before, where everyone and everything is trying to kill him. he's familiar with the concept of survival. and this island is survival.

but these are kids. they don't need that. hell, he had that as a kid, and look how he turned out. no, if he has anything to say about it, nothing will seem out of the ordinary. as much as he can help it. he will gives flowers to tallulah, he will make jokes with chayanne, he will explore with richas, he will spend time with ramon and dapper—all to offer even a semblance of normalcy.

so uh the fluff part of this train of thought is over so click off now if you don't want the hurt <3

but then things start to change. bobby dies, and the federation teases them about it, dangling the child above their heads. the codes ramp up their attacks. the kidnappings start to increase. people die and respawn more frequently. and the more he tries to get free, to get away from the island, the worse things get for the current inhabitants.

he meets pomme. this terrified egg that's been trapped behind a wall since before he even got there. and he realizes that he won't be able to shelter them forever.

things are going to happen, one way or another, to shatter the fragile illusion of reality the islanders are trying to create for these kids. in some way, the curtain is going to fall, and it is going to hurt. it's going to hurt as badly as it hurt him when he was thrown into battle. it's going to hurt as badly as it hurt him when he ended up in a top-security prison when he was barely an adult. it's going to hurt as badly as it hurt him when the wool was yanked away from his own eyes by that white bear not a week after his arrival on the island.

so whatever you do, don't think about what it must've felt like to find that book. don't think about what he must've been thinking as he flipped through those old, yellowed journal pages. don't think about him reading that lost egg's words, and just thinking, "god, this could've been me."

because it very well could've been.

the book literally talks about not wanting to survive, but wanting to live, and all he can think about for the rest of the day is how it was abandoned. same as him—only one was on a battlefield, and one was in this tiny-ass room. and there was no warrior in shining armor, no police officer taking pity to pull this egg out of there. he had someone. this egg had no one.

so of course he switches out the keychain on his backpack. because carrying that egg with him is like carrying a piece of himself, in just the same way that all the eggs feel like a piece of himself.

he can't protect the eggs forever. he knows that. but that doesn't mean he can't try.

#i'm just- i'm just really not okay thinking about the relationship of q!cellbit and the eggs.#long post #they genuinely make me so upset :( <3 #qsmp #qsmp drabble #qsmp headcanons #qsmp cellbit #qsmp eggs #ev;memory #character study #i don't even know if all of this is a hundred percent accurate i'm just.#spewing words and having feelings.

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sweetie-peaches · 6 months

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To distract of blue team tumblrs fear, here’s a cute headcanon/Drabble for shapeshifter Tubbo and demon bad

(Taking inspo from @haloberry here)

in demon culture when a imps horns grow in it’s a tradition to spoil them and protect them until their velvet falls off, because the velvet stage is just like a puberty for them, where they’re extremely reckless and vulnerable

So bad finds himself extra protective off Tubbo as his horns grow

(Despite being a shapeshifter, his horns still take a while to grow. Due to the relationship between bad and tubbo slowly improving)

He’s brings him food on instinct, checks over him for wounds, and all around acts as a mother hen as well as a guard dog to Tubbo, more then usual

When in a fight, he hears Tubbo shout, and watches as he falls to the ground with a thud. His body goes limp

he drops his sword and shield. Not caring to pretend to be civilized anymore, he uses his claws, his teeth, to try and tear them apart for hurting his imp.

eventually he’s overpowered and respawns at the blue base, his instincts taking hold and as soon as his eyes are open he’s searching for Tubbo. Thoughts of making them pay curling at the back of his mind. Until he finds him, still injured from the fight, but otherwise okay. His fatal injuries healed.

He follows him around the rest of the day, a silent shadow, a warning

Tubbo hates to admit it, but the protectiveness is nice, if not a little over bearing.

He quickly decides horns are not worth it, that this velvet stuff sucked, and that bad was terrifying when he went full demon on people because they laid a finger on Tubbo.

Without a thought he hits his horns against people. One day he does this to bad who laughs and leans down to hit his horns against him.

Eventually when the velvet starts to fall off, which results in a sort of general sickness for tubbo, with body aches, fatigue and all around horribleness. He also snaps easier and struggles to regulate his emotions.

Bad tells him it’s normal, just hormones balancing out

Tubbo decides that being a shapeshifter is no longer fun, and wishes he could have anything else but suffer through puberty again but demon version

After the last of his velvet falls off, tubbos horns (a surprising blue color) get scuffed and chipped easily

Upon seeing this bad drags him to the base to teach him how to polish them. A tradition typically taught among demon packs, elders teaching imps.

Herbs/flowers of some kind, wax, water/healing potions.

(Tubbo, being Tubbo, has the idea of adding glow berries.

His horns glow in the dark for a week, instantly giving up his position in every single situation)

Eventually he gets used to the horns, finds himself comfortable with them. Even they can be a pain. After the protectiveness and pampering of the velvet instincts inside him fade. Bad still remains protective of Tubbo, understanding he can hold his own, but gripping his shoulder a bit tighter. Watching him a bit closer. And tubbo is the same, feeling that if he fell bad would be there.

There’s A subtle shift in the relationship between them. A closeness that wasn’t there before

#peaches posts #qsmp qosts #qsmp tubbo #qsmp #qsmpblr #qsmp purgatory #tubbo #qsmp blue team #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp drabble #qsmp headcanons

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