K1NG LOOK AT THIS :D

Hear me out. Vampire hunter Wilbur getting jealous ur fangs r in someone else’s neck and not his

I don't know if you sent me this ask twice or if you and another Anon share a brain but rest assured I will absoloutely do this I love a good trope reversal and enemies to loves, I SWOON!

[L0v3, k1ng]

💜 DAY 8 OF MONSTER WEEK [HALLOWEEN] — GHOST TUBBO

[1800+ words]

[Gender-neutral]

Description: You go Ghost hunting and end up meeting a traumatized ghost.

[Read the rest under the cut]

"This is so creepy," You murmur, slowly trailing the light of your flashlight across the dull, stone walls. The buildings, ruins of some old castle, were horror movie material. It made it really popular a while back when a few Ghost hunters filmed an episode focusing on its apparent haunting.

You're sure it's all just babble meant to sell more tourist traps and attract ghost nuts. That's the only reason you accept your friends' dare to explore the place but now that you're actually here, you're regretting that decision a bit.

A loud gust of wind shakes the windows and you bite your tongue, trying to shake off your nerves. There were probably other people inside as well, so at the very least you're not alone.

You tug at one of the many doors, though this one is distinctly unique in that the locked bolt is on the outside. You tug at the rusty bolt and it snaps off instantly. Guilty, you drop it to the floor, looking around for witnesses. No one's around though so you kick the bolt far, far away. No evidence.

Of course, you've already unlocked it You strain yourself for almost a minute trying to pry the door open but even unlocked, it's almost glued shut. You turn to walk away when a quiet 'creeeak' comes from behind.

You whirl around, hands trembling. The door is wide open now, framing a desolate and dark room, enveloped in thick shadows. You fumble with your flashlight and it falls to the floor, rolling about a foot away from you and right in front of the now-unlocked door.

You slowly step forward, squatting down to pick up the flashlight without taking your eyes off the door and its tempting entrance.

You know there are other people in the castle, you broke in easily enough so you know entering wouldn't be a problem for others. Knowing this, you jump to thinking it's someone pulling your leg, hoping that's all there is to it. But there's a sinking in your stomach, tossing and turning and thinking that maybe, just maybe, this isn't a prank but something else. Something otherworldly.

You tighten your hold on your flashlight, just in case, and step through the door. You're swept by a wave of chills instantly, though all the windows in this particular room are clamped shut and sealed like they were trying to keep something trapped inside.

You walk towards the bed that's oddly enough set in the exact middle of the room. You scan the flashlight across the room, realizing distantly how the furniture makes the room look like a dungeon. It's all muted colours, dusty beyond belief. You think back to the rusty bolt you snapped off and realize that no one's entered the room in what's probably been decades.

You walk around the bed to see the other side of the room when you spot marks against the floor. You stifle a gasp by biting your tongue, staring at the marks with wide eyes. You trace the marks leading from 4 spots, 2 against a wall and another 2 evenly spaced in front of them, scratched into long lines leading towards the bed. Your brows furrow as you realize the marks are from someone pushing the bed into the middle of the room. Weird.

You don't have to worry about it for long because you're immediately faced with an even worse issue. The door shuts and you instantly run towards it. "Fuck,"

You're so screwed, so so screwed. The door isn't opening no matter how much you push and shove. You know it's not locked, you had broken that before entering, but it feels like someone barricaded it with ten tons, impossible to push or even make budge.

You get goosebumps instantly, a burning chill spreading behind your back, feeling like someone standing, pressed behind you. You whirl around and there is nothing, no one. You cast the light of your flashlight across the room rapidly and your heart leaps to your throat when you double-take to a slumbering figure on the bed. The bed you were previously standing next to. The (previously) empty one.

it's made of different shades of white, casting the room in a moody glow. You're entranced by the beauty of the sleeping figure, feeling your nerves settling just by looking at the peaceful face of the slumbering teen. You take a step towards them, feeling out of control of your own body. You keep walking in a trance until you're a step away from the bed, close enough to see the muted shades of colour.

You lean towards them, just to admire them. It's an instinct, the same way a baby cries when they're hungry. You want to know how it feels to sleep so peacefully. You want to sleep long enough to know how it feels when your bones turn to ash…

Their eyes fly open and you're instantly shot back into your body, falling back onto your butt, trembling. Their skin is more pigmented now, flushed with energy in the same way that yours is now pale like someone applied a white overlay to it. You don't know where your flashlight is so you stumble to your feet and almost trip over a table trying to find the door.

"You look fucking stupid," It giggles like your panic is amusing. They admire their skin, which is still glowing radiantly, but it's stronger now. If you could describe it you'd say that earlier it was a dying ember and now it's a strong flame. "I took a bit too much energy from you, sorry for that."

It stretches leisurely, "Though if I hadn't stopped you, you would've lost your soul so really you should thank me."

You finally find the door but it's still locked. You push at it, putting all your weight behind it. Your knees go weak and you almost fall to the floor, exhausted and panting.

"That's not going to work," It watches you, frowning. It shakes it's head when you push yourself to stand taller, sighing when you try slamming the door open and failing. "You should stop trying, you're only going to fail."

"What do you want," You cry out, feeling drained both mentally and emotionally, not to mention psychically. Though you do have that fucking ghost to blame for that last one. "Why won't you let me leave."

Its face twists at your words like the word is revolting, though it's overshadowed by the raw sadness dragging its otherworldly beauty down. "We can't leave. The door has to stay shut. It has to stay shut."

"it was open earlier," You stutter as their eyes settle on you, full of more emotions than just the amusement you saw earlier. "How do you think I got in?"

Its face is full of despair as they stare at the door, anxiously pressing itself into one of the bedposts. "No one saw you enter. No one heard the door close. If they did…" They look back to you, "Where were they, why didn't they stop you? Maybe… Maybe this is a trick."

"What trick," You find the energy to stand again, staring them down. "Why can't we open the door."

"You're trying to get me to open the door so I get in trouble again," They murmur anxiously, their skin pulsing with vibrant, human colours. "I can't leave, I can't leave, never again."

"No one's waiting out there to hurt you," You drop your tone to a low, soothing hush, "I just want to go home. Please just let me open the door."

"It's not me," They whispher, "It's the maids. They've locked me in here again. We can't leave until they say so. We can't leave or they'll hurt us. They're only pretending to be gone, they tricked both of us."

You almost scream in frustration. None of your words are getting through to him. Instead, you slowly walk over, "No one is out there, I checked. The only person keeping you trapped here is you. We can leave."

"What?" They scan your face, hands trembling. You're standing next to the bed and you hesitantly offer your hand. They stare at it for a second, their voice comes out a whisper, "Are you sure?"

When you nod, he sets his hand into yours. They don't really step onto the floor, their feet are more whisphy, but he's on the same level as you now. He stares at the door, face still haunted, so you take the first step towards it.

He trails after you, still holding your hand. When your hand wraps around the handle, his breath stops (though you imagine as a ghost it's unneeded). The door slowly pushed open and they squeezed your hand anxiously, eyes darting around the empty, dark hallway. There is no one there though and he is still trembling.

"They could be hiding," They whisper low, setting your hair on edge. They hurriedly tug you back. "They're going to come back, we need to go back inside."

"No," You say firmly and start dragging him along with all your might. You need to leave and evidently, so does this ghost. You turn the corner and it's empty, he seems more anxious at that sight. You turn another corner and then another and then you are standing in an overgrown garden.

The ghost seems mesmerized by the plants, staring at them with an alienated fascination. They let go of your hand to walk towards a flower, hands spreading frost across its petal. He doesn't seem to know how much strength to hold it with and he rips a petal off. He tries again, smoothing the petal between his fingers. It looks ice cold now but he is smiling brightly, skin back to a softer, pastel light.

"No one is here anymore," He mutters to you, entranced by the flowers the same way you were entranced by him earlier. He looks up at you, "I never asked your name, did I?"

"I'm Y/N," You say softly, taking one of the fallen petals into your hand. As you had thought, it is cold but it is also beautiful. Memorialized in the ice, almost. "I didn't ask your name either."

"Oh," They look over to the plants again, "I've never… I'm Tubbo. I'm the- I was the prince. I think I'm dead now."

"Yeah," You nod. "I think it sucks you were trapped in that room for so long."

"It did suck," He takes a deep breath in, "But I don't have to go back now. My father, King Schlatt, hated me. He hated even looking at me. I wasn't allowed to leave my room. It got so lonely and now… I don't know now."

"Now you're free." You take his hand and put the frozen petal on his palm. He looks back up at you, starry-eyed. "You can go anywhere. You don't have to be alone anymore."

"Can I come with you," He says breathily, excited. "I've always wanted to see the kingdom. I've only read books. How much has changed?"

You can't help but laugh, "Okay. I guess I've got a ghost buddy now."

{《☆》}

[This wasn't supposed to be this long or depressing ngl but i love a good angsty backstory. Anyways lore time, TW FOR THIS SECTIONS!!! Tubbo is a dead prince who as we find out had been hated by his father, king Schlatt and basically exiled to a separate wing of the palace. He is locked in his room most of the time and has been traumatized repeatedly whenever he leaves, usually by the guard and maids who lock him in there. After the palace got destroyed by rioters, Tubbo died of starvation in his room and came back as a ghost due to the traumatic experiences he faced. He still doesn't leave the room though because he's afraid of being hurt again and still believes he's being locked in there as punishment until you help him through that.]

[Anyways the next two posts will be spread out over the next day because I was too ambitious in my planning but rest assured, I will post them even if they're a bit late.]

[L0v3 k1ng]

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Taglist: @creatorofstars

Bitches stay crying about missing sands of time

It's me I'm bitches.

I'm in cheese cake factory without headphones I legally can't watch Tommy 'loudmouth' Innit pleeeease send help :((

💛 DAY 7 OF MONSTER WEEK — FAE GEORGE

[600+ words]

[Gender-neutral]

Description: A nature Fairy sprouted from the dirt...

[Read the rest under the cut]

You had met George in the middle of winter. You were trying to bring a plant back to health, it was a hobby of yours, when he sprouted from the dirt bag you had thrown onto a chair.

He was tiny at first, barely the size of your palm and he looked like a plant himself, with the budding seeds (which had NOT been budding before that) stuck to the top of his head, swaying as he stumbled to hold up the weight. His eyes were empty, with no thoughts behind them.

It was one very week later that he started speaking, in the exact way you did, though he had an airy accent, with the same maturity. His eyes weren't as empty but they still felt dull.

With even more time, he grew. Up to your ankle, up to your knee, barely your waist height, then to your shoulders. It was rapid, sudden, and fascinating. The plants that had been budding since he was (…born?) crawled out of the dirt had started blooming into a blue for-get-me-not. It had been beautiful for the first couple minutes before petals started shedding rapidly every night he grew.

You knew he wasn't human, his ears were pointed and he didn't have pupils, but he felt human. When he started speaking, you knew he was just as intelligent (if not more in certain subjects) as you were.

You couldn't quite say what he was but you both settled on nature fairy, since he fit the bill well enough. But no matter what he was, he stuck to you like glue. Which, as you realize today, is a recipe for disaster.

You were heading to the park today, just to see how he'd react around nature. You had manged to cover his pointy ears with earmuffs and barely convinced him to wear contacts, so you had been in high spirits that today would be calm and peaceful, overall normal. You should've known that nothing about this was normal.

As you pass through the gates George seems overcome by awe, looking around and gathering every pretty rock he sees. He looked like a young child, excited to explore lands unknown. You make sure to keep an eye on him as you walk, just to be safe he doesn't knock his earmuffs off or trip over a root.

But the more you watch him the less worried you become. He seems so at home in the park, surrounded by nature. For a second you wonder if you were selfish not bringing him sooner.

You're so caught up in that train of thought that you don't even notice that George is wandering away before he's gone. The second you do, you start running around the park looking for him.

First further up the trail, just in case he somehow walked faster than you though and outpaced you. Then back around, peeking through the bushes lining the trails. He isn't in any of them, though you didn't really think he was. You just wanted to be sure… Sue you, he's short, okay.

You're already off the trail but you have to keep looking, you can't just abandon him, especially not without a goodbye. You keep walking, there's simply no alternative in your head.

Of course, as you walk you shout. Multitasking, eh. But no one responds, there are just regular park woods noises. You walk a bit deeper, using a rock to mark a trail of trees incase you get lost.

You're deep into the woods now and you start hearing soft snoring. You rush towards the noise, fury lighting beneath you as the though of George sleeping through your panic infuriates you.

You skid to a stop a little way's away from a very badly built wooden tent, with gaps in the wood and a few wooden pieces for what might be a makeshift bed. On that bed, George is snoring away, without a care to the world.

He's about to get one rude wake up call.

{《☆》}

[Dude I wrote this really quickly before knocking out. I've gotten 2 hours of sleep and 0 will to live, the quality is only technically my fault but I blame 5am Me for everything.]

[Anyways happy Halloween for most of the world except Sydney, you cucks are already on tommorow. Take care yall!]

[L0v3 k1ng,]

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💛 DAY 5 OF MONSTER WEEK — ANGEL PHILZA

[1500+]

[gender-neutral]

Description: You're a priest for Lady Death when you kinda... accidentally... refuse to let the grim reaper claim a soul.

[Read the rest under the cut]

You were raised within a church worshipping Lady Death, who you have always cherished. You have always been told you should never fear death, as it is only natural, it is an unstoppable force. Or, that's what they told you when you had caughten the Withering Effect, a terminal disease with no known cure.

Of course, you had agreed. This has been written in Lady Death's plans far before you knew how to speak, this is your natural course, fear would stop nothing.

Now, facing off an angel, whose darkened black wings you've only seen in portraits, with golden hair and narrowed eyes like from the sculptures. Sir Philza, Lady Death's most beloved angel, has come to take a soul and you refuse to let it happen.

Behind you is a young boy, with similar golden hair and pure sky blue eyes, now watery as they cower and clutch at your robes. He is sickly pale, he is so young.

"Sir Philza," Your voice does not quiver, which surprises you because bravery has never been a title of yours. "I beg of you, do not take this young soul from us. I will offer you anything."

"Even your soul," His eyes, icy blue daggers, cling to your face, to your eyes. They see too much, you feel naked, you don't look away. "It is only natural for disturbing nature so."

"If that is the price, let it be so," You kneel, still keeping the young boy behind you. "I will pay any dues."

Sir Philza looks over you, dancing over every relaxed muscle with a fine-toothed comb, as if searching for any fear. You cannot show it, you will not let the young boy die having lived such an empty life. His eyes aren't icy anymore, there is something substantial in them when he looks at you, as if your choice was respectable instead of ruinous. "I shall accept no soul today. It is my boon to you."

"You are a generous lord, Sir," You stay on your knee, head dipped to your chest. "And what is it you wish instead?"

"I shall accompany you until you die. I wish to see why it is you live so…" Sir Philza's lips audibly pucker, "Interestingly. I can't imagine this is a common occurrence."

"As you wish, Sir," You try to take as stealthy of a deep breath as you can, disbelieving that you had succeded in your insane actions.

{《☆》}

You had arrived at the temple with Sir Philza and Tommy, who had insisted on joining you to protect you from Sir Philza, who has firmly cemented himself in the young boy's head as evil. Having brought Sir Philza along with you, your fellow priests had spoken only politely to you, with none of their usual casual speech, as if you were a Saint instead of their friend, It all felt so alienating.

Sir Philza has been shadowing you since and with Tommy's health rapidly getting better, he also followed you around. It was only after a week did Sir Philza seem inclined to inform you that Tommy had the magical attunement to become a Saint to Lady Death.

Of course, you had told Tommy, who insisted on doing morning and afternoon prayers with you to see if Lady Death could stop what he called "the dying of your light" which Sir Philza pleasantly translated as Tommy seeing your soul dying. Truly heartening.

"Sir Philza," You took the time to initiate a conversation with the angel at least once a day, both from obligation and curiosity, "How long have you been collecting souls for Lady Death, our records are unclear."

"I'm not quite sure," Sir Philza paused, "I was born very early, far before any other angel could recall. I must at least be half a million years old at this point."

"Oh," You can't say you expected a number that large.

"Wow, you're old," Tommy chimes in unhelpfully. "You're like a grandpa. Grandpa Phil."

Sir Philza smiles, every day he seems to become more endeared to Tommy, and now he positively beams, "I am a grandpa, so I suppose you're allowed to call me as such, young saint." He looks far more pleased than he pretends.

"I wasn't aware angels could have children," You say before Tommy can disrespect the powerful angel more. "Are you the exception or should I fix our records."

"A little of both," Sir Philza doesn't need to think for this one, "It's completely possible but since most of our children are born mortal, angels don't bother. So, I'm definitely an exception to something."

"And were they?" You blurt before you can stop yourself. You cough, "Mortals, Human I mean."

"Yes," Sir Philza looks down at Tommy, who looks considerably more bored as he starts stacking and breaking towers of books. His face is wound tightly in pain, "My son was born mortal, as was my grandchild. I--," his breath catches, "I killed him myself."

"Oh," You weren't sure what you were expecting. Then, your wounds flare and you grunt, "My apologies for asking such a thing."

"It's no bother," Sir Philza laughs it off. He is a very kind person, you've found out. He is polite even though he's of such a high status, cares for humanity, and adores children. He is more human than some people you've met, even as an angel. "How has your daily prayers going," His eyes curve as he smiles, "I imagine Tommy is a delight so early in the morning."

'You sigh heavily, "Do not get me started, Sir Philza. I'm beginning to think he is an imp not a saint."

He laughs, "Oh yes, I can imagine. Were it not for my aversion to mornings, I'd join you just for the sight."

"You don't need to see it to know," You gesture your hands as you talk, "Every priest in the temple is talking of the newest way Saint Tommy's disrupted morning prayers. Most find it endearing but Sir Marshall has written multiple strongly worded letters, none of which Tommy had bothered to read."

"I read some of them," Tommy protested, "But he uses too many long words and they get boring quickly."

"That's fair, young saint," Sir Philza ruffles Tommy's hair, "If I read every letter sent to me, I would also stop reading them all at some point."

"Sir Philza," You stay, scandalized. Then your stomach feels inclined to rearrange itself and your vision blacks out from the pain. Tommy is being kept preoccupied from noticing by Sir Philza, who can tell just by looking at you how little time is left.

{《☆》}

He finds you sitting outside one day, staring into the sky. Your soul is weak, dim and dying. There is so much melancholy in this painted picture; a dying priest sitting in a garden, surrounded by life, staring at stars which are simultaneous dying and being reborn every second.

"Why did you let me live that day," You trace lines at the stars, memorizing the constellations' unique shine. You don't look over when you hear Sir Philza sit. "What did you see in me."

There's a pause before Sir Philza breaks it hesitantly, "You protected that young boy. You wanted to protect his pure soul, even though he was a stranger. You were unwavering, unstoppable."

"You let me live because I don't fear Death," You surmise because it's the only thing you can fathom.

"I let you live becauseyou fear Death," Sir Philza corrects, tone ever so soft, "If you hadn't feared Death I would think you a fool but… You protected Tommy even when you were afraid. You didn't hesitate, you didn't back down. Your kindness is rare and your strength even rarer."

"You flatter me," Your eyes settle down to your lap, embarrassed to hear such a spin on that story. In your memories, it had been sudden and quick. You had been afraid, very afraid actually. But you have never once regretted it and you wouldn't've even if you had actually died. "I have a lot to thank you for, Sir Philza,"

"At that moment, you looked like an immovable object," Sir Philza said, voice quiet like the admission was a secret. It's almost like he hadn't heard you. "You reminded me of Lady Death."

"That's a high compliment, Sir, really but…" You faltered, finally looking over at him. He was looking at you too, as if he was seeing through you, cradling your soul with his warm smile, like a parent holding their child. "I will miss this after I die."

Sir Philza's smile loses its warmth and he looks as sad as you feel, "I will miss this too. You are a special soul, young priest, and it's an honour to know you."

"I should be the one saying that," You laugh sadly, gazing back up at the stars. They shine extra bright tonight as if to say We see you too, we burn for you. "I have a selfish request to make."

"Anything," Sir Philza says, with no pause this time.

"I would like for you to be the last thing I see," You whisper, "You and Saint Tommy."

"If that's what you wish," Sir Philza says, voice oh so warm, oh so mourning, "Then it shall be so. I'll ask someone to fetch Tommy. You won't die alone."

"Thank you," You smile, feeling nothing but relief. Maybe you're a fool right now because you're not the slightest bit afraid.

{《☆》}

[Okay, this was supposed to be longer but I'm already late and also have to be up in like 4 hours so just pretend the jump of strangers to friends makes sense PLEASE]

[Anyways, please don't be me. Get sleep, lots of it. Oh and check out the PROMPT LIST OoOOohhHhHWwWweEEeEeEee]

[L0v3, k1ng]

Masterlist

Taglist: @creatorofstars

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 (𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐱 𝐌!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.

{《☆》}

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘴. "𝘚𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦."

𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘥, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘥 𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥. "𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦."

{《☆》}

Chapter 4 is Out!!!

:3

[L0v3, k1ng]

Wing Care But Families Are Hard💛

They/Them Pronouns)

(1000+ words)

Description: You go visit home after a few weeks. Phil, your grandpa, greets you in the living room. Things don't settle well and it comes to a head while he preens your wings. (Platonic Philza x Reader)

[Read the rest under the cut]

{《☆》}

"Hey Phil," You said, pushing open the door of Techno's home. Just like you thought he'd be, Phil was reading a book as he curled up on the couch. You stretched your wings out a bit, shaking them out a bit.

"I'm still jealous you can do that," Phil complained as he stretched his arms. You laughed at him, flying in the rain was horrendous when you didn't have an oil gland. You never had to worry though. You could fly in the rain for a bit if you really wanted to.

You didn't often because having wet wings was more than mildly uncomfortable but you still could.

Phil walked over to you, settling a towel on your head. You grinned up at him, wrapping your arms around him quickly.

"Woah-!" Phil laughed. Gently, he ran a hand through your hair. You melted into the touch, relaxing until you were leaning heavily on Phil. "You're so cold, mate."

"Mhm," It's a distant answer, too busy focusing on the mini-preening to your head to answer. You click your tongue in contentment, feeling a low rumble build up in your throat. "I think your wings need to be preened, Y/N."

You groan, too relaxed to do it yourself. "Can you help?"

"Of course."

He gently pulls away, settling you down on the couch. You shuffled to curl away and spread out one of your wings. He gently ran a hand through them, looking for blood feathers.

Carefully, he made sure to avoid them when he pulled out feathers. Gently and carefully, soothing and relaxing. You crooned happily, melting back against the couch.

You closed your eyes, feeling nothing but gooey as he gently fixed up your wings. It'd been so long since your last preening, back when Tommy was still living under the basement in his makeshift home. It was cold but it was nice as Tommy preened them.

You missed him... You hadn't been allowed to see him after... everything. Your dad was too overprotective to let you see your thrice backstabbing uncle.

"You okay," Phil asked softly, carding a gentle hand through your fluffed up mahogany feathers.

Tommy was never like Phil when he preened. Tommy was quick and nimble but soft. Phil was slow and gentle and tough. Years of experience compared to Tommy's slight hesitation or fumbling. But your uncle was always hesitant recently...

You nodded weakly. "Yeah, just-... I-I miss him..."

"So do I," Phil admitted, the same rough edge from when he talked about Wilbur coming through. "But you know why you can't see him."

You bit your tongue. "Not even after his death?" You wanted to ask. Instead, you sighed.

"Because he's a liar and backstabber," You recited your father's words like they were your own. "He only ever treated Dad like a weapon."

"Family meant nothing to him," Phil stressed, plucking a father out with a sudden pinch. "We meant nothing to him."

You shook your head. They didn't know Tommy like you did, even if they thought they did. Admittedly, he hadn't told you everything, but you knew a majority of the twisted things Dream had done to your once headstrong and stubborn uncle.

And you knew exactly what family meant to him. It meant Wilbur and Techno and Phil. But it also meant Tubbo and Fundy and Niki and L'Manberg. Family was a sore subject but on the late nights where he was too broken to care about reputations, he cried to you about how much he still loved Tubbo and L'Manburg. They had hurt him, he had hurt them.

In the end, their blood-strengthened bond had been stronger than weak, years old ties.

And it did hurt.

You had thought that, maybe, he would actually become your uncle that you've been hearing stories about. The Tommy that waged wars with gods and won with only a ragtag group of kids. The Tommy who had been a conman long before he became family.

But things had changed and he had changed. In the end, you can only be glad he is still alive.

"How has Snowchester been?" Phil filled in the silence, plucking another feather. "I heard Ranboo and Tubbo adopted a kid."

"Yeah," You managed after a few seconds, thoughts and words dying on your tongue. "Micheal is a sweet kid. He's starting to talk, kinda."

Phil nods, running a hand through your feathers a final time and patting your shoulder. You leaned away, settling on the opposite side of the couch.

The rain seemed to pour harder, fighting against the windows like a beast. It didn't usually rain around your dad's house, but you supposed there's a first time for everything.

"Phil," It's hard to find the right words. It's like your mind is forgetting your entire vocabulary. A part of you is saying bail, but it's the cowardly part of you. The part that took after Phil.

"Did you ever love Tommy?"

It's an easier question than "do you love me?".

"I-," Phil tries, his brows furrowed. Their purple wings, already so pale, shift awkwardly. It's uncomfortable how long it's taking him to answer. "Of course I did-, do. Of course I do."

It's not the answer you were looking for. You craved something more honest, and something more caring. It was silly to dream when you had already known the answer.

"Yeah," You muster, staring out the window. "I should probably go soon."

"So soon-?" Phil says, a little more brokenly than earlier. "But-?"

"Tubbo'll need help with putting Micheal to bed." You offer weakly. "They're so hyper that it's a two-person job."

"I see." They sigh, giving you a tight smile nonetheless. "Visit again soon. Techno hasn't admitted it yet but he misses you. You're his kid."

"Wilbur being your kid didn't stop you from killing him."

You bite your tongue and nod. When you step out, the rain feels heavy as you fly away from your grandfather.

Tubbo wasn't expecting you back until Sunday and you didn't really have a house built anywhere else.

Tommy's hotel could use a customer, right?

{《☆》}

[lol this was written a while back but I'm finally getting around to posting it. Anyway happy pride month! I'm going to be posting double today in honour of da gay. ]

[L0v3, k1ng]

❤ I Do Adore

Request by (@)CountrysideGayBoy 9n Wattpad : "Karls s/o (he/him pronouns) accidentally walks in while streaming and chat has questions. Karl introduces his s/o to chat and some members of the smp (ones that aren't as close to Karl that wouldn't know) and overall is just a huge ball if fluff because I can't do angst rn-"

[He/him]

[1000+ words]

Description: You're hungry for some pizza and chat is hungry for content. [Karl x M!Reader it's in the request]

[Read the rest under the cut]

{《☆》}

"Yoooooo!" Karl yelled through the door, followed by loud giggles. You glanced over, awfully curious of what he's been doing for the last two hours. Typically you could find something to do. Sometimes even watch the streams themselves (amassing over 500k channel points), but tonight was too boring. Way too slow.

You scrolled through your phone, liking cute images of Karl (it was basically 60% of your timeline). As you scrolled your stomached grumbled lightly. Ugh, now you wanted food. Pizza maybe? You'd have to ask Karl. You texted him, not getting a response even as 10 minutes passed. Weird considering even during streams he'd respond fast. You listened to hear if maybe he was talking to someone but it was silent

You could just go ask him yourself?

Mind made up you wipe your hands off and pick up your phone before opening his door. "Karl, you hungry babe?"

Karl turns to you, eyes wide. He still has his headphones on, mid-sip of another Monster can. His obsession with those were unhealthy. Immediately he spits it all over the room mostly missing you luckily enough. "Y/N! I'm still streaming! Go you big doof!"

You reel back, slamming the door and staring at it, dumbfounded. That... wasn't great.

You sit down on the couch, setting your palms into your face and groaning.

You don't know how long it takes for Karl to calm his chat down enough to leave but you can hear his footsteps slowly padding down the hall. Looking up, he's already frowning softly.

When he notices you looking he smoothes his face into a hesitant smile. "Good news and bad news. Good news they didn't see your face, bad news is that they definitely heard you call me babe."

"I'm really sorry, Karl, I thought you ended stream," You are really genuine with your apology. Neither of you were quite ready but Karl had definitely been the more paranoid one and it made you feel guilty, even if it was an accident.

"It's okay, ya doof," He nudges your your shoulder softly. He takes a quiet but deep breath in, like he's more nervous than you were. "Okay so I know we hadn't exactly planned this but maybe... maybe you could come say hi to chat and Tubbo and Tommy. Tubbo and Tommy's who I'm streaming with now, Tubbo's the kid whose famous for his spinny boats and Tommy is the funny Cadillac video I showed you, remember?"

You light up when you realize you recognize the name. While you loved involving yourself with everything Karl loved, he did have one too many online friends for you to memorize all of them. "The bench boys! Wait no, not that. Uhm... Clingy Boys?"

Karl giggles, nodding with a warm little grin. "Close enough. You wait here while I go turn the camera off. I'm keeping your gorgeous looks all to myself."

"Oh hush," You pinch him gently as he leaves, relaxing back into the couch as he leaves. Everything was fine, nothing you couldn't fix together.

When he later guides you into his streaming room, hand linked into yours anxiously. He would definitely be pacing if you weren't tethering him to the seat. You silently squeeze it and he squeezes back.

"Hey Tubbo, where's Tommy?" Karl starts as casually as he can.

"Had to go do some chore for his mom, should be back soon." The voice was European, distinctly British, older teenager maybe.

"We'll that sucks for him, so anyway my boyfriend's here!"

"Hello Mr. Karl's boyfriend!" Tubbo said loudly, happily humming along. "Do you like nukes?"

"Okay, Tubbo, no nuke talk around Y/N," Karl cut in very quickly and you pouted slightly. Tubbo sounded so excited and you weren't interested per se but you also weren't not interested.

"Hello Bee Boy, I'd love to talk nukes." You smiled cheekily at Karl, who played up his scowl for a second before shoulder checking you gently. "But Mr Sunshine over here looks pouty so how about we just pretend to be normal."

"Awww, that's no fun," Tubbo pouted but quickly managed to rope you into agreeing to play minecraft on Karl's account. He was just in between trying to convince you to join Snowchester (a very cute name) when Tommy, a considerably louder British teenager, joined the call.

"Tubbo!" He yells, making you wince a bit. Definitely an earsore.

"What're you up to, man," He seems very extroverted and you smile a bit, he reminds you just a bit of Karl. "Oh hey Karl!"

"Hello," You take great delight in catching him off guard. You and Karl giggle as Tommy's off-guard screeching makes way through Karl's headphones. "I am Karl Jacobs, famous Twitch streamer and very handsome man."

"Shut up," He giggles quietly, trying to muffle them into your shoulder. He's probably blushing up to his ears. Honestly the cutest man alive.

"Are you Karl's boyfriend," Tommy put extra emphasis on the word strictly because it was romantic and you can hardly keep yourself from laughing. He continues just as easily,"You sound funny."

"That's rude Tommy," Tubbo cuts in and if words could, you knew his would be rolling their eyes. "Y/N has been really nice."

Tommy paused at Tubbo's words and then slowly, "Nice enough to give me Karl Merch for free?"

You can't help from laughing this time at the way he says it. You take a couple deep breathes in, trying to calm down and failing once before it works.  Karl's obviously confused but you're sure chats filling him in. "I would love to do that Tommy. Just gimme your address. Right now on stream. Where everyone can hear you."

"It's—," He stops suddenly.  A long pause, "Not a good idea to doxx myself."

"Yup," You agree easily, still smiling. "But nah, I'll see what I can do."

You and Karl take turns switching off Minecraft, keeping the stream entertained with your banter and casual flirting for another 30 minutes. Then Karl started badgering you about the pizza arriving soon (you never ordered it but apparently Karl did), and so you closed off stream, saying goodbye to the British teens with a cheerful wish to talk again, and went to have dinner.

This definitely wasn't what you were expecting from today but maybe this wasn't that bad.

{《☆》}

[And on today's episode of "Things That Could Be Written In A Day But Took Me A Month" we have a request from ages ago. I'm so sorry I'm kinda behind on requests but writers block just seems to twist between slapping me in the face and then leaving me the next second so ヽ(　￣д￣)ノ ]

[Per my request list the next post should be a 1. Pt 2 to a Fundy x reader 2. a 3rd and final part to King Eret's and you'll find out the rest as becomes relevant. Have a good day, take care of yourself. Peace,]

[L0v3, k1ng]

Masterlist

Taglist: @creatorofstars

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 (𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐱 𝐌!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.

{《☆》}

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘴. "𝘚𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦."

𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘥, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘥 𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥. "𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦."

{《☆》}

Link

Sorry for the late update and post! I had been doing school work and completely forgot about Tumblr! (//▽//)

[L0v3, k1ng]

❤ Destiny

[600+ words]

[GN!Reader]

Summary: Everyone is born with words on their wrist, words their soulmate will say to them someday. You have the words "I love you" written in golden cursive on your wrist. (Dream x Reader)

You have grown up fearing the words "I love you". When your first boyfriend says it to you for the first time, you start crying. The relationship didn't end up lasting long but in every relationship you've had, it ends not too long after they say they love you.

You can't say the words back. Not because you don't love them, you always have, but trying to force the words out of your throat only brings vile, disgusting throw-up clawing its way out of your mouth.

Nothing about that ever changed when you got into your most recent relationship. You got the same chest-squeezing fear the first time Dream said "I love you" except after hearing your explanation, he didn't leave. He promised you never to leave saying "I love you" so that you never had to be scared of something bad happening.

Until it did.

You have never trusted someone as much as you have Dream, he is a sweetheart, he cares so deeply, and he loves you in the most honest way you've ever had anyone love you. He's the first person you've ever told you loved, and he's the one you're most scared of losing.

You wanted so desperately for him not to be your soulmate, only so you never had to lose him. But life doesn't always work out that way.

You were walking home together after dining out at a local pizza place, hands swinging together as you walked. It's such a peaceful night, a full moon shining down from above.

"We should eat out more often," Dream sighed happily. "I've never had better pizza."

That was pretty true but, "You said you were going to diet with Nick," You point out. Dream groans, pouting dramatically at you. "You can't just abandon him. He needs you."

"That pizza needs me!" Dream shakes his head with a laugh. "But fine, maybe another time. When he drops it in a week, we can all go together."

You try to hide your fond smile, "You're the reason his diets don't work out."

"Oh please," Dream scoffs. He then pauses and nods, "Yeah no, that's actually pretty true. But I have helped him work out so it evens out."

You giggle at his cute pouty face. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe."

Dream can't even pretend to look mad, cheeks flushed at the nickname. He coughs, "I picked last time right? What movie do you wanna see today?"

"Maybe Coraline. I haven't watched it in a few months, I kinda miss the funky little clay people," Dream pouts again at your words.

"Hey, I'm the only little Clay person you need."

You press twin kisses to his freckled cheeks. "Of course, you are, babe."

You're both laughing as you walk down the street. All you can see is his face, his smile, and the way the moon bounces off his hair. Headlights light up every freckle, every strand of his stubble. There is nothing but Dream, his wide eyes, and you.

And then he's pushing you. You fall hard on your back, pushing yourself up instantly and staring, misty-eyed, at the car that's speeding past Dream's still body.

You can't remember much. You know you had started screaming only because people started pouring out onto the street. You do remember holding Dream's hand, carefully cradling his face. You were probably crying.

His eyes fluttered open for only a second and he smiled, teeth bloody, the second he saw your face. After a second of open-mouthed silence, his voice croaked out quietly. "I love you."

You don't remember anything more from the night. Dream didn't make it. You were gone soon after.

{《☆》}

[Whoops, forgot to mention it was "Last thing your soulmate says to you" AU. My bad. Anyway, Dream is my little meow meow. He might've lied about being blonde and his freckles but honestly I had no expectations (my mental image of him is still a blob, ngl).]

[Tell me any other sad prompts you have, I might end up writing them, who knows :)]

[L0v3, k1ng]

Masterlist

Taglist: @creatorofstars @hiwhatsupbruv