Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Missa is a Reaper, so he is fairly used to waking up in strange places. He is still a novice when it comes to his abilities, so it’s quite embarrassing how often he faints where he stands after he overtaxes himself. Most times, he just has to hope that whenever he comes too, most of his body is there when he wakes.

This time is different though. He immediately can tell something is wrong, this isn't some overexertion. He can barely hear his own thoughts over the cacophony of voices.

“Hermanito! Nice to finally see you awake, everyone else woke up already.” A gruff voice he knows so well stands out amidst the clamor. Spreen, his big brother. The light hurts his eyes a bit as he opens his eyes and...his mouth is very dry. Did he get drugged? His whole body feels heavy.

“S-Spreen? Where are we?” Missa wheezed, disoriented as Spreen pulls him up. Missa's legs wobble, and he already feels a headache building, not out of place for an overexertion, but it still feels different. What’s more terrifying is that Lady Death's presence feels deep underwater. It’s unnatural. He’s never been cut off from her like this.

Spreen continued on as Missa panicked. “Everyone already did their introductions already. The man with sunglasses goes by Maximus. Apparently he is a pretty famous conspiracy YouTuber? He said he went on the train because he won a train ticket for a vacation through a raffle–“ Another obnoxious but familiar voice immediately cuts off Spreen, and Missa gets almost tackled by a hug. With four arms.

“Ah, our sleeping beauty finally woke up, eh pendejo?”.

Missa stiffens before returning the hug. “R-Roier. You’re here too?”

Roier smiles, showing off his many teeth as he starts gesturing with all his arms. He is, after all, a spider hybrid. “Yes and no. I do not know how we got here. Last thing I remembered was trying to ask a guy out, and woke up here with a cute Spreen yelling into my face–“

Spreen growls at Roier. “Yeah, sorry for caring you were living, bastard.” Roier only smirks wide in response, and Spreen looks close to strangling the spider hybrid. Missa sighs. His brother and best friend will never change.

“Wait. You saying you don’t remember getting on the train? Is that the same for you hermano?” Missa speaks out nervously. He doesn’t remember getting on this train. His brain hurts.

Spreen huffs out a sigh. “Last thing I know, I was doing a mission to take out an enemy commander before he could kill me. But right as I was at him, there was a great flash and I woke up here.”

Missa whimpers, only more distressed by the minute. Everything felt off about this. “I don’t want to be here. It’s wrong. My connection to Her is foggy. This whole place is wrong. We have to leave–.” Spreen sighs and places a hand on Missa’s head, cutting Missa off. 

“No matter what happens, I will protect you hermanito. So take some deep breaths and calm down.”

...His big brother is right. He takes a couple deep breaths and calms down his anxious heart. Spreen continues on with what he was saying earlier, glaring at Roier, daring him to interrupt him again. “There’s a wizard by the name of Vegetta. He said he went to bed and woke up here. Mariana is somewhere around here, probably too busy flirting with anything with a pulse. The guy in the back with red eyes is Rubius. And fair warning. Your ex and his ex are here.” Spreen gestures towards the back where, indeed, Quackity and Luzu are sitting.

Missa lets out a pained groan. Missa and Quackity dated for a while, if that disaster could have been considered dating. After tons of fighting, they both decided it was best they break up. But Quackity just had to rub some more salt in the wound and get with Luzu right afterwards. Even though it’s been so long, Missa does still find it awkward to be around Quackity, so he ducked behind Spreen to hide himself somewhat, peeking out to check if they noticed. He feels this will be a very long train ride.

Spreen, seeing Missa hiding behind him, whispers to him. “Give me the go ahead and I will beat his ass.” Spreen never forgot how depressed Missa was post breakup. Quackity is on his shit list always and forever after making his baby brother cry.

Missa laughs, spirits raised a bit. He can always depend on Spreen.

Suddenly an intercom comes alive above their head and blasts, “Welcome to Isla Quesadilla! Enjoy your stay! Who knows, maybe you will never want to leave.” The doors creak open and Missa and the rest see little choice but to leave the trains.

———————————————————————-

Look, Phil is very tired. He has lived through so much that he just wants to take a break. Just live quietly. Maybe find someone he can be with. He just wants peace. So Phil, despite his paranoia, didn’t question being given a ticket to Isla Quesadilla. He is in desperate need of a vacation, so maybe this is the universe finally giving him a break. At this point he might lose his only life to stress. He already lost a couple feathers. He needed a break.

It was all fine. He packed his clothes and whatever he decided he needed for an all paid two week vacation on a tropical resort.

What wasn’t fine was being the first to wake up with his wings, his gift, his pride and joy, clipped. Shorn of his Goddess’ blessing, the primaries reduced to fluffed stumps.

The fury that he felt could not be described, he hardly kept from waking the others with the sheer rage in him. His most prized gift from his wife, and someone took them from him. But, the Angelic strength he also got from Her was dampened, so he couldn't paint this place in death. Instead, he hid his wings underneath the cloak he packed, and he seethed. They were perfectly fine before he closed his eyes and had a nap. His wings were fine just a day before.

He breathed in and out. They are only clipped, they will grow back in. It’s not the end of the world. He just had to wait. He can wait.

Others on the train slowly came awake, some he recognized. There was Fit, his ex lover and good friend. Still running from romance, it seems. He hopes he can find a nice man he can be with. They are similar, both are not used to opening their hearts to others.

There’s the slime hybrid that goes by Charlie he's met before. He seems to be flirting with everyone on the bus. The demon named BBH, sparking faint memories of chaos in Phil's mind. He hopes he doesn’t cause too many problems here. He remembers somewhat that BBH is one of the two reapers his wife especially likes.

There’s a man named Dave? Daniel? No, Dan, that looks shell shocked if anything. A woman that goes by Jaiden. There's Foolish- he knows him pretty well. The immortals have a small circle.

The intercom blasts, startling many on board. “You have arrived at Isla Quesadilla! A vacation spot that is to die for! Enjoy your stay.” When they trickled off the train, the whole station was empty beside a table full of metallic bracelets and a woman in a lab coat, a worker of some sort. A white bear-ish hybrid, judging by the ears and paws, a strangely blank mask covering their face, even the eyes, only offering the outline of a snout.

The worker cleared their throat, adjusting the mask. It seemed to have a voice modulator in it. “Hello, and welcome to Isla Quesadilla. You may call me Elena. I am here to guide you on behalf of Mr. Duck, the host of this resort. Now see the devices in front of you. These are the communications created for Isla Quesadilla. It has many abilities! Such as translation, texting, alerts, and it works as a key to some of our facilities.” She passes around the devices to everyone, ensuring they all latch it on, her sharp gaze somehow translating through the mask. Strange.

Charlie immediately starts playing with it. Phil stares at it curiously, trying to hide suspicion, but puts it on.

Elena smiles widely and says, “Now Mr Duck has created a puzzle for you for your first day here on Isla Quesadilla! You have to figure out how to turn the power back on. Have fun and enjoy the island!” She shoos them away to start working on the puzzle. Really, it seems like they’re doing the workers’ jobs for them, according to Phil. This was supposed to be a vacation.

———————————————————————-
The rest of the day goes like this. They receive communication devices. They get a task to do a puzzle to get the power back on. Both sides argue and banter. They eventually finish. They receive a video on their communicators that they should not press the red button.

Foolish and Vegetta immediately do. The walls crumble. They are told they can never leave. They have nothing but the clothes on their backs. Both the English and The Hispanics sigh deeply and curse loudly.

"FUCK-"

Chapter Text

Everyone stares awkwardly at each other. Roier sighs deeply before clapping his hands to get everyone's attention, like a teacher to a gaggle of preschoolers. “Okay, we are fucked as we can see, but we are fucked together, so it’s time for introductions. My name is Roier. And yes, I know I’m hot.” He winks playfully.

Spreen practically growls and Roier cheerfully says, “That pelotudo is our darling Spreen! And yes, he does bite-“

Spreen puts Roier into a headlock. As Roier struggles, other Hispanics start to introduce themselves.

“I’m Vegetta, hello beautiful boys!” An elf speaks in a thick accent. Among others, Foolish smirks and winks back-

“I’m Foolish and you aren’t bad looking yourself. Muy guapo-" Foolish’s words end in a yelp as he gets jabbed in the ribs by Jaiden. “...Can’t even flirt in times of peril I see..."

Spreen gags, and only then does Roier get free from the head lock, and immediately he uses that freedom to start running his mouth. “The guy with sunglasses in the midst of a panic attack, that’s Max-“ Max scoffs. “Rude. The guy whose face is all puffy from crying is Rubius-“ Rubius yells in offense.

Mariana shouts over Roier. “I can’t believe my ex is flirting with another man in front of me!-“

Foolish nervously speaks up, a bit flustered. “I thought we both agreed not to talk about that summer, Mariana.“

Charlie hoots and hollers. “Wow this must be so embarrassing for you Foolish-“

“Charlie?”

“Yes Foolish?“

“Shut the fuck up.”

Missa mumbles to himself, watching the chaos. “Oh void, we are all gonna die here aren’t we.” Spreen pets his shoulder in comfort. Missa tension slowly leaves.

There is more shouting from Roier. “Continuing on- and IF ANY ONE interrupts me again I will BITE-, these fangs aren’t just for show. The man in the hoodie is Luzu and the duck hybrid is Quackity. The gossip is they almost got married before ending things. Who knows they might figure out their shit here.” Roier smirks and ducks away as Quackity fully launches himself in an attempt to maul Roier with a string of swears, scampering back as Spreen catches Quackity by the neck like a disobedient kitten, looking with a quiet hatred in his eyes.

“Calm yourself...or I will make you be quiet.” Spreen then puts Quackity back on the ground less than gently, making Quackity fall on his ass. Quackity whimpers a yes as he rubs his back. He is not going to move up on Spreen's shitlist today.

Missa sighs at the chaos around him. Giving up on understanding, he finally takes a closer look at the others. Foolish is a shark hybrid of some sort? There’s Bad, his old mentor- how long has it been? There's a woman that is laughing at their chaos, clearly familiar with a few of them. A friend? He hopes at least. This whole situation is scary enough as is. There's a quiet man with goggles that is looking very absentminded. A very, very muscular bald man with a prosthetic arm and a lot of scars. He looks like he has gone through some serious times, but he is laughing at the chaos.

His eyes trail to the man standing next to him, who is openly cackling and almost choking from it, watching the scene before him. He has such a pretty laugh. Oh- Oh no, and he’s handsome. He is absolutely gorgeous. Missa can’t help but stare for a long, long moment. His beauty blinds him.

His hair is the color of spun gold, and his eyes the color of soulfire. Or a cloudless sky. Not to mention his physique, he must be some sort of trained warrior. He bets he has calloused, strong hands that would be so amazing to hold. And not to mention, he looks so huggable. Not to mention, his aura around him rang familiar of Death, something almost soothing to a reaper such as himself.

The handsome man notices him staring and he gives Missa a gorgeous smile. Missa shyly waves as feels his face flush violet. He breaks eye contact, only to see Roier with a feral grin. Oh no.

Missa goes bright purple and starts to growl out a “Roier- don’t you dare–“ Only for Roier to indeed dare.

Roier immediately hugs Missa’s arm and opens his big, fat mouth. “This beautiful man, second only to my handsomeness, is Missa. And gentlemen,“ Roier openly gives a look to the blond man he was looking at earlier. “He is single and ready to mingle~.” Missa goes bright purple, almost glowing with embarrassment while Spreen just growls at Roier and tackles him onto the grass. Missa looks at the ground and begs for it to swallow him whole.

“Oh it’s time to beat up Roier?” Mariana smirks, eager for any chance to beat the living shit out of Roier. He lives for it. He immediately joins Spreen in kicking and punching. Roier sprouts a filth of Spanish cusses at them, all of his arms flailing in rage.

—————————————————————————

Phil laughs at the chaos in front of him. He doesn’t need to know Spanish to know the gist of what is being said. Plus, everyone’s reactions around him show what is being screeched is absolutely vile. Roier screams like a dying cat.

He looks at this Missa, trying to hide himself in his hood. Single huh? He is very cute. Maybe he can tease him a bit. He blushes such a pretty purple too, adorable.

Fit eyes fall on him, silent for a moment, then sighs. “Oh I see how it is. I guess you always like them pretty and sweet-“.

Phil elbows him in the ribs with a cackle. “Not my fault I have eyes! Anyways, we should introduce ourselves next. If not, they’ll continue until dark and then we’ll actually be screwed.”

Fit nods, watching the fight for a moment longer before joining the brawl on the ground. Eventually, he manages to break it up, holding Mariana off of Roier with his stronger prosthetic arm. Spreen was still gripping Roier’s hair in his hands, though. Only Missa giving them a look makes Spreen free him, very reluctantly.

Phil smiles and steps in during the momentary silence. “The man that broke you apart is Fit. He may look like he is scary but actually-“ Phil smiles wider, making his voice all sappy and high pitched, a shit eating grin on his face. “He is an utter sweetheart. An utter romantic. Soft and gooey under his hard shell.” Fit turns slowly to him, giving a death glare in return that promised revenge.

The man with goggles shyly pipes up. “And my name is Dan. Nice to meet you?-“ He starts to talk more, but he is quickly interrupted by a woman with bright blue hair and wild eyes.

“I’m Jaiden, the most awesome person ever.“ Roier smirks at her. Now that’s someone that is actually fun around here.

A demon stepped forward, towering over many of them with a dark form and a cheerful smile shining under his hood. “My name is Bad! it’s nice seeing some familiar faces. Riiiiiiiiight Missa?” The demon’s bright smile seems to show some faint threat behind it with that, his teeth looking very sharp.

Missa shivers and tries to hide from Bad’s gaze. His mentor is pretty sadistic. Now he is stuck with him for the time being. Just his rotten luck.

Phil rolls his eyes at Bad’s faint threats and looks at Missa, noting how he looks almost like a scared cat. He looks too cute looking upset like that. He can’t see much of his face underneath the skull mask he is wearing, but his skin is such a warm caramel and the glimpses of his eyes are purple like the galaxies above his hardcore world. His hair is like the night sky peeking out from the hood. Reminds him of his Lady, and he had that feel of Death to him too. Void and beautiful cosmos.

Phil pulls away from that, tucking that down to never think about that again. Turning instead back to the conversation, he finally chips in to say, “The slime hybrid is Charlie. And I’m Philza, though you can call me Phil.

He looked around, resisting the urge to get high up to survey the land. He couldn’t right now, no wings to scale structures. “Now that we are all introduced to each other, let's start making camp. We are stuck on this island with no food and no supplies. The environment will kill us before we even have a chance to escape. We need shelter, fire, food, and water. I say we look through some of these abandoned buildings to see if we find anything useful. Speaking of,” He looks at Missa. “Missa, right? You can come with me to search for firewood.”

Missa squeaks, frozen for a long moment, before walking towards Phil to follow...

Chapter Text

Phil and Missa travel deeper and deeper into the wild, trees thickening overhead and blocking out the sun. As they look over the possible firewood, Phil looks disappointed at each fallen stick he tests. All wet. It must have rained recently. 

At least Missa has been singing a quiet song to fill in the silence, keeping the mood light. Must be a nervous habit. Phil listened comfortably. A light blush dances on his cheeks as his mind starts to wander. His feathered ears twitch as he listens to Missas melodic voice. He can’t help but to wonder how Missa would sound if he were a more confident. 

Speaking of music, Phil whistles a tune and a loud caw erupts in the distance. A flash of black and a rustling of feathers interrupts the serenity, and a glossy black crow lands neatly on Phil’s arm, bouncing slightly as it regards Phil. The bird is only silent for a moment before throwing his head back to let out an annoying ruckus that sounds like numbers and random letters, making Phil scowl and pinch his beak closed gently. “Shut!” 

Turning to the commotion, Missa barely contains his coos as he admires the little nuisance. Such a pretty bird. A perfect little symbol of His Lady!

Phil feels a tinge of something sour seeing Missa admire Brian. His wings are much more beautiful and well cared for. Well, they used to be. Now they are little more than ruffled excuses with them cruelly shorn, hardly worth a glance, much less admired. 

Phil shakes off that feeling, burying it deep inside. He is not gonna spiral into dark thoughts now. They will grow back. He will show off his Goddess’ blessing to all once they are back to prime condition. He can’t wait to see what cute expression Missa makes seeing his wings at its full glory. 

Instead, Phil puts on a smile and gestures to the bird climbing up his arm to his shoulder. “Oh! This is Brian. he doesn’t bite. He is a bit of an annoying twat though.” Brain tilts his small head to the side, looking curiously at Missa. With a few flaps, knocking Phil’s hat askew, Brian takes off and scrabbles to land on Missa’s arm. Missa squeaks, almost dropping Brian, managing to twist his arm just in time to catch the crow like a baby. 

Phil cackles, amused, watching a surprised Brian stare up at Missa with wide beady eyes. No thoughts, only shock. “He is a twat, but he is pretty well trained, no need to be scared of him.” 

Missa recovers quickly, rocking the crow jokingly with a growing smile. He always had a love for crows.

Brian looks up at Missa’s beautiful eyes, a mesmerizing purple. He lets himself be swayed side to side, cooing pleased. This one. Want this one. He fluffs up his wings, looking perfectly like he wants to be spoiled rotten as he snuggles more into the baby hold. 

Missa glances at Phil, and when he thinks Phil isn’t looking, he shifts his skull mask up a bit and places a gentle kiss on top of the crow’s little head. Brian coos under the attention and starts playfully nibbling on Missa's gloved fingers, already declaring this one the new favorite, unlike the annoying Crowfather. 

Missa giggles sweetly, enamored. Brian is so precious, he is almost tempted to sneak him from Phil. He wonders if Brian would fall for bribery. If they’re gonna be stuck here, might as well get some animal friends in the process.

The sour feeling is back for Phil as he watches Missa kiss Brian on the head. Phil is not jealous. He only just met this person, Death-touched or not.

But, a stupid, birdish part of him wonders why Brian and not him. He is the prettier crow, after all. 

He shakes himself off, straightening his ear feathers out to not let either see how that affected him. “Brian said he found some dry branches down this way a minute ago. Let’s go and get a bunch to last the night. The wind is already so cold.”

————————————————————————-

Back in the clearing, Fit returns from his own mission, grumbling as he carries something. He places the object on the ground and plucks several more from his inventory, face turned with annoyance as he looks at the others in the clearing. “I checked the train stations again, and our gracious hosts left us five tents. Some of us will have to share. Trapping us on this island and now being cheap? What else, gonna force us to pay taxes?!-“

Spreen laughs sarcastically. “I don’t think they particularly care about our comfort with us being their new prisoners and all. But still, it’s good they at least gave us tents. The sky is getting gray, probably gonna rain, and I don't particularly want to deal with a sick Missa.” 

Behind him, Roier and Mariana came back from the river, inventories full of water for the group. 

Fit looks at Spreen, considering him. “You worry about him a lot huh. Have a crush on him or something?-“ 

Spreen goes silent, turning to stare at Fit with a look of growing horror, his bear ears flattening to his head. 

Roier’s smile widens as he sees Spreen’s snout goes tomato red, leaping at the opportunity to attack like a spider to a fly. He saunters over to Spreen, singsonging. “Oh, what is this I hear? Spreen having a crush on Missa? Wow, this is news to me~“. Mariana fails to hold in his snickers.

Spreen growls, baring his teeth like a proper predator at Roier. “Puta you better shut your mouth before I shut it for you!-“ 

Roier giggles, managing to dodge Spreen’s punch as the bear hybrid lunged for him, escaping to a safe distance. 

Spreen fights to compose himself as he watches Roier run away, looking back at Fit once he deems himself in control, gritting through his teeth. “I. DO. NOT. HAVE. A. CRUSH. ON. MISSA. He is my hermanito. My baby brother. Sorry for being protective because people will bruise his heart!” He openly turns his glare to Quackity, the duck hybrid that broke his hermanito’s heart. Quackity shrivels under the intensity of Spreen’s stare. He’ll never forget the beat down he got post break up and the shit list to follow.

Under the hostility of Spreen, Fit merely smirks, completely unbothered. “Oh, so you are single then. Good to know.” 

Roier and Mariana’s heads both snap up with a gasp where they were sorting the water bottles, share a glance, and they start speaking frantically in hushed Spanish voices. Someone is actually flirting with Spreen? And Spreen wasn’t actively killing him for it?! Holy fuck, the world is ending. 

Mariana is just happy he can see a telenovela in real time. God, he wishes he had some palomitas to eat watching everything go down. 

Spreen has no words, only a sputtering array of curses and aborted sentences. With final snarl, he turns and walks off with his ears tucked tight against his head and snout red, clearly flustered. Wisely, for once Roier didn’t open his big mouth to taunt him, he was too busy gossiping with Mariana. And Charlie. He gravitated into the conversation through the power of gossip.

Fit laughs. So he is a bit shy. Kinda cute. He likes his men dangerous. And well, Spreen did catch his eye earlier with how much he exudes danger. This should be fun. 

—————————————————————————

Missa and Phil spend the next hour gathering firewood, Brian fluttering after them and occasionally hitching a ride on their backs. Brian quickly found a new favorite place to nest in Missa's hair, making it a bit messy. As they work, Missa can’t help but look at Phil carrying much more than his portion, eyes trailing over his biceps under his cloak. He is carrying it so easily, like it weighs nothing to him! Not even a bit of exertion in his face! Even his pretty black ear feathers were perfectly relaxed! It’s not fair to Missa that a man can be so naturally handsome. 

Phil lips curl into a smile as he worked. Missa is so obvious with the staring. It makes him want to tease him even more, so easy to catch his attention using just his natural strength. So maybe he did pick up more firewood than needed to show off? No one can tell.

As they go, Missa and Phil naturally start talking, idle conversation of this and that. Within minutes, they are both making each other shake with laughter, struggling to hold their sticks and fill their inventories. It really is so unfair to Missa how handsome and funny Phil is. Missa is near crying from all the jokes Phil is cracking.

Amidst his laughter, he almost trips over a root propped out of the ground, drawing a yelp from him as he drops the firewood to catch himself. Phil, with his quick reflexes, drops his own pile and manages to catch Missa’s hand before he falls. 

Missa was right. His hands are nice to hold. Covered in calluses, but the grip is so gentle. He blushes a deep purple, thankful for his mask hiding most of it. 

You alright, Missa?” Phil squeezes Missa's hand, pulling him to stand properly again. Missa nods, making a noise that sounds like a drowning cat. Phil laughs, enjoying this immensely.

Picking up the fallen branches, the two of them finally make their way back to the clearing. 

As they enter the clearing again, Fit looks up to greet them, then pauses. He stares at Phil, then to the still blushing Missa. In response, Phil surveys Fit, then turns to eye Spreen, who is putting up his tent, still angrily cursing under his breath. His ears and snout were still tinged red, a clear giveaway. Phil and Fit meet eyes, and they stare at each other for a long, long moment before both deciding to stay quiet in mutual ignorance.

Shortly after, Bad comes back, covered in blood and carrying a dead deer over his shoulders. Vegetta and Foolish staggered behind him like they just gained a new trauma, clutching their weapons as they tucked themselves back into the group. 

Through hushed voices, they told their tale. They had utterly sucked at hunting and foraging, the strange mobs dodging their usual methods, no cows and sheep to be found they could merely approach, only skittish animals they had to chase or shoot down, and they had no string for bows. Luckily, Bad had come through with food for the night. 

But they really wish they could cleanse their brains of Bad tackling the poor deer like a beast and tearing at its throat with his claws, teeth embedded in the back of its neck. They never wanted to see that again. Make them forget please...

Fit shakes his head at the spectacle, fairly used to sights like this, and instead comes up to Phil with a bundle. “There’s a tent I saved for you. I know you’re really particular about no other smells being where you sleep.” Fit throws Phil the tent to start making, receiving a grateful nod in return. 

Spreen sighs, finishing up pitching his own tent. He suddenly realizes he is gonna have to sleep in a pile with all the other dumbasses. May those bitchy Deities Missa likes help him tonight...

Spreen pivots to help start making a fire with the firewood the two brought before Roier and Mariana come to bug him. 

“So what was that earlier~?” Both smile devilishly, creeping closer and closer.

Missa comes and joins them with another armful of firewood, sitting next to Spreen as he starts to blow the small embers into a flame “What are you guys talking about?”

Roier laughs, flopping down against Missa. “Fit, the handsome bald man over there, flirted with your hermano~. This pendejo might actually finally love. Praise our duck kidnapper.” 

Missa looks over at Fit in surprise, lighting up at the thought. “Is that true Spreen? And…you didn’t kick his ass for it?”

Spreen sighs as the flame finally starts to catch the firewood. “Yes. Can we move on from this already?- Or should I bring up how you two-“ He gestures with his chin towards Mariana and Roier, “Have been flirting with everyone the past hour. Or,” He smiles wickedly at Missa “how my hermanito’s been openly swooning about a man.” Missa blushes and tries to hide his face. Spreen grumbles, shaking his head. “Seriously, you need to stop being so weak for every man with a pretty face. That’s why your heart gets broken so often.”

Missa pouts. “But me and Phil actually talked a lot. He is very nice!” Spreen gags and shakes his head, tuning the group out. He doesn’t want to hear his baby brother gush about his newfound crush. Romance is such a chore and something he does not want to hear about, much less from his hermanito. 

He sees Fit looking at him across the clearing, and he pauses. He subconsciously scratches his neck, clearing his throat. Yep. Romance is such a chore. 

Bad hums as he starts cooking the deer, still covered in blood without a care, passing pieces of the meat around for everyone to start eating. It’s a cacophony of noise as everyone realizes how hungry they are, clamoring for dinner.

The sun starts to go down pretty soon after, dark clouds closer and promising the predicted rain, so everyone starts to head into their tents to avoid it. Vegetta smiles brightly at the group, making an announcement to them. “All of you can cuddle into my chest for warmth.” 

The hispanics all hoot excitedly as Foolish screams “LET ME JOIN!-“ before getting grabbed and dragged away by Bad into another tent, much to Foolish’s displeasure. At least Bad finally washed off.

All the Hispanics just pile on top of each other. Spreen yells, “Roier, your fucking feet stink, get them out my face.”

Mariana snarks, “Be quiet I’m trying to get my beauty sleep-“

“No wonder, you need beauty sleep, you ugly Pendejo.” Roier squirmed around.

Vegetta laughs, trying to break up the incoming fight as Mariana screams. “YOU TAKE THAT BACK YOU PUTA-“ 

Missa sighs and wriggles out from the pile, sneaking out of the tent in the chaos and into the drizzle starting outside. Maybe he can sleep in a tree branch or something, or bury himself in the dirt somewhere to avoid getting rained on. Anything but this screamfest. 

“Noisy huh?” A voice comes behind him, startling him from his efforts to find a good looking tree. Phil’s tent flap was open, the aforementioned player sitting cross-legged in the entrance.

Missa laughs, shrugging back towards his family. “Yeah...“ 

Phil looks at everyone's tent, especially eyeing the one Fit is sleeping in to see if anyone was watching. The sky finally starts to fully open, a drizzle increasing into a proper rain. Phil makes a shushing motion and gestures to Missa to come inside, smiling conspiratorially. 

Missa weighs the idea, unsure at first, but another shout behind him pushes him a few steps towards Phil. Maybe then Missa can actually sleep, dry and comfortable. Many thoughts go through Missa’s head, but at the end of the day, he decides fuck it and slips quietly into Phil’s tent. 

Chapter Text

Spreen wakes up with Roier's smelly feet to his face and his arm trapped underneath Mariana.  A great way to start the day...

He holds his breath against the smell as he struggles to wriggle out of the pile of limbs and bodies, barely managing without waking anyone up. Upon his escape, he looks around and notices Missa is missing, not in the pile like he first thought. 

Spreen quietly makes his way outside, not worried quite yet. When it gets too loud, Missa sometimes sleeps on top of a tree branch somewhere or buries himself in the soil for warmth and shelter. Reapers...just fucking eldritch cats.

He scans the nearby trees to see if Missa is atop any branches, but finds nothing, even when he looks further from the clearing. He finally starts to worry when his ears pick up a conversation hailing from that bird man’s tent his little brother is so soft on, and he is instead filled with a different concern. Quietly, he creeps toward the tent, listening closely. It’s just as he feared, Missa and Phil are laughing together. A twinge of overprotectiveness surges through him at the predicament. 

Behind him, Roier finally leaves the tent and notices Spreen. He sighs, striding over to drag him back from the tent, already figuring out what was happening. “You got to let Missa fly free. You want him happy, yes?” 

Spreen sighs, knowing Roier is right, as much as he hates to admit it. That’s when Missa exits the tent, catching sight of his family and locking into an awkward staring contest. He breaks it a moment later and inches away, flustered.

Phil is the next to come out, a smile on his face, pausing at the scene. He stares at Spreen, sizing him up, calmly stating, “Have something to say to me?” 

Spreen nods and gestures for Roier to leave. Brotherly business only, he has a duty to complete. Roier rolls his eyes and complies. He is in need of breakfast anyways, time to see if that deer was completely eaten. Maybe he can catch a squirrel or something, use these spider reflexes.

Spreen sighs, waiting for Roier to leave. “Look. I don’t care much about what you do with my baby brother. And I definitely do not need any details. None. He is soft on you and from what I can tell, you are soft on him. Yeah, you ain’t sly, don’t scoff. So don’t break his heart. He’s already gone through a heartbreak, don’t make him go through another. Protect his heart. He’s sensitive and gentle, he is way too gentle when he shouldn’t be. And this isn’t me thinking he is weak. He is much much stronger than you think, and he’ll fuck you up himself if you try anything.”

Phil hums. “Don’t worry, I promise I’ll protect him if anything happens between us. I won’t be cruel to him. And if we do get together, maybe I can make him happy. “ 

Spreen and Phil shake hands as they split, mutually understanding, and they start separating supplies as others begin to mill about, demanding breakfast. Luckily, there was enough deer for a small snack. Roier brought back a rabbit, but apparently it was totally too full of spider venom to share. His family didn’t reveal the fact Roier did not have venom in exchange for a bite or two of it.

The plan is to split the group for the morning, spread out and see what they can find. Phil looks at the wall, a critical eye at the top of it. Maybe he can build a nest there, just a quick place to rest before they get off this island.

Spreen playfully puts Missa into a headlock as Roier and Mariana laugh and tell jokes, grouping up naturally. It was long decided they would build a place together. Spreen goes along with their craziness to make sure his brother and his best friends are safe. 

——————————————————————-

Everyone was pretty busy the next couple weeks. They all built their homes and made communal gardens and livestock pens. They became a community. Much to Roier’s amusement, some became...especially close. He will never stop teasing Maxo for catching him kissing Dan near spawn, both of them clearly trying to hide. 

Not to mention his own best friends’ love lives. 

Adorable Spreen. He really needs to listen to Roier’s stellar dating advice and not steal every belonging in Fit's home because of how angry he is for making him feel things. Though, Fit was smiling when he caught Spreen, so Fit must realize that Spreen is acting like a fucking child pulling his crush’s pigtails. Roier really wonders if Fit’s wires are crossed. Spreen of all people? It would be easier to romance a porcupine. At this rate, Roier will be the first to get married and he doesn’t even have a boyfriend yet! Missa seems convinced about Spreen, though. 

Speaking of the second offender, Roier glances at Missa as he slips back into their base, all four arms full of supplies. Missa is humming a simple tune like a fucking princess as he cooks in their kitchen. This bastard. This infatuated bastard. Ever since he learned that the oh so mysterious man lives on only water and avocados, Missa has made it his personal mission to make him lunch everyday. 

Roier smirks. “You know what everyone says. A man's heart is through his stomach. Really trying there? You really like him, hmm?” 

Missa blushes, turning the stove off. “I-It’s not like that. He needs to eat something more than avocado toast! Plus, I think he likes my cooking? He always says thanks and finishes the whole plate and-“ 

Roier rolls his eyes. He knows Phil loves Missa's cooking and more. He always waits with a dumb smile on top of the wall. Phil always knows when Missa will bring up the food and there’s always a reason for Missa to stay a little longer.  Missa is very fucking dumb, he doesn’t know how much Phil likes him. 

But hey? It’s always fantastic to have chisme to watch. 

Missa goes violet with embarrassment as he notices Roier’s pointed look, and he turns away to finish preparing the meal. Ignoring Roier’s jabs, he stumbles out to meet Phil and bring him his lunch for the day, leaving Roier by himself.

Roier huffed as he looked around the base. Mariana and Charlie are probs making out again, a couple which surprised no one. He wonders where Spreen is. Roier is getting sick seeing all the fruitless flirting around him, once he gets a man, he is gonna flaunt it in everyone’s faces and it will actually get somewhere. He’ll actually get his man. 

Maybe he can hang with Jaiden today. 

————————————————————————

Spreen really hates romance. He was supposed to go on a simple mining adventure. They are running out of coal, and Missa is cold blooded and needs heating. As always, Spreen doesn’t want to deal with a sick Missa, so it was best to just stock up. Simple. 

Spreen adjusted his bag, remembering Missa made him food for the trouble. Well, he made him and Phil food, Spreen just got the first bowl. Missa really likes that man, he even gave him the extra servings for the day. 

Regardless, this mining adventure was supposed to be simple.

So of course, of all the people he met on the mining trip, it had to be the annoying, handsome Fit. 

Fit gets under his skin so much, acting all...however he’s acting to make Spreen act a fool like this. He hates that he has a...ugh...crush on him. Romance is stupid and unnecessary to the grind of life. He shouldn’t be acting so stupid. He really should know better. 

He is being pretty stubborn about this though, he won’t lie. He should just bite the bullet about this and stop being petty. Spreen isn’t Missa. He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t falter. He wants something? He gets it. So he might as well turn around and get what he wants if he’s going to be acting like this. He’s only more sure of it as he and Fit mine together.

So, Fit and him finish collecting the last of the coal that they need, Spreen setting his sights. He turns to Fit as they climb towards the mouth of the cave, glaring at that obnoxious smirk that has been ever so present on Fit’s face every time Spreen was around him. 

Fit’s eyebrows raise, like he is taunting him to actually do something, yet fully expecting him to not, to act like a fool again. 

Spreen will be doing something, thank you very much. He grits his teeth like a wild animal, striding forward with a snarl on his lips. Fit only gets a moment of surprise before Spreen pulls him by his shirt, dragging him down and into a kiss.  It isn’t gentle, it isn’t kind. It’s a battle, all teeth and growls and fighting for a hold on each other, Spreen holding the upper hand easily with Fit’s surprise. It’s easy to dig his claws into Fit’s neck and pin him to a stone wall, to feel Fit grab him and try to fight back into the kiss.

Spreen finally leaves Fit’s lips after a long, long moment, allowing them both to finally breathe. He lets out a few panting breaths, face still turned with a warning snarl and his ears low. “Don’t fucking taunt me again.” 

Fit wheezes out a breath, leaning back against the stone, clearly delighted by the rush of their fight. “Fuck...I guess this means we’re actually gonna be a thing now huh? About time-“ 

Spreen snarls lowly, lunging to kiss him quiet as a yes. And if he melted into it a bit, letting it turn gentle? No one needs to know. Fit knowing he was even a little soft is already too many people. He only allowed it because Fit was petting his ear where he had a hand buried in his hair. No other reason.

————————————————————————

Missa shyly makes his way up to where Phil has taken residence, carefully scaling the wall. He understands why Phil decided to make his home up here, the view is breathtaking from the top of all this stone, but the admiring mood is somewhat soured by Missa’s thoughts. 

Despite Phil being so sweet and amazing, he has the absolute worst self care. Spreen has better self care most days, and Missa almost had to bring him to his Lady numerous times by now. 

First off, he only eats avocado toast, despite the great variety of food on the island. And yet, his body still miraculously stays in shape. His muscles keep in perfect form. Not that he was particularly paying attention. He blushes violet to himself. Trust him, he wasn’t admiring said muscles. 

Second, he hasn’t even truly built a house, he really just made a crude shelter out of dirt and bits of wood. Missa has been tempted several times now to ask him to live with him and the others, just to get him out of that starter dirt hut. But he knows Mariana and Roier will never let him live it down if he did. Roier already has enough dirt on him to last numerous lifetimes. 

Missa makes his way into the patch of avocado trees behind the house to see Phil waiting underneath the shade, his eyes closed. He looks so handsome asleep. Missa wonders if he sleeps well at night, settled into this strange land, he himself had some trouble the first few nights in his new home, after all. Luckily, his family was there to help get him used to this place. He wonders if Phil has anyone that ever did the same.

A voice interrupts his thoughts. “Missa, what did you bring this time? I thought you weren’t showing, you’re late!” 

He jumps, seeing Phil’s eyes open. He wasn’t sleeping after all, merely resting his eyes. For a moment, he thinks he hears a bit of petulance in his voice, before shaking off that thought. Nah, he must be imagining things. Ridiculous to think Phil would wait for him. 

Missa settled right next to Phil, trying not to pay attention to how their thighs press together. It seems they are always so close, it’s not good for his heart. A readjustment to his mask, just in case, then he brings out the food and drinks he prepared. 

“This time I made sopa de tortilla, the weather has been a tad chilly lately so I thought something warm would be nice, and galletas de mantequilla to go with it. I also managed to make some cucumber water with lemon from the recent crops from the community garden. I hope you enjoy it?” He fidgets, watching Phil’s reaction.

Phil smiles dumbly when Missa passes him his portion of the food, not knowing exactly what it is, but that it looks amazing. Some sort of soup and little biscuits. 

Phil will never admit aloud that this is his favorite time of day. Missa is so sweet, always making him have one good meal. So maybe he overreacted with his love for avocado toast, playing up how much he eats it (even though he does live on it...). He really loves Missa's cooking. Sure, he has had meals prepared by master chefs. Meals meant for kings, back when he was a king. But Missa's meals are homely. They feel like a hug. He greedily starts to dig in, everything utterly delicious. 

Above them, Brian hops along the branches of the avocado tree, peeking down at them in interest. Pretty man is back, pretty pretty man! He hops to a thin branch, shaking some leaves on them as he bounces, making them exclaim below him as he lets out a crowish laugh. Little shit.

Brian swoops down and tries to steal one of the galletas de mantequilla from Phil’s hand, barely missing as Phil pulls away expertly, very used to the thievery. Phil glares at the crow, and Brian merely lands nearby, bobbing his head with a few challenging caws.

Missa laughs, bringing out a bag of nuts, and Brian is quick to hop over to Missa. He flops against Missa’s side, fluffing up his feathers and begging all cutely for tasty nuts. He rubs against him, shaking his wings, being as adorable as he can. 

Missa laughs, offering nuts and head scritches. The bribery has been working. Brian looks at Phil as he hops into Missa’s lap, demanding more scratches. Missa sighs before spoiling and petting him. 

Phil is not jealous. He knows what Brian is doing. He’s not letting it work. Instead, he takes a bite of his food and promptly melts.

Missa can’t help but smile before eating. Yeah, it’s always worth it to cook for Phil. Anything to see him so happy. They pass their time in silence, pressed close as they eat. 

They eventually finish, and Phil notices something in Missa’s hair. It’s a leaf that fell from the tree they are under, probably from Brian being a little shit. He gently pulls it out, making Missa squeak embarrassingly. He doesn’t linger, but his hair is so silky smooth, making him want to. Missa liked his hair being touched if the violet in his ears say anything. Maybe he can use that fact in the future. He does know how to braid hair after all.

Missa quickly gathers the bowls and utensils, running away like a spooked cat. Phil can only laugh. He gets flustered by the slightest things. He needs to be spoiled. Phil’s feathered ears fluff up at the thought, getting embarrassed himself by his own thoughts. He really wants to spend more time with Missa. Without Brian for once.

Brian clacks his beak at Phil, teasing him, opening his mouth to speak. “Chat is keeping him if you aren’t.”

Phil swipes at him.

—————————————————————————-

Night falls, and Spreen comes back laden with coal. He rubs his ears absently, hair ruffled and lips still red and swollen, despite how he clearly tried to hide it. Roier immediately knows something happened, smirking wide, clearly ready to take the bait and tease him mercilessly, only for Spreen to turn a murderous glare his way. Missa looks between the two of them, puzzling it out.

Spreen grits out, “I will talk later. I’m tired. Too much emotion for today.“

Roier smirks after him, but dares not comment. He’d get all the chisme later.

Meanwhile, Missa’s thoughts really are falling for Phil, he’s afraid. He wonders what Phil likes to eat. He can’t stop thinking about Phil touching his hair. Phil’s hand felt really nice even though it had only been for a moment.

Mariana finally comes back with a smirk that tells of victory. Everyone wisely decides to ask few questions and cut Mariana’s responses short. They don’t need more information on Mariana's situationship with Charlie. They may want chisme, but by their Gods, they don’t want that much chisme.

Bit by bit, they each start to go to bed. Their single, very large bed, typical of their group. Missa was about to cuddle with Mariana before Roier rudely dragged Missa into his own arms to cuddle with him. It is his turn to have the amazing Missa cuddles, thank you very much. He glares at Mariana to try anything, but Mariana merely sighs and curls up, slipping off with the others. 

Before Missa falls asleep, he thinks to himself that he wishes they can be this happy forever... 

Chapter Text

Time passes, a couple more weeks in this strange, dangerous place. Spreen mostly spends it with the other islanders in exploring. There seems to be no end to this island, full of lakes and rivers and biomes he had never even seen before. And if he gets to spend time with his new boyfriend while he’s exploring as well? Well no one needs to know. 

They don’t even need a big excuse, him and Fit make a great team, Fit keeping a perfect watch and Spreen monitoring Fit’s back. Guess 2B2T had some perks to having good situational awareness or something. Made good stories for Fit to tell too.

Fit was...nice. It was nice. Sure, romance was stupid, but...Fit was nice. They bounced off each other well, equally at each other's throats, but it was always fun to clash. Alway sparring, never actually fighting. Spreen liked that. Plus, he was a pretty fucking good kisser, so that was a plus.

He’d never admit to anyone ever that he liked the softer kisses the best. He will die with that information before that’s divulged. 

On another impossibly sunny day, not a drop of rain since their first night, they were out to gather intel once again. Spreen knew Missa wanted to join them for today, but he told him to stay back this time around. It has slowly gotten more dangerous since they first arrived. Dan had gotten attacked a few days before by some sort of creature, they’d had to grab him from a pretty bad respawn. All he could really tell them was that it was strong and green. It wasn’t a creeper, something else strange and destructive.

So Spreen told Missa to stay back. Missa was pretty furious about that if the fiery glare he threw Spreen’s way said anything. He should probably apologize about that when they get back. 

Currently, they are investigating an overgrown looking mall. The islanders’ explorations have revealed that there was a time this island was some sort of resort, but that is very much in the past. It’s strange to think. All these strange buildings covered in plants and full of soil, these places used to be inhabited. Must have been long, long ago...

Spreen cuts through the thick overgrowth, scowling, thoughts elsewhere to his angry brother and this godsforsaken island. 

Fit sighs behind him, keeping watch. “Missa still angry you told him to stay?” 

Spreen huffs, pausing in his efforts to lean against Fit a little instead, sour expression softening a bit as Fit idly presses back against him in support. “Yeah...I know he is much more competent than what other people think, but still-. The island has been getting steadily more dangerous.” 

Fit sighs, looking back at Spreen instead of his constant watch. “Look, listen to Roier and give him some space, he probably knows a lot more about Missa than I do, but…He doesn’t seem the type to stay angry. Maybe try to give him a gift to say sorry or something? I don’t know, I’m not used to all these emotional talks.” 

Spreen rolls his eyes. Fit is so lucky he is attractive. “You were pretty emotional earlier trying to eye me up and use your shitty Spanish.”

“Hey!”

Spreen smirks and pulls away from Fit, resuming his efforts to slash his way into the building as Fit sputters out defenses behind him. He finally cuts the last of the vines, turning to Fit with a smug look as his boyfriend gives up explaining. “I’ll have to teach you better Spanish so you can actually suck at flirting instead of sucking at speaking.”

Fit shoved him through the entrance with a growl, following after him. “Whatever. Let’s just see if we find anything.”

“We may find each other!”

“I’m supposed to be the fucking flirty one with the pick-up lines!”

“Get better.”
 
————————————————————————— 

Missa is pissed. So pissed he could scream. 

Roier and Mariana wisely decided to let him calm down before trying to talk to him, so they had slipped out of the house to hide elsewhere, and Missa didn’t want to be the only one kept inside like he was an incompetent. So here he is in the middle of the woods, walking in circles. Pissed. 

A voice interrupts the angry rant under his breath. “Wow! I never thought you could get this angry.” 

Missa turns to glare at Phil. “You don’t know many things about me. Leave me alone.” 

Phil rolls his eyes, meeting Missa head on. “Yeah no..I’m not leaving.” Phil spoke casually, unbothered.

Missa is about to cuss Phil out, the Spanish already on his tongue, before Phil tosses a wooden sword to him. “C'mon, let’s spar. You want to show your big brother you can handle yourself, yeah?” Phil holds a wooden sword himself, his form well trained. Anyone with eyes can see Phil takes to the sword as easily one takes to breathing. 

Phil smiles widens as Missa readies his sword, a challenge in his eyes. “Come at me.” His tone was almost flirtatious, a cocky grin on his face, making Missa’s mouth go dry. He swallows. He is trying to be angry. How dare Phil look so amazing when he is trying to be furious at his brother. He looks at the wood, shifting it in his hands, then he grips it tight and charges.

Phil easily blocks it. Missa charges again, and it’s blocked once more. Missa growls, a frustrated gleam in his eyes that almost glows.  He learned how to fight from Spreen. He isn’t useless or weak. He can fight. He charges again, and again, twisting and rolling as Phil takes to the offensive as well, both dodging around each other to find an opening while avoiding the other’s attack. 

Missa’s eyes glow with focus, and a quick strike to Phil’s wielding hand disarms him of his sword, only for Phil to wrap his arms around him into a hug. His fingers tentatively reach up to play with his hair. It’s so soft and warm. 

Missa can’t help but blush, having his face rest in Phil’s chest, still coming down from the heat of sparring. 

Phil murmurs quietly to him. “Feeling better?” 

Missa mumbles a yes, sighing quietly as he hugs Phil back. Phil was right, he was much calmer now...damn it, now he couldn’t be angry anymore. 

“I’m sure your brother is feeling upset at himself just as much. Talk to him when he gets back, okay?” Phil slowly takes his arms away, letting Missa stand on his own. Missa pulls away, though he wanted to hug him longer. 

Phil looks at Missa full on pouting and can’t help but laugh a bit to himself. They spend some quiet moments together before they walk back to their homes side by side. As they get close to home, Missa chides Phil yet again for how bad his “house” is, but Phil merely laughs and goes to scale the wall, waving all the while. 

—————————————————————————

The overtaken shopping mall yet again shows no information about this island or the so called Federation, not a single thing. Even with him and Fit breaking through walls to see if anything was hidden, there was nothing. Spreen is about to explode with frustration. He has to do something. He doesn’t want his family trapped here. They all need to find a way out before their situation gets worse. 

At least there were some trinkets lying around that were interesting. Old toys, knickknacks, moth-eaten clothes, even some old machines. Fit made a big show of presenting him with a couple emeralds he found in an old cash register, which did lift his mood somewhat. Dweeb.

Spreen also found a still functional guitar. Maybe this would be a good apology gift. 

Fit and Spreen meander their way back home, bickering and laughing all the way, maybe a quick kiss or two, no one would know. Just a quick one. It wasn’t a good idea to get too distracted. Save that for areas that were proven safe.

Spreen manages to find Roier and Mariana once he properly kisses Fit goodbye, and he gets them to help him paint small marigolds and poppies and skulls on the guitar to make it a proper apology gift.. 

He isn’t the one that finds Missa, Missa is the one that finds him with a bowl of fresas con crema. Spreen takes it with a smile, Missa clearing his throat to speak. “Sorry I yelled- I know you’re only thinking of protecting me.“

Spreen smiles as he puts a spoonful into his mouth. It’s delicious. “No, I need to say sorry. I know you can protect yourself and you are skilled, it's just...I worry about you getting hurt with all the new monsters, and respawns suck so...” Spreen waves his hand, trying to voice his thoughts. He takes the guitar out from his inventory and offers it to Missa instead of talking. “I hope you can forgive me.”

Missa looks amazed at the guitar, slowly taking it from his hands. Spreen relaxes as his little brother smiles brightly, seeming to accept the apology. His solecito and his light. He’s got to make sure he stays safe and they all get off this island. 

Missa smiles at Spreen, holding the guitar close. “Thank you. And you are already forgiven. Being so angry isn’t really fruitful, Phil got me calmed down.” Missa winced right after, realizing he probably shouldn’t have said that to his brother.

Spreen smirks playfully, raising his brow. Missa blushes and gives him a warning look. They head back home, as brothers and as family. 

—————————————————————————

Days pass, and Spreen is getting so frustrated. No leads and no information. They don’t even know where exactly this island is located geographically, which way to go if they managed to get a boat together.

He grits his teeth as he chops down a tree for lumber. He is so very, very frustrated. 

He needs to make sure his familia and everyone else is able to leave. There has to be a reason why they got trapped here, and he fully believes it’s not for good reason. So they need to leave before anything else happens. All these thoughts swirl in his mind  as he swings his axe and chops down another tree, harsher than necessary. A creepy laugh comes from behind him, making him pause. 

Spreen scoffs. Not to mention this freak. Roier calls him Cucurucho, Spreen calls him their Warden. They’ve been watching everyone the past couple days. Spreen rolls his eyes, preparing to go back to his task. 

Cucurucho speaks in an unnatural tone, like a voicebox inside their head. “Do you want information?” 

Spreen glares at him, adjusting the axe in his hand before speaking.  “And what would you have me do for said information? You want me to do something in return. The question is what.” 

Cucurucho’s smile widens creepily. “The Federation wants you to make the Spider bleed. You will be given the answers to your questions.”

Spreen immediately knows who the Spider is, there’s only one spider hybrid on this island. This monster wants him to put his sword against one of his closest friends, Roier…

…if that’s what it takes to get everyone closer to getting off this forsaken island. If takes the betrayal of his family. Roier would understand. 

Spreen shakes their jailer’s hand. 

—————————————————————————

Missa was busying himself in the kitchen like usual, cooking everyone lunch for the day. It was going to be a nice meal today, they managed to grow some corn not too long ago, so he was making tamales and elotes. The motions were familiar, stuffing the dough with beef and cheese and wrapping them in corn husks, the corn cooking and elote seasonings prepared.

Roier sits by, drinking in the smells while he waits for the food, helping wrap a few tamales to cook next. Mariana was nowhere to be found, he left an hour earlier to flirt with Charlie instead of waiting for a meal. He would eat the leftovers later.

Everything was normal. Peaceful. A gentle hum from Missa and the sizzle of corn are the only sounds.

Spreen came back home.

Missa could tell something was wrong. Spreen is never this quiet. He looked back at him, a platter of prepped food in hand. He caught sight of Spreen’s eyes, the hardness in them making Missa freeze in his tracks. His cold stare was the perfect image of times Missa did not want to remember. Of Spreen in war.

Before Missa had the chance to even react, still frozen in place by that look, Spreen turned to Roier and raised his axe. It was like it was happening in slow motion, the glint of metal, the twist of claws around the handle, the low snarl from Spreen’s throat, the dead eyes staring down, the stumble back of Roier as he tried too late to dodge, the sickeningly wet noise of blade meeting player. Roier had no armor, he didn’t even have any weapons to protect himself, if he could have even drawn them from his inventory in time. Instead, Roier crumbled to the floor, screaming. 

Missa could just stare in shock, the platter slipping from his hands and clattering to the floor, food spilling over the brick of their kitchen floor to mingle with the blood seeping along the cracks. He could only stare at his bleeding best friend, watch the bloody axe slip from Spreen’s claws to bounce a foot from Roier’s broken body. 

Missa finally drags his gaze from the sight after what felt like hours, a look of true heartbreak on his face, slowly being replaced by fury. “Spreen...Why...”

Spreen stares at Roier, the war-feral look fading to guilt as he turns his gaze to Missa. His voice was a shaky mumble. “I had to. I...I had to. Tell Roier to kick my ass when he gets better, I’ll be back in an hour.” 

As quickly as he came, Spreen flees their home, leaving Missa.

Missa lunges for Roier, letting Spreen go in favor of frantically starting first aid. The cut is deep, but treatable. Spreen didn’t go for a killing blow. 

————————————————————————

Spreen stalks to where he was when he first took this forsaken deal, and Cucurucho is waiting for him. Spreen growls, voice short and full of disdain. “You must have cameras all over this place. You know I did what you asked. Now answer my questions.”

Cucurucho looks deeply into his eyes, expression unchanging, and starts to laughs. It is first a quiet noise, and gets louder and louder until it sounds manic, mocking. Cucurucho stops abruptly and goes eerily quiet, tilting his head like they were a confused animal, voicebox crackling to life.

“Did you believe I will provide information? It is classified for our ‘guests’. Thank you for your contribution.“ 

Spreen snarled, a feral, dangerous noise that bares his teeth, utterly enraged. He takes out his sword, lunging forward to swing and attack. But it seems that Cucurucho just won’t die. No matter how he tries to shove his blade straight into that monster’s throat. Cucurucho’s smile only widens, and it takes out their gun, almost casual, and shoots.

Spreen stumbles, breath knocked out from him as the pain punches it from his chest, and he can’t draw breath back again. He tries to respawn, to let the magics kill and revive him, but something keeps him from dying, something keeps him from respawning. This pain is different, it’s lingering, it feels...it feels like what people say about final deaths. Something outside of himself is forcing the wounds to linger, forcing hardcore upon him.

Spreen crumbles to the ground, gasping without breath in pain, desperate flashes of what he’s losing before his eyes. No, no! His life can’t be flashing before his eyes, it can’t end, he has to live! Why won’t he respawn?! Why isn’t he respawning?!

He lays, stuck in memories, of meeting Missa on the battlefield of war, of Roier and Mariana laughing, of his family guarding their base, of his many friends he’s known and lost touch with, of Fit and his infuriating smirk and soft smile only Spreen saw, of Missa’s kindness and good nature...of his anger minutes before...

His hand desperately presses against his stomach, trying to stop the blood, trying to live if he can’t respawn. His vision starts to blur, seeing only the glint of a gun still pointed at him, preparing the next shot. He groans out a desperate prayer to ears too far away. “S-sorry...mi familia...I...won’t be coming back home...Make sure you stay safe...” He closes his eyes, and he waits for his end.

———————————————————————-

Once Roier was patched up, unsteady on his feet but in stable condition, Missa went into the impending rain to find his brother. He was not back within an hour like he said, and he was getting answers. There were no messages on his com, no updates, nothing despite his attempts to contact him.

But searching found only the scent of blood. He smells Spreen’s blood. And in his worried delirium, desperately hoping for it to be nothing, there were no respawn messages after all, it had to be nothing, he comes into a small clearing in the woods.

Covered completely in his big brother’s blood. 

He falls to his knees and screams. He screams, face splitting inhumanly wide as he screeched himself into a pure reaper state, all wisp and sharp limbs and agony. The constraints of the server that kept him tamped down were unable to hold back the way he transformed in grief. Everyone across the server could hear his pain. 

Mariana soon finds him, following the sound like a homing beacon as rain begins to pour overhead. He stares at the scene, of Missa, eldritch and writhing and screeching, clawing at bloodied ground with eyes of violet so bright they rivaled the fading sun’s light, plumes of black smoke surrounding his inhuman form as the rain above starts to wash the blood away.

Mariana strides forward, grabbing what used to be Missa’s shoulder and pulling him back, cursing at him as inhuman jaws snapped at his hand, but he kept pulling, insisting until Missa collapsed back into a human form. Missa wept, throat raw as the screams finally stopped, replaced by sobs as Mariana began to guide him away.

In time, Spreen would be announced dead. They didn’t find a body, there was no respawn message that he revived. Just a blood stain washed away by the rain overnight. 

We Hope You Enjoy the Island

Chapter Text

Missa doesn’t really remember what happens in the hours after. 

His mind is a tired haze. His body is too big yet too small. Only reason he hasn’t figuratively crumbled like a broken doll is because Roier and Mariana were there to hold him up and keep him going, staying with him all through the afternoon.

Underneath the fog that dulled his mind, his stomach is a pit of self hate.He shouldn’t have to be babied. For fucks sake, Roier was the one that got hurt. Yet Roier can walk around with a brave face? All the while, he is utterly useless. Useless. He should have been there for his big brother, chased after him sooner. If only he was stronger. If only he was better.

If only he could get the dried blood off the floor. No matter how much he scrubs, he can’t, almost making his nails bleed as he dully scrubbed and scrubbed. It won’t come out from between the bricks, every inch he manages to clear from the cracks a mere fraction of an entire floor of work. They didn’t expect to have to clear it of something so staining, it was supposed to be washed of chicken broth and soups and spilled water, not blood…

He is finally forced to stop by Mariana, who gently but firmly takes his arm. Mariana’s eyes are gentle and hiding his own grief, and he picks Missa up to guide him away from the scene. Missa would fight back, being carried like a child, but he is just so tired. 

His vision blurs, sinking into the fog and the next thing he knows, they are outside in a grass clearing full of dandelions, the earlier rain glistening in the afternoon light as it slowly evaporates. Something soft is under his head, and a hand is rubbing his shoulder to bring him out of this stupor. He blinks, and realizes his head is on Mariana’s lap. Part of him wants to get up, to push off and go wallow alone, but Mariana's lap is soft, and he really is so, so tired. Mariana brings his fingers through his hair, teasing at the knots and smoothing it down. His hair hadn’t been treated well, messy with grief. 

Missa just relaxes into it as Mariana continues to comb his hair, feeling the grass under his body and comfortable thighs under his head, just...quiet. Missa closes his eyes, about to sleep, when he hears footsteps. He looks up to see Roier coming over, much more steady on his feet than a few hours before. 

Roier glances at Missa, looking pained at the heartbreaking sight before him, before he throws his head back with a fake scoff. “Missa, do you really think that pendejo would up and die like that? He’s still alive, we just need to find him!“ 

He gestures wildly with his lower arms, then grimaces to hold the bandages wrapped around his chest. “I still need to pay him back. Did he really have to cut me so deep? Dramatic much?! I mean, he probably had a fucking reason, but I’m still beating his ass.”

Missa raises his head a bit to look at Roier, checking to see if he was alright. “Yeah...we didn’t find a body...” He hesitates, before giving into hope, just a bit. “...Yeah. Hermano wouldn’t die so easily, he’s probably still alive somewhere.” 

His eyes harden.  “We need to find him.” Missa tries to get up, but Roier tsks and moves to push Missa down, nudging him to lay again on Mariana’s lap. “With you looking like this? If you weren’t a Reaper, I would say you’re on the cusp of death. Spreen wouldn’t want you to be like this. Rest.” 

Roier was right. Missa is exhausted, his “outburst” at seeing Spreen’s blood had completely drained him, and then he had to clean up the kitchen, throw away the food and fight to clean the floor. He was well past even his last energy reserves. But still, Spreen could be out there, and he was laying here useless.

The conflict in his mind is interrupted as Missa hears the oh so familiar tingle of otherworldly bells. Out of the ether, just outside where he could reach and escape, the ethereal mist forms into little apparitions of dinosaurs. They float around playfully, circling the meadow, before many of them take note of Missa’s state. The Missaurios, they call themselves in their little language, which sounds like tiny echoing bells and faint plucks of string instruments. 

The spirits of ancient creatures wander the world, their bones deep in the earth. Occasionally, little groups of dinosaur spirits will follow Missa around, watching his adventures and reacting to his tales. His Lady thinks it’s adorable of them to be so attached to one of her favorite reapers, claiming it’s because they sense how gentle and kind he is.

The Missaurios float around and whisper to each other, filling the air with tinkling and strums. After a brief discussion, the Missaurios move in, circling Missa’s head and nuzzling his cheek, plopping into his hair. Some nibble at his hands, while others spin around and try to make him laugh with little theatrics. They don’t like seeing Missa so sad. 

It would be a strange sight for any to see, but spirits can only be seen by animals and those that are death touched. Roier and Mariana are thus none the wiser. They don’t understand why Missa is suddenly in a slightly better mood. 

They are happy about it though. They were so worried about Missa, seeing him go numb was terrifying. He is one of their best friends and someone they consider family. They hate to see him so hurt, even though they are afraid for Spreen themselves. 

The Missaurios seem very proud of themselves as Missa cracks a smile, closing his eyes. Missa loves them so much.

It isn’t long until he slips off to a nap.

———————————————————————-

“...Do you really think he’s still alive? You said there was a lot of blood there. Too much to survive without help.”

“...I don’t know. I hope.”

———————————————————————-

It had to have only been a few minutes when Missa awoke, maybe half an hour by the movement of the sun.

Missa finally gets off of Mariana’s thighs, who very much appreciates it by falling over and stretching out his poor asleep legs. Missa rubs his eyes and bats at a few Missaurios nudging his face, coming back into himself. He feels...better. More rested. He gives a smile to the two of them, a smile Roier and Mariana missed so much. “Thank you guys so much. Familia sticks together yeah? We...We’ll find him. And we all need to punch Spreen when we find him.” 

Roier and Mariana smile back, nodding in agreement. Yeah, Missa is in a much better mood now that he’s rested, and they all have hope. Missa stretches, wandering the meadow to shake off his nap, but then the three of them notice Phil coming up the hill with some sort of package. 

Roier, ever the totally smartest of the group, tugs Mariana to follow him and flee the meadow together to give Missa privacy. Missa spots this, a frantic look on his face, whisper-yelling, “No! Don’t leave me, I look like shit- I can’t see Phil like this!”

Roier looks at Missa, incredulous. “If he’s suddenly not into you because you look like shit because you thought your big brother was dead, then he doesn’t deserve you. Do you think he is like that?” 

Missa could only mumble a no before Roier and Mariana smirk and leave him behind, running off to his fate. They’re gonna hang out with Charlie, Jaiden, and Foolish. They heard that Foolish and Vegetta recently made some homemade alcohol, and they deserve to have a free drink. 

Phil watches Roier and Mariana flee as he approaches, face lifting into a crooked smile. The Missaurios float excitedly to Phil, inspecting the pretty, pretty man. They float around him, jingling happily as they start playing with his hair. Phil tries not to laugh, pretending he doesn’t notice out of instinct. It's been so long since he has seen such cute and happy spirits. He glances at Misaa as he lets the dinosaur spirits try to nest in his hair. Spirits do tend to mimic people they protect. No wonder they are so sweet. 

Missa just stares and wonders, seeing Phil not react to the little spirits. He isn’t death touched, after all? He could have sworn he was. Phil probably thinks it’s just the wind messing with his hair, mussing it up. It is a very, very cute sight. 

Phil’s feathered ears twitch in embarrassment, awkwardly holding up the package he was holding, a bundle wrapped in a black cloth. “I know things have been shitty, and Mariana said you haven’t eaten since this morning because of...you know. So I thought I would make you something. I’m not a cook, I’m pretty sure it’s not near as good as your cooking, but I hope it’s good enough.” 

Phil sits down right next to Missa as if it were their daily lunches, thighs touching. He opens up the wrapped package, in it a small thermos and a bento style container. Missa opens the thermos, smelling the aromas of apple and cinnamon, and taking the bento box reveals a chicken sandwich and a variety of berries that probably were plucked from the community garden. 

Missa smiles and takes it gleefully. 

Brian was flying lazily over heads, catching the wind for a moment before he lands and starts digging in the grass looking for seeds. A Missaurio comes to him curiously, form twisting this way and that. Brian tilts his head and caws, puffing out his feathers. He bobs his head, recognizing a spirit friend.

The Missaurio laughs, highly akin to wind chimes in the distance, and it starts to morph and glow. Brian tilts his head, watching the Missaurio morph from a ghostly dinosaur into a ghostly crow. Brian caws and bobs his head excitedly, hopping in a circle around the new little Crowsaurio. Around him, other little spirits follow, and Brian takes off to fly with his new friends. 

Below, Missa takes a small bite of the sandwich, happy as can be, then hides a slight grimace. It’s dry. It’s so dry. Phil overcooked the chicken. The bread was fresh and the lettuce was crisp, at least, so it was clearly made with care, but Goddess it was so dry... 

Missa's stomach rumbles loudly, he must be hungrier than he thought. With that thought, he digs in. It was very sweet of Phil to make this, he didn’t have to do that. Tears start to fall again, silent as he takes another bite. Phil gently wipes his tears with his sleeve, trilling out a sad noise. 

Missa tears dry after a time as he finishes the sandwich and snacks on the berries, taking sips of the apple cinnamon tea. A good meal helps, the tea calming.

Phil leans back, resting on his forearms. “Feeling better?”. 

Missa quietly laughs, a misty look in his eyes. “Yeah...thanks. I need to think of what to do next…the house...I can’t live in it anymore. I...I can’t get the blood out of the kitchen, I can’t stay. All the work we did for nothing.“ He rubs his face. 

"You can stay with me if you need." 

Missa takes his hand from his face to look at Phil in surprise, a soft laugh a moment later. “Your house sucks.”

"Then I'll make a better one." Phil places a hand on Missa’s, a smile on his face. “It can be your excuse to finally get me out of ‘that terrible dirt hut’.”

Missa quiets, ears going purple. Did Phil just say he would build them a home? They’re not even dating. Why does it make him so happy to know Phil is willing to make a home with him? 

Missa smiles to himself, very pleased. He can’t rush this. Whatever is happening right now between them is special. It didn’t feel similar to any of the men he previously dated. It’s sacred and needs time to grow. He can’t shatter what might happen by going too fast.

Phil glances at Missa, looking at his masked face softly. He’s beautiful, just beautiful...he’s happy to try to make a place for him to feel comfortable in his home. He gets lost in just watching Missa relax and sip his tea, Missa meeting his eyes every so often and gracing him with those little smiles Phil never saw him give to anyone else. 

It was peaceful, spirits and crow circling overhead, the two just existing together.

“Hello. I am WB02. Missa Sinfonia and Philza Minecraft, you are needed at Spawn. Follow me.”  Phil and Missa’s soft gazes turn sour, both turning to look at the Federation worker with disdain. A standard bear hybrid worker with an orange vest, a pure white mask covering their whole face, and filed down claws. Missa growls in annoyance before getting up to follow behind the worker, Phil doing the same. Hopefully they meet Fit on the way there or something so they don’t have to deal with the Federation's bullshit alone. 

Chapter Text

Fit is fine. He is completely fine. 

He isn’t sad that Spreen was such a dumbass and got himself killed. If Spreen had fucking asked someone to watch his back, or kept alert, or stayed to the safe areas, he would still be here with that stupid cute smile he only gives Fit or that infuriating fucking tone Spreen always took to challenge him. He’d still be here laughing at Fit’s remarks, or telling stories, or kissing him senseless, or talking about how they’d get off the island. 

But really, Fit is angry at himself. He comes from 2b2t, he should fucking know better. Attachments lead to heartache. Attachments are weaknesses. He should know better than to open his heart. He’s been off of 2b2t for only two months and he’s managed to completely forget that. He forgot that fact the first day he stumbled off that train.

He can’t bring himself to hate that he did, though. Spreen was amazing. This past month and a half was amazing. He can’t deny that. He can’t even lie to himself that it wasn’t anything, that he shouldn’t hurt. That he shouldn’t be so upset that he is gone.

It hurts so much. 

If only Fit could have been there.

Fit thinks of Spreen’s family, how he had found them when he rushed over to their house upon seeing Mariana’s announcement in chat. Missa seemed utterly devastated, dissociating while surrounded by grieving friends. Apparently Missa was the one to find out first. 

Spreen loved his brother, he had always tried to protect him. So to honor him, Fit should probably keep an eye on Missa too. He can do that much, right? 

Fit takes a deep breath, calming himself. He pushes himself off from the tree he was leaning against in thought, the place he and Spreen would usually meet up at for explorations. A place he probably wouldn’t visit again after today. He can close this place off along with all his thoughts after today. 

He has to find a way off this island, at least for Spreen’s sake. But he can’t use it yet once he does. He has a job to do. He is here on business, and Fit never leaves a job half finished. If only he could remember what that business was...

His thoughts are interrupted by a voice he knows well and a voice he is coming to know. Oh, the love birds are here. He perks himself up, putting a neutral look on his face as usual. The two come into view behind another of those workers, the ones that should be completely blind with those masks covering their whole faces.

Phil looks at him with concern, his mask of nonchalance seeming to do nothing to hide. God damn it. The consequences of Phil and him going way back, he can’t hide for shit.

“Fit...you okay there?” Phil says, hesitant, knowing that Fit probably would rather eat rusty nails than be any sort of emotionally vulnerable. Looking at Fit is sometimes like looking in a mirror, to be honest. 

Missa looks at his brother’s boyfriend, face turning gentle. “We’ll find whoever did that to Spreen. And we’ll make them...” Missa’s voice dipped a bit into a growl. “...Pay.” 

Fit laughs. Oh, the wildcat his old friend likes has claws. Phil always liked them dark, cute, and tad dangerous. 

Phil, seeing that look, was about to snark before Fit eyes glanced at the worker behind them, seeming to decide that is more important than teasing Phil. “Oh yeah, who the fuck is that?“ 

Phil looks behind him and sighs bitterly, ear tufts falling in displeasure. “The oh so amazing and gracious Federation demands our attention at spawn.” 

WB02 perks up, seeming to not realize Phil was being sarcastic. “Oh, thank you for the good words! We do try our best.” The three of them wince, but don’t correct the worker as they continue. “I am WB02. FitMC, you are also needed at Spawn. Follow me.”

Fit sighs and moves to follow, leaving behind the tree and his thoughts.

—————————————————————————

They finally reach Spawn, which is pandemonium to say it lightly. Jaiden and Roier are loudly joking around. Mariana and Charlie yet again making out, uncaring of anyone else’s poor eyes. Missa’s eyes gravitate to Vegetta and Foolish, who are holding hands. 

Wait. When did that happen? 

It’s overwhelming, and Missa just wants to sleep somewhere, that half-hour nap suddenly feeling like nowhere near enough with grief and worries still on his mind. He could sleep for days. 

Phil pokes at him, taking him away from his thoughts. Phil leans over and whispers into Missa's ear, also surveying the chaos. “We’ll take an early night at the wall after whatever this is. You can deal with my ‘shit’ house for a night? I’ll need your help to actually build a house that suits you tomorrow.” 

Missa blushes and opens his mouth to retort, only for Fit to cough awkwardly, still right next to the two. “And that’s my cue to leave. Have fun~” 

Missa sputters as Fit strides off, neutral as ever. A second later, the intercoms blast in that same obnoxious and cheerful voice they heard on the trains. “Welcome, our esteemed guests, to the Federation questionnaire! We shall call you one by one. You will need to follow the dutiful worker into the building ahead of you. First off! Mariana!” 

Mariana looks at everyone, concerned, but shrugs and enters the pristine white building. It gives him the creeps. 

As he enters into the building, he is swiftly led through pure white halls and guided into a small, equally white room. It seems to only hold a simple interview table, but it looks more like an interrogation. Mariana isn’t happy about any of this. 

WB02 cheerfully walks to the chair on one side and gestures to Mariana to sit in the chair across from them, impassive behind the mask. Mariana awkwardly complies. WB02 clears their throat, looking over a clipboard. “This questionnaire will be very quick! Paperwork and note taking and such. Firstly, where are you residing?” 

Mariana scoffs. “Well we all lived in the wall but I’m probably gonna bunk with Charlie for the day cause our house is a bloody mess now. I refuse to sleep in a tent again.” 

WB02 scribbles some notes, and almost absentmindedly continues, “And who do you consider close?”

Mariana rolls his eyes. All the dramatics for this? “My best friends are Roier and Missa and Spreen. And Charlie. I can give you all the details about Charlie if you want~.” Mariana grinned, trying to rile the worker enough so he can make this as uncomfortable for him as it is for Mariana. 

WB02 coughs out of embarrassment, the mask hiding their grimace. He was one of the workers that had to scrub the cameras from Charlie and Mariana’s extracurriculars. Anything for the Federation. Mariana smirks, clearly sensing their distress. 

WB02 decides to just get through the rest of the questions. They really hope the other guests are less vulgar. “That will not be necessary. Is there anyone you dislike?” 

Mariana smiles and casually says, “Hmmm maybe whoever ‘killed’ Spreen.” He glares at the worker. “Do you perhaps know who? You have cameras right?” His grin grows wolffish, trying to get under the worker’s skin. 

WB02 tries to hide the discomfort, pursing their lips behind the mask. “We have checked the cameras at the scene. They were considered offline for a period that included the time of the attack. It wasn’t done by admin control, but interference. Our law division is investigating if it is the case for saboteurs. We ask for your patience.” 

Mariana feels this idiot is probably telling the truth, but something tells him the Federation is clearly behind it all. This worker is just estupido. 

“Next question, what are you good at?” 

Mariana is starting to get annoyed. “I am good at many things~. Want details?” 

WB02 decides not to comment and continues onto the next question. They consider asking for a raise to be dealing with this. Will all islanders be like this? “Next question...your ideal partner.” 

Mariana’s grin goes wolfish. “Oh someone that has a Fantastic body and good at-“ 

WB02 immediately interrupts his spiel. “Your sexuality?” 

“This place homophobic now? I don’t care for gender. Enough said.” 

Rude. WB02 is not homophobic. They are gay themselves! They didn’t write the questions, they’re just asking them, dammit! “Your race/species?” 

Mariana rolls his eyes. “Need glasses? I’m clearly human!” 

WA02 writes in their notes, merely nodding. “What about your flaws and your fears?” 

“The fuck I’m answering that.” 

WB02 sighs and just goes to the next question. “Your good qualities?” 

“I’m a good fucking friend and loyal as fuck. So, I will figure out what happened to my best friend Spreen. And if you are behind it, I will tear you limb from limb and feed you to wolves.” 

Mariana stands to leave, and WB02 scrambles to ask their final question. “Have you been enjoying the island?” 

Mariana gives a final glare. “The fuck I have. My friend is gone!” He slams the door on his way out, then is manhandled by a nearby guard to be properly escorted out. 

Are all islanders like this? So crude and vulgar? They want some coffee...

—————————————————————————

Mariana rushes out with another, more armed worker following close after him, clearly fuming, cursing in Spanish under his breath. The same intercoms say the name of the next person to be interviewed. It’s Foolish turn. 

Foolish looks up from where he is entertaining a group of tiny construction worker looking creatures, standing up with a smile and following the guard into the interview room, several of the little Doozers grabbing onto his legs and trying to scale him as he walks. By the time that he gets to the room, some are settled in the folds of his clothes or trying to balance on his shoulders. 

Foolish sits immediately when he gets to the room, several Doozers plopping down in his lap all serious. Foolish hopes this is quick, he got interrupted building the public bathhouse. At least he finished the food storeroom with a cellar, so they can start stocking up supplies. He presumes seasons work? He could be wrong though, the weather itself is weird here. 

He doesn’t like this Federation, but Foolish has lived such a long time. He’s learned that a smile and honeyed words work better than not when it comes to people he hates. He has no hesitation. Why be genuine when he hates him? Sometimes you have to play their game, so to speak. 

WB02 smiles, relieved. Someone polite this time. “Hello! Foolish? Let me start with the questions and you will be free to go on your way!” WB02 smiles before looking down on their papers. “Firstly, Where are you residing?” 

“Oh, the communal shelter I made a day or two after we arrived here.” 

WB02 quickly dots that down. “Who are you close to?” 

Foolish makes a show of thinking before answering. “I guess I’m pretty close to Vegetta? We recently started dating. Jaiden pretty cool too? Me and Phil have been in similar circles in the past. Also these lil guys.” He gestures to the Doozers on his shoulders. 

WB02 smiles brightly behind their mask as he documents all that Foolish says. So there are people that can be communicated with. “Anyone you dislike?” 

Foolish only hesitates for a second before practically screaming, “BadBoyHalo! I thought I was free of him but of course he appeared here! TO TORTURE ME!”

WB02 quickly notes that down. Complicated relationship with BadBoyHalo. Claims he hates him. “What are you good at?” 

Cockiness laces Foolish’s voice and he puffs up his chest. “I’m a pretty good builder! I helped build some pyramids back in my youth.” 

WB02 remembers he was briefed that some guests are immortals. This man must be one of them? But still, the actual pyramids? “Your ideal partner?” 

Foolish laughs gleefully. “Oh what is this a matchmaking service? Hmmm I guess handsome and rich!” Several Doozers yammer in agreement, cheering.

The worker stares at him before sighing and writing that down. He guesses some people are more vain and vapid than others.  “What is your sexuality?” WB02 braces for Foolish’s response, only to hear a snort. 

“Something for you to know, no immortal is straight. Living forever comes with fluidity. And labels are such a bore and only recently became a thing. Is that enough information?” 

WB02 nods. “What is your race/species?” 

Foolish thinks on it for a bit. “Well, that’s sorta complicated thing to ask. I originally was just a shark hybrid, died then ascended into godhood. Which I do not recommend, melting gold on skin? Not the best experience. So I guess for some I am just a lucky bastard, others a full on god, no matter what I am immortal and can’t die so.” Foolish shrugs. Living so long kinda made him way too nonchalant. 

“What about your flaws and fears?” 

Foolish thinks on it some more. He also is pretty hungry, so he is a bit distracted. “I think I haven’t gotten to the point where I know my limits, Phil called it Baby Immortal fucking around stage, which is rude cause I’m so much older and cooler than him. Though I think that’s just because he is a stick in the mud. And for fears, I think it’s a fear most immortals share and that’s being alone. It’s why for better or for worse we stick together like this.” Foolish makes a gesture with his fingers to show how close they are.

“What about your good qualities?” 

Foolish smiles like him and this worker are two close friends. “I think I’m a pretty hard worker! My projects, no matter how big or grand, I always finish.” ’There you go,’ Foolish thinks to himself. ’Give a good impression...’ Who knows, maybe he can eventually get a job from them. Learn why they are here. How to leave... 

WB02 smiles and asks their last question. “Have you been enjoying the island?” 

Foolish smiles and lies through his teeth. “Yeah I have!” 

“That concludes our interview, thank you for your time.” 

Foolish gets up and waves, slipping off, making sure to catch any Doozers that got jostled off him. Yeah, those Fed guys totally know what happened to Spreen, he can feel it. He has to be smart about this. Don’t show cards too soon. Make them think he’s an idiot, and he will be there when something leaks. 

He comes back to the group, but before anyone could question him, another name on the intercom blasts. It’s Roier's turn. Roier gives a devious smirk to everyone before entering. Let’s play Pendejo, let's play. 

—————————————————————————-

Roier saunters in haughtily before plopping onto the seat, gesturing with his four arms to get on with it. He has better things to do than deal with the guys that probably attacked and likely killed Spreen.

WB02 clears their throat and starts the questions. “Where are you residing?” 

Roier scoffs, but answers. “Was in the wall with my family but I’m staying with Jaiden in her cottage for the night.” 

WB02 nods. “And who are you close to?” 

Roier rolls his eyes. These are such basic questions. What purpose is even asking any of this. “I’m close to Mariana, Spreen, Missa and Jaiden. Any other questions?” He really isn’t in the mood for any of this shit. 

“Anyone you dislike?” 

Roier’s tone is casual. “No one really.” 

WB02 looks confused, looking over their notes and reading something. “Not even the man that attacked you this morning?” 

That’s a completely fucking fake tone, hmm? “Family forgives quickly. Besides, I’m sure he was forced. He is an asshole but not the type to randomly stab his best friend.”
 
WB02 is quickly getting the idea that the Federation made a horrid mistake for whatever they did to that guest. People care. The Federation will likely have problems if people start looking closer to their activities. Luckily, the experiment planned will probably distract them. “What are you good at?” 

Roier thinks on it. “I guess I’m a Spider of all trades so to speak.” 

The worker continues writing their notes. “Your ideal partner?”. 

Roier laughs. “No men here are to my taste. They are so boring. Though if Missa wasn’t swooning over Phil, maybe I would have flirted with the man.” 

The worker nods. “Your sexuality?”

“You know, for someone that invited us, you really don’t know like 75% of us are queer men. Ooooooooh is this like a dating show? That why you’re asking these questions?” 

“Merely asking questions. What is your species?” 

The mood sours a bit. Roier eyes narrow. “Well I was human before that fucker spidered me up. Therefore I’m a spider hybrid.” 

Ah yes, that would likely be Abuleior, that rogue federation researcher that recently came back. Roier must be that only living subject he was talking about. Most humans will die through hybridization. WB02 makes a mental note to treat him well, the Federation loves their property after all. “Your flaws and fears.“ 

Roier thinks for a minute, considering the best answer to hand over. “I think I have to be basic, and it’s isolation. I don’t want to be alone in times I need it.” 

“Your good qualities?” 

Roier smirks. “Physically? I’m the most attractive- but besides that, I’m a pretty good friend, I like to think.” 

A polite smile goes on WB02’s face, though it can’t be seen through the mask. “And lastly, have you been enjoying the island?” 

It is a lie, but Roier says, “Yes.” 

As Roier steps outside, he notices a familiar red penguin wandering around, waddling its way toward him. Holy shit, a Tripoier fucking ended up on the island too?! When did it get here?! What the fuck?!

The next person the intercom blasts is Jaiden as Roier scoops the damn bird into his hood.

—————————————————————————

Jaiden’s walk into the interview room is almost akin to a child coming home. The Federation is, after all, her home. A sheepish and disappointed child, as she failed her mission. She has no idea where Baghera is hiding. Jaiden hoped to bring her back home, she misses her sister so, so much. Mom misses her so much, the Federation too.

Baghera will be found eventually. She knows it.

Jaiden gestures with her hand, grinning as WB02 sighs and takes out a lemon pop. She knows she won’t be interviewed, The Federation knows everything about her down to the finest detail, and that was just fine with her. So instead, she makes small talk. “How’s mother? Still stuck in her lab?”

“Dr. Elena is as busy as ever. She still misses your sister. One of our operatives have found her in France and will bring her back home. With patience, your family will be complete.”  

Jaiden smiles brightly around her pilfered candy. They can be sisters again. 

When she walks out minutes later, she pretends she was interviewed like everyone else. The intercoms blast the next name, Maximus. 

—————————————————————————

WB02 glares at the disheveled man in front of him. They remember this man. Popular conspiracy and true crime YouTuber. Investigated things that should have stayed buried. This man got too close to unleashing secrets they worked years to bury. No one back in the office has a good opinion about this man. 

Luckily, they brought him here. The raffle for his ticket never existed. 

Max nervously sits down in the chair across from the worker, who lifts their notes and begins to read. “Where are you residing?” 

Max’s voice is a mumble. “Me and Dan are living in the house near the abandoned school...”

The worker’s voice was cool, professional. “Who are you close to on the island?” 

There is a long pause before answering. “I guess I’m closest to Dan and BBH.” 

Ah yes. The Federation needs to disrupt his relationship with BBH, they have spent the past few weeks theorizing. That is dangerous for their incoming experiments, it is not good when their lab mice keep trying to escape the maze. “Anyone you dislike?” 

He shakes his head no. 

“What are you good at?” 

Max mumbles. “I don’t think I’m good at anything.” 

That is wrong. He is good at finding the truth the Federation tries to hide and does have good mechanic skills. But WB02 does not voice that. “Your ideal partner?” 

“I don’t really have an ideal, but I’m dating Dan right now.” 

“Your sexuality?” 

Max just looks at the worker, expression going deadpan, forcing WB02 to go to the next question. “Your species?” 

Max blinks before answering, a bit caught off guard. “I’m human.” 

“What about your flaws or fears?” 

“I guess I’m most scared of seeing those I love get hurt or die? Why? What do you need to know?” 

“Your good qualities?” 

“Not like that I can think of any I’d give to you.” 

The worker tilts their head with a hidden smile and asks, “Have you been enjoying the island?” 

Max scoffs. “Not particularly.” 

As Max is escorted out, WB02 writes down the need to pair Max with one meant for failure. Max is too smart. One needs to make him emotionally erratic, keep him off of the trail in favor of other things. 

The next person called is Dan. 

————————————————————————

Dan comes in just as nervous as Max, curled in on himself and wincing. The past few days, he has been having strange dreams and horrible headaches. Dan doesn’t know why, but it hurts even more being in here. Things are starting to look familiar.

“Where are you residing?” The worker monotones, only for Dan to clutch his head in pain. 

WB02 goes stiff with worry. The Federation used every trick in their book to have Researcher Dan forget. The fact that he is so reactive is very, very concerning. 

“Excuse me. Please wait.” WB02 instead gets up and speaks to someone outside, coming back with a pill bottle. “We can forgo the interview. Take a pill every day. It is for headaches.” 

Dan nervously takes the bottle, opening it to look the pills over. He takes the offered water bottle and swallows a pill, and the headache vanishes. Dan awkwardly thanks the worker, rubbing his head, but much less curled in on himself and brighter. 

WB02 needs to talk to the higher ups about this. Dan can not Remember.

The next person called is Vegetta.

—————————————————————————

Vegetta walks into the interview room with a blinding smile, happy as can be to be here. WB02 grimaces at his apparent friendliness, thrown off for a moment. It’s almost unsettling. Vegetta sits, waiting for the first question eagerly. The worker decides to do it as quickly as possible and be done with this. “Where are you residing?” 

The elf’s eyes glimmer. “I live in Hogar!”

That must be the castle covered in turrets that Vegetta is often seen near. “Who are you close to on the island?” 

Vegetta thinks, seeming to soften from blindingly excitable to a much more normal amount. “I am pretty close to Handsome Foolish and the other Hispanics.” 

WB02 nods and continues, relaxing a bit. “Your ideal partner?” 

“My boyfriend Foolish!”

What is with the experiments coupling up so quickly? Most of them already were together? “What is your sexuality?” 

Vegetta giggles “I don’t care much as long as they’re pretty...”

“Your species?”

Vegetta pulls his pointed ears. “Oh, as you can see I’m an elf!” 

Hmm, according to Federation notes, he is also a wizard of great power. Keep an eye on. “Your flaws and fears?” 

Vegetta giggles. “I guess I’m very greedy and...what was the word Roier said? Classist. I love money and wealth.”

“And what about your good qualities?” 

“I guess I work for said wealth.” 

“And have you been enjoying the island?” 

Vegetta nods, still as happy as ever. “Sad that our handsome Spreen is dead though.” He dabs.

WB02 is left completely confused and speechless as Vegetta trots off, mouth agape at the audacity. Did he just...

Just bring in Fit...

—————————————————————————

Fit comes into the room like an animal primed to attack, eyes sharp and glaring at everyone. He wants so badly to gut this Federation worker like a fish, pin them down and break them until he gets his answers. But numerous guards surround them both, watching his every move as if they know exactly what he wants to do. He needs to stay alive to find whatever is left of his boyfriend. He can play pacifist for now. Fit falls into his chair, making it scrape against the floor. 

“Where are you residing?” 

Fit murmurs lowly, “The cobblestone towers.”

“Who are you close to on the island?” 

There is a long pause, glaring coldly. “I’m only particularly close to two people here. One recently died, but you know that.” 

“Your ideal partner?” 

Fit scoffs. “I’m not answering that.” 

The worker grits his teeth in annoyance. “Your sexuality?” 

Fit rolls his eyes and says “I’m fucking gay. Ask another question.” 

“What is your species?” 

“I’m fucking human, just with robotic additions. Or is that a problem?” 

Rude. “Your flaws and fears?” 

Fit grits out a response. “Not answering.” 

“Your good qualities?” 

“I’m pretty good at fighting and surviving.” 

“Have you been enjoying the island?”. 

Fit rudely stands up, shoving his chair to the floor. “Of course I have fucking haven’t.” He flips the worker off as he strides for the door, the group of guards following close behind, hands on their guns.

WB02 mentally flips him off back. Luzu is then called in.

—————————————————————————

Luzu nervously walks in. He knows the federation pretty well actually, and he is starting to regret his decision to return. The things he saw all that time ago haunt him. 

The fact that Dan, his former supervisor, came back here as well, unknowingly at that, worries him. He fears Dan’s time is limited. Luzu was only allowed to be let go because he didn’t know any information that needed to stay hidden. 

WB02 looks at him, deadpan, before Luzu launches into frantic speech. “I don’t care what you do to me, I know I wasn’t supposed to come back, but Quackity is innocent. Don’t harm him.” 

WB02 sighs, rubbing at their mask a bit. “You are the one that came on the train with a fake ticket. For what? To protect Quackity? You should know by now love is a weakness the Federation will use against you. You are already on thin enough ice for losing the binary beta subject. The Federation will have words with you later, so leave while we are still on friendly terms.” 

Luzu feels scared shitless, staring at the worker and the guards and the familiar walls. Oh god, how can he protect Quackity, much less himself? Or Arin? They still don’t know about Arin. 

He backs out, gritting his teeth.

The intercom blasts the next name. BadBoyHalo. 

—————————————————————————

BBH comes in with a cheer in his step, foregoing the too small chair for his height to instead crouch slightly behind it. Ah yes, their special invited guest. 

“So what questions do you need to ask? From what others are saying, it’s some sort of matchmaking service? I’m perfectly happy being alone, so don’t worry about me.” 

WB02 nods politely, scribbling something down in his notes. “Are you happy being invited here?” 

BBH laughs, his smile glowing from under his hood and a few small wisps circling his head along his halo, the figures almost looking like ghosts. “Yes, this place is quite fun! It’s been a while since I’ve seen a place that has been so fun. Plus, Missa and Foolish are here! I have lots of entertainment! So excited! Maybe I can break up the budding romance between Missa and Phil. That’d be fun!” BBH babbles on, WB02 simply waiting him out before nodding for him to leave, scribbling a few more notes. 

Oh. Next is Quackity. Great. 

—————————————————————————

Quackity stumbles his way in, trying to avoid stepping on a flock of ducklings following under his feet. Two sit on his head and one balances on each shoulder, and a smaller one even hangs from his ear by its beak. His face is one that just wants this to be over with, not even bothering to try to fend off the ducklings anymore as they crowd around his chair when he sits. 

WB02 does not know how this was the man that fumbled Luzu. When Luzu did work for them, he was the crush of the office. This guy was the one that Luzu was so devoted to even after being dumped? WB02 shakes their head and goes back onto his task. “Where are you residing?” 

Quackity adjusts his beanie. “I’m living with Luzu in the brick cottage.” 

“Who are you close to the island?” WB02 remembered the reports that Quackity dated most of the men on this island.

”I guess not anyone particularly, Missa and Luzu are admittedly...kinda awkward with me. It was me dragging Luzu that got him to live with me, and Missa doesn’t ever talk to me even though it wasn’t that big a breakup. It’s complicated.” 

WB02’s face is deadpan behind the mask. He is treating them like his personal therapist. “Anyone you dislike?” 

Quackity immediately says a name. “Phil. He annoys me. Making Missa so gooey and happy. Missa never was that happy with me-“ 

WB02 coughs loudly and pointedly, cutting Quackity off. Around Quackity, the ducklings narrow their eyes at him, the one on his ear even clamping down harder and making him yelp. Seems at least some creatures are on their side in this interview... “What are you good at?” 

Quackity goes quiet. He...fuck, what he is good at to say? What stuff do they want him good at? They probably think he is a mess. 

WB02 continues on in the silence. “Your ideal partner.” 

Quackity stays silent. 

WB02 rolls their eyes, sighing. “Your sexuality.” 

Quackity laughs and says, “I love men~”

“What is your species?” 

Quackity rolls his eyes and flaps his yellow wings a bit. “I’m clearly a duck hybrid, dumbass.” 

WB02 holds back the retort that he could be a deformed owl for all they knew. Ducks only had yellow wings as chicks, anyways. “Understood. Underdeveloped duck hybrid.”

“Ey, pendejo!” Quackity leapt up, dislodging all the ducklings, but was immediately intimidated back down into his seat by an approaching guard.

WB02 sat unaffected. “Your flaws and fears?” 

Quackity mumbles, eyeing the guard. “I guess not being loved.” 

WB02 writes that down. The Federation can use that in later experiments. “Your good qualities.” 

Quackity goes silent again. 

WB02 writes ‘poor self esteem’ in his notes. Another tool to be used. “Have you been enjoying the island?” 

Quackity sarcastically quips, “Oh yes, I have been enjoying being trapped against my will on this island with my exes of all people.” 

“You are free to leave. Please follow the guard.”

 Quackity stormed out, wings flapping angrily and a gaggle of ducklings at his heels, tripping him up. 

The next person called is Charlie.

————————————————————————-

Charlie walks into the room, all smirks and smiles, oozing from all over. He looks like he is here to cause problems, which WB02 knows he is very capable of. He has...a vast criminal record, to say the least. This folder was extensive.

They motion for a guard to stay close, just in case Charlie tries shenanigans. “Where are you residing?” 

Charlie laughs, flopping over in his chair. “I live in a bunker in the woods. Mariana’s gonna bunk with me for the night there. So excited! We’re going to have so, so much fun.” 

Ugh. Gross. “Who are you close too?” 

Charlie thinks on it. “I’m pretty close to Phil, Mariana’s my bitch, and Jaiden and Foolish are a riot!” 

“Your ideal partner?” 

Charlie doesn’t even wait one second. “As long they’re hot I’m so game. I mean have you seen the thighs on Mariana. Thighs of a god!” 

WB02 is tired. They don’t need to know any of this. “What’s your sexuality?” 

“My sexuality is anyone! Please, I'm desperate! I NEED SOMEONE-.” He hacks and coughs, cutting himself off.

Desperate indeed. “What about your species?”

“I’m slime, I’m the ooze, I’m goopin. Goopin and gunkin.” 

“Your flaws and fears?” 

Charlie was clearly about to snark that he has none, but the worker glared right at him and obeyed. “I guess it’s growing to love something, but being the cause of that something ending?”. 

He is perfect for the experiment. The boss will be pleased. “Your good qualities?” 

Charlie is silent for a second before responding. “I mean, I guess I’m pretty resilient. And I always bounce back! I mean I was abandoned in the rain with my brother before the orphanage picked us up, and I’m still here! Kicking and scratching!” He paused for a second. “I wonder where Mike ended up, though.” 

“Have you been enjoying the island?” 

Charlie answers simply.  “Could be worse. Last place I was at was stuck in solitary for being ‘mentally unstable’ and a ‘danger to myself and others’.” He makes air quotes, rolling his eyes. 

The worker merely gestures for him to leave. 

Rubius is called in.

—————————————————————————

Rubius nervously walks in, his eyes stuck to the floor. Ah, this is the one that has been a nervous wreck the past months. He is already easily controlled, so they might pass on him being part of the project. He was only invited so others wouldn’t see something wrong with the “vacation”. The Federation doesn't care much for him. He has nothing of use, just a normal person used as bait. “Where are you residing?” 

There is a quiet mumble where he curls up in the chair. “I’m still sleeping in one of the tents, surely people know we are missing by now...right?” Rubius gives a despair ridden laugh. He has slowly been losing hope with each day. He wants so badly to go home. 

Yes, Rubius will not be part of the experiment. He is a useless lab rat. So WB02 only asks one more question. “Have you been enjoying the island?” 

Rubius shakes his head and whines. “No…I want to go home, I’m not enjoying this. I don’t want to be here! LET ME GO HOME!” He is grabbed by the guards, dragged outside as he pleads. 

WB02 merely looks at the last two names on his list. Philza Minecraft and Missa Sinfonia. Both important subjects. His bosses want to know about their immortality. These two can never leave. They have so much to learn. They are needed to find the true perfection the Federation aspires for. 

—————————————————————————

Phil sits in front of the building, relaxing against the stones and watching Missa talk quietly with Roier. Missa is holding a strangely round and red penguin that he had plucked from Roier’s hood, and several little spirits float around his feet.

Phil can’t wait to come home with him later. Sure, they shared a tent, but Missa made sure to not move into his space since they hardly knew each other then. Phil wouldn’t particularly mind now, they have gotten very close as of late. Maybe this time, Missa wouldn’t mind cuddling in the same bed. Apparently his whole family slept in a pile at their old place, so he probably wouldn’t. 

He hears his name called overhead, so he waves to Missa and whistles for Brian, holding out an arm for the crow to land on. He gives Brian’s head a few scratches then transfers him to his shoulder, moving to follow the worker inside.

The two crows keep a close watch as they enter the meeting room, Brian surveying idly before focusing on the worker. He throws his head back in disdain with a displeased warble. The mask is weird. They must not be as pretty as Missa. Phil is not as pretty as Missa. Missa is very pretty.

Phil looks at the crow’s expression and snorts, knowing immediately that he’s judging the Federation worker. 

He sits calmly, studying the worker as well, and Brian hops down onto his lap. He starts absentmindedly petting Brian, a sight almost like an evil mastermind petting his cat in a spy movie. 

Admittedly out of everyone here, WB02 is scared of Phil the most. The files they have show he is capable of extreme destruction and chaos. He is very dangerous, but the knowledge they gain researching him far outweighs the possible consequences. Still, the extra guard in the room is comforting. With a steadying breath, they begin their questions. “Where are you residing?”

Phil rolls his eyes. He has seen all the cameras hiding in the trees. He knows they know where he lives. What is with these games they are planning? 

He can play along if that is what they want. “I live on top of the wall. It’s pretty obvious and in the open.” Phil holds back on calling them an idiot, only betraying it with a displeased twitch of his ears. Brian does not, but luckily the worker can’t understand the crow.

WB02 looks confusedly at the bird. Why is it somehow looking at them like they are a fool? “Anyone you are close to on the island?” According to the notes, the Federation has taken notice that Phil is a bit of a loner with a few exceptions, keeping to an inner circle. 

“I’m pretty close with Fit, we’re old war buddies. I know BadBoyHalo and Foolish decently as we run in the same circles. And Missa, probably the only thing good about this situation.” Phil's voice is carefully steady, not giving any other information away from tone. 

WB02 does not see the appeal in Missa. He is clumsy, overly emotional, and weak compared to the other part time reaper BadBoyHalo. “Is there anyone you dislike?” 

Phil immediately shakes his head. His only dislike is the Federation. They clipped his wings and took the brother of Missa. He despises them, but he has to act smart. A wrong move could put anyone important to him at risk along with himself. 

“What are you good at?” 

Phil hesitates. He would say flying, but his wings are inoperable. His pride and his joy, the gift from his Goddess, now useless weight. Sourly, he provides another answer. “I guess I’m pretty good at resource gathering, survival skills and decent at combat.” 

WB02 looks back at their notes. “And what is your ideal partner?” 

Brian squawks “Missa!” into his ear. Twat.

Why does this seem like a matchmaking service all of a sudden? What are they playing at? Wait, if he games the system, if he says stuff about Missa, maybe they would be paired in whatever they are planning for them all. That way, he can keep Missa safe and spend time with him, no matter what the Federation tries. 

“I guess my ideal partner is people that make me laugh? Though, my wife jokes that my type is death-touched. I also love pretty people in general. I am a crow, so I’m also weak for people with jewel-like eyes.”

Brian bobs his head at the mention of Mumza, delighted. The favorite parent.

WB02 remembers abruptly from the notes that Phil is married to the Goddess of Death. Another thing they have to worry about. Sure, the island is protected, but his wife will not be pleased that her husband and her favorite reapers are out of her protection. They need to ensure countermeasures. The last thing they need is gods screwing up their experiments. “And Your sexuality?” 

Phil snorts. “Didn’t other immortals tell you yet? None of us are straight, and I don’t really care for labels. If I like you, I like you, end of story. It also helps if the person in question is pretty.”

“What is your species...you said earlier you are a crow hybrid.” Phil gives an offended look. Oh no, what did they say wrong? 

“I am a crow avian, my wings work, unlike bird hybrids. They did work.” 

WB02 wisely moves on quickly, glancing at the file holding the clipping procedures nervously. “Your flaws and your fears?” 

Phil thinks whether or not to answer. He should come up with something plausible, but not too dangerous to divulge. “I don’t really know how to deal with emotions I guess? I’m bad at it.“ He avoids saying anything about fears. No one but him needs to know the fear of loneliness. 

“Your good qualities?” 

“I like to think I’m able to protect those I care about.” 

“And lastly, have you been enjoying the island?” 

Phil can’t help but let his voice drip with sarcasm. “Oh yes, it’s been fantastic.” 

WB02 smiles as Phil is escorted out. So good that someone here knows how good the Federation truly is. The last islander to interview is Missa, then they can finally go on that deserved coffee break. The intercoms tell Missa it’s his turn. 

————————————————————————

Missa walks in surrounded by guards on all sides. The Federation knows exactly how dangerous True Reapers are, especially with the outburst earlier today. Even if they know Missa is soft and emotional, not quick to use his power, they are making complete sure he doesn’t act up. The guards guide him down onto the chair, a bit rougher than strictly needed, hands never off their guns as they take in every move. 

The Missaurios screech like broken guitar strings, not pleased they are treating Missa so badly, but they can do little more than nudge at the guards. 

Missa doesn’t even interact. He is just so tired. He wonders if it would be selfish of him to cuddle with Phil in his sleep. He is used to sleeping with others, and even as exhausted as he is, he could use the comfort to get him to sleep fast. 

“Where are you residing?” 

Missa sees Missaurios swirl in the air, angrily blowing raspberries at the worker and jumping on their head and heads of the guards in the room. It sounds like trumpets. A tired smile tugs on his lips, and the Missaurios are vindicated. “I guess I'm moving in with Philza tonight.” 

Phil is so amazing. Every time he thinks he adores him, he finds out more reasons for his feelings. 

“Who are you close to on the island?” 

Missa’s smile brightens a bit, thinking of Phil and his familia. “Roier and Mariana are so amazing, even if they always tease me. Phil has been nothing but amazing and beautiful. And of course there’s Spreen...my big brother. Do you know anything please?” Missa’s voice turned pleading. 

WB02 merely shakes his head and moves onto the next question. Whatever the Federation did to that islander was not their concern, nor was it any of the islanders. “Is there anyone you dislike?” 

Missa hesitates. “I guess BadBoyHalo? He is my friend, but we divert in how we do our jobs. He finds joy in hurting the souls we need to ferry and he thinks I’m too soft for our job. I can’t bring myself to hurt mortals more than necessary though. I guess you can call it ideological differences?”

Reapers can have conflict apparently. “What are you good at?” 

He...Missa’s mind swirls. He wasn’t good for much with his failures today. He is not smart. He is not strong. He is just useless. “I am not good at any-.“ A Missaurio tugs hard on his ear, chiming out resistance. “Erm...actually...I’m actually good at music, especially singing?” Missaurio finally stops the abuse upon his ear, very proud of themselves. 

“Your ideal partner?” 

Missa’s ears purple, thinking of Phil. The man whose home he was so kindly offered to stay in for the night. “I guess I love people that bring me comfort. And I can laugh with. Easy companionship.” His mind is full of images of Phil smiling and looking at him, his laugh and kindness. He fears he really is falling for Phil. 

“What is your sexuality?” 

Missa blinks. “Gender preference really isn’t a concept for Reapers? We are beings of void and flesh. I love who I love and what’s wrong with that.” 

“And your species?” Missa looks around at all the guards watching him like a hawk and mumbles, “Oh I’m a...True Reaper.” 

“Your flaws and fears?” 

Missa thinks before responding. “I feel I’m weak. I need to be stronger so I can protect those I love. I can’t lose any more family.” 

“Your good qualities?” 

“People say I’m kind and loyal but I don’t think that’s anything special.” 

“And lastly, have you been enjoying the island?” 

Missa stares, eyes watery. He stands, hitting the guard’s hand off his shoulder, and he leaves. 

Once Missa steps out, the intercom’s annoying sweet voice goes live. “Thank you, our esteemed guests, for taking part! You are free to return to your business!” Islanders cuss and rage, slowly going their separate ways. 

Phil makes his way to Missa, offering a concerned smile at Missa’s misty eyes. His hand slips idly into Missa’s, giving a gentle squeeze. 

Missa’s eyes go wide at Phil, heart thumping. Phil’s grin widens, and he yawns dramatically. “Let’s go home. This has been so tiring.” 

Yeah. Let's go home. Together.

Chapter Text

The mood lightens quickly as they make their way to the dirt house in the last light of the sun, Missa and Phil quickly getting lost in conversation. Phil spends the time making fun of the whole interview, calling the worker an “Annoying Bastard,” and that they totally had a stick up their ass. 

That results in Missa snorting and hitting Phil’s shoulder, playfully scolding him, but Missa doesn’t disagree. 

Phil’s smile only widens as he makes Missa laugh. 

Brian digs around in his nest nestled in one of the avocado trees, perking up to see if Missa was there yet, before rooting around more between the twigs and trinkets. He lets out a delighted squawk, plucking up a small amethyst crystal he stole from Phil’s chest. Missa will like this shiny. Shiny is like Missa’s pretty eyes. 

Brian flies down excitedly the moment he sees Missa crest the wall, landing on his offered hand with a squawk. He hops up to Missa’s shoulder, bobbing his head cutely before offering Missa the shiny. Yes, eyes are much pretty like shiny. 

Missa softens, taking the crystal and admiring it. “Oh gracias Brian, que dulces eres~.” He nuzzles his cheek to Brian’s side, reaching up to catch his beak and give it a little kiss. “You are so sweet~”

The kiss draws a few happy coos and warbles, the crow nibbling Missa’s hand happily. Phil totally doesn’t glare at Brian. He is not jealous. 

Brian wisely decides to fly back to his nest. 

Phil steps forward and opens the door to his home, gesturing for Missa to go in first with a little dramatic bow. Amused, Missa rolls his eyes fondly and walks in, taking a moment to look around. He’s never been in the house before. Their “lunch dates”, or at least what he thinks are dates, were out and about outside. Surprisingly, it’s pretty comfy. Despite the roof being dirt, it seems to be held together by moss and bamboo structures underneath, making it much more structurally sound than he first thought. It’s almost purposefully bad with all the effort that went into it, like Phil was trying to be unassuming.

It’s also mostly empty, though. There’s a basic kitchen with lumpy looking bowls Phil must have made out of clay and wood. Missa can already tell the kitchen isn’t stocked with anything but water, avocados, toast, and avocado toast. There’s a crafting table with some tools leaning against it in the corner, and a wall of chests on closest wall. 

But the main event is some sort of circular bed in the far corner, raised around 2 meters off the ground. He presumes that it is a bed? It’s got pillows and blankets. It sorta reminds him of a nest. It makes sense, Phil is feathered, he is probably a crow hybrid. 

No...not a crow hybrid. He’s something more. No simple hybrid is this death-touched. Regardless of if he didn’t react to the Missaurios before, he is clearly immersed in death. He can taste it off of him.

Phil climbs up the ladder on one side of the bed, looking back at Missa as he settles himself into the structure. “You coming?”

Missa follows suit, scaling the ladder while Phil gets comfortable. As he reaches the top, his exhaustion gets the best of his balance and practically topples facefirst into the thick heaps of blankets, wool, and pillows.

Phil’s cackles fill the air as Missa drowns in the nest, scooting toward him. Missa’s face finally pops up from the numerous blankets, cheeks puffed out in a pout as he whines. “So mean to meee...” It only makes Phil laugh harder. With a huff, Missa rights himself and sits up, coming face to face with Phil again.

Phil manages to quiet his laughter, leaning in and bumping his forehead against Missa’s mask in both apology and affection. Missa immediately goes purple, staring into Phil’s eyes. Next thing he knows, Phil is wrapping his arms around him and falling backwards into the bed, bringing them both down into the pile of fluff.

Missa totally didn’t squeak in surprise.

Phil lets go of him, but Missa stays close, comfortable as Phil maneuvers the blankets around them and extinguishes the light over the bed. Missa lays his head down, starting to relax, before he realizes that he is still wearing his mask.

Oh, yeah. He can’t go to sleep with it on, it’s pretty uncomfortable to lay on it and it would poke Phil. He trusts Phil, but you only show your face to family or...romantic partners. And despite these two months, he...can’t say they’re partners yet. After a moment of debate, he looks up to Phil and clears his throat. “I need to take my mask off...can you close your eyes? It’s a cultural thing...” 

Phil perks up in recognition and quickly closes his eyes. “Oh, right, Reaper tradition. Is...touching your face okay?” 

Missa, halfway through removing his mask, pauses. Technically, touching isn't a problem, it’s seeing his face. Other Reapers probably would think otherwise, but also...it’s Phil. Maybe he can bend the rules a bit. Be a little selfish. “...Hold on a moment.”

Missa takes off his mask, his reaper eyes naturally glowing in the darkness. He looks around the room, the sun not present to hurt his eyes as he sees easily in the low light. It was good to take the light-dampening enchantments of his mask off. 

He turns back to Phil, and softens. Phil hasn’t opened his eyes once. “J-just don’t open your eyes okay?” He settles down again, gently guiding Phil's hand to his face. 

Phil's hands are rough and calloused, but so gentle. His fingers gently glide over his eyelashes, trace his cheek bones, curl around his jaw. An idle exploration of his face that Missa sinks into, heart fluttering. Phil even starts playing with Missa’s pointed ears, making him laugh a bit, before slipping into his hair. 

Missa blinks sleepily, relaxing into it and snuggling closer into Phil. If he was more wide awake, he might have been embarrassed how he is practically using Phil's chest as his personal pillow, or leaning into how Phil was playing with his hair, but the day had been so long, and he was far past worries like that. He forgets himself, slipping off as a rumble escapes from his chest. 

Phil perks up at the sound, remembering abruptly that True Reapers purr, especially while content. Missa adorably doesn’t even seem to realize he is purring. With a warble of his own, Phil scratches his scalp, utterly fond. 

On the cusp of sleep, Missa stills, remembering he has something to ask Phil. He shifts slightly, lifting his head from Phil’s chest sleepily, grumbling. “Phillll...” 

“Yeah?” Phil's voice is gentle, trying to not break Missa out of his relaxation. 

“Can you go with me for the funeral tomorrow…I want you there.” Missa feels selfish to even ask this. 

Phil warbles sweetly, dragging his nails behind Missa’s ear to draw another sleepy purr from him. “I was already planning. Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

Missa rumbles a bit louder, dropping his head back down to Phil’s chest, nestling his face into the folds of his cloak. He feels sleep quickly creeping up on him again, the gentle hand and warm body, along with all the stressors of the day, drawing him down to sleep. 

Phil grabs at one of the fluffiest blankets, adjusting it to wrap the two of them in warmth. The urge to do the same with his wings is strong, but he pushes it down, instead wrapping his arms close around Missa and getting comfortable. 
They both slip off peacefully.

—————————————————————————

As the islanders sleep, hoping for a brighter tomorrow, there’s chaos deep within the Federation offices. 

Elena huffs angrily at the head of a massive table, tapping the wood with her claws and bringing the others to quiet. Finally. They can start. “Alright. The meeting has commenced, everyone sit. Now. WB75 and WB24 have finished going through the notes done by team leader WB02.”  

Two nervous looking white bears wearing the traditional masks and office wear bring out papers, walking around the table. Each member around the table is given their own printout of said information. While they work their way around, Elena does introductions. 

The people attending the meeting are The Census Bureau, Dr. Elena/WS01: Head of the Science Division, WA09 of the Science Division and Head of EGG Project, WB02, WB75, and WB24 of the Information Division, and WB18/Agent 18 of the Order Division. 

The Census Bureau scans over the information gathered from their place at the other head of the table, crackling their voice box to life for the meeting. “The EGG Pairing Meeting has started. Let us discuss the pairings for our subjects.”

“Luzu and Quackity are considered codependent and have a prior history of a difficult relationship. They will be paired. Likelihood of success: minimum. This pairing will be filed among one of the punishments to Luzu for the theft of the beta subject. WB18, have you found any new information regarding the beta subject?”

Agent 18 nods politely to his boss, adjusting his mask to ensure the voice filter is active. “Me and my team have found similar radioactive markers coming from Luzu. We believe the beta subject is currently dormant within him.”

WA09 looks curious. “This might not be a bad thing. The beta subject reacts to emotional stimulation. The EGG experiment will awaken the subject, and we can recover them.” They turn to Dr. Elena for approval.

Dr. Elana nods in agreement. “Let Luzu be free for the time being until recovery is required.”

The Census Bureau then goes onto the next pairing. “The next pairing will be Maximus and Dan. Likelihood of success: zero. They will be paired to break Max’s spirit should anything occur. Congratulations to Dr. Elena for the success of the Rhesus Project so far, we will be continuing research, as we need a stronger dose for Dan. He can not be allowed to remember.” 

Dr. Elena nods. The Rhesus Project, or Happy Pills some have deemed it, was a recent experiment she was placed in charge of to ensure happiness and perfection on the island. Dan was the first field test of her work, and it was a success so far, but could indeed do with more power. There has to be ways to increase the effect...

The Census Bureau then continues. “Bluebird and The Spider have been paired. Likelihood of success: medium. Both cases of hybrid experimentation. The Psychological Division wanted to add an experiment on unorthodox family structures. Do make sure to tend to their needs.” 

Elena smiles fondly behind her mask. “My daughter will be obedient, so no need for any counter measures there.” 

Agent 18 holds his tongue, but it’s still weird Dr. Elena considers the experiments her daughters. They may be her creations, but they were in no way to be family.

“Phil and Missa have been paired. Likelihood of success: medium. Do not worry, we have countermeasures if any of them fall out of line. They are already close, so this will help encourage contentment and therefore complacency. Pay close attention to them and when they are alone so that we may perform intermittent testing without the other noticing. We need to figure out the key to their immortality so we may find perfection.” 

Elena gently raises her hand, and The Census nods her to speak.

“With all due respect sir, I feel this pairing will be a mistake. Yes, they both are subjects we have lots to learn from in regards to immortality, but attachments can also be a strength. Would it not be better to force the relationship apart with other partners and observe them separately?” 

“Do not worry, there are countermeasures to cause tension between them should they begin to work together against us. Besides, they are death entities, it is likely the child will cause them stress enough as is.” 

The Bureau doesn’t understand emotions like Elena does. This is a mistake, the likelihood of success should be considered high, not medium, but Elena quiets. It is not her place.

The Census Bureau turns a page, adjusting their voice box. “Foolish and Vegetta are naive to our efforts, but very likely to make good parents, so they shall be our control group. They will be successful. Likelihood of success is rated extremely high. Foolish will also be observed for the keys to immortality, so monitor his schedule for testing opportunities.”

A shuffle of papers. “Fit was meant to be paired with Spreen, but as all you know, Spreen was a hindrance to the Federation’s mission of perfection. Do not speak of Spreen unless you want to be punished. The islanders will forget when they are preoccupied with the subjects. Fit will serve as a single parent experiment with rough upbringings toward the experiment. Likelihood of success is unknown, but considered likely low to medium.” 
WB02 flicked an ear. Loss makes people unpredictable, the 2b2t veteran may outright abandon the experiment, he may care for it roughly, or he may have moderate success. The interview was inconclusive due to circumstances. Time will tell.

The Bureau meanwhile moves onto BadBoyHalo. “The demon shall be a single parent. Make sure he has to deal with stressors and conflict. We need to see what that will do to his demonic instincts. Ensure heavy logs of what triggers them and how to best replicate, it will aid in research. Also, there is a noted past with the reaper Missa. Utilize that for possible control.”

“Lastly, Mariana and Charlie have been paired. The psychological division wants to purposely create a tense household to test stress on the EGG. Likelihood of success: low. “

The Census Bureau motions for WA09, Head of the EGG Project, to speak. They clear their throat, arranging their notes. “As a reminder, the EGG experiment's main objectives are seeing if the islanders can cooperate being split in familial units and to make the EGGs into varied subjects for our use in soldiers. Several will be sacrificed for turmoil or punishment, as has been planned for. Once their two provided lives are lost, consider the experiments finished and ensure disposal. Memos will be sent out to all teams with more in depth guidelines.”

Dr. Elana nods, arranging her notes. “The subject of the EGG project is concluded, but before the meeting concludes, we shall review some housekeeping. WB02, you requested a transfer previously to the Building and Repair Division instead of the Information Division. You have done well today in your interviews with the islanders and have shown appropriate conduct when interacting with our islanders. Thus, your transfer has been approved. Finish today and tomorrow as planned to manage the transfer, and please pick up your new uniform tomorrow.”

WB02 let out a breath, allowing themselves a relieved smile behind their mask. Finally. Finally, they could work with their hands again outside instead of behind a desk reviewing footage and gathering intel. “Thank you for your decision. I will not disappoint.”

“Good. Go back to your work stations. WB28, please stay behind a moment.” WB02 and WB75 wince, but leave their coworker to go back to the cameras. 

WB28 moves to stand, waiting for the others to file out until only the Census Bureau remains. 

The Census Bureau stares at the worker with their camera eyes, adjusting their voice box slightly. “Your coat has become brown at the base and has darkened overall. This is not acceptable.”

WB28 winces, trying not to cower and instead keep steady. “I apologize. With my pending transfer to the Science Division, and my work duties now including both the Information and Science Division, and my new assigned research into developing new mobs to release on the island, I missed the last appointment to appropriately bleach my fur.”

“The Federation demands perfection. Excuses are not permitted. Fix this.”

WB28 nods, bowing their head in apology, putting great effort into not flattening their ears or showing weakness. Weakness is not perfection, and it is how one gets demoted, or worse. “I will.”

“Return to your station.”

“Understood.” They hurried out, moving back to the cameras and rejoining their coworkers. They will make an appointment to bleach the grizzly hairs coming through tomorrow morning. 

They move to sit at their surveillance desk, seeing their coworkers wincing and defeated, WB75 even facedown on the table in defeat. Reluctantly, they turn to look at the screen, dreading what they will see. Oh god, it’s Charlie and Mariana again in the spawn area. For Void's sake.

—————————————————————————-

The first thing Phil realizes when he is awake is that a certain reaper is poking his feathered ears with a finger. He cracks an eye open, watching Missa as he continues to feign sleep. 

The reaper has his mask back on, biting his lip to try not to let his silent laughter escape as he watches Phil’s ear twitch at each poke, amusing himself. Oh, two can play at that game. 

Phil slowly feels around for a second, carefully feigning sleep still, grabbing a pillow. As Missa goes to poke him again, Phil swings to whack Missa’s head with the pillow with a war cry. Missa squeals, scrambling back as Phil lunges up to hit him again for good measure, laughing all the way as Missa tries to deflect each attack.

“I yield! I yield! Me rindo, tú ganas!”

Phil stops his assault, shifting to sit up properly as Missa flops back to sprawl in the nest, both of them laughing happily in the moment. For a moment, things were good.

The sun shines through the window, the angle making Phil pause and check his com, looking at the time. “...Oh, shit. We should get ready. It’s starting soon.”

Missa sighs softly, brought back down to reality. “Yeah...let’s go.” Right, the funeral. He checks his inventory as he sits up, making sure he has everything. He has something to give to Fit. 

The walk there is solemn, but strangely Missa is way more grounded knowing his familia and Phil are here. He can lean on others. They can find Spreen. Eventually. Maybe. 

Hopefully. 

They get there and it’s a simple enough space. An empty casket, some food people brought, a couple flowers. Everyone is here, even those that haven’t talked to Spreen much. It was a shock to most everyone, Spreen had seemed a powerhouse, certainly not the first to die if anyone was going to.

Roier sees Missa and Phil arrive, so he coughs loudly to get everyone’s attention. Once everyone quiets, Roier strides slowly to the front, speaking loudly all the while. “Spreen is a pendejo and a massive fucking idiot. But. I refuse to fully believe he’s dead until I see a body. You better be alive, idiot.” He slaps the casket, huffing. “This is just a placeholder until we figure out what really happened to that pendejo.”

Mariana hums. “Spreen is one of my best friends, and trust me when I say it, he’s a fucking cockroach of a man. I trust that he is giving the Feds as much trouble as he can if they have him.” He had his doubts, but he didn’t want to consider them. He was out there.

Missa spoke up next, moving from Phil’s side. “Spreen is my big brother. He’s so, so strong. He can’t be dead. I’m sure of it. We will find him.” 

Fit looks at the empty casket, sighing and moving to join the group at the front, standing beside Missa. He sighs again, hyping himself up, and starts to speak. “I never knew your big brother for long but...he was special. And unique. I wish he let me help him so he didn’t get into this mess. I would have watched his back.” 

Missa smiled at Fit, taking a breath. It didn’t seem like anyone else was going to make speeches, and people were starting to snack on the food and socialize, so Missa took the opportunity to nudge Fit and gesture to a corner.

Fit follows, curious, only to pause as Missa takes a familiar hat out of his inventory. Spreen’s hat. 

“You made Spreen very happy, so take it. It’s the only thing I found at the scene.”

Fit stares at it, not taking it at first. “You...wouldn’t you want to keep it? He’s your brother.”

“I’ve got plenty of his things. This is for you.”

Fit swallows, fighting to not get choked up as he takes it, turning around in his hands. He won’t cry. “I...Spreen loved you. I can’t disappoint him. I’ll make sure I watch your backs and everyone is safe...like he did.” He took a breath, rubbing his thumb over the fabric. Fuck.

With a sad smile, Missa pats Fit’s shoulder and moves to rejoin his family, to talk to them and maybe get a few of the little sandwiches someone brought. He probably should have made something for this, but...he was tired.

Fit holds the hat close and looks toward the empty casket, eyes dark. He’ll make sure whoever took this from him pays. He wasn’t going to hold out hope, that was a foolish thing to have, especially with his past, but he’ll get revenge. Revenge he knows very, very well.

Communicators all around the room start beeping with an announcement, making everyone perk up from their conversations and food. “Guests, please come to the Adoption Center. It is mandatory.” 

People mumble amongst themselves, surprised and confused. Fit growls in frustration. “What the fuck you mean an adoption center? Can’t you see we grieving here you fucks?” 

The communicators start beeping again, displaying coordinates. What the fuck? 

They slowly make their way there, some out of curiosity, some out of obligation. What the fuck was the Federation up to now?

Chapter Text

Phil and Missa stare at the building that the coordinates lead the group to, following a little ways behind the crowd coming from the funeral. The doors are closed, and above it is some sort of giant TV, catching everyone's attention as they approach.

Phil doesn’t trust it. Judging by the grimace Missa is barely hiding, he thinks similarly. 

A few people that didn’t go to the funeral trickle in as well. As Jaiden joins them as the last person, the TV comes alive with static, and holy fuck, what’s shown is worse than they thought. There's so many videos. Everyone had an idea that the Federation has eyes everywhere, Fit and Phil even played a game the first week to see how many cameras they could find, but it’s another thing to see it be confirmed.

Some make sense for cameras, people poking around the Federation buildings to try to get inside, supplies being gathered from the train station, people clambering around the bridges of train tracks. But then there’s Missa and Phil on one of their lunch dates, quietly chatting and laughing. 

Phil remembers how he almost held Missa's hand, and there’s his twitching hand for everyone to see. He didn’t even know there was a camera in that tree, it was hidden well. Everyone turns around to stare at the two of them, Roier smirking about to start shit again, but then the videos keep playing. 

A group exploring some abandoned buildings, Fit, Spreen, Maximus, and BBH all running around together far from spawn in areas that should have long defunct cameras. Next are shots of everyone collecting materials and mining, shot from different times and different days. 

The video suddenly goes censored, blasting sirens as a million warning labels cover the screen, and big red letters tell Charlie and Mariana to stop their “extracurriculars” at spawn. It’s even signed by the codenames WB72 and WB28. Must be the workers in charge of the cameras? 

It’s an uproar of laughter. Mariana and Charlie both start cackling maniacally, completely unrepentant. Phil practically uses Missa as his crutch as he doubles down in giggles, Missa way too easily supporting Phil weight as he throws his head back in laughter as well. True Reaper strength. 

As the group comes down from that, the TV shows numerous videos of Foolish building. People working in the community garden, high up shots from the wall down into town. All relatively public and average surveillances.

But then comes a clip of Rubius curled up in a tent with a tearstained face, taken from inside the tent. Vegetta stares at Rubius and goes to comfort him, but it only gets more concerning. The inside of the Hispanics’ former home, the view of the kitchen as people eat. Then the time changes, and blood coats the floor as Roier sits in a chair covered in bandages, Missa packing up a first aid kit.

Phil instinctively tries to wrap a wing around Missa, but is held off by the backpack holding them to his back. He instead grabs his hand and holds tight, and Missa tucks into his side.

The inside of Maxo and Dan’s house, Maxo comes in with arms full of harvested food, passing some to Dan with a kiss on the temple before they put them away in chests. It’s unsettling. The cameras are inside their homes, watching their moves even in privacy.

What is even more terrifying is the last thing shown. Maximus and BBH’s “secret” theorizing room, full of red string and corkboards and documents. The red lettering is back, saying, “No secrets exist on Isla Quesadilla.” 

Before the crowd could get worked up in a panic, the surveillance turned into some sort of broadcast?

A masked figure turns around in their chair on the screen, face covered by a duck mask. It is not blank like the workers, it has features and almost seems costume-like. “Hello islanders! You have come here today for a very special reason. The Federation has recently found a cache of some very special dragon eggs on another island under our management. Sadly, the mother dragon has left, and she will not be coming back. They have been incubating but sadly, these hybrids refuse to start hatching without someone to imprint on. Which comes to you. You will be paired in order to take care of these eggs. What happens to them is up to you, do not worry.”

The video continues, but Missa barely hears. Dragon Hybrids? Children? What does this god awful place want with children? That explains why he senses pulses of souls in the building in front of him, why he was feeling drawn to it. He is a Reaper assigned to fragile souls, children’s souls, it is in his nature to guide them, and there’s children in this place?! He has to get in there, he has to protect them, they aren’t safe here! It’s in his very being to ensure they’re safe!

His thoughts go quiet as Phil presses his head to his hair, chirping a bit. They give each other a look, understanding. 

Looking at Phil, he seems to be tamping down his own instincts at the mention of eggs. Fucking bird brain...

Fit is the first person to actually speak up among the group, shouting over the continuing recording. “Oi! What the fuck do you mean we're gonna be raising a kid?! What the actual fuck?!” 

BadBoyHalo moves right next to Fit, all smiles. “Oh I think it’ll be fun! Like adopting a stray from the pound!” 

Roier rolls his eyes. “I’m more worried about the pairing. Connect the fucking dots, that’s why they had us do the fucking interviews.” 

Mariana scoffs behind him, annoyed. Roier was totally right, he really should have punched the worker when he had the chance. They're gonna be paired off to do some...egg hatching project? 

Meanwhile, Missa is trying his best to not make it clear he wants to be paired with Phil for this. He is failing. 

The video seems to stop, very few people listening to the end, and the doors swing open. It's Elena from the first day, along with many, many guards. “Good afternoon. It’s time to announce the first of the pairings! Jaiden and Roier, come and pick your egg and name it!”

Roier sighs, first again. At least it’s Jaiden. They both stride in, looking around at the center. It seems...almost like a pet shop crossed with a natal ward, little glass cases and incubators. There’s eggs nestled on little pads in each little case, bigger than any egg they’ve ever seen, all different colors and patterns. 

Jaiden looks around, opening the door to one the color of a robin’s egg, and carefully scooping it up. The size of it settles into her cradled arms nicely, if very bulky and heavy. The little egg’s weight seems to shift, as if the little dragon was moving inside the egg. She grins at Roier, who shrugs and nods, but anyone can tell that he’s a little smitten. 

“I think Bobby should be a good name, yeah?” Jaiden looks excited as workers nearby offer them a package for making a simple nest, a couple of blankets and a heating pad inside a box with art of Cucurucho on the side. They exit, deciding to go home and start with the nest. 

Elena sees them leave and checks her notes. “Ah, next is Charlie and Mariana.” 

Mariana and Charlie, not ready to be parents and very against this, are forcibly hauled in by the guards, cursing and screaming all the way. Charlie even seems to turn to goop before he’s grabbed by the gelatin ankles and dragged.

Both Charlie and Mariana fall on their asses in front of the clutch of eggs, their escape blocked by guards and a closed door. Charlie immediately sees a mostly green egg with yellow splotches, the color almost sickly and gross. Charlie immediately is in love. 

Mariana turns his gaze to the egg Charlie is moving towards, face souring. “That egg is clearly spoiled-” 

Charlie is already holding it in his arms, grinning inhumanly at Mariana. “I love him.” The egg seems to wobble in his arms, seeming annoyed. “I love...her?” The shaking quiets. 

‘Oh fuck. First day of parenthood and I already misgendered my fucking daughter.’

The worker rudely throws the nesting package to them, Mariana having to scramble to catch it. These two can figure it out. They have seen enough from these two. 

As they’re hustled out by guards, Mariana seeming like that moved way too fast for him to process, Elena then speaks up again. “Next is BadBoyHalo! You are going to be a single caregiver!” 

BBH smiles and saunters into the building, looking around at all the little souls. Aww, this little solid black egg has such a sassy little soul. BadBoyHalo giggles as he picks it up. 

The workers try to give BBH the nesting package, but he refuses. “Sorry, little imp ‘nests’ are fire, brimstone, and netherrack. I know what I’m doing.” The workers stare at BadBoyHalo, unimpressed as he leaves. Maybe Dapper would be a good name. 

Wait. Where did BadBodyHalo get netherrack?

Elena calls the next pairing. “The next pairing is Foolish and Vegetta! Excellent for your recent relationship.” 

Vegetta and Foolish giggle, bumping against each other happily as they enter the building. They coo over each egg, looking each one over eagerly. They catch sight of a violet egg with a dusting of gold sheen across the shell, and they know this is their egg. Foolish gathers them up, grinning wide. 

The nesting package is offered to them as Vegetta pets at the shell, cooing at it. “He seems like a Leonardo!” 

They only leave when the guards usher them out.

Elena worries over the next name on the list. “Fit. You are sadly a single caregiver due to unfortunate circumstances. Please proceed inside.” 

There is a deep rage in Fit’s eyes at the simple mention, barely holding back a growl in his “mere human” throat. Unfortunate circumstances. Really? That’s all they have to say about that? Someone was permanently murdered and it’s unfortunate circumstances?

A guard puts a gun to his back, which he merely glances at with a cold fire before walking in. As shown by Charlie and Mariana’s hysterics, he has no choice, but he’s going to pick randomly. He decided to pick the solid gray one. 

God, what does he name this thing? He should go with something to honor, he shouldn’t name it something stupid...maybe something Spreen would have liked. What was the name of that mentor Spreen told stories about, the good one? Oh yeah. “I guess you are gonna be Ramón, then.” 

He goes to retrieve the egg, still furious about this whole situation as he almost roughly grabs it, only to falter just before he makes contact, instead carefully putting a hand on it. He pauses, then lifts it and settles it into his arms, careful of the hard surface of his prosthetic. No, he can’t be fucking mad at a kid...fuck. He isn’t good with kids. What is he supposed to do? How the hell is he supposed to not mess this up? 

He swallows, taking a breath as he carefully holds this egg to his chest, instead finding himself terrified, a rare feeling to him. 

Fuck.

Fit walks out with the egg in one of the hatching boxes, much more careful and nervous than he came in. 

As he beelines for home, Missa looks around, catching the eye of Quackity staring at him. Oh, please no. Not him. Please be Phil. Please be anyone but him, but especially be Phil. And please be next, there's little souls in there he has to check over and see if they’re safe...

Elena smiles brightly and turns to the two. Missa nervously gulps, immediately latching onto Phil’s arm in nervousness despite his previous want to hurry along, and Phil nuzzles Missa cheek with his own. Missa laughs at the texture of feathers against his mask, but a certain duck interrupts them from their comforts. 

“We get it! You’re all fucking lovey dovey! No one wants to see your fucking PDA!!!” Quackity huffs, glaring daggers.

Phil snarks back. “Didn’t you break up with him? News travels fast here, you know!”

Brian, who has been chilling in a nearby tree, hears someone not being nice to pretty Missa. He swoops down, scrabbling to land on Quackity’s head with an angry squabble, pecking and clawing at him. Quackity yells and swings his arms to no avail, especially as a couple patitos start biting at his ankles, squacking. Missa can’t help but laugh, watching the birds defend his honor. 

Elena looks a bit amused at the situation before clearing her throat. “Phil and Missa, it is your turn to pick.” Phil does the slightest fist pump in celebration, and Missa is totally not showing how happy he is that they got paired together. They leave Brian and the ducklings to continue attacking Quackity in favor of finally getting in to look over the little ones. 

They enter the building and look over the last three eggs. One is a creamy blue with dark red, almost brown spots, Missa can sense a sorta timid soul within. Another is a scarlet red, and he can already tell this soul is chaotic, probably a good choice for Quackity to have to handle, the hypocrite. Missa ramps down the way he want to cradle these children's souls and whisk them from this island. It isn't his job right now. He can't perform his duties right now. They’re going to parents that can guard them. 

He takes a breath, easing his chest and calming his instincts. But then he sees a black egg with orange splotches, reminiscent of the color of marigolds, and the feeling slams back into him full force. 

He already knows that one’s theirs. The soul is so precious, curled around in the egg in ethereal wisps, and his inner Reaper just grips onto it and purrs. 

Phil slips past him and gathers up the egg, looking back at Missa with blown pupils and puffed up ear feathers. “This egg’s ours?” He presses close to Missa, who immediately cuddles in to coo at their egg, watching the soul flicker around inside. This is their baby now, they'll keep them safe. Nothing is going to happen to them. 

The worker awkwardly tries to give them the nesting package, cautious to approach the clearly instinct-ridden pair. They’re both...cooing and purring at the egg, pupils blown out. They might see a threat in their approach. 

Phil turns and looks at the worker and the puny box with utter dissatisfaction once they finally get the courage, ear feathers tucking down in displeasure. “This? This is what you want us to nest with? No, no I can do better. Keep it.” 

Missa slowly steals the egg away from Phil, purring words to the shell and the little soul inside. “...Chayanne...a little Chayanne dragon, and he will be the very best dragon ever...” 

The two head home side by side, blind to the outside world with their new little world nestled in Missa’s arms. Missa nuzzles his cheek against his son's shell, purring loud enough for the remaining crowd to take notice. Missa's mind calls to protect their child, and Phil is near desperate to build a proper nest. 

Quackity scoffs as they pass by him, bedraggled and restraining several ducklings while Brian hops in circles around him in mocking victory. He moves slightly closer, only to leap back as Missa literally snaps his teeth at him. What the fuck?! Fucking instinct-crazed assholes!

Elena stares after them. The Federation is definitely underestimating them. They will succeed. 

Time will tell if she is right. “Next is Quackity and Luzu.” 

Quackity stares at Luzu awkwardly. Great. Now it has to be even more awkward. Averting his eyes, Q just strides towards this adoption center. 

Luzu sighs and follows, reluctant to go inside, uneasy the entire time he is near the federation workers. He keeps alert, noting each little detail as he slips in and looks around at the two remaining eggs. He has to act normal, let nothing slip about Arin, about his past.

At least he can keep Quackity safe easier like this.

Quackity decides to pick at random between the two, going with the scarlet egg. This one seems pretty enough. A worker approaches Luzu, making him jump, and he is rudely given the nesting package with a shove. The look the worker gives Luzu makes him shudder. They know something.

Luzu grabs Quackity’s arm and heads off quickly. 

The last ones called are Dan and Maximus. Rubius stood there alone in confusion, but Elana quietly explained to him that the Federation considered his mental state not suited for taking care of an egg. He can go back to his tent. M

Dan and Maxo have no choice but the last egg. It's a nice egg, a soft baby blue with red spots so dark and rich they're almost brown.

Maxo scoops up the egg while Dan grabs the box of supplies from the worker, tag-teaming so they can rush out. They don’t want to be near workers if they don’t have to. Dan can already feel another headache coming on, and his smiley-faced pill bottle beckons him back home. 

As they head back for their house,  Maxo looks over the egg, humming consideringly, before laughing. “This whole thing is a silly joke, so you'll be a joke name! Trump is as good a name as any.” 

The worker smiles under their mask after them. That egg is definitely not going to make it. 

—————————————————————————-

Phil and Missa make their way home, fussing over their egg the entire time. Missa practically nuzzles Chayanne the entire time with his cheek, pressing little kisses to the shell. The soul of their new son responds with bursts of happy emotions, only spurning his affections more. Chayanne is such a sweet kid already. 

Phil immediately finds a good spot where the sun from the window hits just right, and he starts to rummage in his chest. Spare pillows, blankets, some pieces of gold, plenty of wool and chicken feathers, ample supplies for his chick. Fully fueled by instincts, the materials are carefully assembled into something comfortable and supportive. 

Missa can't help but purr as he watches Phil work. All he can think under the weight of his own instincts is that Phil really is amazing...

He guards the house, holding Chayanne close to his chest. Protect the den, protect the youngling, protect...mate? No.

As all this is happening, Brian flies into the house through the open window, landing in the rafters. He has finished tormenting Quackity, holding a duck feather in his beak proudly. Though, he quickly drops it as he notices the egg, squawking in jou and laughter. 

“Dadza laid an egg!” 

Phil snaps his head over and glares at Brian. Brian tilts his head confusedly. “Pretty Missa laid egg?” 

Phil decides to ignore him and the blush on his face, thanking his goddess that Missa couldn't understand Brian. Why must he be tormented by this smartass crow? Why can't he build in peace?

The nest is glorious once Phil is done. 
Blankets and pillows for the base and sides, packed bundles of wool to keep the egg in place, fluffs of chicken feathers to keep warm and help hide the egg if necessary, even some shinies hidden here and there for his new son. Okay, that last one was Phil’s crow brain getting the best of him, but he wasn't going to remove it once he realized. 

Missa, who had been sending little bursts of emotions towards Chayanne to see their soul react as the structure was built, places them gently into the constructed nest. Brian flies around the room, excited, before deciding to land on top of Chayanne. Egg need warmth. Brian sit. Brian brood. Brian’s child now. 

Phil glares. 

Chayanne is his and Missa’s. Theirs. This is their nest for their egg, not Brian's. He is about to swat this dumbass crow before Missa speaks up, smiling brightly at the masterpiece of a nest. He seems oblivious to the tension between his two favorite crows. “Phil, this nest is so amazing! Chayanne loves it, I can sense his joy~” 

Phil flushes as his crow side preens at the praise, ear feathers fluffing up. He did good. He made a good nest for egg and mate. Phil shakes his head. No, not mate. Stupid crow brain. He needs to pull himself out of this state. The nest was built, time to calm down. 

Missa settles down beside Chayanne, smiling fondly and he comes out of his protective haze himself. He sits and simply admires the little egg, in love. He deserves a little song. He pulls his guitar from his inventory, looking it over for a long moment. Spreen’s gift...he’ll put it to good use. 

He strums a few strings before starting to sing. It's easy to fall into it, slip into a familiar song and just lose himself in the lyrics. It's nice...it's very nice. Hoy Toca Ser Feliz, a fitting song about hope and chasing your dreams, something he hopes his little huevito gets to have lots of. 

As he finishes the song, Missa smiles so softly at Chayanne, utterly in love, feeling the happiness emanating from the egg. “Our son liked my song, I’m glad...I haven’t sang in a while”. Thanks for the gift Spreen... 

Missa turns to look at Phil with a smile, only to catch Phil staring at him, almost dazed. Ears fluffed up and lax, eyes starry, mouth slightly open in awe. It does something to the area where Missa’s heart used to be. 

Phil doesn’t even think before letting his mouth run wild. “You have such a beautiful voice. Really a fucking Adonis of a man.” 

Those words reverberate in Missa's brain, flushing a deep purple and mouth falling open, unable to bring words together besides growls and squeaks. 

Before Phil could either rapidly backtrack or tease Missa, he hadn't decided yet, there’s a knock on the door. Phil instead turns to the door, confused and moving to answer. Missa picks up Chayanne, sensing he doesn’t want to be left behind. Chayanne is happy as can be in Missa arms, making Missa roll his eyes fondly. Their son is so clingy. 

Phil, quite annoyed at the interruption, opens the door with attitude. Ah. Mariana and Charlie. Phil glares at the two, but Charlie only grins. 

“Hiya Phil, we were just hopping around, seeing how the other parents are faring, you know the drill.” He walks into the house like he owns the place, Mariana following behind him. Phil has to quickly tamp down the still active part of him that screams at him to protect his egg and protect his future mate. Not now. Missa has Chayanne anyway. 

Mariana smirks at Phil's grouchy expression, leaning in seductively. “Hey there amor~”

Missa, who at that point was perfectly calm and composed, welcoming guests into their home, heard that and immediately bristled in rage. “EH?! EH?! PENDEJO-“ These two try to take away his Crow?! Mariana?! The betrayal?!

Missa seethes as Chayanne starts banging his little baby hands against the inside of his shell in anger, soul seething and writhing in the shell. His parents are in love and are happy. Who dares to break them up out there?!

Phil squawks, backing up with a haughty look of disdain. “I’m very happy with my partner thank you.” Only then does Chayanne calm down. 

Charlie grimaces, apparently in on it the whole time. “Ew Ew Ew. C’mon Mariana, they are too happy. It's disgusting, let's bounce.” They salute as they exit their house and leap off the wall with gliders, off to terrorize another group.

Phil sighs as he watches them go, shaking his head. Unimportant. Instead, he turns back to Missa and Chayanne, coming back to their sides. He reaches out for Chayanne to settle him into the nest, carefully climbing in after him to snuggle into the warmth. Almost perfect. He made it big enough for the three of them, after all. He looks up at Missa, grinning. “Come to bed...partner.” 

They both snort and fight not to laugh, Phil hiding his barely restrained cackling behind his hand, Missa doubling over with effort. That sounded so fucking cheesy and dumb, oh Goddess.

Still, Missa climbs in, snuggling in at Phil’s back and nosing into the nape of his neck. They can nap the afternoon away. 

Phil hums, getting comfortable. “They said they will hatch tomorrow on that creepy screen thing. It's gonna be a busy day.” Phil feels Missa press against his wings as he snuggles closer, and he resists the urge to spread them over him like a blanket.

Missa laughs. “It'll be a great day.” He knows he's purring at the softness, but he doesn't care. Phil’s hair is fragrant under his nose, the sun shines warm over them, and a little baby is only feet away. It's perfect to sleep...

...

........

“Wait. They put fucking cameras in the house!”

Chapter Text

Missa blinks awake from his nap, one held off for an hour or two.

They first had to search for cameras in the dirt and bamboo of the roof, reminded of the footage they had seen before being distracted with Chayanne. They weren’t going to allow them to spy in on their home for long. They’d managed to fish out three of them before they were satisfied with their search enough to curl up in the nest again and nap in the afternoon sun.

Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he feels only himself and his baby in the nest, wondering idly where Phil had gone as he gets used to the now evening light. Missa stretches languidly, making his bones pop and creak in unnatural ways, not wanting to leave the comfort of the nest and his little youngling, but the urge to move is too great. He checks on the soul of their hijo, only to feel the gentle thrumming of him fast asleep within the shell, peaceful and calm. 

Satisfied, he exits the house to find Phil whacking cameras out of the avocado trees with a broom. If the huge pile of broken lenses and cameras said anything, he has been at it for a while. 

In a Federation office a distance away, WB75 merely puts in a work order to create more cameras and mount them again atop the wall. They built extra knowing the effect the video would have on the residents. All within parameters.

Missa glances around the little yard atop the wall, catching sight of what he presumes to be freshly dyed spider silk cloth? Looks like Phil is drying it out in the sun. He must have used so much orange dye, they definitely need to find more orange tulips. Phil must have decided to base their kid clothes off the orange of his shell. It’s cute.

Missa grabs a stick and starts to search for more cameras, ready to join the game. Phil offers a sweet smile to him, and they knock down the absurd amount of cameras together. 

Chayanne shifts awake in his shell, nestled nicely within the warm, tight confines of his egg. It’s so nice and cozy, he could stay here a bit longer, prepare to hatch a bit longer, but the faint and gentle humming of the violet fire he guesses is his papa Missa’s soul is gone. The flapping dark green of his dad Phil is also gone. He is just an egg, he can’t do anything but wait until he is finally out of this shell. 

As he curls alone, it is feeling more and more cramped. He thinks of those two that interrupted them when they were together, that tried to steal dad. His parents love each other, he can sense it in the skips their inner fires play around each other. What if those two come back? What if his parents don’t love anymore? What if they get stolen away? Those are his dads!

Chayanne doesn’t know. He is just a baby that wants to get out of this shell, wants to see the world and see his papas. He’s all alone and there’s no warm souls to soothe him down. He starts kicking against the shell, having a full tantrum, hardly getting purchase in the cramped space. His little claws scratch against the egg, fighting to make a divot, fighting to get a place he can get the leverage to wriggle around and get his leg and kick!

Something gives, and he feels his foot move further, a crack ringing out in his little shell. He fights, harder and harder, and next thing he knows he’s managed to get a little foot out of the shell.

The rest of his body shifts in the space with the new position, and he struggles to get his foot back in the shell. This is totally under his control. Everything is fine.

Phil, in the midst of laughing with Missa, freezes in his tracks. His ears perk up, straightening to catch every little sound he could, twisting towards the house. That’s an egg cracking. That is the sound of crackling eggshell. He stares back at the house with wide eyes, frozen for just a moment longer. Missa is confused for a second, focusing as well, then he is hit by it full blast. The gentle flickering orange and yellow soul of Chayanne is solid. Their son is hatching a little earlier than they thought. 

They would later say how they came rushing into the house was majestic and dignified. It was like a movie, with gravitas and at a respectable speed.

They would be lying. 

They practically collapse onto each other in an excited tumble in the doorway, fighting to get in fastest. They quickly scramble up, still fighting, to see the itty bitty foot wiggling each way, clawed and scaled, trying to get back inside. 

Phil coos at him, taking pity on Chayanne and helping push his foot back in, then shifts the egg slightly to a position to make it easier to hatch. He stops Missa from reaching to help, shaking his head.

“They need to hatch on their own. They’ve got to detach from the egg themselves, there’s blood vessels and stuff they’ve got to break. You can make them bleed if you don’t let them do it. And they’ve gotta absorb the yolk stuff.” At least...he thinks? This isn’t a bird egg...do dragon eggs act like snake eggs? What do snake eggs act like?

Regardless, the parents do nothing but watch and coo just in case, adoring as Chayanne manages to kick little bits and pieces off, twisting and pushing with his little arms too. Missa does bring a basin of hot water and a warm towel to clean Chayanne once he gets out. 

They are back! They’re back and they’re still together! The evil ones trying to make them leave aren’t here! Now he just has to get out! Chayanne cycles through his efforts, tiring and resting, then banging and kicking more on the shell again.

Phil watches closely, chirping and cooing encouragement as Missa comes in with the now dried spider silk cloth. Thank Lady Death for crafting magic, it’s easy to place it on the crafting table and form it into simple clothing. 

Chayanne manages to break a little hole around his arms, getting his little claws out and grabbing at the edge, tearing it open with grippy little baby hands that make Phil croon with adoration. Little yellow scales!! It moves faster now, Chayanne slowly getting more room to work as he breaks off pieces with determination. Soon he’s got plenty of space to move, testing his limbs and coordinating and breaking off more pieces.

He rests two more times before Chayanne feels ready to push out. It feels time. He can see a little blurry face through the shell trying to look in on him, and he’s all rested up and ready.

With all the power in his tiny body, Chayanne twists and shoves, pressing his whole weight against the surface, and he cracks the shell wide open as he pushes himself out, tumbling to soft blankets and bright, bright light. 

He immediately tries to right himself, suddenly in a big, wide open nest instead of the cramped place he had known since he could retain thought. Missa scoops him up in the towel, setting to cleaning him off with the basin of water as Chayanne growls and warbles, fighting the towel at first before merely curling up, closing his eyes tight.

The more the goop is cleaned off, the more the two of them see of their son's appearance. His hair is like Phil’s dirty blonde. The scales on his cheeks and most of little black tail are black, and his clawed hands and feet are lined with bright yellow, along with lovely yellow stripes on his tail. Chayanne starts to whine, quickly overwhelmed in this big new world. He opens his eyes, only for the sunlight to hit them and chirrups in pain, starting to tear up and shake his head, almost about to cry. “...hurts...”

Missa pauses, checking him over, only to catch a flash of violet as Chayanne blinks miserably. He has Missa’s eyes. Missa’s purple reaper eyes, sensitive to the sun. Missa quickly passes the baby to Phil. “Keep washing him and cover his eyes. We need a skull.” 

He scrambles up, moving to block off the window above the nest, then he starts digging around his inventory and the nearby chests for supplies. A skull and leather straps, a bit of iron to craft into a buckle, some wool to pad the edges, perfect. He is quick to make a smaller version of his own mask, etching enchantments for light protection like he has done a hundred times before.
Chayanne, now clean and dry and in his little orange clothes, seems to welcome the little mask that Missa places on his head. No longer hiding in Phil’s shirt, still curled tight like he was in the egg, he finally looks around the room without pain and instead awe. Wow. The world is very big.

Phil laughs as he watches his son look around. “He got your pretty eyes...” 

Missa sputters from where he was uncovering the windows. “Well he got your everything else!” 

Chayanne tests his voice more, regarding the very interesting world. “Papa Missa. Dad Phil. I love you.”

Phil thinks he is going to die. Holy fuck, he’s so cute. He’s so cute!

“Can we go kill evil Mari-ana and Carlie?” And Phil’s awwing quickly turns to cackles, setting Chayanne down so he doesn’t drop him from how hard he laughs. Just hatched and already blood thirsty?! 

As both his parents cackle above him, Chayanne tests out his arms and legs, trying to crawl out of the nest. He’s on a mission. He’s going to go fight those guys that tried to break up his parents. Oh, perfect! A sword!

Phil squawks as Chayanne beelines for his sword leaning against the wall, quickly figuring out how his little magic dragon limbs work to try and grab it.

Missa scoops him up, internally thanking his Lady that Chayanne seems too little to walk yet, only crawling. 

Chayanne swishes his tail angrily, denied his right of weapons, but Phil soon procures a wooden sword for him and all is well. 

It seems the young dragons are very intelligent and capable even in their little forms, as when they set Chayanne loose outside, he was quickly scooting around and climbing Phil’s leg to stand and whack at melons they put down. Phil gave him pointers on the best angles to hit the melons from, supporting his little body while he fought. 

Missa sits under an avocado tree, fondly watching as Phil tries to pin Chayanne’s hair out of his eyes so that he could fight better, only to pause as Missa feels a shift in the air. He sharpens his gaze, looking around with a Reaper’s eyes, and what he sees freezes him in his tracks.

That’s a big fucking piglin.

The soul, bursting at the edges of its form, blood red and shining with immense power, is hovering over Chayanne as Phil steps inside to grab something for his hair. Missa is almost about to stand and come to their baby’s aid, but then the soul turns to him and smirks. 

“His type never changes. Lame.”

Excuse me?!

Chayanne looks up, squinting at the faint redness in curiosity, before trying to swipe at it with his sword with a war cry. 

The swipe merely passes through the piglin, who grins down at the little dragon with a wild grin of pride. “You’ll give Phil hell for me. Perfect. That old man needs more trouble.”

Phil comes outside with a few supplies, and Missa whines to him. “Phil, there’s a piglin floating above the baby and making fun of us."

Phil's head snaps over to stare above Chayanne. “He’s fucking what?!”

“...Do you know the piglin?”

“Techno if you fucking say anything-! Where are you!?”

“Old man has a crush, yoooooo. You’re so obvious, Phil!”

Missa put his now blushing face in his hands and just breathed as Phil looked around, not able to see or hear this Techno person. Great. “He’s making fun of you...”

“Techno I swear to God, what are you doing here?!”

“Kristin says hi, I’m telling her you’re being an idiot and gross.” Techno effortlessly dodges another sword attack from Chayanne, acting as if it could hit him.

Missa sighs, resigned to be the translator. “He says you’re gross and he’s telling Kristin.” Wait...as in...is Techno talking about Lady Death?! That Kristin?!

Phil just sighs and walks over to Chayanne, scooping him up as he continues to swipe at Techno’s legs. He stares at where he thinks Techno is, mostly right, and glares. “Show yourself right now.”

“Cute kid, anyways buh byeeee.”

“He’s leaving.”

“Get back here and let me see you! Stop hiding!”

Despite Phil’s demands, Techno’s soul begins to twist back into the veil, shining brighter and brighter with immense power before a ‘pop’ emanates through the air.

Phil grits his teeth, feeling the void Techno left. Bastard.

Missa comes and kisses Chayanne’s head. “...So I’m guessing you know him?”

“...Yeah. He’s my best friend.”

“He seems...nice.”

Chayanne grins. “He looked cool.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Phil nods. “He is cool. He’s the devotee of the Blood God.”

“Woah, the Blood God? That sounds so cool!”

“Mhmm, I’ll tell you all about him later. It can be our bedtime story.”

“Okay!” Chayanne wriggles to get down, off to wander and fight again. Goddess, this was going to be a handful.

Phil can almost feel his wife laughing at him.

—————————————————————————

What followed was several hours of child wrangling, Chayanne exploring with great speed and many close calls. Who knew that Chayanne was born with a death wish? He has no wings, yet he seems intent on exploring every edge of the wall. They had to babyproof and fence off the entire thing.

Luckily, Chayanne is still figuring out the whole walking thing, and the two of them were able to distract him with fighting techniques and stories of their past, helping get through his tireless energy. 

Plus, they had a distraction in the form of Fit’s frantic messages.

[16:24:05] Fit >> Phil I need help
[16:24:24] Fit >> They gave me a fucking kid, Phil
[16:24:56] Fit >> I don’t know how to take care of this thing, he’s super smart, babies aren’t supposed to be so smart
[16:25:34] Fit >> I just spent two fucking hours hatching him and now he’s trying to steal all the redstone and create mod stuff I found
[16:25:49] Ph1LzA >> You good?
[16:26:12] Fit >> You’re good with kids, help me. Has yours hatched?
[16:26:27] Ph1LzA >> Christ we’ll be over in a sec
[16:26:34] Ph1LzA >> And yeah hours ago
[16:26:49] Fit >> Hours ago???
[16:26:57] Ph1LzA >> Yeah

Well, guess it's time for baby’s first outing. Best be safe about this. Phil tries to wrangle Chayanne into some basic armor, much to his displeasure. 

“I’m strong and fast, I don’t want to wear it!”

“If you want to go off the wall, you have to wear this. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m a warrior! I don’t need it.” Chayanne starts to chew on Phil’s arm in retaliation, his little draconic fangs leaving dents. Phil lightly bonks Chayanne's head with his own, giving a stern chirp.

“You wanna be like Techno? He wore armor.”

He finally manages to buckle the tiny baby armor around him, satisfied. Chayanne’s cheeks puff out in frustration as he was beaten, but he doesn’t comment. He did want to be like the cool Technoblade... 

Missa giggles at his son and crow’s dumbassery. 

Now suited up and prepared, Phil and Missa hold each of their son's hands as they walk to the cobblestones towers that Fit called home, Chayanne using his dads hands to swing. Chayanne was proving to be talkative now that he had a taste for adventure. “I can’t wait to meet my sibling. Do you think they are a girl or a boy? I kinda want a sister-“ 

Missa gently shushes his boy. “No matter who they are, you need to love and protect them as the eldest.” Through some deduction with their coms, it was clear that Chayanne was the first to hatch. Some were even still hatching as the evening came about. 

Chayanne nods. He will be the best big brother. He can’t wait to meet his siblings, he will love them so much. 

Missa timidly knocks on the door, only for Fit to slam it open. Missa first sees the panicked look, then the state of the house. Are those machines?! 

Fit stares at Missa and Phil, his eyes begging for help. “Thank Void you guys are here. How the hell do you care for a baby that makes weapons?!”

Missa lets his senses reach out as Phil tries to calm Fit. The soul is metallic and coppery, browns and bronzes. Very intelligent, must be the one that made all these machines. “Those machines are created by your son, yeah Fit?” Missa gestures as Fit sighs. 

“Yeah, first thing out of the shell, my boy was creating weapons of mass destruction.” Fit moves out the way a bit to let Phil, Missa, and Chayanne come in. Chayanne waddles inside, clinging to Phil’s cloak to hold himself up. As Chayanne moves past, Fit squats down a bit, a bit awkward, and Chayanne lets go of the cloak to stand unsteadily. “You must be Chayanne. You can call me Tio if ya want, I guess.” 

Chayanne eyes sparkle, He has more family! Chayanne looks at Phil and Missa, distracted by the mess of parts. He puts his hands on Fit’s knee, stretching up to whisper into Tio Fit’s ear. “When is Dad Phil gonna marry Papa Missa?” 

Fit barely held back a snort, biting his lip. Oh, Void, the kid can already tell. He whispers back, “Your dads are fucking dumbasses, so not anytime soon.” 

Chayanne puffs his face. He will get them to marry so they can be happy and in love. And nobody will break their love, never ever. His dads will be together. 

Fit fears he might have made a mission for this kid. 

Phil and Missa meanwhile are digging into the piles of gears and shafts and...is that motor oil? Eventually they catch sight of him. A hatchling, just a tad smaller than Chayanne, with sharp triangular teeth and golden brown scales. His tail was shaped like an alligator’s for some reason, and his oil covered hands seem to be webbed. His triangular teeth seemed to be very gator shaped too. Strange. Where did he get those features?

The kid blinks at the two intruders. He was just trying to make a Big Machine Gun of Doom, can’t kids have hobbies anymore? They look trustworthy, at least. He gives them an awkward look and finally puts down his screwdriver. “Um...you must be the two tios Fit was talking about. I’m Ramón.” He rubs the motor oil off his hands before holding his hand for a handshake. 

His black bear ears twitch in his slicked back dark hair, framed by the hat he was wearing. Spreen’s hat. 

Miss’s heart softens even more. This is his nephew. His darling nephew. He forgoes the handshake and instead offers a small hug. “No need to be shy, we are familia. Call me Tio Missa.” Ramon sputters a bit as he's guided close, but allows the hug. 

Chayanne navigates around the machines as Fit follows, crawling over to Ramón, all smiles. “I’m Chayanne, your big brother! Do you like swords?!” 

The three adults laugh, watching as the two begin to argue between guns and swords being the best. As the kids debate, Fit looks at the couple listening in, gritting his teeth. C’mon stubborn pride, you need some pointers. How the hell do you raise a kid? And a smart one at that? “Umm...hate to ask but...how do you hold a kid? I sorta just been letting Ramón crawl around. Barely was able to clean him up, wasn't sure if I'd hurt him.” 

Missa is happy to help, easily scooping Ramón up, much to his shock as he tries to wriggle out. Missa interrupted the great debate about what weapon is cooler! Missa brings Ramon to Fit and shows him how to give him support, and Ramón, despite his earlier fussing, relaxes into Fit’s hold. This is cozy and nice, honestly, like being in the shell again. Even the hard prosthetic was like the shell, smooth and firm against his back. 

Fit smiles, snuggling Ramón to his chest, very careful. He's so precious, he can't let anything happen to him. “Thanks you guys, y’all are a lifesaver, I didn’t want to hurt something so small. What the hell were they thinking giving me a kid?” Fit seems already in love with his baby boy, even if he wasn’t at all prepared. 

Their coms light up, giving them pause. It seems someone had the idea to do a big group play date near spawn for everyone and the new additions to meet. Time for Ramón and Chayanne to meet their siblings.

—————————————————————————-

The trek to spawn was fairly easy, carrying the kids to speed things up from their unsteady half-steps. To say it’s chaotic once they get there is an understatement. Most of the new parents seem tired out by the bundles of joy they are holding or following, all of them trying to get into shenanigans. 

Fit splits off with Ramón cradled in his arms, leaving Phil and Missa to face the chaos alone. Just as he makes it out of the danger zone, Roier barrels towards them, Jaiden close behind with a scaled bundle in her arms. 

“Missa! Let me see!”

Missa sighs, shifting Chayanne slightly so Roier could coo over his new nephew. 

“Hello, you’re Chayanne, hmm? I’m your papa’s best friend, so call me Tio Rioer, the best Tio.” Roier will achieve that rank no matter what, even if he has to fight Mariana in cold blood. “You are so cute! Though, your brother is even more handsome, see?”

Jaiden grins and holds an indeed very cute young boy in the air by under his arms. He has a mix of light and dark blue scales, and he seems to have inherited a second pair of eyes from his father. The spoiled grin he is sporting shows he also got fangs from Roier too. The dark brown hair all tussled up atop his head matches Jaiden, and he is adorned in simple blue overalls with a white shirt underneath. 

The boy looks at Missa and snickers, kicking his feet. “This is Tio Missa? He looks weak!” 

Jaiden laughs and shakes him a little side to side. “Now Bobby, first impressions.” 

Bobby's eyes go innocent, and suddenly he is on his best behavior. “I’m Bobby and I really like art and fighting! I’m the best at it!” He looks at Chayanne, who Missa is setting on the ground to let him try walking again. “You’re my big brother? You look weak too.” Seems his best behavior only lasted a moment. 

Chayanne lets out a growl, scrambling over to swipe at Bobby where he dangled. Bobby wriggles out of Jaiden’s grip, and as fast as a blink, the two start slapping each other around with their little baby claws, pushing and shoving.

Roier laughs, egging them on. “Wow Bobby, hit your hermano harder! Just like we practiced!” Chayanne growls and pushes Bobby to the ground and holds him there with all his weight, looking back at Phil and Missa for approval. Missa wonders if they should reward him for violence, but Phil has no such qualms and immediately hoots and hollers at his son's great skill. 

There is a great struggle as Bobby tries to push Chayanne off and get up, but Bobby accepts defeat at last. Chayanne gives a smirk, baring his little fangs. “Who’s the best warrior?”

Bobby blows a raspberry at him.

Jaiden laughs, scooping Bobby out from under Chayanne. “Come on, let’s see how everyone else is.” 

Roier, seeing his chance, lunges in and pinches Chayanne’s cheek like an overbearing abuela. Chayanne puffs out his cheeks and summons his wooden sword, hitting at anywhere he can touch before Roier giggles and runs off after his own family. 

Missa hears a sing-songy voice coming closer, and he shudders in discomfort. Here we go... 

“Oh Missa~ such a cute kid! I could just eat him up! What’s the face for, I’m joking!” BadBoyHalo, the demon himself, has made himself known. Despite his veiled words, he is holding a solid black hatching in his arms with complete care. The demon genes seem to have really imprinted on his child. 

BadBoyHalo smiles just a bit too wide and with a bit too much teeth. “This is Dapper! Isn’t he just the cutest?” 

Dapper, relaxed in Bad’s hold, glances at Phil. Pretty bird, dangerous to catch. His gaze turns to Chayanne. His brother huh? He then looks at Missa. 

His demonic senses sing, making him pause. The eldritch frequencies that man is emitting is mesmerizing, it’s perfect. He pulls on BBH’s hood and starts to wriggle around, whining. “Dad! I want him to be in my zoo! I can be responsible and feed him!” 

Missa awkwardly laughs. Definitely the child of BadBoyHalo. Chayanne and Phil’s reactions are much more severe, letting out matching squawks of indignation. Missa is quickly distracted by Chayanne mimicking Phil, softening. His little birds... 

Phil’s face is clouded with disdain at the idea. “No one is taking Missa, much less putting him in a zoo. That’s a person!” Chayanne nods along furiously to his words. No one is taking his papa away fom him or his dad.

Dapper sighs and accepts losing a prospective pet. “Can I get a murderous bear then dad?” Badboyhalo nods, doting on him. Only the best for his son, after all. 

They are swiftly interrupted by Mariana and Charlie backflipping past, a girl with long braids somersaulting after them. Chayanne immediately tries to attack them on sight, but luckily Missa manages to scoop him off the ground before he commits any war crimes. Chayanne instead glares at Mariana and Charlie with a look that could rival thousands of suns. 

Mariana and Charlie sweat and are not at all scared of Missa and Phil’s annoying spawn. 

Charlie gathers himself enough to continue being an annoying menace. “This is the wonderful and awesome daughter of ours! She was given the name Juanaflippa because she was so cool that when she hatched she backflipped out the shell. Yes we still have the hole in the wall. We haven’t fixed it yet.” 

Phil snorts. “How weak are your walls that a baby broke them?”

Behind them, Bad makes a retreat. It’s less fun tormenting with company.

Missa looks at the little dragon curiously, still wrangling a vindictive Chayanne. Her scales are dark green and look almost gooey, as if they are made of slime, and she is wearing thick glasses. She also has a sheen to her eyes that feels...supernatural? It's hidden behind her glasses, so it's hard to tell, but there's definitely power in her form. Interesting. 

She looks back at Missa unimpressed. 

He offers a smile, about to introduce himself and the little squirming baby in his arms, but he tunes back into the conversation and it seems Mariana and Charlie have started an argument. Trouble in paradise huh? At least they aren't aggressively making out in front of the kids or gossiping about their...conquests. 

Juanaflippa just sighs. “Dads can we meet the other people? Being out here is making me break into hives.” Like magic, the two of them stop bickering and look at their darling girl with hearts in their eyes, fussing over their poor baby. They leave soon after, complaining loudly about how the air is hurting their daughter. 

Max and Dan circle around the group to make their own introductions, sticking close to each other. They both look terrible, exhausted and a bit ruffled by all the craziness, and their little bundle seems equally tired as well. Dan seems particularly lost in his thoughts. 

Max, even though he practically has new gray hairs, gives a gentle smile to the fussing baby in his arms. His scales are a mix of blues and reds, covering his face and arms more than the others. Missa coos, coming over to see them. His soul is so innocent and sweet. 

“I’m not sleepy, it’s too bright and loud to sleep....I wanna look around...”

Missa reaches out slightly towards the hatchling and looks at Max, who nods his approval. He gently caresses his face, slowly drawing his finger from his forehead to nose, cooing to him. Under his ministrations, Trump quickly starts to slip off like an off switch was pressed.

Max looks at Missa like he did a miracle, amazed. “Omg, he actually fell asleep, thank you so much. Please, please stay asleep Trump.” 

Missa grins and shows them the trick again if they need it, and the two of them walk off before Trump wakes up again from the noise. They’ve seen all the new additions anyway. 

Chayanne pouts up at Missa as they leave. “You aren’t gonna do that to me, right?”

“Not if you don’t fight when you’re sleepy.”

“Aww...”

Dan clutches at his head as he walks back home, wincing. Max looks at him with concern, but Dan doesn’t notice, trying to blink through a spike in his headache.

The pill bottle is empty. He is starting to remember...

Phil and Missa have a moment to just watch everyone interact before they dive into the fray again. Foolish and Vegetta are their first targets, who see them coming with full smiles and a beautiful little boy wearing a baseball hat waddling around between them. He has black hair and purple scales, with big pointy elf ears and almost golden skin. His tail seems more sharklike, and his little fingers seem to be webbed too. His eyes gleam with a violet glow as he looks at the approaching group.

Chayanne is so happy! He has so many siblings! Leo smiles widely. “I’m Leo! You’re my big brother huh? You're kinda short for being a big brother.” Chayanne barely seems any smaller than Leo. 

Chayanne puffs out his cheeks. Papa Missa is tall! He will grow up to be tall like his Papa! 

Foolish grins, deciding to get under Phil's skin a bit. “As you can see, he is so happy. We are the best parents!” 

Phil glares at him. He and Missa are the best parents, thank you very much. “Yeah, if you’re so sure about that. At least we don’t get all PDA in front of everyone.”

Foolish snorts. Their PDA is too much? At least they had the balls to confess and start dating, not this will-they won’t-they pining shit. “Wow, Phil, pretty ballsy of you to say that.” Foolish is about to say more, but Leo begins to wander off to check out a cool looking mob and he is quick to follow, pulling Vegetta along with him.

Vegetta giggles away the tension as they walk off. Foolish just mumbles under his breath about Phil being a jealous and petty fucker. 

Missa sighs, knowing who is left to see, and Quackity and Luzu do indeed make themselves known. Luzu is holding a kid with a ribbon in her dark hair. She has little yellow feathered ears that match Quackity, it seems. Her scales are a dark red with little black flecks, and her eyes match Luzu’s bright red coloration. 

Quackity struts over, wings puffed up. “Oi! Missa! I have the cutest kid, huh? Nothing close to yours!” 

A reaper’s glare is sent Quackity’s way, Missa’s gaze cold as he lets out a huff. “Look, you can say what you want about me, I know things are still awkward with how we ended things, but do not bring my solecito into this! Chayanne is my precious son!” 

Chayanne blinks and looks up to his papa. “Ended things? Did you guys date? I hate him! Only Dad Phil can date Papa Missa!” 

Missa’s jaw drops slightly and blushes a bright violet as Phil starts to cackle behind him. Before Missa can retort, Quackity's loud mouth opens up with a shout. “Well I hate you too, you little shit!” 

Chayanne yells louder, leaning out of Missa’s grip. “Papa! I hate him! He’s mean! Quiero que se muera!" Missa fake laughs to try to break the unease, Phil nearly bent over with his own wheezing laughter. They are so lucky Chayanne can’t walk without help yet, they don’t need him starting more fights. 

Tilin giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. She knows Chayanne probably could take her dad in pvp. Chayanne smiles. He likes Tilin. As Quackity continues to shout and curse them out, Luzu doing nothing to stop him with a sigh, Missa merely tunes him out and realizes the sun is nearly gone. Already night time. 

Quackity isn’t worth it. Time to go home. Renovations for their new home can begin tomorrow. 

Chapter Text

Sleep is a comfortable blanket on the simple dirt house, a peace while everyone on the server arose. Missa awakens slowly to quiet spoiled squawks and a light heaviness on his chest shifting around. His eyes blearily open, expecting to see his sweet little son snuggled close like they had fallen asleep, only to see the beady eyes of Brian staring back at him only a few inches away.

Brian blinks, leaning in closer until his beak almost touches Missa’s mask. Once he notices Missa is awake, he spreads his wings playfully before hopping in place on his chest, chirping happily. Pretty Missa is awake! Now he can get cuddles and pets and snuggles!

...Brian not getting cuddles or pets from the pretty Missa. He is just staring! There is no snuggles! The indignation! He starts to nom on Missa's ear for attention, warbling unhappily. Missa, a little more awake all of a sudden, starts to give him scratches, and suddenly the crow is on his best behavior again.

One would think a crow couldn’t give puppy eyes, but Brian is showing otherwise.

With the crow back in line, Missa slowly turns to his right, where he sees an adorable sight. Philza is sprawled on his stomach in the middle of the nest, head on his pillow, drooling. He is making these sleepy little snores that sound almost like whistles. His eyes scan over his handsome face. The stress lines have relaxed in his sleep, leaving only crows feet and the beautiful start of aging. The scattering of black feathers across his cheeks that lead into his ear tufts are so tempting to kiss.

Wait. There’s Brian. There’s Philza. There’s only them.

Where is Chayanne?!

In his panic, Missa kicks Phil a couple times in his scrabble, frantically looking around the nest. Phil groans in pain, his voice heavy with sleep as he clutches his gut. Motherfucker. “Missa? What’s wrong?“

Missa’s voice is tinged with panic as he sits up, searching around the room as well. Brian is quite upset at being displaced, but Missa seems very concerned! “Our baby boy is gone! Oh god, what if he found a way off the wall to stab Mariana?!”

Phil's eyes open to stare at him as he perks up a feathered ear, concentrating. “He is playing outside. I hear him stomping in the mud.” He closes his eyes. “...Wait. He can stand?”

Both Missa and Phil are quick to stumble out of the nest and to the window, Brian following close behind to see...Chayanne? He has grown. If he was a baby yesterday, barely able to walk, he looks several years old now, nearly schooling age. And he is using his newly working legs to stomp around in the wet mud, laughing and flopping over to cover himself in it.

Missa and Phil stare at each other, determining between the two of them that what they see is real.

This might as well happen.

Missa grabs at a towel and heads outside while Phil stays back to gather up supplies, practically tackling his son to scoop him out of the mud and clean him off, scolding him for the mess all the while.

Chayanne squirms and tries to fight it before seeing Missa’s stern look, then quickly puts on his best behavior. Missa carries him into the dirt house once he is decently clean and plops him on the floor, taking the supplies from Phil to make a new pair of clothes to fit Chayanne.

Phil sits beside Chayanne and looks down at his com, which is lighting up a concerning amount. A moment later, he snorts. “Chat is busy today.” News seems to be coming in from everyone about their own kids growing.

[8:43:45] Quackity >> I have no clue
[8:43:45] Fit >> Holy fuck there are machines everywhere. I can’t move!
[8:44:02] Fit >> WAIT I THINK I SEE RAMON
[8:44:14] Fit >> HE IS IN THE RAFTERS? AND HE’S HUGE? WE ARE A NO STEROIDS HOUSEHOLD HOW THE HELL DID HE DO ALL THIS
[8:44:23] Slimecicle >> Damn man thats rough
[8:44:25] Quackity >> That’s fucked
[8:44:14] Fit >> Yall kids okay? I’ll be back in chat in a second, need to climb up in the rafters and get him down.
[8:44:22] FoolishG >> We’re fine!
[8:44:25] Fit >> So fucking happy I’m the 2B2T rock climbing champion.
[8:44:34] iRoier >> having problems? our beautiful angel boy is being so CUTE.
[8:44:47] iRoier >> And yes for your information he’s grown a lot! This definitely is normal and not something we should freak out about right haha
[8:44:56] JaidenHere >> Roier stop chatting and help me. HE HAS FLINT AND STEEL
[8:45:11] iRoier >> I remeber my first arson. Babies grow so fast next thing you know he be planning his first larceny.
[8:45:16] JaidenHere >> HELP ME
[8:45:20] Slimecicle >> HELL YEAH ARSON
[8:45:25] iRoier >> Anyways chat with ya later muah muah.
[8:45:29] VegettaGaymer >> Leo has grown a lot! We been spending so much time tailoring new outfits for him.
[8:45:48] FoolishG >> He is now demanding a full rapunzel tower and I quote “To look down upon the peasants” Anyone knows to tell a kid not to be classist? Just wondering.
[8:45:56] Quackity >> dESERVED
[8:46:58] ElMariana >> You taught him that, suffer
[8:46:02] Ph1LzA >> Okay so Chayanne being this tall is not because of eldritch radiation. Thank the Goddess.
[8:46:09] Maximus3blog >> Okay everyone else is dealing with this too. Good.
[8:46:14] Ph1LzA >> And I don’t know mate? Maybe not give your kids everything they ask for? Chay’s being mature.
[8:46:25] ElMariana >> oh yeah so “mature” that devil spawn of you and Missa yearns for my blood.
[8:46:35] Ph1LzA >> He is just protective
[8:46:47] ElMariana >> Keep telling that yourself at night. Where’s Missa by the way? Why isn’t he in chat
[8:46:59] Ph1LzA >> He is currently changing Chayanne into new clothes. Is Juanaflippa okay?
[8:47:12] MissaSinf >> Hola Mariana, are you talking about mi hijo? :)
[8:47:20] ElMariana >> Get that freaky emoji out of here
[8:47:22] Slimecicle >> She is perfect! So tall and as healthy as she can be with her vast amount of allergies OR SHE WOULD BE IF HER FATHER WOULD PUT DOWN HIS COMS AND HELP ME I HAD TO PUT MY COM DOWN AND YOU WILL TOO
[8:47:27] ElMariana >> Happy wife happy life am I right? Talk to you guys later.
[8:47:36] Quackity >> Yo Phil. Surprised your bastard got big now too
[8:44:42] FoolishG >> OHHHHHHH
[8:47:49] Ph1LzA >> First off, His name is Chayanne. Yes he is tall, and I’m quickly realizing why Missa broke up with you.
[8:47:58] Quackity >> WHAT MAKES YOU THINK HE BROKE UP WITH ME?
[8:48:14] Ph1LzA >> Obviously he is way out of your league. And you must have pissed him enough because Missa is too nice and forgives too easily.

“Phil, stop patronizing my ex.”

“No.”

[8:48:24] Quackity >> I have you know the break up was mutual.
[8:48:33] Ph1LzA >> Even better because I won’t make your mistakes.
[8:48:38] Quackity >> PHiL-
[8:48:44] MissaSinf >> O///O
[8:48:49] Quackity >> MISSA WHAT THE FUCK
[8:48:56] Quackity >> PDA IN THE FUCKING WORLD CHAT
[8:49:04] LuzuVlogs >> Quackity. Enough, you get riled up too easily.
[8:49:14] Quackity >> Fucking fine. Let Missa be happy and gross as fuck in chat. Sure. Tilín wants to wrestle btw Luzu cmon and see it
[8:49:22] LuzuVlogs >> Me and Quackity will talk to you later. I have to make sure they don’t break any more dishes.
[8:49:35] Fit >> I GOT RAMON DOWN
[8:49:39] Ph1LzA >> YOOOOOOO
[8:49:42] Maximus3blog >> Nice
[8:49:48] DanTDM >> First off yes, Trump has shot up to about the height of I’d say an estimate of a human 5 year old?
[8:49:50] Fit >> What did I miss
[8:49:59] Ph1LzA >> A lot lol, read back
[8:50:26] DanTDM >> Luckily I’m at least somewhat medically trained and the hatchlings are not in pain or showing any abnormalities. So this probably is their natural growth pattern. If I had any devices I could learn more but I don’t trust the Federation to ask for x-rays.
[8:50:27] Fit >> Phil did you fucking flirt in the world chat
[8:50:34] Fit >> Also good Dan, that’s a relief
[8:50:34] FoolishG >> Sounds good, they just grow fast
[8:50:38] Ph1LzA >> Maybe >:D
[8:50:44] Ph1LzA >> Also, good to know Dan.
[8:50:47] iRoier >> Oh god Missa infected him with emojis, next thing we know if we ever get a TV they'll watch that one fucking telenovela.
[8:50:53] MissaSinf >> >:)
[8:50:56] MissaSinf >> ALSO ROSA DE GUAPLUPE IS ART >:L
[8:51:05] iRoier >> Bullshit
[8:51:09] Fit >> This chat is a mess
[8:51:22] Maximus3blog >> More important! There’s some shadowy monster lurking in my crops. The federation sent a monster after me.
[8:51:27] iRoier >> A monster?
[8:51:36] BadBoyHalo >> Oh silly! That’s just Dapper, I told him to borrow some of your extra crops. Did you get scared of a child?
[8:51:47] Maximus3blog >> Yes. NO. Maybe. Ugh I’m turning off the coms. I almost shot your kid.
[8:51:55] Fit >> Lets not get our kids murdered.

Okay. So long story short, the growth spurt isn’t just them. Good. The last thing Phil wants is him and Missa having some weird death radiation fucking up their son.

Phil looks around at the dirt house where he still sat on the floor. They need to start building a proper home for their family. But before that, Missa is starting to make them chorizo and eggs, filling the air with a lovely scent. Breakfast first.

————————————————————————

The first order of business is taking down the dirt house. Chayanne makes sure he is helping, carrying things outside to put in the prepared chests. Phil follows right behind him, holding filled up chests and furnaces in his arms while making sure Chay isn't overloaded, totally not showing off how strong he is to Missa.

Taking the house down wasn’t that hard, break a few supports, clear out the base of it, and soon it was all breaking into inventoriable parts to reuse.

It's as good a place as any to build in the same spot, at least according to Phil as he surveys the bare patch of earth. Missa slips over to his side, leaning against him slightly. “So what’s the plan? I can prepare some simple adobe mud to use for the building while you decide how you want to build it, and we have tons of dark oak wood to use!”

Phil hums, nudging Missa upright so he can walk around where the dirt house once stood, brainstorming aloud. “Materials sound good. I think we also definitely need a basement, if just for storage and extra rooms. We can dig down into the wall and figure out the upper floors from there. Upstairs we need...a mudroom type area, a living room...a bedroom for us, a bedroom for Chayanne, a bathroom and a clothes washing area since Chayanne likes the mud...a lot of rooms. Maybe...oh! The bathtub and the washing basin can be the same thing, we can refill it. We can even put it outside to wash and hang the clothes on a clothesline...hmm.”

Phil continues to spout off ideas, starting to note them down in a book while Missa chimes in with his own, Chayanne trying to build something by himself using bamboo nearby.

Within a few minutes, they have a gameplan. Missa lets Phil take charge of digging the basement while he starts to map the rooms above ground with cobblestone, and if Missa's mouth goes dry seeing Phil’s biceps tense at each swing of the pickaxe, well no one needs to know.

Missa is soon distracted from his “people watching” by a giggling Chayanne, who stopped his bamboo construction and is instead holding a flower mantis. “Is that your friend Chayanne?”

Chayanne nods, holding up the bug with his claws caging it in his palms. “Isn’t it cool?!”

“It is, but your friend deserves to be free, yes?” Chayanne pouts, but nods and gently places the mantis on a branch to wander away. He needs to be as kind as papa.

“Help me make the mud bricks for our new home?”

“Yes!”

Together, they mine a small hole in the ground, slowly adding the things needed for adobe brick: sand, clay, straw, and finally water. Missa pulls up his pants legs and starts to stomp on the mixture to fully mix everything together, grinning at Chayanne who starts to hop around in the mud with delight.

Phil finishes carving out the basement, and he climbs up the mined stone stairs to see Missa’s strong calves stomping around in a mud pit. His mouth goes dry, staring at him. Missa is surprisingly pretty muscular? His clothes make him look much skinnier than he is. He is so distracted he half-trips on the last step and almost face plants into the rocky floor. Good thing no one saw that.

He looks at Missa, who is biting his lip with the effort to try not to laugh. Okay, so someone did see that.

Chayanne giggles behind his hand, having no such reservations. Two someones.

Missa steps out of the pit and starts to plop the adobe mud onto a nearby crafting table, activating the crafting magic to make bricks. His son stumbles out of the mud pit to scamper over yo Phil, and he gestures to Phil to lean down.

Phil raises a brow and bends a knee so Chayanne can reach his ear. Chayanne whispers quietly, looking over at Missa. “I heard from Tio Roier that you should trip onto pretty people so they can say ‘Are you a Angel because you fell from heaven’. You should do it to Papa Missa! And then you can kiss like in the stories! The princess and prince kissing.”

Phil coughs slightly, with wide eyes, feathered ears puffing up at the crassness of his child. He tries to get his blush under control before Missa notices. “Chay, I know you really want me and papa to be happy, but some things kinda take time. Missa has been through some stuff recently and he has a lot to deal with, and I do not want to rush him through it. But, we love you very much and I can promise no ‘Evil Homewrecker Mariana’ will spilt us apart...because I like your papa a lot.”

Chayanne smiles wide at that, showing his sharp teeth and the dimples he inherited from Missa. Behind him, his little dragon tail starts to wag happily.

Missa gathers the finished adobe brick into chests, giving a quizzical look to the two of them whispering to each other. Calling out, he teases, “Anything you need to talk about mi solceito y cuervito?”

Phil looks a bit shy as he calls out a response, scooping up his muddy son. “Nothing important. Anyways, what is your plan for the decorations and furniture?”

“I have some stuff left over at the old house that I made. I will message Mariana and Roier to pack it for me and bring it here if they aren't too busy. We can also look around that weird growing collection of chairs and furniture at spawn? Someone must like chairs and couches, I guess?”

BadBoyHalo totally does not sneeze on the other side of the island. No one is talking about him. He is not a chair and couch fanatic, that would be silly.

—————————————————————————

The main structure of the house is soon completed under their hands, the proposed outlines of walls built up with adobe to hold up a sturdy roof of stripped bamboo. The colors mesh nicely, especially with the touches of dark oak placed around.

The basement below was pretty simple. A stairway of dark oak down into a room that will become their kitchen, pressed up against the edge of the wall so that a large window could be carved to look out over the server. Everything else Phil left for Missa to design, he would be the one with full control of what it would be filled with since he’ll be the one using it. Phil is far too content just salting jerky and cooking avocado toast to find use in a fully stocked kitchen.

This will be Missa’s domain to lord over.

A lovely archway on the far wall of the kitchen leads into the dining room, blocked off slightly by a small, gate-like door. Not too big a room, just large enough for a table and a few chairs, maybe a chest or two to store knick-knacks and a crafting table in the corner. The wood to make the table and chairs is already stacked in the chests once they get into decorating.

Adjacent to the dining room is a large iron door providing the entrance to the start of a storage room. The family already hung up empty shelves and tucked chests and barrels against the walls, part food storage and part supply storage. This room will likely be expanded as more storage is needed, but for now it is cozy and filled with places to tuck things away.

Through another doorway to the side of the storage, Phil assembled what he determines to be the furnace and smokeroom. Furnaces and smokers line the walls, and racks ready to store meats are mounted against the wall. There is a small hole in the roof to help funnel the smoke away and keep from suffocating themselves. Perfect to stock up on stable protein sources, just in case. Ever the survivalist of Phil.

To the side, another sturdy door opens to the kitchen, making the entire basement a nice loop of rooms, everything reachable from multiple directions. It's perfect.

The main floor was much more homey and less pure practicality, though with Phil, everything had a use. Following both Phil and Missa’s visions, the floorplan was simple, yet comfortable. The front door opened into a mudroom to take off dirty things from adventuring, with hooks on the wall to hang cloaks and tools, no need to lean swords against the wall where they could fall on small dragons. To the side were a few cubbies on the ground for shoes and other supplies. The entry also served as an security airlock door, making sure the Federation didn’t keep sniffing around.

The living room was partly empty, they’d get couches from the piles later, but there were already a few green and red carpets laid out from the spare wool, and Missa had bits of dark oak laid out to make chairs from later if the ones from the old house didn't work out. The room seemed to serve as the central room to everything else. Bedroom doors to the right, door to the patio straight ahead, and bathroom door and basement stairs to the left.

The back patio was a multi-use marvel. A hand-made pool took up much of the space, surrounded by flowers and boxed in by the bathroom wall and Chayanne’s room. It was covered by a trellis roof of ivy, and tied to that trellis and an avocado tree was a clothes-line to dry clothes. At the bottom of the pool’s smooth stone floor was a set of drains, and jutting from the bathroom wall was a water faucet, making the pool not just a pool to relax in, but also able to be made a bathtub and a clothing washing area, able to drain the water between use. Thank the goddess for water magics.

Chayanne’s room was coming together nicely as well. His puppy dog eyes, likely learned from Brian, had managed to convince Missa to paint the wall a soft yellow and hang thick orange curtains over the single window. Luckily, the dandelion yellow dye was easily mixable with water to seep into the adobe. A bedframe of dark oak was ready to be fashioned together once the paint dried, and Chayanne was soon sprawled across the start of his own little nest on the mattress.

Currently, the little family works on painting Phil and Missa’s bedroom. They figured they'd both be sleeping in bed together still, for Missa’s sake of course, he was used to sleeping in a group, so they built their room accordingly. Phil and Missa were definitely mature, and they totally didn't rock paper scissors to see what color they would paint their room, and they definitely didn't playfully squabble when Phil won, demanding a muted green.

They move the work-desk Phil constructed in the nook under one of their large windows and take down the violet blackout curtains to keep them clean, and soon they were mixing up cactus and ink and water to form the paint.

Missa couldn't help watching Phil's face of concentration as he worked the paint onto the brick, admiring the way his face creased handsomely. A mischievous grin slowly creeps onto Missa’s face, and as Phil finishes painting, Missa goes in for the attack, painting at Phil’s face and arms with the green paint. Phil squawks in surprise, ready to fight back, only for a voice to cut off his return attack.

“Oi! We brought everything from the old house.” Roier must have arrived.

Phil and Missa exit, little Chayanne on their heels, only to see Roier right as rain and Mariana gasping for air on the ground, half underneath a chair. Clearly he was the one that had to carry all the furniture Missa wanted from the old house. Roier looks at Phil's green face with a raised brow, a laugh on his tongue. “And what happened to you? You look like a Green Parakeet instead of a Crow!”

Said crow lets out an indignant squawk as Missa laughs, leaning against Phil. “Thanks for bringing everything, man! Do you guys want some food before you go?”

Roier looks tempted by the offer, but shakes his head as Mariana wheezes out another breath. “We can go for some water, though! Bobby probably misses me. Plus,” He kicks Mariana’s side where he lay prone, punching a pained groan from him. “Some of us are practically dead.”

With a laugh, Missa grabs their flasks and fills them up, wetting a washcloth while he is at it. Roier takes his and salutes them goodbye, but Mariana stays flopped on the ground, gulping down water like a man in a desert. After a long moment where Chayanne nearly pokes Mariana’s face with a stick, Phil having to catch him before it was noticed, Mariana hauls himself up with a wave and tumbles off the wall, heading back for Charlie’s place. He's got his own kid to fuss over.

As Mariana vanishes into the distance, Missa takes pity on Phil’s painted face and holds up the washcloth. “Alright parakeet~”

Phil huffs, but he leans into the washcloth as Missa begins to clean him off, softening quickly in favor of the personal attention.

Missa coughs shyly, working the paint off before tucking the cloth into his inventory.

Phil doesn't pout at all about no longer getting to nuzzle into Missa’s hand. “We should check out the furniture pile at spawn while we’re at it, take anything interesting. We need to do some stuff while we wait for the paint to dry.”

Missa nods, looking over what the two brought. They have a solid mess of supplies to start, old materials and things from the old house Roier and Mariana didn’t want, rocking chairs Missa carved that could go in the living room, bundles of kitchen supplies, skeins of black dyed cloth that were perfect for set of curtains around the house. Phil was adamant his son and Missa have curtains around that could block out the sun, even if Missa didn't take off his mask in his presence. They deserved the option. Especially if they become official later and shows his face.

After moving everything inside for later, the two of them head out to spawn, Chayanne following behind them in all his new gear. He was fitted into full iron armor, complete with a mini iron sword he'd managed to puppy eyes out of Phil. He would be in diamond, but for some reason this island had very few diamonds to be found, so there weren't enough.

Plus, Chayanne might outgrow them all again by tomorrow if he keeps growing.

————————————————————————-

They try to pick their favorites of the ones that can be fixed, which wasn't many. Most of the furniture was made of cloth and stuffing, and since they were left in the wild, a good portion had little “friends”.

A fact that Roier had figured out the hard way earlier that day when he was thirdwheeling with Mariana and Charlie. A red leather couch had been calling to him, it looked pretty intact, but when he reached out to inventory it, a rat popped out and bit him on the hand, hard.

The reaction was quick and instinctual, ripping his hand up to drag the rat straight to his unhinging jaws, biting into it himself. The feeling of nearly cleaving a mangy rat in two was quite revolting, so what followed was a lot of screaming and shouting as he spat it out.

“Holy fuck! Eso fue asqueroso!”

As he hacked and coughed, spitting the blood out, Mariana and Charlie tried not to throw up behind him at the ordeal. Charlie didn’t manage to stop from gagging up strangely bright green goop into a bush.

Mariana was pushed over the edge himself after he saw the strange slime starting to squirm around and take form. Why is he surrounded by disgusting people? And why is Charlie still somehow hot?!

His attraction did not stop him from lighting the slime on fire as Charlie screeched about murdering his new son. Married life.

The Tripoier penguin was not amused from its perch in Roier’s hood.

Roier was tired.

Missa, upon hearing about this, is just disappointed. What a waste of a perfectly good piece of meat.

As quickly as that thought comes, he shakes that off. He can already hear Roier screaming that he is going to cause the second bubonic plague. And he was already framed for the first one!

Plus, there is a task at hand: finding good furniture without being attacked by rats themselves. Luckily, some of the furniture is in much, much better condition than first appearances, and the three have a delightful time picking out dark couches with clean fabrics and no critters. Soon they have plenty selected and return home with all their goodies.

Their front lawn quickly starts to look like a yard sale once they finish the trips back and forth, assorted couches and chairs and benches spread all around. Looking at the mess, Phil strategizes. “...Let’s go room to room and get things moved in, sort things out as we go.”

With that, they all pile into the mudroom, a very necessary room in Phil’s opinion. Exploring and mining, and rolling in mud puddles in Chayanne’s case, makes one filthy, and if they were going to keep this to Missa’s standards, it was needed. Plus, it was a pretty good storage area, plenty of hooks to hang pickaxes and swords, able to be grabbed as one heads out the door. A good place to hang spare cloaks too, as Missa shows when he takes his off to better haul furniture.

Phil carries in a simple bench they found and sets it over the cubbies, making a nice little space underneath to store more things. Now they can get their boots off too!

The living room was the first proper place to get put together, being the first room to enter after the mudroom. A warm brown couch is maneuvered to span the middle of the room, placed where there’d be room to put the chairs once they were constructed without blocking all the doors on the far side. The couch is visibly stitched up and repaired, but functional and clean nonetheless, though Missa throws a blanket from the nest over the back to cover it up until a nicer repair can be done. It adds a nice homely feel, a blanket ready to be grabbed and wrapped up in while relaxing on warm cushions.

The place was already starting to look lived in.

Phil and Missa’s room to the left is the next in line, but as the three of them (Chayanne was very helpful riding atop the furniture) tried to maneuver the non-inventoriable pieces of the nest frame around the new couch, they realized that maybe they should have worked backwards. Too late to backtrack now.

Once the bedframe was assembled in place and Missa was guiding a few chests into position, Phil makes quick work of chaining soulfire lanterns up in the corners of the room. One of the few light sources that don't strain a Reaper’s eyes, Phil recalls, and the grateful smile Missa shoots his way is well worth using the limited soulsand they've managed to acquire without the Nether.

With all their room furniture settled in, Phil turns his attention to the nest and the many, many supplies stacked about to build it. This one needs to be perfect, not the barely passable one from the first house. This one was for two.

Phil perks up with a chirp as Missa slips back into their bedroom after putting Chayanne down for a nap, promptly pressing a bundle of wool into his arms.

Missa blinks in surprise, looking down at the bundle. “I...thought you wanted to build the nest yourself? It’s your thing, man.”

Phil brushes off his confusion with a flick of his ear and a smile. “I want you to help, mate. It’s not just mine, it’s ours.”

Thank the Lady Missa is still wearing his mask, because he doesn’t know what he would do with his blush if it was exposed to the world. “I don’t know...I wouldn’t know what I’m doing with bird stuff.”

“It’s not magic, just building a bed if you think about it, it’s more like a work of art than a science. Just do what feels right and it’ll be fine.”

Unsure at first, Missa moves over to the bedframe and starts to position the wool he was given, soon picking up speed as Phil joins his side, filling it with pillows, blankets, soft leathers, and wool. With Phil leading the charge, they soon assemble a comfortable nest fit for them both.

They step back, looking their work over with pride, Phil getting a devious smile on his face. “Now we try it!”

Before Missa could react, Phil snags him by the waist and pulls him up into the nest, dragging him down to lay beside him. Missa definitely does not squawk, and he definitely does have words for Phil and his devious grin, but they catch in his throat as he realizes the comfort under his body. Holy fuck, is this what heaven feels like? It's like a cloud!

Phil’s grin turns prideful at him as Missa sinks into the nest, protests clearly cut off. “Like it?”

The obvious ploy at compliments makes Missa roll his eyes, but he isn't a liar and he isn't going to deny Phil a few words. He wouldn't deny him a lot of things. “It feels amazing, man. You did great!”

Phil’s eyes dilate a bit, letting out a little coo at that. His reaper likes the nest they built, now they're practically avian official– Nope! Nope. Enough of that, those are inside thoughts that stay deep, deep inside. Plus, there's still lots to do!

He sits up, clearing his throat, missing how Missa had been staring at his lips as he gets up and offers a hand to help Missa down as well. “Come on, we gotta get moving if we want to beat Chayanne’s nap.”

They finish off their room, fitting a desk full of sewing supplies into a nook and putting up shelves to place various trinkets they found in their time here. A little cat skull, a chunk of amber, interesting shaped crystals, little knickknacks. As they pull away to look it all over, it's very homely. It's theirs.

With Chayanne asleep, they decide to surprise him with his room. They struggle together to carry the dresser, desk, and bookcase for him as quietly as they can around his sleeping form and the furniture they had already placed (they really should have started backwards), though they quickly realize that their son sleeps like a rock when a drawer falls out of the dresser onto Missa’s foot, and Chayanne barely stirs despite the echoing clatter, muffled Spanish cursing, and stifled birdish wheezing.

Once they get the furniture into place, Missa busies himself with chaining up soul lanterns in the corners and Phil gets to work constructing a nest fit for a fledgling. He builds it large, not knowing if Chayanne would still be growing so fast. While he works, he catches himself thinking that regardless, Chayanne would grow into it with time, shaking that off. They wouldn’t be here long enough for their little warrior to have to grow into anything.

Missa soon joins his efforts, working in tandem on a nest again, binding wood together and maneuvering a mattress into place, piling in blankets and pillows from Phil's old nest. While Phil was entrusted with the finishing touches, Missa piled knickknacks and supplies about, art supplies and books and little toys he could throw together. He even put his guitar by Chayanne’s bed, intent on singing him to sleep every night.

By the time the room had taken shape, all furniture moved into place and the nest to Phil’s liking, the two of them are starting to tire out. Building the house from the ground up, mining out the basement rooms, carrying furniture up the wall and into the house, painting and arranging, it had been a long day, even for beings like them that were built for it. Sure, they still had much to do, but Phil has no qualms following behind when Missa stumbles back over to their own nest and clambers in. Just a little rest for a few minutes, they wouldn't fall asleep or anything!

Though once Phil found himself tucked into the soft blankets of their shared nest, watching Missa idly shuffle about as he rests his eyes, he realizes that it will be hard to get up again anytime soon. Especially once Chayanne found them and promptly invited himself into a family cuddle pile, climbing up the ladder with all the grace of an overzealous child.

...They'd get to it all later.

Once the sun dips low, the three of them will fill the dining room downstairs with mismatched chairs and put a pretty yellow tablecloth down on, and they will have a nice meal. They will tear up the stone floors and replace them with a mosaic of tile. They will craft countertops and cabinets, dark wood and darker stone, and fashion together a stove and sink and oven. They will carve out a window to span the entire kitchen setup, letting the evening sun fill the bottom floor.

But for now, they are relaxing at home as a family.