#like im no philza but still

[rakkuntoast]

GUESS WHO DID THE THUMBNAIL (I WAS SHITTING MYSELF WHEN MERCY ASKED I AM STILL SHITTING MYSELF ABT IT)

thumbnail under read more >:D

[shblackwoodart]

what if wilbur comes back and his daughter isn't there

[guckies]

Someone said it’s Phil, Kristin and their emo son 😭😭 No my dude that’s his minecraft husband!!! If anything that’s their plus one!

[tabooballoonpolice]

It's rough to be a sleepy bois inc enjoyer these days.

[kenjo-arts]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME MORE ABOUT YOUR MAGICAL BOY AU FOR THE SBI I NEED ALLLLLL THE TEA

This probably doesn't explain anything because im terrible at putting words to my ideas but here's SBI in the AU

and this is something about Philza's conclave

there's also more info about SBI specifically in the character pages I made for them :D

[becauseplot]

Penciled Lines

(Cross-posted on ao3, if you prefer to read it there. Reblogs still appreciated!)

Missa wakes up, and he thinks he might be doomed. This doesn’t scare him nearly as much as it should.

Missa is awake early—by his own metric, anyway. His nocturnal nature causes “early” for him to mean “early night” and not “early morning.” Regardless, “early” means that Philza is not asleep yet, still going through his nightly rituals. “Early” means that Philza is sitting up in (his? their?) the bed, pillows propped up behind him, notebook in his lap, sketching away.

And when Missa wakes up to the soft scritch-scratch of a charcoal pencil on textured paper, his forehead just so happens to be brushing Philza’s hip.

Missa can hardly breathe.

Oh no.

He knows that if he gives any indication that he is awake, Philza will stop sketching, close his notebook, shift himself over until he is politely seated on his side of the bed, and greet Missa with a friendly smile. Philza has done it before, when Missa wakes up early. That’s how Missa knows he’ll do it again.

Thus, Missa can hardly breathe—his breaths have to be the slow in-out of sleep. He can’t so much as twitch, either. He has to keep quiet and play dead or else he’ll be found out. Seen. Caught living the lie.

“Husband,” Philza calls him. They’re not married. They share a bed. They’re hardly ever in it at the same time. They have a son and a daughter. Neither of them know Missa very well. Philza has had an extra set of armor and a skull on his backpack for months, waiting for Missa. Missa doesn’t even know Philza’s last name.

Philza is a good man and a good friend—and Missa doesn't deserve him. Still, he takes what he can get. Curls around it. Hoarding every innocent kindness Philza extends like a starving creature: the generosity of a backpack fully stocked with equipment; the trust Philza places in Missa to watch the kids when he’s asleep; and now, the courtesy of not moving his hip from Missa’s forehead to ensure his “sleeping” isn’t disturbed. Missa clutches all of these little offerings in his greedy claws and hugs them into his chest, even as the guilt eats away at him.

Because, regardless of the lack of mutual feeling, he loves Philza. He loves him so, so much, and that is why he is doomed. He can’t afford to lose what little he has. He can’t cross that line. 

So Missa lies beside Philza, forehead pressed against Philza’s hip, pretending to sleep so he can imagine that they’re not just lying in bed together, but lying in bed, together; and later, when Missa truly wakes, he will sit on his side of the bed and look at Philza’s face soft with sleep and think about how lucky he is that he still has a side-of-the-bed to begin with.

Missa doesn’t mean to drift off. When it starts to happen, he’s hopelessly torn between shaking himself awake and thus giving himself away, or remaining how he is, silently fending off the inevitable. In the end, Missa clings to that scritch-scratch sound of Philza’s pencil on the paper for as long as he can before the fog at last pulls him under. 

Eventually, he dreams. In fact, he dreams of the calloused fingers he dreams of every night, hands like his own, an artist of Death, cradling and shading the contours of his face—a softness dashing charcoal across his jaw, and over his cheekbones, and perhaps on his lips, too, if he’s lucky. Defining every edge of him.

~*~

A deep sigh. Phil stops sketching as Missa shifts in his sleep. He tilts his head up so that the tip of his nose is now just nearly brushing against Phil’s hip. The motion disturbs the wild splay of his dark hair, revealing more of his face: eyelashes, cheeks, warmth. Tender blush of something Stygian and otherworldly. New.

Phil’s lips tilt upwards. He turns to a fresh page, and he starts again.

[choconotfound]

its so funny how casually phil just says "oh, he's a busy boy" after hearing that dream is MIA and probably isn't in the space to talk about the dsmp... basically showing how EASY it is to be publicly kind and gracious to someone you're collaborating with

[dozyrogue]

I'm not done thinking about phil and tubbo save me.

So in the beginning tubbo was down to follow phil to the 9th layer of hell. The jokes about him being his guardian, being constantly around him, taking his role of godfather very fucking seriously to the point that in purgatory he was like "I only got 2 eggs on the dome and that's it" to now have him agree with the nochin that he in fact would not spare phil if he hurt any of the kids

An maybe for phil that's jarring, that maybe it's jarring to see that the island has actually changed tubbo. I mean even if he doesn't remember why he trust tubbo in the first place, but he did intrust his kids with tubbo while he was away. Then it goes downhill cuz phil convinces himself that tubbo would choose ramon over his godkids. You could say that purgatory fundamentally changed their relationship(if u like angst) In that argument they had, phil no longer saw the kid that would laugh in the face of death that is cucurrucho and the feds. Purposely antagonizing them just because he wanted information. The kid that would follow after cellbit to give evidence and would build intricate machines for fun.

In that moment he saw the soulfire leader that caused problems for bolas the entirety of purgatory. He saw the leader that wasn't being held back by nerves during the final battle. He saw the aftermath of purgatory 2, the leader that even tho he lost he wanted to take people down with him, cuz if he cant win then no one was(Especially badboyhalo lmao) He saw a traumatied and war torn leader ashuring him that if anything happens to any of the children no matter if it was purgatory, federation, fred, other islanders, or philza himself he will kill them if it means keeping them safe.

And maybe it scares him even more cuz he can see a bit of his old self in tubbo.

[mymameisnotknown]

Got a new sketchbook recently and im immediately filling it with QSMP to cope

I need to draw missa hehehe

[nomsfaultau]

I was chatting w a buddy about cursed character concepts, and she posited a character who has a crush on someone they deem subhuman, judge Frollo style. Internal conflict, potential catalyst for character development both positive and negative, incredibly messed up dynamics. Unfortunately my brain has one setting (thinking about Fault) and now I present one of my more cursed (completely noncanon for the love of God) thoughts:

Webb has an (extremely unrequited) crush on scp Philza

Does it completely ruin his character? Yes. However…I can’t stop thinking about it. Evidence (with Fault spoilers of course):

Webb uses pet names for Philza (refuses to acknowledge he’s a person with an actual name)

They watch movies together (videos of Philza’s kids being abused)

Tries to get alone time with Philza (by separating him from his family)

Monologues about how much he’ll miss their relationship while amnesticized Philza blinks at him.

if you think about it the amnestics arc was basically Webb reloading on a dating sim to get the dialogue tree right. by giving Philza a lot of irreversible brain damage.

Webb lounges in his house drinking whiskey and thinking about Philza (murdering all of his friends and coworkers).

Webb is literally bisexual and ”””experimenting””” on Philza its basically canon already.

Philza, for his part, despises Webb and is waiting for the first opportunity to torture him to death. Which....oh you're consumed by vengeance? So you spend all day thinking about another man??

They're so. so clearly enemies to. enemies to lo. Okay I can't say it without choking but you know what I mean. Presumably. Look I'll be level, my publisher said I had to add romance to Fault to appeal to more demographics and I'm a struggling aroace. This is what y'all like, right? Villain x Hero? Attempted murder is homoerotic or something?

[rakkuntoast]

i like doing silly self indulgent low-effort comics

[cata-strophes]

o!philza for the art game

its not my final design because i loooove being quirky and changing designs everytime i draw characters (is not actually on purpose)(im very indecisive)

[pompadorbz]

good morning pompadorbz nation as it turns out i am still sick and twisted

No, the Ender Prince AU has NOT left my brain, don't you think for a second that it hasn't, it is to the point that I am drawing this guy for one of my final assignments, ive already gotten an art trade of him its honetly a miracle i haven't put him on artfight yet. AND. And. I spent my entire evening on one singular short fic. Here is that fic. (note that. i very much made this for myself but i think ive pretty much talked about all the plot points so far in my that appear here in my older posts about this au, which you can find under the #ender prince au tag. if there's something that appears here that I've omitted from the posts then like. idk that's an issue not an issme lol. I'll probably post about whatever i didn't in like 2-3 business days knowing the state of my brainwaves rn. also shoutout to @fries-is-silly for beta reading this for me whilst i slept comfy and cozy in my bed)

The claws of Phil’s exoskeleton lightly click against the cold purpur floors as he briskly makes his way across the long hallways of the end palace. The Ender King had requested the night prior that he visit the throne upon awakening, and Phil knew he was an impatient man. Phil knew better than to keep him waiting this long by now… He never failed to disappoint in that regard, it seemed. Phil truly could not move any quicker if he tried. The lavender tiles were so large that he would barely miss the edge of each square with every step, and he swore up and down to himself that walking back and forth across a single hallway would take him a complete twenty minutes, but this was assuming time was valuable enough in the end to fact-check that estimate to begin with. Perhaps he had only gotten used to it at this point, but Phil always felt as if the hallways had shrunk since his first days in the palace– not that the King had really allowed him to roam very far for that first while, anyway. He remembered the dread he felt as he was first carried off into the throne room; How staring up the unfathomably tall walls and to the impossibly high ceiling made him feel horribly nauseous. He thought that no closed space should ever be this colossal. It gave him a rare fear– a terror of heights. For once. But that was back then. This is Now. And right now, Phil was on solid ground, and he was nearly at the throne room. He thought that maybe- as he picks up the pace, if he could get away with a quick sprint, he would get there a little bit quicker. However, A familiar voice called from around the next corner, dripping with acid. It makes Phil freeze dead in his tracks. “You took your precious time getting here as is, little fly. It would be a waste of energy for you to scratch up my floor with your little claws.”Phil’s pace slows significantly at the comment as he turns into the throne’s open doorway, clasping his hands together in shame as he stares up towards the throne where the Ender king sat, shrouded in his usual cloak as his hair fell like waterfalls off the edges and arms of the seat. The golden mask that rested upon his face was one that Phil didn’t recall ever seeing him wear; a spider, with its giant mandibles protruding outward from the lower half, and eight eyes, painstakingly painted a bright red. Phil thought it looked rather striking.

“I… I’m sorry for rushing, my lord. I knew when I woke up that I would be cutting it close… It won’t happen again.” The ender king hums low and sarcastically. “You say it won’t happen again… And yet, every time, you always seem to break that promise without fail now, don’t you? Hm?”There was a faux-sweetness in the monarch’s voice that made Phil’s throat tighten, and before he could work up the courage to provide another pitiful excuse, the Ender King was already continuing. “Though, I suppose that it is to be expected by now, isn’t it?” He asks rhetorically. “But no need to fret it much, little prince. There are far, far more pressing matters we must discuss today.”Ah.Phil knew well what that probably meant. “Is… Is it nearly time..? And so soon?” He questioned, feeling a pit form in his stomach from the nerves alone. “Ohh, we are not quite ready just yet, foolish prince! There are still a mere few preparations to be made.” The king explains matter of factly. “I will tell you exactly when it is time.”So in other words, Phil had to prepare to receive this information at the very last minute. Cool. “For now, however… I can prepare you for your little adventure just a cinch more.”He slowly holds his hands out in front of him. “Come forward.”

Phil nods in silence and flutters his elytra, slowly lifting off of the ground and flying up into the king’s hands as he’d done dozens of times before. It was a practiced movement by now. The Ender king wordlessly carries Phil over to the arm of his throne, letting him carefully walk off and take a seat on the end stone as he’d done countless times before. Sometimes, if he was lucky, the king would allow him to wrap whatever draped from his cloak around him as he sat by his side. …That did not occur often, however. And most certainly not today after having arrived so late.

Phil instead watches the Ender King as he reaches a bony hand into his cloak and pulls out a tiny (by his standards, anyway), white-painted chest. He carries it between his fingers, placing it directly in front of Phil with just enough force to threaten to crush him; if he ever fell out of line, that is.

“A gift! Just for you, little orchid.~”Phil stares at the box for just a moment and reaches toward it… Only to look back at the Ender king for a moment in his hesitation.

The last time he had been given a gift, it was… Well, it was his very own room in the palace, complete with a rather comfortable bed, some soft wool carpet… Even a few trinkets that the king didn’t wish to keep for himself in the throne room. It wasn’t terribly big, nor was it filled with riches… But it made the castle feel a little more like a home.

It wasn’t a perfect home, but of course… Phil hadn’t a reason to complain that’d be worth the Ender King’s time.

“Oh, don’t just gawk at me like that, Corvus. Don’t you wish to know what’s inside? Are you not curious?” Says the king. “You could at the very least pretend to be grateful.”“I am grateful, my king! I really, truly am! It… just took me by surprise, is all-”

“Yes, well I believe that is in fact the point of a surprise, isn’t it?” The Ender King impatiently cuts him off, tapping his finger nails on the opposing arm of the throne.

Phil stares into the vacant red eyes of the spider mask for a brief moment, but only sighs, accepting the swift dismantling of yet another poor excuse.

“Yeah, I guess it is, huh…” He concedes, turning back to the chest and gently placing his hands onto the lid.

He lifts it open and peers inside at what looked like… A wool blanket..? No… No, rather it was something wrapped inside a wool blanket. It glistens in gold through the holes in between each fuzzy woven thread as Phil carefully takes it out of the box and cradles it in his lap.

More of the object’s golden surface is revealed with each layer of wool that Phil unfolds, and after there is nothing left to cover it, there sits in front of him:

“A mask..? Like.. Like one of yours?” Phil tentatively asks.

The Ender King laughs with a disposition so sunny it was almost unnerving.

“That it is, clever prince! I made it especially for you to take along on your journey.~”Phil looks back down at the mask in slight awe, inspecting it further. It looked almost like a mantis’ face of some kind, with two large eyes protruding outward from the top, sitting just above where the real eyeholes sat… But more curiously, something was nestled in between the eyes…

“What’s this ender pearl for..?” Phil asks.

“Ah, now that, curious little prince, is because this mask serves a very important purpose.”

The king’s tone was the most fluttery and excitable it had ever been, letting the answer to Phil’s question dangle like a carrot on a string for a moment.

“This will be your ticket in and out of the universe I’ve picked for your first little expedition,” He begins. “and every universe beyond that for the rest of our forever time.” Oh.

This was more than just a mask… It was a priceless artifact; one more valuable than Phil could ever imagine being.

He couldn’t even think of something to say about it… This whole mission had a lot of responsibility to it already, but… This was different.

It was tangible.

It made any and all words elude him.

“Now, What do we say, Corvus…?”Though… He supposed he could start with that one, yeah.

“Thank you…” He nearly whispers, trailing a hand against the mask’s surface before he wraps it up in the blanket once more and places it carefully back into the white box.

The Ender King places a hand to his chin.

“Oh, Corvus… I didn’t quite catch that– What, with your incessant mumbling. Oh do repeat yourself, would you?~” Phil nervously clears his throat as he looks back up to the spider mask, looking into the eyeholes as if he could see the deity’s face underneath.

“Thank you so very much… My king.”

“Good boy.”The Ender King holds a hand out for Phil to once again climb upon, and Phil obliges; this time allowing himself to be brought down to ground level. The last thing he wanted was to drop his present.

“Run along now, little prince! There will be plenty of work to be done in due time, so do not disappoint me.”Phil nods and begins making his way toward the door… But he’s stopped by the monarch one final time just as he goes to turn through the exit.

“Oh… And one final thing before you leave, yes? It is incredibly important… So listen closely.” The Ender King begins.

Phil only barely turns around before the feeling of dread hits him like a brick. There was always a catch to these… Nicer interactions.

“Be careful with that mask. Don’t you lose it, and don’t you dare break it. Because if you do…”

Phil swallows the lump in his throat. He knew the threat he was about to hear. As empty as it seemed after constant reiteration… It never failed to strike fear into his heart.

“I have absolutely no qualms with plucking those little wings off of your ungrateful back.”

The silence hangs heavy between the two… And what was likely only a few seconds felt like minutes to Phil.

“Do I make myself clear, Icarus?”Phil Nodded.

“Crystal.”

[cat-mentality]

It's all in the past isn't?, they ask when they come back, still covered in dirt and blood, It was a competition.

No hard feelings, they agree with desperation, we did what we had to do.

They nod at each other like a promise is being made, exchange hugs and smiles and tears as if the last two weeks have been promptly erased from their brains.

Philza purses his lips together and says nothing. When Tubbo looks at him and waves he looks away (the blood on his hand belongs to Baghera), when Fit sends a whisper asking if they can talk later he ignores it (the wound on his back still aches), when Forever tries to approach him he turns his back (The spare sword on his inventory was taken from Foolish's body), when Badboyhalo looks in his direction he moves to be out of his line sight (most of the blood on him belong to them).

He puts a hand on Cellbit's shoulder and shakes his head when it feels like he wants to say something. Uses the other to grab Slime and pull him away from the group before he can do anything rash, the others following quickly.

When Missa sends a glance in his direction Philza hesitates for a few moments before mouthing a 'later', his husband nods just once, brown eyes sad but understanding.

It's easy to put things in the past when you are the hunter.

It's easy to say "no hard feelings" when it wasn't you being killed like an animal over and over again in your home without a chance of defending yourself or even running away.

It's easy to act like nothing happened when you were the one holding the blade, the one inflicting the pain.

Philza is old. Too old to find it easy to forgive betrayal, too old to find it easy to forgive the suffering inflicted into those he has learned to love and care for. Too old to forget how easily others shed their humanity for the sake of playing puppets, of being pieces in a boardgame for a bored monster.

Aren't you happy you won?, Pierre had asked in the long train ride back, genuine curiosity in his voice.

We didn't win, Philza replied, clipped, gas mask still firmly on his face, we survived.

Philza has won many times in his life. Lost even more.

This is not a win, the fact that the being that controlled the board declared them as winners doesn't mean shit, not when this "victory" was coated in blood and betrayal, not when everything they done was for the sake of children who they still haven't managed to rescue.

They are coming back worse than they went, still childless, but now drowning in the blood of one another, made to turn into monsters for a sadistic game, made to believe their savagery would lead to their children, only to receive nothing.

What a fucking joke of a victory.

How fucking dare them act as if that makes thing alright. How dare them thing that just because they "won" everything done to them should be forgiven, should be put in the past like a bad nightmare. How fucking dare them think that any of his teammates can ever forget what happened.

There is some anxious energy bouncing around them all, tense shoulders, hands clenched around weapons, none of them have taken the masks away yet, almost like they are afraid that at any moment disaster will strick again. They follow Philza as he takes them to his home, opening the door and as soon as he closes it behind Carre he is changing the security measurements, taking out names and adding others.

He ignores the way his hands shake, how he feels like he will vibrate out of his skin.

None of this feels real.

Not after weeks and weeks in a place that was as close as hell as it could be, the walls of his house feel unfamiliar and bizarre, the fact that there is a roof over his head and a door to lock is almost laughable. This feels like a dream, like he will blink and wake up in a cave, sleeping on the floor as radioactive rain soaks the ground outside.

Philza feels wrong in his own skin. Grime and blood cover him from head to toe, his wings ache (They are gone again, broken, of course they are, but he can't think about it because if he does he will break), the gas mask feels like it was stitched to his face.

He stands there, shaking, with his hands still over the locking mechanism, unable to shake the feeling that the moment he lets go he will be back in that hell of a Island with his friends trying to kill him.

Suddenly there is a hand resting on his shoulders, he jumps slightly but the grips get tighter and Philza turns his head around to see Etoiles standing there, a frown on his face.

Etoiles killed him.

Etoiles fought against them.

Etoiles joined his team, at the end, Philza invited him.

Etoiles is real.

He lets out a breath, unable to hide how his shoulders shake as well, but the warrior says nothing, he just smiles even if his eyes are still so very worried, guides him to where the others have fallen into a legitime cuddle pile.

Roier and Cellbit are glued to each other, it's almost impossible to know where one start and the other end, muttering soft things to each other in their native languages, Jaiden is right next to Roier, her legs thrown over the couple while her head rests against Carre's shoulder as the man is already sound asleep, his head into a pillow Philza has no idea where he got. Foolish is sandwiched between Slime and Baghera and he looks resigned to his fate of being made a pillow, Philza would never be so cruel as to mention how he is slight shaking in their hold, how as much as it may look like the two hybrids are using him for comfort the winged man is half sure it's the contrary.

They are all filthy, they need a bath more than they ever did in their life and Philza doubts his floor is a comfortable resting spot, by all means they all should be desperate to return to their own homes, their own beds, to have a actual hot meal and rest before going back to searching from the children.

No one seems to care about it however, they look as comfortable on his floor as they would in any bed in the world, maybe even more.

Etoiles nudges him again, pointing to a spot next to Baghera and she turns to look at him, eyes comically large and a exaggerated pleading expression on her face, all that is missing is the hands reaching to him and Philza has to laugh at her, who brightens at the sound.

"Turn off the lights already, pendejos." Roier complains, voice muffled by Cellbit's neck "It's time to sleep."

"It's the middle of the day, the light you are talking about is the sun." Etoiles mocks him, kicking at his leg

"Should we turn off the sun?" Slime asks, almost sounding excited by the idea

"We are not blowing the sun." Philza declares with an eye roll "How could we even do that?"

"I didn't say blow up, I say turn off, you are the one thinking about destruction." The man squints at him, but honestly that may be the lack of glasses catching up

"It would be fun." Baghera pipes out "Trying to blow out the sun. We should try it."

"We should try sleeping." Roier replies immediately, grumpy until Cellbit starts petting his hair and he melts, Jaiden making gagging sounds behind them

Philza shakes his head, deeply amused and since turning off the sun is not an option, he closes the blinds casting the room into a darker light and most of the cuddle pile hums in satisfaction. Baghera makes a sound gesturing to her side and he is too weak for her, and too tired about everything, to even put a mock resistance.

He grabs Etoiles' arm, dragging the man who protests for a few seconds before sinking into the floor with him, automatically throwing his arms around him and Baghera. Philza sighs, trying to ignore the way his whole body relaxes now that it is surrounded by people he knows he can trust with everything he has, the way he immediately feels his eyes get heavier and heavier.

This is real.

They are real.

As Philza finally lays down besides his teammates (his family), closing his eyes and almost begging for a dreamless sleep he has only one certain: Things will never be the same again.

But that isn't a bad thing. Not when he had his team with him.

[sunnysidesunshine]

So I've got paragraphs of me summarizing entire VODs of QSMP days to my friends on Discord... what if I posted those?

(Events may be inaccurate as I was pretty much reacting live in text form but I eventually refine my word vomit to kinda like a written version of the VOD my friends could read and still know what's going on)

[becauseplot]

thinking about archivists again. below the cut: obscene amounts of brainrot in the form of a long-winded relationship study and oddly specific references to canon that may or may not be accurate

im trying to come up with some sort of au for them (writer's block and creative burnout is a BITCH it's okay though we stay silly) and there's just something about how qphil and qcellbit don't (or didn't) really wind up in each other's circles often. sure they were friendly with each other in passing, and they definitely had some nice little interactions earlier on: cellbit briefly interviewing phil on one of his first days on the island over a cup of coffee and solidifying phil's view of cellbit as the Dedicated Investigator; phil asking cellbit to babysit chayanne and tallulah while he's away on a trip and cellbit being more than happy to; phil briefly checking in with cellbit --- who was in the process of tumbling into his regret arc, cutting off ties with loved ones and making himself a martyr --- and asking if he was okay when phil spotted him hanging alone in the back of the group; chatting about the upcoming wedding and phil advising cellbit that he and roier should probably introduce some sort of dress code (lmao); cellbit watching phil and missa meet up for the first time in months on the way to the federation's people-freezers and all of the pieces rapidly falling into place (the name of phil's waystone, phil's skull backpack, phil's elusive "husband," ohhhhhhh...). they've always been in each other's peripheral, but never directly involved in each other's personal lives.

until the happy pills.

see the thing about archivists is that they're not drawn together by a pre-existing friendship; they're more friendly acquaintances at this point, perhaps almost-friends, though they're certainly not close. but then forever's life is under threat, and god, they both love forever immensely. with direct help from bad and indirect help from others (qpac you LEGEND), they're eventually able to formulate a plan that successfully drag forever out from under the haze of drugs, pull him to the surface. they sit next to each other as they sit at the bedside of their mutual friend, watch him breathing, and try to breathe themselves.

and from that moment on it's solidified: they know they can depend on each other, when shit hits the fan. they have their respective strengths, and they balance out each other nicely. i wish i had gotten more of a chance to watch their dynamic during purgatory 1 (unfortunately i have a life sadge) but from what i saw, they turned out to be some pretty good co-leaders, and an interesting dynamic at that: phil acting more as a support role (moral support, resource support, combat support, ALL the support) and stepping up into a leader-like role when needed, but ultimately letting cellbit take the helm a lot of the time since he's a strategist with more practice managing large groups of people (i wont get into it here, and i want to watch more vods so i can more properly analyze them but HOUGHH i have THOUGHTS!! SO MANY!!!)

what im trying to get at is that they were initially in the peripheral in each others lives but were eventually drawn together out of necessity, due to circumstances. the mutual respect followed, which was then followed by trust, and then collaboration, and then friendship. i've also made this post talking about their dynamic, how they both understand each other's need to focus on the here and now and understand that they don't need to know every little thing about each other to still trust each other. and this is so integral to their relationship. it's what makes archivists archivists.

so now all that's left for me to do is try to come up with some sort of au i can chuck them in, incorporating this idea of "friendship of necessity" as a core feature of the plot. i have scattered ideas but none are particularly appealing or solid enough. i will try though!! if u have any suggestions/thoughts/ideas feel free to leave a comment or say in tags (pspsppsps come brainrot with meeee)